Barclay of the Guides Part 27

He drew back, and huddled on the damp stones. The torture in store terrified him; could he withstand it? His tongue was parched; he felt gnawing pains; his brow was damp with fear. He closed his eyes, perhaps death would come in sleep. But now he could not even sleep; there seemed to be a hammering at his brow; wild thoughts chased one another through his brain. He got up and walked about at the utmost tether of his chain until the clank of the metal became itself a torture. Then he moved his arms in the motions of drill; he felt that only by action could he ward off madness.

So the hours dragged on. Surely the sun had now risen. Why had not Minghal returned? When he did return Ahmed would beg as a boon to be slain at once. He listened for footsteps. There was none. He walked about again; then stopped, fancying he heard another sound besides the clanking of the chain. But the stillness was as of the grave. He lay down, covering his head with his arms; if he could but sleep! And he was at last falling into the slumber of exhaustion when a slight sound struck upon his ear. Or was it a dream sound? Every sense was strung to the highest tension. He strained his ears; he must have been mistaken.

But no; that was a sound, a creak. Minghal was returning. He got up, and his chain clanked. He stood motionless. Why did not the door open? There was another creak, and another interval of silence; and then he felt a sudden slight gust of fresher air strike his cheek; surely the door was open. Next moment there was a click, a spark, and in the sudden flash he thought he saw a figure in the room. Another spark, followed by a red glow, that grew brighter, and then a low bluish flame. It was the kindling of a lamp, and behind it he saw Kaluja Da.s.s.

"Hus.h.!.+" said the khansaman in a whisper. "Here is food and drink."

Ahmed seized upon the jar of water and drank his fill, then upon the bread covered with honey, and ate ravenously.

"I cannot set you free," said the khansaman, still in a whisper. "The tyrant has sworn he will dismiss us all if you escape, and I have to think of the master. I took the vile one's keys from his raiment as he slept. I must go back lest he wakes. I will come again. The sahib knows: we will try to think of some plan."

"What is doing?" whispered Ahmed. "Why is Minghal swathed?"

"He fought and was wounded. And, moreover, he is shamed before the king.

His men a.s.sailed the serai of Asadullah, and the king is wroth with him."

"This Asadullah--who is he?"

"A warrior that serves the king, with three hundred men."

"What manner of man?"

"An old man with white beard, of good stature and n.o.ble presence. He wears a red turban; he is from the hills."

"He is my father."

"Sayest thou? Then will I go to him and acquaint him with thy plight.

Verily he will know how to deal with the evil man."

Ahmed was tempted to agree; but with second thoughts he saw that the khansaman must not do what he had said. Rahmut Khan was among the mutineers: he could not a.s.sist Ahmed without compromising them both.

Only if Ahmed threw in his lot with the rebels would it be fair to ask the old chief to intervene in his behalf. And Ahmed was one of Lumsden's Guides; he had eaten the sahibs' salt; he was of the sahibs himself: the Guides were true to their allegiance.

"It may not be, good khansaman," he said. "Presently, thou wilt understand."

"Allah be with thee!" said the khansaman.

"And with thee, khansaman."

The servant took away the vessels in which he had brought the food, and went out with stealth as he had entered. There was left no trace of the meal. Ahmed laid himself down again; his body was comforted, the light of hope soothed his mind, and at last he slept.

Some hours later he was wakened by the entrance of Minghal. The same proposition was put to him: he rejected it with scorn. Minghal was amazed to find him still obdurate. The food was untouched on the floor.

Would nothing quell the spirit of this youth? He tried to beat down his captive's resolution, and failing, went away in a rage, declaring that he would yet starve him into submission.

Ahmed found it easier to endure the slow-dragging hours of the long day.

In the dead of night the khansaman again came to him with food. He said that the doctor sahib had bidden him release the prisoner, even at the risk of compromising his own safety. But Ahmed refused to allow it. He had been sent into Delhi to help the doctor, and could not consent to anything that would endanger him. His refusal gave the khansaman evident relief. Once more the servant offered to inform Asadullah of his son's plight, and Ahmed, in declining, thought it well to explain his reasons.

The khansaman scoffed at them; he did not understand such scruples; and though he did not say so, he went away with the determination to seek out the old chief the next day when he went to market.

He left with Ahmed a file with which he might so far cut his fetters as to be able to break loose if occasion offered, and he advised him to feign exhaustion at Minghal Khan's next visit. After so many hours without food even the strongest must collapse, and if the captive were still found unaltered Minghal's suspicion would certainly be aroused.

Meanwhile Minghal had been occupied with his own concerns. He had no intention of paying the fine inflicted on him, and at a private interview with the king, with the a.s.sistance of Mirza Akbar Sultan and the eloquent testimony of his own wounds, he talked the old man over, and the sentence was remitted. When this reached the ears of Rahmut Khan, the old chief was furious, and resolved to take matters into his own hands. He had not only his old quarrel with Minghal to settle: there were the two fierce attacks made upon him during the short time he had been in Delhi; there was also the attempt to betray him to the enemy. It was not Rahmut Khan's way to instigate attacks which he was not himself prepared to carry through. His men were incensed against Minghal's regiment, and that Minghal feared reprisals was shown by the fact that he had now garrisoned his house with a score of men.

Rahmut planned an attack on the house after sunset with a hundred of his followers. Their approach was spied by the darwan before they actually reached the house. He promptly bolted the gates and ran to give the alarm. Minghal took advantage of the breathing s.p.a.ce to beat a hasty retreat through the back entrance, and hurried to Bakht Khan with the news.

It was some time before Rahmut's men forced an entrance, so solid were the doors. They had scarcely broken in when the commander-in-chief arrived on the spot at the head of a considerable body of picked men.

There was a stormy scene between him and Rahmut, who, however, could not but yield to superior force. He was more enraged than ever, especially because during the short time they had been in the house his men had gained little plunder, all the valuables having been sold to supply the wants of Minghal Khan. The old chief was led away under arrest, and carried straight to the palace. The king was in no mood to overlook this direct transgression. All day he had been hara.s.sed by reports of the ill-treatment of residents by the sepoys. It was intolerable, he cried, that his peaceable subjects should be hara.s.sed and threatened by soldiers who had come to the city with the avowed object of destroying the English. Still more intolerable was it that the soldiers should attack one another.

"I see clearly," said the wretched monarch, "that the English will take the city, and kill me."

"Be of good cheer, ill.u.s.trious one," said one of his officers. "Do thou put thy hand on our heads, and without doubt we shall be victorious."

And then, to the number of a hundred and fifty, they filed past him, and as he placed his hand on the head of each he said, "Go thou with haste and win victory on the Ridge." And they begged him to lay a severe penalty on this Pathan stranger, Asadullah, who had come to trouble the city. Then up spoke Bakht Khan, ever blunt of address.

"Punish Asadullah," he said, "it is but right; but punish Minghal also.

They are arrows of one quiver. The Arab horse gets whipped and the Tartar is fondled. I am weary of Minghal Khan."

But the covetous officials knew that Minghal was poor, whereas rumour ascribed to Asadullah the possession of great treasures of plunder. The treasury was empty. That very day a message came from Gwalior to the effect that the whole army there was willing to place itself at the king's service, and he petulantly made answer: "I say there is no money for their support. We have here in the city 60,000 men, but they have not been able to win one clod of dirt from the English." The opportunity of gaining something for the treasury was too good to be thrown away. At the instance of his sycophants the king demanded a heavy fine from Rahmut. The chief, curbing his wrath, begged until morning to get the money. Before morning dawned, he had his men saddled up, and the moment the gates were opened he dashed through the streets at the head of his force, rode out by the Ajmir gate, and fled away into the open country.

Before the news reached the palace, before any one could think of pursuit, the old Pathan was out of sight.

Night being as day to Ahmed in his dungeon, he set to work at once with the file the khansaman had given him. The links of his chain were of soft iron, and with ready wit he thought of a way by which he might for a time disguise the fact that his fetters were loosed. He filed through one of the links, and then a portion of the next one, until he was able to pa.s.s this thinned portion through the gap he had made in the first.

If, therefore, he should be suddenly disturbed, he could at once replace the links, and, by turning one of them round so that the portion yet unfiled was brought against the part that was cut, the chain might appear to be still unbroken.

As soon as he was free he made a tour around his dungeon, rather by way of distraction and to stretch his legs than with any idea of making a discovery that would further his escape.

The vault was pitch dark. He had seen it by the light of the oil-lamp during the visits of Minghal and the khansaman, but taken no particular note of it. He now went round it, feeling the walls with his hands. They were of rough-hewn stones; there was no variation except at the door. He shook that: it was locked fast. He went back to the staple and sat down; after a time, having nothing better to do, he started again, and examined the door by touch more carefully. There was no handle, not even a keyhole on the inside. Thinking he heard footsteps, he retreated so hastily that he narrowly escaped overturning the pitcher of water. It was a false alarm. Once more he went round the walls, this time in the opposite direction.

And now, as he drew his hand along the wall, he fancied that one of the slabs of stone protruded a little further into the room than the others.

All the stones were rough and ill-fitting, but this protuberance awoke his curiosity. Had he detected a slight movement as he first pressed it?

He pushed hard at it--upwards, downwards, sideways, but without result.

Surely he had been mistaken. He would try again. This time he pushed gently, and thrilled all through when he felt an indubitable movement, though very slight. Now, instead of pus.h.i.+ng, he pulled outward. The stone yielded. He pulled harder; it moved reluctantly, but it did move, and by and by he was able to get his fingers round the edge of the slab.

Another pull, and it came a few inches from the wall, then stopped.

He was puzzled. He pushed at the stonework immediately around the slab.

There was no result. He tried a few feet to the right--in vain; then to the left. Something seemed to give slightly. A harder push, and the slab moved inward, slowly revolving on a vertical axis until it stood perpendicular to the surface of the wall.

With beating heart he crawled through the opening, and found himself in a stone pa.s.sage, so low that he had to stoop, so narrow that there was not an inch to spare on either side. In a dozen paces he reached the end--a dead stone wall. There must be an outlet, but where? He felt over the wall and discovered a protuberance similar to that in the room he had left. He pushed and pulled in the same way; the slab moved; a light shone through the crack between it and the wall. He peeped through.

There was Craddock Sahib reading at his little table by the light of a lamp.

The doctor was amazed, delighted, perplexed, at once. Ahmed rapidly explained the discovery he had made, then hurried back through the pa.s.sage, closed the slab opening into his cell, and returned. He learnt from the doctor of the recent attack on the house by Asadullah, and that the khansaman, in spite of his wishes to the contrary, had gone off that morning to find the old chief, and inform him of his son's plight. Ahmed seized on the attack as affording an explanation of his escape. Minghal would believe readily enough that the prisoner had been rescued by his father, even though the fact that the door was still locked should savour of mystery. Thus the khansaman would be in no danger of dismissal.

The question was: how was Ahmed to escape from the house and the city?

There was no longer any safety in his disguise, even if the khansaman could procure a beard to replace that of which Minghal had stripped him.

It was the khansaman himself who, when he returned, suggested a way.

Sepoys' uniforms were easily to be got; he would obtain one at his next visit to the bazar; clad in that and provided with arms, Ahmed must march out with a mutinous regiment and take an opportunity of escaping from them. He would, it was true, run the risk of being shot himself as a rebel; but among risks there was little to choose. The khansaman would acquaint him with a favourable time for making the attempt.

Ahmed remained for several days in the doctor's company. They heard from the khansaman of Minghal's fury when he discovered the disappearance of his prisoner. As Ahmed had guessed, he imputed it to the agency of Rahmut Khan, and regarded the locked door merely as an additional proof of the malicious cunning of the old chief. At last the uniform and the arms were provided, and one morning very early, before the household was astir, Ahmed was cautiously let out of the house by the khansaman. A few hours later he joined himself unquestioned to a body of troops made up of many different components, ordered to reinforce the mutineers holding the suburb of Kishenganj. There was some delay as they marched past the Mosque. Some one had told the king that the sepoys, clamorous for pay, were about to attack him in his palace, and orders were sent through the city that not a soldier should move until the report had been investigated.

While the soldiers stood at ease near the Mosque, Ahmed noticed Fazl Hak moving leisurely among the onlookers, occasionally addressing a word or two to the sepoys he pa.s.sed. As he came near, Ahmed accosted him.

"Salaam, worthy maulavi, what is the news?"