THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES SWINGS.
The day following the slaughter at the Ghaut was a great day for Nana Sahib, for he was to be publicly proclaimed Peishwah, and his power in that part of the country was to be acknowledged supreme. The dream of years was fulfilled at last. He stood at the foot of the throne; he had but to mount the steps, and men would bow down before him as their ruler. Power, greatness, wealth—all were in his grasp. His foe lay crushed in the dust—his ambition and revenge were gratified; and in the pomp and glitter of the gorgeous pageant of that day, the voice of conscience was perhaps for a time stilled.
And truly the pageant was a gorgeous one—a spectacle that even, in their wildest imaginings, the authors of the “Arabian Nights” could not have dreamed of. Scarcely had the sun fully risen before the Palace at Bhitoor was in a state of commotion. All night long, thousands of hands had been at work preparing for the great show, and nothing was wanting to render it complete.
At a given signal the procession, which was to march through the town, and some of the outlying villages, commenced to form. First came five hundred stalwart natives, walking six abreast. On their heads were turbans of cloth of gold, and on their breasts were glittering vests of steel. Every man carried on his shoulder a drawn sabre, that flashed in the sun’s rays. The front row carried the Nana’s standard, which was trimmed with real and massive gold fringe. These men were followed by five hundred boys, dressed in white muslin. Each boy carried a pair of silver-plated cymbals, and the very air was rent with the clashing. Then came a body of singers, singing a song of triumph, each singer being dressed in a costly robe. They were followed by two hundred camels, their necks hung with silver bells, while their trappings were cloth of gold. On the back of each camel sat a boy dressed in raiment of pure white, and carrying in his hands a small disc of highly polished steel, which was turned so as to catch the sun’s rays and throw the light far ahead—on tree, and road, and building. This was to symbolise the Nana’s power.
Next in order was a body-guard of the Nana’s retainers, numbering altogether a thousand men, clad in burnished armour, and carrying in their hands long spears, decorated with golden tassels. Following this guard came a band of musicians with brass instruments, and playing a martial air which they had learnt under English tutors. Then there were fifty elephants, three abreast. The forehead of each beast was decorated with a large jewelled star composed of pure silver: their bodies were covered with cloth of gold, fringed with massive bullion lace. On the head of each elephant sat a gaudily-dressed native driver: each man held a long polished brass trumpet, and every now and then, on a given signal, the trumpets were blown in unison.
After these men was another body of armour-clad men, who formed a hollow square, two deep. In the centre of the square walked, with majestic step, a huge, spotless white elephant: its breast was guarded with a massive shield of pure gold, and on its forehead was a large star of brilliants; on its back it bore a costly houdah, made of blue satin, supported by golden rods, the satin being trimmed with gold and jewels. Beneath this houdah was seated Dundoo Pant, the Nana Sahib. His head was bare, for the ceremony of marking him with the mark of sovereignty in accordance with Eastern custom, and known as the “sacrament of the forehead mark,” had yet to be performed. He was clad in a robe of pure gold cloth, ornamented with rubies and sapphires. Round his neck he wore a massive collar composed of diamonds.
Over the elephant’s back was thrown a rich scarlet cloak, with gold tassels; and on its tusks were many gold rings. The Nana was seated cross-legged. In front of him was a superb coronet of gold, studded with diamonds: this, with a jewelled sword, rested on a scarlet cushion.
Behind this elephant, and in the centre of another square of armour-clad men, were fifty high Brahmin priests, clad in white and with their faces painted, and between them was a small and beautiful Brahmin bull. Its hoofs were encased in gold, and its body was literally covered with jewels.
Next came two hundred Nautch girls, dressed in scarlet garments. Each girl bore a small palm leaf, and these leaves were waved backwards and forwards with rhythmical regularity. Next to these was another elephant, gaudily trapped and decorated; and beneath a magnificent houdah of silk were seated some of the principal females of Dundoo’s household.
Following in order was another band of music. Then came Teeka Singh, Azimoolah, Tantia Topee, Bala Rao, and other members of the suite. They were all mounted on handsome charges, and bore at their sides jewelled swords, while fixed to their heels were golden spurs. They were escorted by a strong body-guard of picked troops. These were succeeded by files of men carrying silken banners. Then a hundred boys, bearing long poles, attached to which were silver bells, and five hundred girls clad in garments of cloth of gold. Every girl carried before her a jewelled vase, that was filled with the most exquisite flowers. Behind the girls were two thousand troopers—the flower of Dundoo’s army—and all mounted on superb horses; and last of all was a grand display of artillery. There were guns of every description, which had been plundered from the English arsenal.
It was, in truth, a gorgeous show, well calculated to daze the hordes of illiterate natives who crowded every thoroughfare, with its pomp and importance. Dundoo and his wily admirers had learnt the secret of the importance of outward show, if the masses are to be impressed, and they used their knowledge to advantage. The procession moved slowly forward—a long array of glitter and glare, of noise and bewildering richness.
Literally hundreds of thousands of natives had gathered; they swarmed on every conceivable spot from whence a view could be obtained. On the housetops, in the trees, on the walls, the huts—every place where a foothold offered itself were Nana’s future subjects to be seen. They rent the air with their cries of welcome; they sang songs of victory, and howled out execrations against the Feringhees.
Through every street and road where it was possible for the procession to pass, it went. The white elephant, with its costly silken houdah, beneath which was the Tiger of Cawnpore, towered above all—a conspicuous and central figure.
Soon after mid-day the show returned to the Bhitoor Palace, where preparations had been made on a grand scale for the ceremony of the forehead mark, or the crowning of the Peishwah. In one of the largest halls a stately throne had been erected, and on this Nana Sahib took his seat.
Then there was borne into the hall, on men’s shoulders, a platform covered with cloth of gold. The platform was railed round with golden railings, and in the centre stood a Brahmin bull, covered with jewels and held by gold chains. Following the bull came a large number of priests, carrying small brass idols, and chafing-dishes containing fire. The bull was placed in the centre of the hall, and the chafing-dishes and idols ranged round it. An aged priest stepped up to the head of the animal, and, after making many mystic symbols, he held up a gigantic sword, and cried out in a loud voice—
“The enemies of Brahma shall be smitten to the death.”
Then a gong was sounded, and the whole of the vast assemblage fell upon their knees, and bowing their heads to the ground, worshipped the bull. This ceremony being ended, the chief priest advanced to the Nana, bearing in his hand a dish of pure gold. From this dish he took a small wafer, and while his colleagues muttered a low, monotonous chant, and a hundred tom-toms were beaten, he pressed the wafer on the forehead of the Nana, reciting a Brahmin prayer the while. He next took a chaplet of gold, and placed it on Dundoo’s head.
Then the Palace seemed to be shaken to its foundation as the artillery thundered out its recognition of the new ruler.
The imposing ceremony being ended, and Dundoo having been duly proclaimed Peishwah, the courtiers and servile cringers crowded round the throne to congratulate their chief. Conspicuous amongst these were Azimoolah, Tantia Topee, Teeka Singh, and the brothers of the Nana.
It was a proud moment for Azimoolah. He had played a deep and skilful game, and won. The stakes were large, but not all the newly-acquired power of the Nana Sahib would be sufficient to keep them from the destroying Nemesis who was coming on with gigantic strides.
Until far into the morning the festivities were kept up. There were torch-light processions, there were grand illuminations, and tremendous bursts of fireworks, accompanied by the hoarse roar of artillery. But all things come to an end, and the enthusiasm of Dundoo Pant’s new subjects, like their fireworks, soon burnt itself out, and there was silence, save for the croaking frogs, the shrill piping cicala, and the under-hum of tens of thousands of insects.
In a small room of the Palace, Nana Sahib had sought his couch, after the exciting day’s work. He was weary and worn, and there was a troubled look in his face. His newly-acquired crown did not seem to sit easily. It was stained too indelibly with English blood. Long he tossed about before he sank into an uneasy doze; then in a little while great beads of perspiration stood upon his face. His chest heaved, he clawed the air with his hands, he bit his lip until the blood flowed. The Nana Sahib was dreaming a dream; and this was his dream.
He saw a hand—a white hand—small at first, but it gradually grew, and grew, and grew, until it assumed gigantic proportions. It stretched out its massive and claw-like fingers towards Dundoo, who fled in terror away. But that awful hand followed. In every finger were set hundreds of glittering eyes; they glared at him until they burned into his very soul. He still fled, but the hand grew larger, until it gradually bent its fingers, and tore out his heart. And yet he lived, and the shadow of the phantom hand was over him. It tortured him with unutterable torture. It dragged him away from all kith and kin. Then it opened a massive curtain, and showed him far, far down the Stream of Time. On its ever-flowing tide he saw himself, a battered wreck, drifting to the regions of immortal torture; and millions of scraggy fingers pointed at him in derision, and millions of voices cursed his name.
He awoke from this horrid dream—awoke with his heart almost standing still, and a cold and clammy perspiration bedewing his body. He sprang up with a cry of alarm, for everything in the vision had seemed so real. But when he had gathered his scattered senses, he smiled sardonically and muttered—
“Pshaw! What a fool I am to let a dream so alarm me. Am I not rich, powerful, invincible? What, then, is there to fear? These Feringhees are crushed—crushed beyond all power to rise again. I am supreme; who is there dare dispute my will?”
A man suddenly entered the chamber. In the light of the breaking day, the Nana saw that it was Azimoolah.
“What is the meaning of this, Azi?” he asked hurriedly. “Has anything occurred to alarm you, for there is a look of fear upon your face?”
“I might make a similar remark with a good deal of truth, your Highness,” answered the other with a forced laugh.
“Do not waste time in foolish recrimination, Azimoolah. What brings you here?”
“Bad news.”
“Ah! Is that so?”
“Yes. Some of our spies have just come in, and brought word that General Havelock is marching on Cawnpore.”
“Is that all?” exclaimed the Nana, with a laugh. “Your news is not so gloomy as I anticipated. We are powerful in troops and guns; we will wipe these saucy foreigners off the face of the earth. Await my coming below, Azi.”
Azimoolah made a slight inclination of the head, and retired towards the door.
“Azi,” the Nana called, busying himself in adjusting some costly rings that sparkled on his fat fingers. His familiar turned back. “Azimoolah, are the—dear me! There is a diamond gone out of that ring. Where can I have lost it, I wonder? Let me see, what was I going to observe? Oh—are the women and children at the Beebee-Ghur safely guarded?”
“I selected the guard myself, your Highness! so that I will vouch for its efficiency.”
“That is good. I will join you shortly, Azi. You may retire.”