CHAPTER XIII.
A PROFESSIONAL SUMMONS.
The long hours of another day and night dragged slowly away, and Sir Dugald’s condition remained unchanged. The sight of her husband lying on his bed with half-closed eyes, speechless and incapable of changing his position, moved Lady Haigh to a fervent hope that Georgia’s conjecture as to his partial consciousness of what passed around him might not be true. To know himself absolutely powerless, to perceive that things were going wrong but to be unable to rectify them, she could imagine no keener torment for a man of his stamp. If he continued in this state, she said to herself remorsefully, as she administered the liquids which were the only nourishment he could swallow, she would be inclined to allow Georgia to have her way, in spite of the misgivings of Stratford and North, for nothing could be worse than this living death. Even now, “If you could only tell me you were sure it was poison, Georgie dear,” she said, “I would put him into your hands unreservedly; but as it is, the risk is too fearful. He is all I have, you know.” And although Georgia regretted the decision, it did not affect her as the opposition of the men had done, for she knew that Lady Haigh would have withstood any male doctor with exactly the same pertinacity under the circumstances.
The political duties of the Mission were somewhat in abeyance just now, for Sir Dugald’s illness rendered it impossible to initiate any fresh diplomatic action, and this enforced idleness had a bad effect on the spirits of all. Even Fitz had lost his cheerfulness, and the kitten escaped its daily lesson in gymnastics. Kustendjian, his services as interpreter not being required, spent most of his time in his own quarters, where, as he informed Stratford with appropriate seriousness of demeanour, he occupied himself in making his will several times over, and in writing farewell letters to his friends. In spite, or perhaps in consequence, of the lack of active occupation, however, the post which Sir Dugald had bequeathed to Stratford promised to be no sinecure, and more especially as Dick, since his interview with Georgia, had been in a villainously bad temper, and snapped at every one in a way that made his friend long to kick him.
“They all want a desperate emergency to calm them down,” said the harassed commander to himself. “This monotonous life within four walls, full of suspense, would get on anybody’s nerves, and they will take to quarrelling soon. When that happens, it’s all up with us. I shall have to go and eat humble pie to Miss Keeling if this goes on, and ask her not to treat North quite so much like an officious stranger who has spoken to her without an introduction. As the acting head of affairs, I could put it to her that her method of exercising discipline has a distinctly bad effect on the morale of the force.”
The emergency which Stratford desired was closer at hand when he longed for it than he expected, and as is usually the case with emergencies, it did not arrive quite in the form which he would have chosen had his wishes been consulted. Its inception was marked by the in no way unusual event of the arrival of Fath-ud-Din, desiring to reopen negotiations, on the morning of the second day after Sir Dugald’s seizure. All the day before, so the Vizier averred, he had been expecting to receive a message summoning him back to the Mission, and announcing that his terms were accepted. Hearing nothing, he might well have gone straight to the Scythian envoy and entered into an arrangement with him, but so great was the esteem which he felt for the English, and especially for the members of the present expedition, and so high was the King’s appreciation of the power and good fortune of the British Empire, that he was loath to bring about a definite rupture of diplomatic relations. He had returned, therefore, to lay his offer once more before Sir Dugald, and to find out whether it was impossible to effect a compromise.
Stratford was by no means anxious to undertake the delicate task of endeavouring to resist the Vizier’s blandishments without turning him into an open enemy, and did his best to postpone the evil day by telling him that Sir Dugald was indisposed, and could not be troubled with business. But Fath-ud-Din displayed so much anxiety to see the Envoy, even though only for a moment, and in bed, that Stratford, in order to avoid the discovery of Sir Dugald’s real condition, no whisper of which had as yet been allowed to creep out into the town, was obliged to say that Sir Dugald must not be disturbed, but that the conduct of affairs had been delegated to himself.
The Vizier showed great interest in this piece of news, and immediately asked for a conference with Stratford, a conference so important that the servants were to be excluded from the room, and the greatest precautions taken to prevent eavesdropping or interruption. Stratford was heartily sick of these conferences, each one of which had hitherto resulted only in the offer of terms more impossible of acceptance than those last brought forward, and he was also convinced that the delay in settling matters with the Scythian envoy was due to no compunction on the part of Fath-ud-Din, but merely to the fact that he could not get the price he wanted. Still, even in view of the further possibility that the arrangement with Scythia had after all been concluded, and that the present visit was simply a blind, the Vizier’s request could not very well be refused, and a move was made into the Durbar-hall from the verandah, the servants being placed to guard the doors.
On the terrace in the inner court Lady Haigh, who had come outside for a breath of fresh air, was discussing the position of affairs with Georgia. They had not yet reached the point at which conversation of this kind ceases to bring some comfort, or at any rate distraction, for despair must be very near at hand when no one cares any longer to inquire “What is to be done?” and when there is no one else to take up the challenge and suggest some means, however impracticable, for obtaining relief. To them, as they sat there, came a messenger from Ismail Bakhsh the gatekeeper, saying that there was a negro at the door belonging to the Palace harem, and asking whether he was to be admitted. Lady Haigh had him brought in at once, when he explained that he bore a message to the doctor lady, entreating her to come to the Palace immediately. The litter and the escort of horsemen were waiting outside, for Ismail Bakhsh would not hear of admitting them into the courtyard without orders from Stratford, and Stratford was not to be disturbed.
“Shall you go, Georgie?” asked Lady Haigh.
“Of course,” returned Georgia, astonished by the question. “I am afraid something must have gone wrong with the Queen’s eyes. I only hope they haven’t undone the bandages too soon.”
“I think that perhaps it might be as well before going to ask the gentlemen what their opinion is.”
“I really do not propose to ask leave from Mr Stratford and Major North before I go to visit my patients,” said Georgia, stiffening visibly.
“But they might have some reason for objecting. Of course, they have said nothing of the kind, and it may be only my fancy, but I don’t quite like your going, Georgie. It doesn’t seem safe, after the things that have happened lately.”
“Why, Lady Haigh, you wouldn’t have me disregard a professional summons on the plea of danger?” said Georgia, taking the burka which Rahah had brought her, and arraying herself in it.
“No, of course not; but I don’t feel certain about this one, somehow. In any case, Georgie, promise me that you will not take anything to eat or to drink at the Palace.”
“Nothing but coffee, at any rate,” said Georgia. “When Nur Jahan pours it out for me herself, and takes a sip from the cup to show that it is all right, I can’t hurt her feelings by refusing it.”
“I wish I could ask Mr Stratford what he thinks,” said Lady Haigh, reverting to her former strain. “It could do no harm.”
“But you don’t think that he can see further into a millstone than you can, do you, Lady Haigh? What difference could it make what he thought? He doesn’t know anything more than we do, and I am sure he couldn’t conjure up worse fears than those we have been indulging in lately.”
“He might think it better that you should not go,” said Lady Haigh, without considering the effect of her words.
“Then we may regard it as just as well that he is not here, since what he thought would make no difference to me,” said Georgia, with an ominous tightening of the lips. “Are you ready, Rahah?”
And the two veiled figures passed under the archway and through the outer court, entering the litter at the gate without attracting the attention of any of the diplomatists in the Durbar-hall, about the doors of which Lady Haigh hovered unhappily for two or three minutes, feeling undecided how to act, and only returned to her own domain on being assured over and over again by the servants that the conference was on no account to be interrupted. She went slowly back to Sir Dugald’s sick-room, and sat down by the bedside; but she could not be still. An unwonted restlessness was upon her, impelling her to move about the room and alter the position of every medicine-bottle and every piece of furniture in it. Presently she stepped out again on the terrace, and looked across at Bachelors’ Buildings, feeling half inclined to force her way into the Durbar-hall and interrupt the conference; but she scolded herself for her folly, and returned to her patient. What good could it possibly do to break up the durbar by calling Mr Stratford out in order to communicate to him the momentous intelligence that Miss Keeling had gone to visit her patient at the Palace? It was with this very object in view that she had come to Kubbet-ul-Haj.
“I am getting nervous,” said Lady Haigh to herself, “and I have always been so proud of being absolutely without nerves! I won’t give in to it. What is there to be frightened about? Georgia has gone to the Palace over and over again, and I have never minded it a bit.”
Nevertheless, she wandered desolately from the sick-room to the terrace and back again several times, and heaved a sigh of relief when she caught a glimpse through the archway of a bustle in the outer court, and gathered that the Vizier was taking his leave. Presently Stratford and Dick came in sight, and she had just time to decide that she would not trouble them with her ridiculous fancies, before they mounted the steps.
“Well, had Fath-ud-Din anything new to propose?” she asked.
“Oh no,” returned Stratford, with ineffable weariness. “It was the same old game all through. He wanted to bribe us to sign his treaty, or he didn’t mind our bribing him to sign ours. He has raised his terms, though—I think he imagines that we are of a more squeezable disposition than the Chief. He wants ten thousand pounds for himself, and a written promise that the Government will support Antar Khan in case of the King’s death. A little secret treaty all to himself would just meet his views.”
“He is really very tiresome,” said Lady Haigh, sympathetically. “One feels so dreadfully undignified staying on like this, when he is always making such insulting offers. I don’t want to interfere in your department, Mr Stratford, but if we hear nothing soon—say to-day or to-morrow—from Jahan Beg, would it not be advisable to think about sending a messenger to report our position at Fort Rahmat-Ullah?”
“I think of it continually,” said Stratford; “but none of us here could hope to leave the city without being recognised, and if they mean to cut us off from communication with Khemistan, it would be certain death to the man who ventured to start, while we should be as badly off as ever.”
“Still, we can’t spend the term of our natural lives shut up here,” began Lady Haigh, emphatically; but Dick interrupted her.
“I’ll go,” he said, promptly; “it’s just the sort of thing I like. I have nothing to keep me here, and nothing to do. I am positively yearning for a job. I’ll start to-night.”
“Gently,” said Stratford. “We must figure out a plan of campaign first. But if any one could get through, North, you could, to judge by your Rahmat-Ullah performance; and Fath-ud-Din’s language to-day was really so unpleasantly threatening, that I think it is time for us to make tracks.”
“Did he go so far as to threaten you?” asked Lady Haigh.
“There certainly seemed to be a distinct suggestion of menace in his words, and that not merely the old bugbear of the Scythian envoy. But of course it may be all bounce. Hullo! I wonder I didn’t murder this little animal.” He stooped and lifted the white kitten, which had made a sudden dash at his boot from an ambush near at hand. “Why aren’t you with your mistress, Colleen Bawn? I thought you always stuck to her.”
“Oh, Miss Keeling can’t take her to the Palace,” said Lady Haigh, with a nervous little laugh. “It wouldn’t look professional, you know.”
“Miss Keeling gone to the Palace!” Stratford’s eye sought Dick’s, but met no answering glance. “Why should she have gone there just now? I thought the operation was over.”
“Oh, the Queen sent a message to beg her to come, and she was afraid something must have gone wrong, so she hurried off. You don’t think there is any reason why she should have refused, do you?”
“I don’t know. It seems absurd, but I feel more at ease when we are all safe inside these walls. I can’t think how it is that we didn’t hear Miss Keeling start.”
“Oh, the escort did not come into the court, because Ismail Bakhsh would not open the gate, and we could not tell you she was going, for the servants said you were not to be interrupted.”
“That was Fath-ud-Din’s doing. It looks very fishy altogether. I hope it’s not a trap. I suppose there’s no possibility of stopping her now before she gets to the Palace?”
“Dear me, no!” said Lady Haigh, with conviction. “She ought to be on her way back by this time. No; it’s quite clear that we can do nothing.”
“Except await events,” said Stratford, drearily; and Lady Haigh remembered that she had left Sir Dugald alone for a long time, and returned to his side not much comforted.
In the meantime, Georgia had reached the Palace without mishap, and, on sending a message by one of the slaves, was welcomed at the door of the harem by Nur Jahan. To her dismay, she found the girl in deep mourning. She wore no jewels, her hair was unbraided, her dress was coarse and squalid, and her feet bare.
“What is the matter, Nur Jahan?” asked Georgia, anxiously. “Has anything gone wrong with the Queen or Rustam Khan, or is it your baby?”
“It is my father,” said Nur Jahan, in a hurried whisper, so low that Rahah was obliged to come quite close in order to translate what she said. “O doctor lady, hast thou not heard? He was seized eleven days ago, and thrown into prison, by order of our lord the King.”
“But he is not dead?”
“God knows,” said Nur Jahan. “It may even be that, but we have not heard it. We know not where he is, nor what has befallen him since he was taken away.”
Georgia gasped. This news was the death-blow to the hopes which the party at the Mission had been cherishing. It was evident that Jahan Beg had been arrested almost immediately after his last colloquy with Sir Dugald, and before he could take any steps with reference to sending a messenger to Fort Rahmat-Ullah, so that help was as far off as ever. Had the King and Fath-ud-Din discovered his visits to the Mission, or was it merely that the Vizier’s hatred had at last burst its bounds? She turned to ask Nur Jahan on what charge he had been arrested, but smiled at her own folly when she remembered that in this happy land there was neither Habeas Corpus Act nor penalty for false imprisonment.
“It is good of thee to come to us, O doctor lady,” said Nur Jahan. “The Queen has been wearying to hear thy voice. She said that thou hadst heard of our trouble and forsaken us; but I said that it was not so, for that where there was sorrow there wouldst thou be to comfort it.”
“Then the Queen is no more cheerful than she was?”
“How should she be, now that this new trial is come upon us? Her slaves and I have kept from her all that we could; but she guesses what we do not tell her. Only she has not wept, for she knows that would injure her eyes, and her heart longs to behold my son before she dies.”
“But have you pleaded with the King for your father’s life?”
“My mother has. She is his own cousin, and yet she went to him as a suppliant, and entreated mercy for her husband; but he refused to hear her, and the rabble of the city broke into her house and set it on fire. Then she took refuge here with her household, and we have waited in vain for news ever since.”
“But does your mother live here in the King’s house, and eat his bread, when he has treated her husband so badly?”
“What else could she do? Our lord the King is her uncle’s son. Where could she take refuge but in his house with his wife? He will suffer no harm to happen to her, for it is only against my father that he is wroth. But I will take thee to see my mother, O doctor lady, when thou hast first visited the Queen, for her heart is sad and it may cheer her to hear thy voice.”
They went on into the Queen’s room, and Georgia examined the bandages and found them intact. It was as yet too early to remove them in order to discover whether the operation had been successful, and she remarked to Nur Jahan that it would have been as well not to send for her until two or three days later, when she could have superintended their removal.
“But we have not sent for thee, O doctor lady,” said Nur Jahan in surprise.
“Not sent for me?” cried Georgia. “But I had a message from the Queen!”
Nur Jahan shook her head, and the Queen spoke in a weak, quivering voice—
“It is of my lord’s kindness, then, that we behold thee, O doctor lady. When he last visited me, I was mourning that we saw thee so seldom, and now he has brought thee hither.”
“I should certainly not have come for a day or two if I had known that there was no change,” said Georgia; “nor should I have obeyed a message from the King, even though sent in your name.” But the poor Queen’s evident pleasure in her society moved her to pity, and she talked cheerfully to her for a while before taking her leave.
There were a few directions as to various points of treatment to be given to Nur Jahan, and when these had been duly explained and a fresh bottle of medicine promised, Georgia rose to go. Nur Jahan led her down the passage and into another room, which was filled with women in mourning. They were all sitting on the floor round an elderly lady, whose grey hair was besprinkled with dust, and they relieved one another at intervals in uttering a few words of lamentation and then breaking into a low, prolonged wail. Georgia had no difficulty in guessing that this was the bereaved household of Jahan Beg, and she felt some delicacy in interrupting the mournful proceedings; but Nur Jahan led her in and presented her to her mother, and the wailing women made room for her in their circle. At first she was afraid that it might be considered only proper politeness to take down her hair and cast dust upon it as they were doing; but she was not long in discovering that the duty of mourning had become a little monotonous after ten days’ diligent performance of it, and that the ladies were not indisposed to welcome the slight relief and distraction which might be afforded by the foreigner’s visit.
Nur Jahan’s mother raised her head, shook the dust out of her eyes, and after surveying Georgia from head to foot with great interest, began the invariable catechism. Was the doctor lady married? How had she learned her wisdom? Where did she get her clothes? Why did she do her hair in that way? Had she a father, mother, brothers, sisters? What had brought her to Kubbet-ul-Haj? Had her family raised no objections to such an extraordinary proceeding? Was the Kaisar really a woman? Was it then true that in England the women ruled and the men obeyed? Why did the doctor lady wear no jewellery? Which member of the Mission was it that dealt in magical arts—herself, or the Envoy, or the doctor who was dead?
The Princess stopped at last for want of breath, and Georgia, having answered as many of the questions as she could remember, expressed the sorrow she had felt on account of the misfortune that had fallen upon Jahan Beg, adding a hope that he would soon be restored to liberty. From all sides came the answer that whatever happened to him would be his fate, which could not be averted; but when she asked presently to what cause his sudden arrest was to be attributed, a storm of passion swept over the crowd of women. It was all the doing of Fath-ud-Din—might he die unlamented in the flower of his age! might his children live but to disgrace him! and might the graves of his parents and grandparents be dishonoured, yea, those of his ancestors to the remotest generation! After this outburst they came to definite charges, the Princess speaking first, and one woman after another chiming in with corroborative evidence.
Fath-ud-Din robbed the treasury and deceived the King, ground the faces of the honest poor, and kept the lawless rabble in his pay. He meant to place his nephew, Antar Khan, on the throne after his father, instead of the rightful heir, Rustam Khan, to whom God had granted such a promising son as showed he was intended to be king. He had a daughter who was supposed to be the most beautiful child in Ethiopia, and he was bringing her up in the country in a fortress of his own, where no one could see her, intending (such was the height of his presumption) to marry her to Antar Khan when she was old enough. And for her guardian there he had an old woman—a sorceress, who could destroy by her magic arts any undesirable stranger that might happen to approach the fortress, for she was one of the remnant of the Poisoners, a tribe of vagrants so noted for their evil deeds that the last King of Ethiopia had swept them almost out of the land. But this woman still remained, and that she worked at her old trade for Fath-ud-Din’s benefit there was no doubt, for did not all his enemies die mysteriously, and no man could tell who had hurt them? To this old woman had descended the evil secrets of the whole tribe, and she knew of poisons and antidotes with which no one else in the world was acquainted.
The women were so eager in their denunciations of the Grand Vizier that Georgia’s voice was unheeded when she tried to interrupt them, for the story of the witch and her poisons had recalled to her mind the recent events at the Mission, and she was anxious to know where the old woman was to be found. But the untiring accusers were hurrying on with a catalogue of other crimes committed by Fath-ud-Din, and they were only checked by a voice from the doorway.
“Dost thou not fear, O wife of Jahan Beg, thus with thy women to speak evil of those in authority? The arm of the Vizier has power to reach even to the house of the King.”
“The cat may seize the mouse, O mother of Antar Khan,” replied the Princess with dignity, “but the mouse may squeak.”
The intruder laughed contemptuously and waddled into the room between the rows of women, who had risen at her entrance. She was still a young woman, and might have been considered beautiful but for her exceeding stoutness (a quality, however, which is not considered a defect in Ethiopia), and she was dressed with the utmost magnificence which Kubbet-ul-Haj could show. Rich satins of varying colours, Kashmir shawls, and transparent gauzes were heaped upon her person in a way which declared them to be intended for display rather than for use; her eyelids were blackened, and her hands and lips reddened, and she was literally loaded with jewels. Several women followed her, in one of whom Georgia recognised the girl who had shouted across the courtyard to her on the last occasion of her visiting the Palace, and these also had donned all their finest possessions in preparation for paying this call. It was the direst insult to come dressed in such a style for a visit which was nominally one of condolence; but Nur Jahan’s mother dissembled her wrath, and invited the young Queen to take a seat on the divan, while her attendants grouped themselves around her. When the visitor was comfortably settled, and had been accommodated with a pipe, she favoured Georgia with a prolonged stare.
“Thou art the English doctor-woman?” she asked, so insolently that her maids giggled at the tone.
“I am,” returned Georgia, looking her over calmly.
“Why hast thou never visited me, to eat bread in my chamber?”
“I have never received an invitation,” said Georgia.
Antar Khan’s mother turned to her attendants.
“Hear the doctor lady!” she cried. “She is waiting for an invitation, instead of sending humbly to ask that she might be allowed to kiss the Queen’s feet!”
Not considering that so self-evident a fact called for comment, Georgia remained silent, which her assailant was unable to do.
“Think not that I came here to see thee,” she said.
“Oh, not at all,” said Georgia, pleasantly; and there was a suspicious tremble in Rahah’s voice as she translated the answer.
“Because, if I desire it, I shall be able to see thee continually from henceforth,” pursued the Queen. “But,” she added, with deep meaning, “I shall not desire it. I would not have thee in my sight.”
Georgia lifted her eyebrows slightly at this enigmatic and apparently uncalled-for remark, an action which seemed to irritate her opponent very much. She leaned forward when she spoke next, and her tone was full of menace.
“Thou art here—in the Palace.”
“I believe so,” returned Georgia, in some surprise.
“But how wilt thou depart hence—and when?”
“In a few minutes, and as I came, I suppose.”
The Queen laughed shrilly, and her women joined their voices with hers.
“Thou wilt never leave the Palace, O doctor lady. Before thou canst return to thy people there is a life to be given for thine, and who is there that will lay down his life for thee? Thou hast neither husband nor father nor brother, and what man is there that will give his life for a woman that is not even of his house?”
Georgia’s heart was in her mouth as the full import of the words dawned upon her; but she turned quietly to Nur Jahan’s mother.
“I never care to prescribe for patients in public,” she said. “Would it be possible for me to see the Queen in a separate room, with, perhaps, one of her attendants?”
A thrill of expectation went round the circle as Rahah translated the words with much emphasis. Georgia singled out an old woman standing behind the Queen.
“Tell me, O my mother,” she said, “whether thou hast long observed these symptoms in thy mistress? Is she often like this? Speak freely, for I cannot hope to cure her unless I know the truth.”
“Is the doctor-woman saying that I am mad?” burst forth the Queen, glaring round at her attendants, whose faces assumed immediately an expression of pious horror, although they were unable to answer in the negative. “I will show thee whether I am mad, thou infidel daughter of a dog!” she cried. “My lord shall give thee into my hands, and thou shalt know what I have wit to do.”
“I think not,” said Georgia with a smile, as her fingers closed on the butt of the little revolver she carried in a special pocket. Her feelings were so highly wrought that it was easier for her at the moment to smile than to speak, but the smile seemed to rouse her adversary to fury. She burst into a storm of threats and revilings such as Rahah declined to translate; but Georgia gathered the impression that any one who was so unfortunate as to fall into the hands of Antar Khan’s mother would have little mercy to hope for, and might well welcome death as the chief blessing on earth. She rose and folded her burka around her, and addressed the Princess.
“I fear my presence merely excites the patient,” she said, “and therefore I will go now. Perhaps I shall be able to see her another day when she is quieter, and there are not so many people present.”
“Yes, go!” echoed the Queen and her women. “Go, if thou canst!”
Accompanied by Nur Jahan, and followed by Rahah, Georgia walked down the passage to the door. As had been the case on the previous occasion, the litter was not there. Turning to Nur Jahan, Georgia asked her to send one of the slave-girls to summon it.
“O doctor lady,” whispered Nur Jahan, fearfully, “it is no use. There is evil intended against thee. Come back and remain in the chamber of my lord’s mother. It may be that they would not dare to drag thee from her presence.”
“Are you also turning against me, Nur Jahan? Send the woman at once, if you please. I shall not stay here.”
Tremblingly Nur Jahan obeyed, while the young Queen and her women, who had followed them out, laughed and jeered.
“Never again wilt thou enter the litter, O doctor lady. It is well to give orders, but it is ill when they are not obeyed.”
Nevertheless, after a delay of a few minutes, the litter appeared, to Georgia’s own astonishment, and the utter stupefaction of the Ethiopian women. Georgia’s spirits rose as she stepped into it, followed by Rahah, and she allowed herself to think that the Queen’s mysterious threats and extraordinary conduct had been part of a spiteful joke.