CHAPTER VI.
LA BELLE ALLIANCE.
“POOR dear Laili!” sighed Mabel, patting the dust-begrimed neck of the little mare. There was no fear of Laili’s running away now, although she had spirit enough left to struggle gamely through the sand, miles of which still stretched between her and home.
“I don’t think she’ll be any the worse when she’s had a good rest and feed,” said Fitz consolingly.
“Oh no, I hope not! But I know Dick will never let me ride her again.”
“Of course; it really wouldn’t be safe. The regiment are so often at carbine practice, you know, and the tribesmen can’t come near the town without letting off their jezails to show their friends they have arrived. It’s quite an exception when a day passes without our hearing shots of some kind.”
“I know. But she is such a beauty, I can’t bear to give her up.”
“Look here, Miss North; a bright idea! Will you let me try to break her of this frivolous habit of hers? I’m generally considered rather good with horses, and there’s nothing I should like better than to train her properly for you.”
“Oh, could you really? Of course I have still got Majnûn, but he is so uninteresting to ride compared with her. But won’t it give you a great deal of trouble?”
“Trouble? Not a bit! I wish it would. Then you might set it down as some sort of atonement for my carelessness in nearly getting you killed to-day. But anyhow, I’ll do my best with her, honour bright! If the Major will give her stable-room to-night, I’ll have a box cleared out for her at my place. My stables are crammed with ridiculous old rubbish that has come down to me from General Keeling’s time, and my horses camp in the middle of it. By-the-bye, do you know I can’t feel as I did about Sheikh here”—he looked askance at his own handsome pony—“since Bahram Khan won the Cup on him? It seems as if he must be an awful traitor to sell his master in that style, you see. I distinctly saw the fellow whisper in his ear before he mounted him, and he was like a lamb at once, instead of flinging his heels all over the shop, as he had been doing the moment before. Now suppose he’s been hypnotised once and for all, what’s to happen if he chooses to trot off and attach himself to Bahram Khan any day we may chance to meet him? I shall look a nice sort of fool.”
“Have Bahram Khan arrested for horse-stealing, I should think,” said Mabel, with a rather forced laugh. “But how is it that that dreadful man is here at all? I hope you had a word or two with the Hindu who told us he was away?”
“Ah, but he had us there, unfortunately. Narayan Singh told us that his master had started for Nalapur, but we didn’t ask whether he had come back, so he wasn’t obliged to say anything, and he didn’t. Bahram Khan told me himself how it happens that he’s here. It seems that when he got to Nalapur his uncle intimated that he could run the funeral without his assistance, and more than hinted, as I understand, that he had had too much to do with it already. Hence he thinks it well to hide his cousinly grief in his ancestral fortress, until he can get the Commissioner to tackle Ashraf Ali for him again, I suppose.”
“More trouble!” sighed Mabel.
“I’m afraid so. The Kumpsioner Sahib is scarcely likely to take such a slap in the face quietly. His protégé has been snubbed, and I rather think he will want to know the reason why.”
Mabel sighed again, and they spoke little after that, except to encourage the horses as they toiled through the loose sand. Arrived at the gate of the compound, she asked Fitz to come in and have some lunch, but he laughed.
“No lunch for me to-day, Miss North. I must tear home and get a fresh horse and ride out to the Major. You don’t realise that I have taken a good bit of the afternoon off as well as the morning that he granted me, and that the wigging I shall get is thoroughly well earned.”
“I’ll intercede for you the minute Dick comes in.”
“Ah, it will have happened before that. But never mind; it’s in a fair and honest cause—couldn’t be in a fairer,” added Fitz audaciously, as he rode off.
“I’m afraid that boy is going to be silly,” said Mabel solemnly to herself as she mounted the verandah steps; but on catching sight of Georgia, all thought of Fitz and his foolishness faded from her mind.
“Oh, Georgie, such a day of adventures! I’ve been thrown, and I’ve paid a morning call on Bahram Khan and found him at home, and I’ve penetrated into the recesses of an Eastern harem, and I’ve been talked to more disagreeably than I ever was in my life.”
“Mab!” was Georgia’s horrified exclamation, “how could you? How could Mr Anstruther let you? Was the harem Bahram Khan’s?”
“Yes, of course, and Mr Anstruther had no voice in the matter. I preferred to sit with the ladies rather than with their lord and master, naturally. And oh, Georgie! Bahram Khan’s Ethiopian wife is your little Zeynab, Fath-ud-Din’s daughter, and she thinks—she thinks—I don’t know how to say it—she has got it into her head that I aspire to the honour of being the second Mrs Bahram Khan.”
“Mab!” cried Georgia again, helplessly.
“Yes, and there was a fearful yellow woman there who says she’s English——”
“I know, that dreadful person Jehanara. Oh, Mab, Dick will be terribly angry when he knows you have been talking to her! She is Bahram Khan’s evil genius—inspires all his plots first, and then helps him to carry them out. She came here once as his ambassadress, but Dick would have nothing to do with her, and forbade me to let her come into the house. You see, politicals have to be very jealous of any Europeans or Eurasians’ gaining influence with native princes. And now she will make capital out of your having spoken to her.”
“My dear Georgie, will you kindly tell me how I could help speaking to her when she was the only possible interpreter between the ladies and me? Really one might think I had arranged that all these horrid things should happen, when you know they were pure accidents. And you won’t sympathise a bit, though I’m almost out of my mind with worry. These women will believe you; tell them, assure them, swear to them, that I have no designs on Bahram Khan, for if they go on thinking I have, I don’t know what I shall do.”
“I can put that right, at any rate, but Dick will be so vexed——”
“Dick!” Mabel almost screamed. “Dick is to know nothing of this. Georgie, I absolutely forbid you to say a word to him about it. Isn’t it enough for him to be always casting up against me what happened the other day, without having this to bother me about as well?”
“You must have a horribly guilty conscience, Mab. I’m sure Dick has never said a word to you about the other day.”
“No, but he has looked it, again and again. And I will not have him told about this absurd fancy of poor jealous Zeynab’s. You couldn’t be so dishonourable, Georgie, as to tell your husband another person’s secret against her will.”
“I can’t tell him if you forbid it, but I wish you would let me. Very likely it is some plot of Jehanara’s to make the poor little wife miserable, but it may have some political bearing, and I think he ought to know. Do let me tell him, Mab.”
“No, you’re not to. I shall never have the smallest confidence in you again if you do. It can’t concern Dick or anybody but myself, and the only reason I told you was that you might use your influence with the women to make them see how silly the idea was. If you tell any one else about it, we shan’t be friends any more.”
Some four days later Georgia was returning home from afternoon tea at the Grahams’. She had left Mabel behind her to comfort Flora, whose fiancé had returned to his duties at Fort Shah Nawaz, and Dick had ridden across the frontier to settle a tribal dispute, and would not be back till late. Georgia felt tired and depressed, and visions of the couch in her own room, and the latest magazines that had reached Alibad, floated enticingly before her. As she drove up to the house, however, she caught a glimpse of a camel kneeling down to its meal, a heap of fodder piled on a piece of rough cloth, in the stable-yard. One of the high hooded saddles used by native women of distinction lay near it, and two or three strange men were gossiping with the servants. The inference was obvious, and Georgia felt no surprise when her maid Rahah met her with the announcement that the Eye-of-the-Begum was waiting to see her. Mysterious as the words sounded, they referred only to the confidential attendant of the Moti-ul-Nissa, and the old woman was very soon established on the floor of Georgia’s room. The curtain over the door, which served as a danger-signal on these occasions, was drawn, and Rahah stationed outside it to warn Dick not to intrude when he returned, and the visitor was therefore able to lay aside her veil and make herself at home. As for Georgia, she had learnt by experience that however little a native might have to tell, he or she invariably displayed a misdirected ingenuity in lengthening out the telling of it, and she resigned herself to the loss of the quiet time she had anticipated, and made the customary polite inquiries with every sign of cordial interest. When these had been answered, and the Eye-of-the-Begum had duly asked after Mabel’s health, and (in modest periphrases), after that of Dick, and delivered her mistress’s salaams and good wishes to Georgia, paying a compliment in passing to her hostess’s coffee and sweets, she prepared at last to approach the subject of business, but strictly in her own fashion.
“Many years ago, O doctor lady,” she began, “a troop of robbers met a man leading a fine horse richly caparisoned. ‘O brother, who art thou?’ asked they. ‘I am So-and-so, the servant of Such-an-one, and I am taking this horse to my master’s son as a gift from his uncle,’ he replied. Then they seized and carried off the horse, and beat the man, but let him go. But verily it was his fate to be unfortunate that day, for he fell in with a second troop of robbers, who also asked him who he was. ‘Truly,’ said he, ‘I am So-and-so, the servant of Such-an-one, and I carry to my master’s son as a gift from his father a gold chain which is concealed in my turban.’ Now before this they had intended to kill him, but finding the chain, they took it and his clothes, and bade him make haste to depart. Hiding by day and travelling by night, he accomplished the rest of his journey, and presented himself before his master’s son, who, seeing a footsore man wearing only a ragged loincloth, asked him in astonishment who he was. ‘Verily,’ he said, ‘I am So-and-so, the servant of Such-an-one, and I bring to my master’s son the gift that his mother has sent him.’ And thus saying, he took from his armpit the great pearl which is nowadays called the Mountain of Milk, which is among the treasures of the Amirs of Nalapur, having carried it safely through the country of the robbers. Then his master’s son commanded that a robe of honour should be put upon him, and gave him a horse and arms.”
“He thoroughly deserved them,” said Georgia.
“True, O doctor lady. But thy servant is now as that messenger was. Here is my horse with the rich trappings,” she held out an empty liniment bottle. “The pains which were banished by the medicine from my mistress’s limbs have now returned, and she desires more of it. But of the gold chain concealed in the turban there is much to say, and even more of the great pearl hidden in the armpit, wherefore, O doctor lady, be wary lest there be any that can hear us.”
Georgia rose obediently, and looked outside the windows, under the bed, and into the wardrobe. Having made it clear that there were no eavesdroppers about, she returned to her visitor.
“First, then, O doctor lady, thy servant will reveal the chain of gold. My mistress’s son has looked upon the face of the Miss Sahib, thy lord’s sister, and his heart is hot with love of her. He has said to his mother, ‘Get her for me to wife, for I cannot sleep by night nor eat by day for thinking of her.’”
“I am astonished that the Hasrat Ali Begum should venture to send such a message to me,” said Georgia coldly, rising as she spoke, but the old woman caught at her dress.
“Nay, hear me out, O doctor lady. My mistress strove her utmost to dissuade her son, for truly it is not well for East to mate with West, nor Moslem with Christian, neither is it pleasant for her to think of a daughter-in-law who will desire to change everything in the zenana, and rule the whole house, because she is English. It is out of love for thee, O doctor lady, and for thy lord, who is just and fears no man, that my mistress speaks. For these were the words of Syad Bahram Khan, my mistress’s son: ‘Tell Nāth Sahib that if he will give me his sister, I desire no dowry with her, but only his friendship. Let him speak with my uncle to acknowledge me as his heir, and grant me the honours and dignities which by right belong to the Amir that is to be, and I will live in peace with them both, and strengthen them against all their enemies. Fath-ud-Din’s daughter shall go back to her father’s house, so that all men may see that I look no longer to Ethiopia for support, and that Nāth Sahib’s sister shall have no rival in the zenana. And moreover, have I not found favour in the sight of Barkaraf Sahib, whose eye is evil against Nāth Sahib? If Nāth Sahib will make friends with me, I will speak for him to the Kumpsioner Sahib, so that he shall look favourably upon him also, and the border will be at peace, and Nāth Sahib’s praise in all men’s mouths.’”
“Surely you must see for yourself that the idea is absurd?” said Georgia, trying to speak gently. “I can’t be too thankful that Bahram Khan did not send a message direct to my husband. His wrath would have been——”
“That was Jehanara’s advice, O doctor lady. She bade his Highness gather his followers and ride boldly with them to demand the Miss Sahib from thy lord. But my mistress, knowing that Nāth Sahib’s hand is always ready, feared for her son, and spoke prudently to him: ‘Nay, my son, do not so, or Nāth Sahib will think thee ignorant of the customs of thine own people, and intending an insult to his house. Rather let thy mother speak for thee, that all things may be done according to custom, and the maiden’s relations not angered.’”
“And what about my poor little Zeynab?” asked Georgia. “What does she think of all these negotiations?”
“She is a fool,” returned the old woman shortly. “When the Miss Sahib came into the zenana the other day, she was angry and reviled her, and the Miss Sahib was angry also, and bade Jehanara tell her that she would not so much as touch her lord with the staff of a lance. Now at this the foolish girl was comforted, but her jealousy was only laid to rest for a moment, and because her lord would not suffer her to come near him, and drove her away with bitter mockings, she taunted him in her rage with the Miss Sahib’s words, so that he fell into a terrible fury, and beat her, and tore off her jewels, hoping that she would return of her own will to her father’s house.”
“Brute!” murmured Georgia, with white lips. “But why didn’t he divorce the poor child?”
“He would have done so, O doctor lady, had not Jehanara reminded him that if Nāth Sahib rejected his proffer of friendship, it would not be prudent for him to make himself enemies in Ethiopia. She desires to see thy lord humbled, O doctor lady, and she knows that the Vizier Fath-ud-Din hates him also. But the Lady Zeynab offered no resistance to her lord’s treatment of her, dreading only lest he should send her from him.”
“Upon my word!” cried Georgia. “I wish Bahram Khan had made his request to my husband in person. He would have deserved whatever he got.”
The visitor sighed patiently. “Strange are thy ways, O doctor lady, after the manner of thy people! Why should it trouble thee that an Ethiopian woman is beaten by her husband, when thine own lord’s fate is trembling in the balance? Think rather of him and of thyself than of this foolish girl. And now to come to the great pearl, even my message of messages, which is from the mouth of my mistress’s brother, the Amir Ashraf Ali Khan. It is known to no one but his Highness’s self and the wise and learned mullah Aziz-ud-Din, whom he sent on an errand to my mistress’s son, but with this secret message for my mistress’s own ear. These are the words of the Amir Sahib: ‘Say to my friend Nāth Sahib, What is to be the end of these things? Since thy first coming hither I have obeyed thy voice, as I did that of thy father-in-law, Sinjāj Kīlin Sahib, and all has gone well with me. I saw at my side my nephew Bahadar Shah, who was to me as a son, my Sardars brought their tribute at the due seasons, and the Ethiopians durst not cross my borders, while thy wisdom and justice settled all boundary disputes to the admiration of my wisest men. Now all this is changed. Bahadar Shah is gone from me, and Barkaraf Sahib orders me to receive in his stead the unnatural wretch who sought to slay me, his benefactor. Even now he rebukes me with great words because I would not suffer the mockery of his presence at the grave of him he slew. Speak then, O my friend, and let me know thy mind. Who is Barkaraf Sahib that he should thrust himself into the affairs of this border of mine and thine? He cannot speak our tongue nor judge according to our customs, and he never beheld the face of Sinjāj Kīlin Sahib Bahadar. Can it be that his presumption and the evil of his doings are known to the Sarkar? Wilt thou obtain leave for me to make a journey to the Court of the great Lord Sahib, or of the Empress herself, that there I may lay the truth before them? Or if the Kumpsioner Sahib stands in the way of this, then let me present a petition truthfully drawn up.’”
The ambassadress paused, but Georgia shook her head. “No, it would be no use,” she said. “The Kumpsioner Sahib has the ear of the Sarkar, and he is given a free hand here.”
“Is it so, O doctor lady? Then listen to the remaining words of Ashraf Ali Khan: ‘Let Nāth Sahib but say the word, and this border shall be no place for the Kumpsioner Sahib. Already my Sardars are murmuring against his doings, and the tribesmen’s faces are black towards him because of his treatment of their friend. At a signal from me they will rise all along the border, and force the Kumpsioner Sahib to flee for his life, so that the Empress shall say, “Verily Barkaraf Sahib is no fit ruler for the men of Khemistan.” But when he is gone, Nāth Sahib shall quell the rising without drawing a single sword, so that the Empress will send him a robe of honour and a state elephant, and name him ruler of Khemistan and the border for ever. Send back but one word through the mullah Aziz-ud-Din, whom I have despatched to quiet the complaints of my nephew with empty words and grudging gifts, in obedience to the Kumpsioner Sahib, and the thing is done.’”
“Oh no, no!” cried Georgia, “that must never be. A rising now would only work the ruin of my husband, and the Kumpsioner Sahib would be stronger than ever before. More than this, O Eye-of-the-Begum, such are not the ways of the English. Because the Kumpsioner Sahib is set over my husband, he is to be obeyed, and to conspire against him or plot for his disgrace would be in our eyes a deadly wrong. The matter is ended.”
“So be it, O doctor lady. The hands of Ashraf Ali Khan are clean, and he has done what he could for his friend and for himself, but it was written that matters are not to be set right thus. And one word more; see that thy lord seek a husband quickly for the Miss Sahib. Why does he not give her to the Dipty Sahib?” This was Fitz Anstruther, in his capacity of Dick’s assistant or deputy. “He is young and well spoken, and such a man as women love.”
“I should like nothing better,” said Georgia, with a sigh, “but I rather think the Miss Sahib will choose a husband for herself. And hark! I hear the Major Sahib returning. You will rest this night in the guest-house in the compound with your attendants?”
“Even so, O doctor lady, and in the morning I will return to Dera Gul with the medicine for my mistress, and with such words as the wisdom of the night may dispose thee and thy lord to send in answer to the Amir Sahib’s message.”
Georgia shook her head again sadly as she delivered the old woman into Rahah’s charge, and having seen her safely out of the way, went to find Dick. He had just thrown off his heavy boots, and was lounging luxuriously in a long chair in his den.
“That you at last, Georgie? Come in, old girl. How has the world gone with you all day? I’m just comfortably tired, and at peace with all mankind. What’s up? Some obstinate patient who will die, eh?”
“No, nothing of that kind. I have been interviewing a messenger from Dera Gul.”
“Not that awful East Indian woman, I hope?” Dick raised himself suddenly.
“No; the Eye-of-the-Begum, with a very secret message from the Amir. He wants you to join with him to get rid of the Commissioner.”
“He does, does he? I thought Burgrave’s last reprimand would wake him up a bit. He made it pretty clear that Bahram Khan was to be recognised as heir, and admitted to all the privileges of the post. It’s funny, isn’t it, that our respected superior doesn’t seem to see what a creepy sort of thing it is to welcome into your bosom a snake that’s tried to bite you already? Oh, Georgie, it is calculated to make a man swear when he sees a fellow like Burgrave, who has far less knowledge of district work than young Anstruther, and that so long ago that he’s forgotten all about it, sent to upset a province where he doesn’t even know the languages, simply because he can write nice reports and is a favourite at Simla. I can’t make pretty speeches to exalted personages, but I can keep this frontier quiet, and they won’t let me do it.”
“I know; it’s perfectly shameful. But, Dick, I have something else to tell you that will make you laugh, though you won’t like it. Bahram Khan is anxious to marry Mab.”
Dick bounced out of his chair. “The dirty hound! It’s like his impudence to dare to dream of such a thing. He had better look out for the next time he comes across me. Why hadn’t he the pluck to bring his precious message himself?”
“I think his mother fancied he would be safer at a distance. He is good enough to offer his friendship as a bait.”
“Thanks, I’d rather be without it. The whole thing is a plot, Georgie—a palpable plot to try and get me into trouble with Burgrave. There was no hint of this atrocious idea when Mab was at Dera Gul the other day, or we should have heard of it.” Georgia felt uncomfortable, but her promise to Mabel kept her silent. “It’s a clumsy trick devised on the spur of the moment. If I pretended to nibble at it, the next thing would be that Burgrave would be informed I was intriguing against him, and had offered my sister to Bahram Khan to attract him to my side. We are on the down-grade, Georgie. I didn’t know they had got so far as inventing false accusations against me yet. Bah! it makes a man sick of the whole thing.”
“I fancy Bahram Khan has had the idea in his mind longer than you imagine,” Georgia ventured to say.
“Oh, you’re a match-maker, as I’ve told you before. Please keep your planning to pleasanter subjects in future. But I say, it’s rather fine that the Commissioner should have Bahram Khan for a rival! I should really like to tell him so.”
“Then you still think Mr Burgrave is in love with Mab?”
“If he isn’t, why does he stick on here so long without bringing off his great splash? He says it’s because of the Christmas holidays, but a trifle like that wouldn’t keep him quiet generally. My idea is that he means to make sure of her before breaking with me.”
“But she would have nothing to do with him in any case if he broke with you.”
“You think so? Well, we shall see.”