India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
Yes, at Mandhatta they would both sacrifice to the gods. Curiously
Elizabeth stood in the computation a cipher; probably he would marry
her, but the escapement from disaster, from wreck, would not be because
of any moral sustaining from her, any invisible thread of love binding
him to the daughter of the Resident. He knew that until he parted from
Bootea at Mandhatta his soul would be torn by a strife that was
foolish, contemptible, that should never have originated.
CHAPTER XXVII
And next day when Barlow, sitting his horse, still riding as the
Afghan, went forth, his going was somewhat like the departure of a
Nawab. Chief Kassim and a dozen officers had clanked down the marble
steps from the palace with him and stood lined up at the gates raising
their deep voices in full-throated salaams and blessings of Allah upon
his head.
The horsemen of the guard, spears to boot-leg, fierce-looking riders of
the plain, were lined up four abreast. The _nakara_ in the open court
of the palace was thundering a farewell like a salute of light
artillery.
The _tonga_ with Bootea had gone on before with a guard of two
out-riders.
All that day they travelled to the south, on their left, against the
eastern sky, the lofty peaks of the Vindhya mountains holding the gold
of the sun till they looked like a continuous chain of gilded temples
and tapering pagodas. For hours the road lay over hard basaltic rocks
and white limestone; then again it was a sea of white sand they
traversed with its blinding eye-stinging glare.
At night, when they camped, Barlow had a fresh insight into the fine
courtesy, the rough nobility that breeds into the bone of men who live
by the sword and ride where they will. The Pindaris built their
camp-fires to one side, and two of them came to where the Sahib bad
spread his blankets near the _tonga_ and built a circle of smudge-fires
from chips of camel-dung to keep away the flies. Then they went back
to their fellows, and when Barlow had pulled the blanket over himself
to sleep the clamour of voices where the horsemen sat was hushed.
And Bootea had been treated like a princess. At each village that they
passed some would ride in and rejoin the cavalcade with fowl, and eggs,
and fruit, and sugar cane, and fresh vegetables; and a mention of
payment would only draw a frown, an exclamation of, "_Shookur_! these
are but gifts from Allah. There has been more than payment that we
have not cut off the _kotwal's_ head, not even demanded a peep at the
money chest. We are looked upon as men who confer favours."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account