India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
"Then let my friend listen to me. These Moslem notables, who would
dispute the city itself with my Granthis, but for the firm hand I keep
over both, think you that they love the English? Abd-ur-Rashid Khan of
Ethiopia is the master they would choose to serve if they had their
way. Say that they gratify their hatred by slaying a British officer,
Antni Sahib's envoy. On whose head lies the guilt? Is it not on that
of Rajah Partab Singh? The English come to punish him, and the whole
of Granthistan is in a blaze again. Granthi sides with Granthi against
the English, but these dogs of Mohammedans, who shall tell which side
they will take? This only I can say, that it will be the side of their
own advantage."
"Forgive me, Maharaj-ji. I had not thought----"
"No, my friend. You uttered hastily the words of an impatient mind,
not having studied from your youth the art of playing off Granthi
against Moslem, and both against Ranjitgarh. But it is a study that
you will do well to take in hand now."
"I could have no better teacher than your Highness," said Gerrard
politely. The Rajah looked at him almost with affection.
"Would that these were as the days of old, before the English crossed
the Ghara! Then should Jirad Sahib have been my Englishman, and I
would have given him a wife out of my own house, and he should have
dwelt always in my city, and trained my soldiers. Verily we would have
put Ranjitgarh itself to tribute when the fool sat on the _gaddi_ in
the place of Ajit Singh, and when death approached I would have put my
son Kharrak Singh into my friend's arms and died content, knowing that
he would serve the child even as he had served the father. But now who
shall protect the boy from a thousand dangers?"
"If peril threatens him when I am at hand, your Highness can count upon
my protecting him with my life."
"Of that I am certain." Partah Singh paused, and his eyes wandered
over the dark gardens, with their gleaming white colonnades and kiosks
and graceful towers rising into the blue-black sky. He traced the
starlight down to its reflection in the great tank before he spoke
again. "If I should place my son and my kingdom under the protection
of the English, what would happen in Agpur?" he asked at last.
"Your Highness knows whether the army is to be trusted. There would be
intense indignation on the part both of the Granthi and the Moslem
notables, I presume? Whether they would proceed to active
opposition----"
"If they saw a hope of success they would. But with the army faithful
to an Englishman already established in charge here--and the English at
Ranjitgarh ready to march to his assistance?"
"But you forget one thing, Maharaj-ji. That the days of your Highness
may yet be prolonged for many years is a thing not only to be hoped for
but confidently expected, and the English are at Ranjitgarh only for a
certain time, until Ajit Singh's son comes of age."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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