Chapter Fourteen

Meanwhile, in the capital, upon the high road, an uproar had arisen. A rumour ran abroad that the Sannyasis had fallen upon the revenue which was being conveyed from the royal treasury to Calcutta and had carried it off. Thereupon, by the king's command, sepoys and barkandazes set forth to seize the Sannyasis. Now at that time, in the famine-stricken province, true Sannyasis were but few; for they live by alms, and when men cannot themselves obtain food, who shall give alms to a Sannyasi?

Therefore such as were Sannyasis indeed had all of them fled, for hunger's sake, to the regions of Kashi and Prayag. Only the Children, as they pleased, would assume the Sannyasi's garb and lay it aside when need was. That day, beholding the disturbance, many cast off the Sannyasi's habit. For this cause the king's hungry servitors, finding no Sannyasi anywhere, contented themselves with breaking the householders' pots and pitchers, half-filling their own bellies, and returning whence they came.

Only Satyananda would never at any time lay aside his ochre robe.

By that small dark-rippling river, beside that very road, beneath a tree upon the bank, Kalyani lay; Mahendra and Satyananda, embracing each other and with tears in their eyes, were calling upon God; when behold, the Nazardi Jamadar arrived at that spot with his sepoys. Forthwith he laid his hand upon Satyananda's neck and said, "This rogue here is a Sannyasi." Another, at the same instant, seized Mahendra — for whoso was the Sannyasi's companion, he too must surely be a Sannyasi.

Yet a third went to lay hold of Kalyani's lifeless body, stretched upon the grass. But seeing it was a woman's corpse, and might be no Sannyasi, he forbore. The child too he left, upon like consideration. Then, saying nothing further, they bound the two men and bore them away. Kalyani's corpse and her little daughter were left without protection beneath that tree.

At first, overcome with grief and intoxicated with the love of God, Mahendra was almost without his senses. He could not understand what was happening or what had happened, and made no protest against being bound. But after he had been led some two or four paces, he understood that they were being led away in bonds. Kalyani's corpse lay there, no funeral rite performed; the infant daughter lay there; even now wild beasts might come and devour them. The moment this thought arose in his mind, Mahendra wrenched his two hands asunder by force; with one tug the bonds were torn.

In that selfsame instant, with one kick he laid the Jamadar Sahib flat upon the earth and was attacking another sepoy, when the other three laid hold of him from three sides and once more subdued him and rendered him helpless. Then Mahendra, sore distressed, said to Satyananda Brahmachari, "If thou wouldst but lend a little aid, we might slay these five wretches." Satyananda replied, "What strength is there in this old body of mine? Save for Him whom I was calling upon, I have no other strength. Do not thou set thyself against that which must come to pass. We cannot vanquish these five. Come, let us see whither they take us. The Lord of the worlds will protect us on every side." Then the twain, attempting no further to break free, walked on behind the sepoys.

After they had gone some distance, Satyananda asked the sepoys, "Friend, I am wont to chant the name of Hari — is there any objection to my chanting Hari's name?" The Jamadar deemed Satyananda an inoffensive man and said, "Chant Hari's name, I shall not forbid thee. Thou art an aged Brahmachari, and belike the order for thy release will come; this rascal is for the gallows." Then the Brahmachari began to sing softly:

By the gentle breeze, upon the river's bank, In the wood dwelleth the fair lady. O Archer, delay not thy going, For most disconsolate is Sukumari.

And so forth.

When they came to the city, they were brought before the Kotwal. The Kotwal sent word to the royal court and meanwhile placed the Brahmachari and Mahendra in the lock-up. That prison was a most fearful place; whoever entered it came forth scarcely at all, for there was no man to try his case. It was no English jail — at that day there was no English justice. To-day are the days of law — that day was a day of lawlessness. Compare the days of law with the days of lawlessness.