Chapter Nineteen

Before the evening was come, the company of the Children had learned that Satyananda the Brahmachari and Mahendra, both alike, had been taken prisoner and lay shut up in the prison of the city. Then one by one, two by two, by tens, by hundreds, the company of the Children came thronging in and filled the forest that begirded the temple. All were armed. Wrath blazed in their eyes, pride was on their faces, their lips were set in resolve. At first hundreds, then thousands, then two thousand.

Thus did their number swell. Then, standing at the gate of the monastery with sword in hand, Jnanananda cried aloud, "Long have we purposed in our hearts to break this weaver-bird's nest, to lay waste this city of the Yavanas, and cast it into the river. We will burn this sty of swine in fire and once more make pure our Mother Earth. Brethren, that day is come this day. Our Master's Master, the supreme Guru, who is of boundless wisdom, ever pure of conduct, who is the well-wisher of mankind, the well-wisher of the land, who hath sworn to lay down his body for the re-establishment of the eternal faith — whom we hold as an incarnation of Vishnu, who is the means of our salvation, he today lieth captive in the Mussulman's prison. Is there no edge upon our swords?" And stretching forth his hand, Jnanananda said, "Is there no strength in these arms?" Then smiting upon his breast he said, "Is there no courage in this heart? — Brethren, cry, Hare Murare Madhukaitabhare! He who slew Madhu and Kaitabha — he who wrought the destruction of Hiranyakashipu, Kansa, Dantavakra, Shishupala, and the rest of the unconquerable demons — at the roar of whose discus even Shambhu, the conqueror of death, was made afraid — who is unconquered, the giver of victory in battle — His worshippers are we, by His strength is there boundless might in our arms; He is the Lord of all will, and so soon as He willeth, victory shall be ours. Come, let us break that city of the Yavanas to powdered dust. Let us purify with fire that swine's habitation and cast it into the river. Let us break that weaver-bird's nest and scatter its straw and stubble to the wind. Cry — Hare Murare Madhukaitabhare!"

Then from out of that forest, in a terrible roar, a thousand throats burst forth together with the cry, "Hare Murare Madhukaitabhare!" A thousand swords clashed together as one.

A thousand spears with their blades were uplifted on high. From the smiting of a thousand arms went forth a sound as of thunder. A thousand shields beat upon the hardy backs of the warriors with a clattering noise. At that great uproar the beasts of the forest fled in terror; the birds flew up in fear with loud cries and covered the heavens. At that hour hundreds of victory-drums sounded all together. Then crying "Hare Murare Madhukaitabhare", the ranks of the Children began to issue forth from the forest.

With slow and solemn tread, chanting aloud the name of Hari, they moved in that dark night toward the city. The rustling of garments, the clash of weapons, the muffled murmur of voices, and ever and anon the great cry of Haribol — slowly, gravely, wrathfully, mightily, that host of the Children entered the city and filled it with dismay. Beholding this thunderbolt fallen on a sudden, the townsfolk fled, none knew whither. The watchmen of the city stood stupefied and helpless.

Meanwhile the Children, going first to the royal prison, broke open the prison and slew the keepers. And having set Satyananda and Mahendra free, they lifted them upon their heads and began to dance. Then arose a mighty tumult of Haribol. Having freed Satyananda and Mahendra, wherever they saw the dwelling of a Mussulman, they set fire to it. Then Satyananda said, "Turn back; there is no need of wanton harm." When tidings of these outrages of the Children reached the authorities of the land, they sent forth a body of "Pargana Sepoys" to subdue them.

These had not muskets alone, but a cannon also. The Children, having received news of their coming, issued forth from the Ananda-Kanan, the Forest of Joy, and advanced to battle. But what shall sticks and pikes, and a score or five-and-twenty muskets, avail against a cannon? The Children were defeated, and began to flee.

Nimai then, pressing the fingers of one hand with the other, with head bowed down and gaze fixed upon them, looking once into Jibananda's face and once at the ground, at length opened her lips and said, "Shall I call the bride once?"

Jibananda lifted up the water-vessel for washing his mouth, ready to strike Nimai upon the head; and he said, "Give me back my daughter, and one day I will bring back thy rice and pulse. Thou monkey-woman, thou ill-faced wench, thou speakest unto me what should not be spoken."

Nimai said, "Be it so, I am a monkey-woman, I am ill-faced. Shall I call the bride once?"

JIBANANDA: "I am off."

So saying, Jibananda strode briskly forth — but Nimai went and stood at the door, and shutting the door, set her back against it and said, "First slay me, then go. Without meeting thy wife thou shalt not depart."