Chapter Forty Four

Then the two whispered together a while in counsel. The counsel taken, Jibananda hid himself in one wood. Shanti entered another, and embarked upon a strange device.

Shanti had been going to die; but she had resolved that at the hour of death she would resume the garb of a woman. This man's habit of hers was a piece of trickery, as Mahendra had said. To die in the midst of trickery would not do. Therefore had she brought her wicker basket with her. In it she kept all her woman's array. Now Nabinananda opened the basket and set herself to changing her attire.

Drawing upon her brow a fine vermilion mark with a streak of catechu above it, and shadowing her moon-bright face with the fluffy ringlets — the curling locks then in fashion — Shanti with a saranga in her hand, in the dress of a Vaishnavi mendicant, presented herself in the English camp. At sight of her, the bee-black-bearded sepoys were thrown into a flutter. One called for a tappa, another for a ghazal, another for a song of Shyama, another for a piece of his own choosing.

One gave her rice, another pulse, another sweets, another a copper, another a four-anna piece. The Vaishnavi, having with her own eyes well surveyed the state of the camp, was making to depart, when the sepoys asked, "When wilt thou come again?" The Vaishnavi answered, "That I know not, for my home is far hence." The sepoys asked, "How far?" The Vaishnavi said, "My home is at Padachihna." Now that very day the Major Sahib was making enquiries about Padachihna.

One of the sepoys knew of it. He called the Vaishnavi and took her to the Captain Sahib. The Captain Sahib took her to the Major Sahib. Coming before the Major Sahib, the Vaishnavi with a sweet smile and a heart-piercing glance set the sahib's head a-swimming, and striking upon her khanjani, raised up a song —

"Mlechchhanibahanidhane kalayasi karavalam."

The sahib enquired, "Vere ees your house, beebee?"

The Vaishnavi answered, "I am no beebee, but a Vaishnavi. My house is at Padachihna."

Sahib. Well, that is Padsin — Padsin, is it? Hooyan ek gor hai?

The Vaishnavi said, "House? — there are many houses."

Sa. Not gor — not gor — gor — gor —

Sha. Sahib, I understand thy meaning. A fort?

Sa. Yes, yes, gor! gor! — hai?

Sha. There is a fort. A mighty stronghold.

Sa. Ketta admi?

Sha. How many men are in the fort? Twenty or fifty thousand.

Sa. Nonsense. In a single fort two or four thousand may bide. Hooyan par abhi hai? Ya nikal gaya?

Sha. Why should they go out?

Sa. To the fair — when didst thou come thence?

Sha. Yesterday, sahib.

Sa. Those people will have marched out today.

Shanti said within herself, "If I cook not the rice for thy father's funeral feast, my vermilion mark is drawn in vain. I shall see how long it is before the jackals get thy skull." Aloud she said, "Well, sahib, it may be so — if they have marched today, they may have gone. So much news I know not. I am but a Vaishnavi woman; I sing for my livelihood and beg my bread; such tidings I do not keep account of. I have prated till my throat is parched — give me my copper or my four-anna piece, and let me arise and be gone. Or give me a handsome largesse, and I shall come the day after tomorrow and bring thee word."

The sahib clanked down a rupee in coin and said, "Not the day after tomorrow, beebee!"

Shanti said, "Avaunt, fellow! Say Vaishnavi — what is this 'beebee'?"

Edwards. Not the day after — tonight must word reach me.

Sha. Lay thy musket beneath thy head, and swill thy brandy, and pour mustard oil into thy nose, and sleep. Today I am to walk ten kos and come back — and bring his lordship news! Petty rascal that thou art!

E. Petty rascal — of whom dost thou say it?

Sha. Of one who is a mighty hero — a redoubtable general.

E. A Great General can I be — like Clive. But this night must I have word. A hundred rupees shall be thy largesse.

Sha. Give thy hundred or give thy thousand — twenty kos upon these two legs cannot be.

E. On horseback.

Sha. If I knew how to ride a horse, should I come to thy tent and play the saranga and beg?

E. He shall take thee on the saddle before him.

Sha. Carry me on his lap? Have I no shame?

E. What a coil! Five hundred rupees we shall give.

Sha. Who is to go — wilt thou thyself go?

The sahib, pointing with his finger, indicated a young ensign by the name of Lindley who stood before him, and said to him, "Lindley, wilt thou go?" Lindley, beholding Shanti's beauty and youth, said, "With all pleasure!"

Then a fine Arab horse, fully caparisoned, was brought up, and Lindley made himself ready. He went to lay hold of Shanti and lift her to the saddle. Shanti said, "Fie, in the midst of all this company? Have I no shame? Let us first get clear of the camp."

Lindley mounted. The horse went forward at a walking pace. Shanti walked behind. In this wise they came forth from the camp. Coming forth into the open and lonely plain, Shanti set her foot upon Lindley's foot, and at a bound was upon the horse. Lindley laughed and said, "Why, thou art a finished horsewoman!"

Shanti said, "We are such finished horsewomen that we are ashamed to ride with thee. Fie! To ride with the foot in the stirrup!"

To make show of his prowess, Lindley took his foot for a moment out of the stirrup. On the instant, Shanti laid her hand upon the foolish Englishman's neck and flung him from the horse. Then taking her proper seat upon the horse's back, and striking her ankleted heel into its flank, with the speed of the wind she sent the Arab flying. For four years had Shanti gone about with the host of the Children, and learnt thereby the art of horsemanship as well. Had she not learnt it, how should she have lived at Jibananda's side? Lindley, his leg broken, lay where he had fallen. Shanti, swift as the wind, sped on upon the horse's back.

To the wood where Jibananda had hidden himself Shanti rode, and there she made all the tidings known to Jibananda. Jibananda said, "Then I will hasten and put Mahendra on his guard. Do thou go to the fair and give word to Satyananda. Go thou on horseback — that the master may have the tidings the sooner." Then the two darted off in opposite directions. Needless to say, Shanti was once more Nabinananda.