Chapter Seventeen

Both having paid their reverences at the shrine of Shaileshwar, they set forth with anxious hearts toward Garh Mandarun. For a little while they walked in silence. After some distance the Prince spoke first.

"Bimala," said he, "there is a matter upon which I am curious. What thou wilt say when thou hearest it, I cannot tell."

"What is it?" said Bimala.

"I have become persuaded," said Jagatsingh, "that thou art no waiting-woman."

Bimala smiled a little and replied, "Why should such a suspicion arise in your mind?"

"There is a particular reason," said Jagatsingh, "why the daughter of Birendrasingh cannot become the daughter-in-law of the lord of Amber. It is a most secret affair; were thou truly a waiting-woman, how shouldst thou know of it?"

Bimala drew a long breath, and in a voice somewhat plaintive replied, "You have guessed rightly. I am no waiting-woman. By the decree of fate I live as one. Yet why should I accuse fate? My fortune is not ill."

The Prince perceived that these words had roused some grief in Bimala's heart, and therefore said nothing more upon the subject. Bimala spoke of her own accord. "Your Highness, I will make myself known to thee; but not now. What is that sound? Does someone follow behind?"

At that moment footsteps were heard from behind — it seemed as though two persons were conversing in whispers. They had by this time traversed nearly half a krosha from the temple.

The Prince said, "I am greatly suspicious. Let me look."

So saying, he retraced some distance along the path and searched about its margins as well; but nowhere could he discern any person. Returning to Bimala he said, "I suspect that someone has been following us. It were best to speak with caution."

Henceforward both of them conversed in very low tones as they walked on. In due course they entered the village of Garh Mandarun and arrived before the gates of the fortress. The Prince asked, "How wilt thou enter the fort at this hour? The gates will certainly be shut so late in the night."

Bimala replied, "Have no anxiety; I had devised means for this before I set out from home."

The Prince laughed. "There is a secret passage, I suppose?"

Bimala laughed also. "Where there is a thief, there is always a crack in the wall."

After a little the Prince spoke again. "Bimala, there is now no need for me to go further. I shall await thee in this mango-grove that stands beside the fort. Go thou and plead with thy friend on my behalf, without concealment. Whether it be after a fortnight or after a month, I would look upon her but once more and be content."

Bimala replied, "This mango-grove too is no solitary place. Come thou with me."

"How far shall I go?" said Jagatsingh.

"Into the fort itself," said Bimala.

The Prince considered a moment. "Bimala, that is not fitting. I will not enter the fort without the permission of its master."

"What is there to fear?" said Bimala.

"Princes fear nothing," answered the Prince with a certain pride. "Yet consider — is it meet that the son of the lord of Amber should enter a fort privily, like a thief, without the knowledge of its master?"

"It is I who am calling thee," said Bimala.

"Think not," said the Prince, "that I hold thee in contempt, taking thee for a waiting-woman. But tell me — by what right dost thou bid me enter?"

Bimala too reflected a moment. "If thou wilt not go without hearing by what right I call thee — must it be so?"

"I will not go otherwise," said Jagatsingh.

Bimala then leaned close to the Prince's ear and spoke a single word.

"Let us go," said the Prince.

"Your Highness," said Bimala, "I am a servant-woman; say to a servant-woman 'come,' not 'let us go.'"

"So be it," said the Prince.

The path by which Bimala was leading the Prince past the public road ran toward the fort-gate. Beside the fort lay the mango-grove, invisible from the main entrance. To reach the bank of the Amodar as it flowed behind the inner apartments, one must pass through this mango-grove. Bimala now quitted the main road and entered the mango-grove with the Prince.

No sooner had they entered the grove than both once more heard the same sound as before — the crackle of dry leaves, as of a human footfall.

"Again!" said Bimala.

"Stand thou still a moment," said the Prince. "I will go and see."

Drawing his sword, the Prince went in the direction of the sound; but he could discern nothing. Under the mango-trees the undergrowth of forest creepers was so dense, and the shadows of the trees by night so deep, that wheresoever he went, he could see but a little way before him. He began to think it might be the breaking of dry leaves under the tread of some beast. Nevertheless, resolved to set all doubt at rest, the Prince climbed a mango-tree with sword in hand, and from the topmost branches gazed about on every side. After long and careful scrutiny he perceived that in the dark mass of branches of one great mango-tree, two men were seated; the moonbeams fell upon their turbans, which alone were visible — their persons lay hid in shadow. The Prince looked long and carefully and was in no doubt that these were men, with turbans on their heads. He marked the tree well, that he might not mistake it should he return. Then he descended slowly and came to Bimala without a sound. He described what he had seen and added, "If only I had two spears!"

"What wouldst thou do with spears?" said Bimala.

"I could then learn who these are; and the sign is not good. From the turbans I judge them to be treacherous Pathans who have dogged our footsteps with some evil purpose."

At once there came into Bimala's mind the image of the dead horse by the road, the turban, and the prints of horse-soldiers' feet. She said, "Then remain here; I shall be back in a moment with spears from the fort."

So saying, Bimala hastened to the foot of the fortification. The chamber below that in which she had dressed herself earlier that evening had a casement looking toward the mango-grove. Bimala drew a key from within her garment and fitted it to a spring; then, seizing the window-bars, she pulled them toward the wall. By a cunning device of craft and carpentry, shutter, frame, and bars all together slid within a hollow in the masonry, and a way stood open for Bimala to enter the room. Having entered, she seized the window-frame from within and drew it outward; the casement came forth and resumed its former place. On the inner face of the shutters a spring-lock of the same kind was fitted, and Bimala applied the key of her garment to it. The window was thus firmly fixed in its place, and no possibility remained of opening it from without.

Bimala went with all speed to the armoury of the fort. To the sentry there she said, "Tell no man what I ask of thee. Give me two spears — I will bring them back."

The sentry stared in amazement. "Lady," said he, "what wouldst thou do with spears?"

Quick-witted Bimala replied, "Tonight is the fast of Virapanchami; they who keep this fast win valiant sons; and for it one must perform weapons-worship by night. I desire a son — speak of it to no one."

The sentry understood the matter as she had explained it. All the servants in the fort were subject to Bimala's command; and so, without another word, he handed her two well-whetted spears.

Bimala took the spears and with her former speed returned to the casement, opened it from within as before, and passed out. She then went to Jagatsingh and placed the spears in his hands.

Whether from haste, or from confidence that she was but close at hand and would return immediately, Bimala had not bolted the secret passage as she went. Herein lay a cause of calamity. Very close to the casement stood a mango-tree, and behind it lurked an armed man; he had seen Bimala's oversight. As long as Bimala remained within his sight, the armed man kept himself hidden behind the trunk; the moment she passed beyond his view, he removed his noisy leather sandals at the foot of the tree and crept step by step without sound to the casement. He first looked into the room through the open way and, seeing no one within, entered noiselessly. He then passed through the door of that chamber into the inner apartments.

Meanwhile, having received the spears from Bimala, the Prince climbed the tree again as before and looked toward the tree he had previously marked. He saw that now only a single turban was visible — the second man was no longer there. The Prince held one spear in his left hand, grasped the second in his right, took aim at the turbaned figure in the tree, and with the full strength of his mighty arm hurled it. Instantly there came the violent rustling of the leaves, and then the heavy sound of something falling to earth; the turban was no longer in the tree. The Prince understood that his unerring aim had sent the turbaned man toppling from the branch to the ground.

Jagatsingh descended from the tree at speed and went to the place where the wounded man had fallen. He saw a Muslim warrior in soldier's dress, fully armed, lying as one dead. The spear had pierced him beside the eye.

The Prince examined the prostrate body and found that life had wholly departed. The spear had entered beside the eye and passed through the brain. Within the dead man's breastplate lay a letter, a small corner of which protruded. Jagatsingh took the letter, carried it into the moonlight, and read it. This was what was written therein —

"All those in obedience to Katlu Khan shall, upon sight of this writing, fulfil the commands of the bearer hereof. Katlu Khan."

Bimala had only heard the sounds; she had not been able to discern anything clearly. The Prince came to her and told her all in full detail. When Bimala had heard him she said, "Your Highness! Had I known this, I would never have given thee those spears. I am a great sinner; what I have done today, no penance shall expiate for many years."

"Why mourn over the slaying of an enemy?" said the Prince. "The slaying of enemies is enjoined by righteousness."

"Let a warrior think so," replied Bimala. "We are of the weaker sex."

After a little Bimala said, "Prince, further delay is dangerous. Come into the fort — I left the door open behind me."

Both came quickly to the foot of the fort; Bimala entered first, the Prince after her. As he crossed the threshold, the Prince's heart trembled and his steps faltered. He before whom, in the midst of a hundred thousand soldiers, not one hair of his head had ever been disturbed — why should he tremble at heart to enter this house of happiness?

Bimala closed the casement as before, then led the Prince to her own bedchamber and said, "I shall return presently; thou must sit for a moment upon this couch. If no other thought distracts thee, reflect that the resting-place of the Lord Himself is a single leaf of the banyan tree."

Bimala went out, and after a moment opened the door of the adjoining chamber. "Your Highness! Come this way and hear a petition."

The Prince's heart trembled again. He rose from the couch and went to Bimala in the next room.

Bimala vanished from that place like a flash of lightning. The Prince saw a fragrant chamber; a silver lamp was burning; and at the far end of the room stood a veiled woman — it was Tilottama.