Chapter Twenty

Upon winning her freedom, Bimala's first act was to carry word to Birendrasingh. She ran breathless toward his sleeping-chamber.

She had not gone half the way when the cry of "Allahu Akbar!" — the Pathan war-shout — smote her ears.

"Can this be the victory-cry of the Pathan host?" Bimala cried, stricken with dread. The tumult grew louder and nearer; she understood that the garrison had been roused from sleep.

She pressed on in haste to Birendrasingh's chamber, and there beheld a scene of the utmost confusion. The Pathans had burst the door and poured within; peering through the press, Bimala saw Birendrasingh with his fist clenched, his naked sword in hand, and blood streaming down his body. He was sweeping the blade in great circles like a man possessed. Yet his valour availed nothing in the end; a powerful Pathan brought down his long sabre with such force that Birendrasingh's sword was dashed from his grip and sent clattering across the floor. Birendrasingh was taken prisoner.

Having seen and heard enough, Bimala turned from the spot in despair. There was yet time, she thought, to save Tilottama. She ran toward her. But midway she found that the path to Tilottama's chamber was all but impassable; the Pathan soldiery had spread everywhere. That the fort had fallen there could no longer be any doubt.

Bimala saw that to reach Tilottama's room she must fall into the hands of the Pathans. She turned back. Full of anxiety, she fell to wondering how she might bring word to Jagatsingh and Tilottama in this hour of calamity. She stood in one of the rooms, lost in thought, when she perceived a party of soldiers, who had already plundered an adjoining chamber, now coming to loot this one as well. Greatly alarmed, she squeezed herself hastily behind a large chest that stood in the room. The soldiers entered and began to rifle the contents of the chamber. Bimala could see there was no escape — when the plunderers came to open the chest they would surely discover her. She steadied herself on her courage, waited a little, and peered cautiously around the corner of the chest to observe what the soldiers were doing. Bimala's nerve was without peer; in the moment of peril it grew stronger rather than weaker. When she saw that the soldiers were each engrossed in his own rapine, she stepped out from behind the chest on noiseless feet and slipped away. The men, busy with their plunder, did not see her go. She was almost at the door when a soldier came up from behind and seized her by the wrist. Bimala turned, and saw — Rahim Sheikh! He burst out laughing: "Ha! Running away, are we? And where dost thou think to run?"

To be caught a second time in Rahim's grasp blanched Bimala's face for an instant — but only for an instant. The quickness of her bold wit asserted itself at once, and the colour returned to her cheeks with something that looked almost like pleasure. "I shall accomplish my purpose through this very man," she said to herself. Aloud she answered him: "Hush — quietly now — come outside."

So saying, she took Rahim Sheikh by the hand and drew him out; Rahim followed willingly enough. Finding him alone with her, Bimala said: "Fie, fie, fie! What a fashion to behave! Thou didst leave me, and whither didst thou go? There is not a spot I have not searched for thee!"

And as she spoke she cast that same sidelong glance upon the Sheikh.

The Sheikh's ill-humour vanished. "I was searching everywhere for the commander to give him tidings of Jagatsingh," said he; "but failing to find him, I came back to look for thee, and not finding thee on the roof, have been scouring the place in all directions."

Bimala replied: "When I saw thy delay I thought thou hadst forgotten me, and so came out to seek thee. But what use is there now in delaying further? Your people have taken the fort; this is the very hour to be thinking of escape."

Rahim said: "Not tonight — tomorrow morning. How can I go without word to anyone? Tomorrow morning I will take leave of the commander and depart."

"Well then," said Bimala, "come, let us first secure whatever ornaments and valuables I have, before some other soldier plunders them."

"Come," said the soldier. The reason she desired Rahim's company was plain enough — he would protect her from the hands of other soldiers. Bimala's foresight was soon justified. They had not gone far before they came full upon another band of marauders. The moment these men set eyes on Bimala they set up a clamour: "Hey, here's a fine prize, lads!"

Rahim said: "Mind your own business, all of you; look not this way."

The soldiers read the situation and desisted. One of them called out: "Rahim! Fortune is kind to thee. Let the Nawab not take the morsel from thy mouth."

Rahim and Bimala went on. Bimala led Rahim to the lower room beneath her own sleeping-chamber, and said to him: "This is my downstairs room; help thyself to whatever here takes thy fancy. My bedroom is just above — I shall go up, collect my jewels, and return presently." With these words she tossed him a bunch of keys.

Rahim, delighted to find the room abundantly furnished, set to work in high spirits opening the chests and trunks. Not a shadow of suspicion toward Bimala remained in him. No sooner had Bimala stepped out of the room than she drew the outer chain across the door and snapped the padlock shut. Rahim was a prisoner within.

Bimala then flew up the stairs. Her own chamber and Tilottama's lay in the farthest quarter of the fort; the marauding soldiers had not reached there as yet; it was doubtful whether Tilottama and Jagatsingh had even heard the tumult. Rather than burst straight into Tilottama's room, Bimala — for such was her nature, that curiosity did not desert her even in an hour like this — paused to peer through a small crack in the door to observe the state of Tilottama and the Prince. What she beheld surprised her somewhat.

Tilottama sat upon the bed; Jagatsingh stood close by, gazing upon her face. Tilottama was weeping; Jagatsingh too was wiping his eyes.

"This must be a farewell-weeping," Bimala said to herself.