Читать книгу A Desert Bride - Hume Nisbet - Страница 7
ОглавлениеTHE ANCIENT FAKIR.
"Why don't you 'list, Jack? I'm going to be a soldier shortly," asked Ronald one day, as the two boys were sitting on the river banks.
"So I will by-and-by, Ronald; but I want to keep my liberty for a purpose."
"What purpose, Jack?"
"Did you ever hear about the Peacock Throne, which used to be in Delhi once upon a time?"
"Of course I've read about it; but what of that?"
"I'm going to hunt until I get that throne."
"My!"
Ronald opened his eyes with wonder at his friend's daring idea.
"Yes. Now, tell me what you have read about that throne, and then I'll let you know what I have heard."
"Well," observed Ronald, "we know from our school-books that the great Shah Jehan got this throne of gems and gold made for him, regardless of expense, and that it was carried off by Nadir Shah, the Persian, with a lot of other loot from Delhi."
"Exactly; but do your school-books tell you where Nadir Shah took all those jewels to?"
"No; but I suppose he took it back to Persia with him."
"Yes, that is where he took them first. Now you come with me, and I'll introduce you to an old fakir, who can show us both where they are now, and where we may find them if you are game to go with me after them. We shall come home rich men, and see something like life between this and then."
The river side at Benares is very beautiful and animated, and has been so for many centuries, with its numerous minarets, pyramids and temples, its lining of ghauts, and multitude of native boats and bathers.
The bright sunshine laved this gaily-coloured and busy scene, which was perpetually like a fair, for never was that muddy-coloured water allowed to settle down and get clear. The worshippers were there by the thousand, dipping over their heads, and coming up the bank or steps purified, but not any cleaner, afterwards to get their foreheads painted by the priests, and then continuing their pilgrimage to the sacred, but very much beforded, wells of Knowledge and Purification, which would enable them to pass through life all wise and all stainless, happy Hindoos that they were.
To the two boy companions these sights were too common for them to heed them much. Commonplace also had become the temples, so closely ranked together with the mansions of the rich princes and rajas, the constant processions and droves of sacred cows walking through the narrow streets.
Jack Bangles led his companion down one of the narrowest of those streets, and also, perhaps, one of the most sanctified, as far as the accumulated droppings from the holy cattle was concerned, until they came to a place of lodging devoted to the entertainment of travelling fakirs, so sordid and evil-odoured that Ronald had to pause and take hold of his nose before he could summon up courage to enter.
"Can't we have the fakir outside, Jack?" he whispered imploringly to his friend, as he paused at the gateway, and looked ruefully within.
"No, Ronald," replied Jack; "this fakir hasn't seen the daylight for forty years, and he has become so holy that it is only a few special favourites who are admitted to his den, which hasn't been cleaned out either during that time; forty years ago, they tell me, he took his last wash in the Ganges, while he vowed that it was to serve him his lifetime, and he hasn't stirred from his seat since then."
"Then he must be a moss-covered statue now, I should say."
"Oh, he's a marvel of wisdom and dirt, but I have become a favourite of his, and he has promised me good fortune; come on, old fellow, he doesn't smell half so strong as you would think, for the time he has been kept in the cellar."
Through the courtyard they went, where a crowd of these self-torturers were disporting themselves in the interesting but blood-curdling manner peculiar to fakirs in general.
For their special convenience this yard had been arranged something after the style of a school gymnasium, with swings, hooks, chains, and iron prongs fixed in the walls, in as varied a manner as the fancy of the genial host could invent.
Some of the performers were going round about in a razzle-dazzle fashion attached to the chains and hooks, which were firmly imbedded in their flesh, on the parts of their bodies which they considered wanted mortifying mostly. All were free to choose upon their pet instrument of torture, with the portion of their anatomy which they desired to operate upon, after they had paid their fees of admission; and this was all that the kindly landlord had to do—take the door-money, and watch the voluntary performers.
The place had not been cleaned out since its inauguration, as it would have been sacrilege to clean it out, even had it been possible to do so, which no one short of Hercules could have done.
It takes a good deal of this kind of sport to revolt boys, therefore both Ronald and Jack stood for a time, like stoics, looking upon the varied and ghastly sights around them; or rather they got excited over the grimaces and contortions of the whirling or crucified devotees, and encouraged them on with such words as—
"Go it, black hair, you've beat bald head by an inch; stick in that hook a bit deeper, blind eye, or you'll be dropping off; never say die, skeleton, as long's you've got a piece of skin to hook on to."
Which words seemed to encourage the holy men so much that they redoubled their efforts, shrieking out louder while they swung faster on that roundabout way to paradise.
After crossing the yard, they passed through some of the inner chambers well crammed with worshippers, who were vieing with each other as to who could the soonest disfigure that masterpiece of the Creator, and make themselves vile. Still Jack went on, careless and unchallenged, for he had been here before, and beyond the owner of this inquisition, none of the victims noticed the intruders, as they were all too intent upon their own practices.
Down some slimy and foul steps Jack led his friend into an utter darkness of awful smells, until poor Ronald almost gave up, he felt so sick and choking.
At last, after following a dank passage, they came to a small cell, or rather what appeared to be a niche in the wall, which was lighted up by a tiny oil lamp, and within which sat a figure that at first sight seemed to be a dust and mud-covered image of some kind—the image of some uncouth and uncanny-looking god.
A naked figure it was, with the dirt and accumulations of years clothing it as with a horrid vestment, while it sat motionless and in the attitude of meditation, with its lack-lustre eyes reflecting blackly the shine of the little lamp in front of it.
The fakir's hands were resting upon his naked knees, into which the long, uncut nails had grown, so that it was now an impossibility for him even to move them, while the sinews and muscles of his legs had so stiffened that he could never again rise or stand upright. Long locks of dingy white hung over his face and shoulders, showing up like a sheep's fleece before washing time; while what those locks might contain, no man nor boy dare conjecture.
He was reckoned to be one of the holiest and wisest of his peculiar craft, and had been fed for the forty odd years of his rest by devotees who visited his shrine for the purpose of consulting him as to their future, and giving him donations; in fact, he was the most profitable lodger of the establishment, for beyond what he required to eat, the owner of the place got all the surplus alms, which were considerable.
On this day he appeared to be dozing, but woke somewhat when Jack, who had come prepared, went up and stuck a chapatí between his lips, while Ronald hung back respectfully as far as he dared do.
After the first chapatí had disappeared, another followed, and then the dim eyes grew brighter as he fixed them upon his feeder.
"You know what I come for, father, to-day?" said Jack, as a gleam of recognition flashed from the hollow eyes.
"Yes, my son; you wish to go at once after the treasure, and so you shall soon now,—after Death has come to help you on your way."
It was a strange, rumbling voice that uttered those words, indistinct and slow, as if speaking were an effort, yet Jack understood them, and answered,—
"Have I to die, father?"
"No, not yet, not until you have enjoyed what you want; yet death has to come and give you liberty."
"My mother?"
"No, she will live yet awhile. Who is that beside you?"
"My friend, Ronald MacIvor, sahib."
"Ah, death stands near to him, yet not to claim him, but someone dear to him; he will go forth with you on the quest."
"That is what we want; and where have we to go?"
"To the land of the fire-worshippers; north, north and west, through jungles and mountain passes, as the armies came you will go, and when you approach the end, the secret way will be shown to you by one who now waits for your coming."
"But how shall I know this one when I meet him?" asked Jack.
"The gods will direct your footsteps to a mountain cave, where waits one like as I am, who has waited many years with his right arm and forefinger pointing the rest of the way."
"And what more?"
"In his left hand he holds a paper with the secret engraved, and under his foot lies the key which will open the door behind which the treasure lies."
"But how have I to know when I am near to this place, father?" again urged Jack, who had heard something like this before, but now wanted more definite instructions.
"If you are destined to win the treasure, go to the holy magician Mahadev, who sits by the Well of Knowledge, and he will show you the way; if you are not to win it, then you will not see anything. I can speak no more; farewell, my sons."
The light died out of the old man's sunken orbs as he finished speaking, yet he still mumbled broken words behind his shock of matted beard and hair.
"Through the kingdom of death they will pass,—past the lair of the man-eater,—but if they are destined to reach the cave, no force in Nature can harm them. Yet, Ah Savi! how they must endure before the reward is theirs; if they are not, then the end will be swift, as it has been with so many who have tried to follow that deadly track. I have said."
Jack the fearless heard and understood those muttered words, but they did not shake his resolve, neither did he translate them to his friend, for he had no desire to dishearten him; he only said,—
"Come on, Ronald, the old fellow has once again gone back to meditation-land, and will give us no further information; but I know enough for the present, the rest we can learn afterwards when we make the start."
"I hope my father won't object, Jack, to us going together, for of course we must consult him first."
"Of course, we shall see him about it at once; but if he does, Ronald?"
"Why, then, it will be all over as far as I am concerned, for I must obey orders, or else I could never hope to become a good soldier."
"Oh, he'll give his consent when I tell him I shall be with you to look after you. Why, I'm as good as a native guide and shikarì; in fact, it's going to be a pleasure trip, so that Captain MacIvor could not possibly say no. Come on."
The boys hurriedly scrambled up the stairs, and left this temple of filth and fanaticism as rapidly as they could.
