Читать книгу Lachmi Bai, Rani of Jhansi: The Jeanne D'Arc of India - Michael White - Страница 6

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Jhansi had fallen. At the revolt of their troops the Foreigners were taken completely by surprise. They hastily retreated to the Star Fort where, after a valorous defense for three days, lack of food and ammunition compelled them to surrender. They were obliged to seek terms of Ahmad Khan who was conducting the siege.

If they evacuated the fort would they be permitted to leave the state unmolested? was the request made under a flag of truce.

In response, Ahmad solemnly swore upon the holy Koran that if the Foreigners would open the gates no harm should befall them.

But the oath of the Mohammedan was not regarded as sufficiently binding. The Foreigners required a further assurance of safety from the Rani.

In her name Ahmad reiterated his vow of protection. This was all the hope of security they could possibly look for in their desperate situation. The Rani had ever been regarded as an upright woman. Upon the faith of her word they opened the gates and laid down their arms. Then under Ahmad's direction they marched out to a field nearby,—a pitiful, defenseless band, of men, women, and children.

The sun never shone upon a more brutal tragedy.

Beside a clump of trees all were ruthlessly butchered. Their honor alone was spared. Without a plea for mercy, without a cry of anguish, these heroes met a cruel fate, that might have been averted by a less exacting government.

Ahmad Khan was elated almost to a condition of intoxication by this final successful act of the revolt. He was now prompted to strike another immediate blow to gratify a long secretly nourished ambition. While outwardly he had professed intense devotion to the Rani's cause, in his heart, he aspired to seat himself on the throne of the Rajas of Jhansi. As to the Rani, he purposed that her rule should be encompassed by the walls of a luxurious harem.

At the head of a crime-frenzied Mohammedan band, bearing upon the points of their bayonets ghastly trophies of the recent massacre, he set forth on a triumphant progress to the palace.

To secure his object, he instructed his followers to overawe the Hindu population, devoted to the Rani's cause, by fierce gestures and loud shouts in his honor.

He entered the gate set in the massive stone wall, and waved his sword aloft crying—

"The Faith. The holy Faith. Success to the Faith of Mohammed."

His soldiers pressed closely upon the flanks of his horse. They brandished their weapons and struck dismay into the hearts of the Hindu guard, by adding exultingly to their distinctive shout of victory—

"And may Ahmad Khan, the Servant of God, long reign in Jhansi."

Onward the mob swept through the city, again and again vociferously proclaiming Ahmad Khan, Raja of Jhansi. The joy of the Hindus over their deliverance from Foreign rule gave place to alarm. They watched with misgiving a second coup d' etat on the part of their hereditary enemies, and began to wonder whether they would not fare worse under the rule of a follower of Mohammed, than they had done under that of the Foreigner.

In her palace the Rani anxiously awaited news of the surrender. Through Ahmad she had given the assurance that the Foreigners' lives would be spared. This course she had strenuously urged upon her lieutenant. Apart from her womanly repugnance to ruthless slaughter, she clearly perceived the advantage she would gain by holding them as prisoners to exchange for the recognition of her right to the throne of Jhansi. To kill the innocent, the already defeated, did not occupy a thought in her mind.

The news came swift and ominous. Not only had a tragedy taken place, but her own authority was in danger of usurpation.

The exultant Mohammedan cry rolled forward to the walls of the palace. It penetrated to the Rani's ears at first as a welcome sound; but as it rose in the courtyard bearing aloft the name of Ahmad Khan, a disquieting thought flashed into her brain.

She hurried to the Darbar hall, entering at one end, as Ahmad, surrounded by his officers, crossed the threshold at the other.

The Rani halted and waited. Intuitively she gleaned confirmation of her sudden alarm from their faces.

Ahmad advanced and saluted her with pointed courtesy. He was a tall, powerfully built man, whose swarthy irregular features indicated a mingling of low caste blood. As a whole his face was not unhandsome, though the expression of his mouth and chin denoted cruelty and treachery—the latter, perhaps, an accomplishment rather than a failing to the Oriental mind.

"Greeting, fair Lady," he exclaimed. "Jhansi is won. The Foreigners have surrendered."

She directed a searching glance to read the veiled meaning expressed in his intonation as well as in his manner.

"They have surrendered. Then where are they"? she asked. "Hast thou not brought any of them hither"?

A cruel smile broke upon Ahmad's face as he turned and pointed with the blade of his sword to the open doorway, through which could be caught a glimpse of the surging mob without, uplifting their bloody trophies.

"Aye," he explained, "I have brought some of them here. The rest I have sent to a secure prison."

His gesture was observed by his followers. The shout rose with greater volume than before—

"Deen! Deen! Futteh. Mohammed."

"Success to the Faith of Mohammed."

For a moment the Rani covered her eyes with her hands, as if to blot out the gruesome spectacle. Then she demanded sternly—

"Why hast thou done this, my Lord? Surely thou hast not killed them all"?

"Aye, all, fair Lady. And why not"? he returned, in plausible accents.

"Because I commanded you to spare their lives if they surrendered," she retorted, passionately.

Ahmad bowed low with feigned contrition.

"But, my Lady Lachmi Bai," he protested, "a higher authority, the Emperor of Delhi, had commanded me to spare none of them. Further his Majesty hath been pleased to place the government of the State of Jhansi in my hands until more settled times."

The two stood for a short period confronting each other in silence, Ahmad with a look of unconcealed triumph on his face, on that of the Rani, anger mingled with defiance.

"So this was his purpose! A plot within a plot revealed."

He strode up to her and with assurance took her by the hand. Then he spoke in a lower voice.

"Ah! Fair Rani. Thou art but a child, a girl fit rather to play with gems than swords and scepters. But fear not, thou shalt rule in Jhansi. Thou knowest well for what I hunger. All that thou longest for, thou shalt possess in return. It is a good bargain, is it not, Beautiful One"?

Her glance swept from his face to the crowd of his officers standing to his order in the background. She realized that the dominion for which she had so long and patiently striven was about to be seized by another at the moment of its accomplishment. By one, too whose religious principles were repugnant, and whose profession of personal devotion she had but tolerated for reasons of state. She saw the trap into which she had fallen, and from which an immediate counterstroke of diplomacy could alone save her.

Her mind was quick to grasp the situation and suggest a remedy.

With an effort she curbed her resentment and turned a look of approval upon the traitor.

"Aye, thou speakest truly," she replied, in a thoughtful tone. "I am, as thou sayest, but a girl, to whom the reins of government would be of little pleasure. I had longed that the Foreigners be driven forth from Jhansi. Now they are here no more to anger me, why should I not be satisfied? But, O Ahmad," she continued confidentially, "I would speak with thee alone. Send, I pray thee, these people of thine from the palace. I like not their fierce looks and clash of arms."

Ahmad was surprised. He had anticipated a stormy scene with the Rani, and a possible resort to force before she could be brought to submit to his will. Consequently he was gratified to meet with so little resistance to both his political and personal designs. For the moment he failed to remember that the brain which had displayed such masterly craft in plotting the downfall of the Foreigners would be swift to use the same power in frustrating his own project.

In compliance with her desire he faced his officers.

"Go," he commanded. "Return to the cantonments and in my name seize all the possessions of the Foreigners."

When the soldiers had left the hall the Rani drew close to him and spoke in a beguiling voice.

"O my Lord, thou must see how poorly I am attired in honor of so great an event. I would retire for a short space, to adorn my neck with jewels, and my hair with flowers; so that I may appear worthy of the noble Ahmad Khan's approval."

Blinded by vanity, he was flattered and deceived by her cajolery. He stretched forth his arms to enfold her in an embrace.

"Thou shadow of an houri," he exclaimed amorously.

She eluded him by a quick movement.

"In a little," she returned, playfully. "See that thou waitest until I come again to thee. Then shalt thou swear by thy Prophet's beard, that Lachmi Bai hath wit as well as beauty."

"Until death," he replied, "only tarry not too long, Fair One."

She cast toward him an enthralling glance, and passing from the hall, hurried to the inner apartments of the palace.

"Now by Allah"! he reflected, exultingly. "The fortune of Ahmad Khan, the Humble Servant of God, doth rise as the sun in a cloudless heaven."

The Rani's action was swift and silent. She summoned those upon whom she could rely and spoke in urgent accents.

"Go quickly," she commanded to one, "into the bazaars and summon all my people to the courtyard of the palace." To another, "Let my retainers arm themselves and guard every outlet so that no man passes in or forth. Tell Prasad and my officers, that I need their presence on the balcony overlooking the main entrance. Go, with wings on your feet. Hasten, for there is no time to be lost."

She passed into a private chamber and hastily arrayed herself in a magnificent embroidered sari, the silken clinging texture of which displayed her form to its perfection of royal beauty. Round her neck she hung ropes of pearls, and in her hair she entwined a wreath of fragrant blossoms. Thus attired she proceeded to the wide balcony overlooking the courtyard.

A throng of people had gathered and crowded about the main entrance. Others were hurrying from the bazaars and side streets at the bidding of the Rani's messengers. With animated countenances, they asked of each other the meaning of the summons.

Behind the domes and turrets of the rock citadel, the sun was sinking toward the horizon. It cast broad shadows over the courtyard, now filling rapidly with a surging, excited, human mass. The Rani was quickly joined by Prasad and officers faithful to her service. With these in attendance she moved to the edge of the parapet.

Immediately an outburst of enthusiasm rose from the people, gathering in force until a great shout filled the air about the palace.

"Lachmi Bai. Lachmi Bai. Rani of Jhansi," they cried.

She leaned over the parapet and smiled.

Again the cry rose, "Lachmi Bai. Lachmi Bai. Rani of Jhansi."

She raised her hand to enjoin silence. Gradually the tumult ceased.

Then she spoke to them. Her resonant, clear, voice filled the open space. Each word fell musically upon the ears of her audience.

"My people," she began. "At last you have been freed from the rule of the Foreigner. To-day, a great blow has been delivered by you for our independence—a blow that will resound in the most distant provinces of our land. Through your loyalty and courage, the end for which we have so long striven has been attained. To you belongs the spoil, the treasure that has fallen into our hands. It is your reward."

A murmur of applause told that the point had been well received.

"But my people," she proceeded. "You are still encompassed by great peril. The Foreigner is destroyed, but others of his race may return to try and wrest from you, your country. Enemies, too, may rise from within as rapacious and as hateful of your religion. It is necessary that you choose without delay a fearless and capable ruler."

A few voices called on her by name, but she again silenced them.

"As you well know," she continued, "by our law, to me belongs the right of succession to the throne of Jhansi."

"Aye, truly," many cried. "Lachmi Bai. Lachmi Bai. Rani of Jhansi."

"But, my good people, as the noble Raja, Ahmad Khan, hath pointed out, I am but a girl, uninstructed in the wiles of statecraft, unused to the wielding of a sword in dangerous times. A Raja, he declares, must be seated on the throne of Jhansi. Why not then the illustrious Ahmad Khan"?

Spontaneously the cry rose, "For us no stranger, no Mohammedan! We want him not to rule over us. Lachmi Bai. Lachmi Bai. Rani of Jhansi."

"But, good people," she persisted, as if earnestly pleading Ahmad's cause. "Ahmad Khan is a brave soldier. He is"——

Her voice was drowned in an uproar that shook the walls of the palace. Her name alone was borne upward by thousands of unyielding throats.

"Lachmi Bai. Rani of Jhansi. Lachmi Bai. Rani of Jhansi."

She stretched out her arms lovingly toward them. She appealed to them with a captivating smile.

"Would you then have Lachmi Bai for your ruler in Jhansi"?

A great shout rose and confirmed her in her right to the title. The throngs surged back and forth in the endeavor of those furthest away to reach a spot nearer to her person.

"Come to us," they cried. "Come down amid thy people, O Rani."

With a radiant countenance, she passed down the flight of stone steps into the courtyard. Unguarded she moved among the mass of people, stirred to a frenzy of enthusiasm by her presence. Some knelt in her path to touch the hem of her garment, while others waved their weapons aloft, vowing they would defend her to the death.

Darkness fell with the swiftness of the Tropics. She turned to re-enter the palace, and torches flared to light her path. They gave to the scene a weird, majestic splendor—the irregular outlines of the palace overshadowed by the huge black mass of the fortress; the exultant, white robed throng; the stern faces of the soldiers; the girl, whose mysterious being swayed their emotions like the wind playing upon lotus reeds.

In the Darbar hall Ahmad Khan impatiently awaited the Rani's return. He was startled by the cries of the populace, and dismayed at the discovery that his egress was blocked. Uneasily he paced back and forth, wondering what these ominous signs betokened. He cursed his imprudence at having dismissed his followers at so critical a moment.

"Tricked, I doubt not," he savagely exclaimed. "But one more fool who loses a crown in exchange for a woman's smile."

The Rani and her officers swept into the hall. Ahmad's hand impulsively grasped the hilt of his sword—a gesture which Prasad imitated by half withdrawing his from its scabbard.

The Hindu noble advanced a few paces, regarding Ahmad's sullen countenance as if willing to accept a challenge.

"Peace, my Lords," the Rani cried authoritatively.

She laid a restraining hand on Prasad's arm.

"Peace. It is my will. This is no hour to broach a feud."

She then fearlessly advanced to Ahmad's side, and addressed him calmly.

"My Lord Raja," said she. "My people will have it that I rule over Jhansi."

She held up her hand to draw his attention to the acclamations which penetrated the innermost recesses of the palace.

"You hear them," she continued. "I espoused your cause to the best of my ability; but, it seems, they will have no other than Lachmi Bai to be their Rani."

"And now," she concluded, addressing all present, "I look to you, Ahmad, Prasad, and all my brave officers to unite for one object, the defense of my throne and Jhansi."

Ahmad glanced round upon the determined faces of the Rani's loyal supporters, as they vowed to maintain the crown upon her head. He realized that, in turn, he had been outwitted. By a low obeisance he outwardly acknowledged her authority.

"The people are God's," he murmured, "the country is the Padshah's, and the Raj is the Rani's."

Thus was Lachmi Bai proclaimed Rani of Jhansi.