Читать книгу Tara: A Mahratta Tale - Taylor Meadows - Страница 19

"Nothing but a bit of stale cake I had in my waist-cloth," replied the man; "only that my teeth are strong, it would have broken them. The 'poor man's' bread in the Mutt at Kullianee is not dainty food, and the flour was musty, O Patel!"

"Take him away to the house, and let them feed him; the women will have something good, I dare say," replied the Patel. "Go and see."

"And no one has passed since morning?"

"Not a creature. It is not weather to send the dogs out; and the mud from Kulmus to Kinny and hitherwards will be hopeless. No, he won't come to-day; but go and eat, friend—go and eat."

"If I am wanted," said Lukshmun.

"Jee, jee! Ay, ay! I will not forget you. Go!"

"What does he want out such a day as this?" asked the Putwari. "What has Pahar Singh in hand just now?"

"What does it matter to us, Rao Sahib?" returned the Patel; "all we have to do is to keep his people in good humour, to save our cattle from being harried, our stacks from being burned, and our people," he added, looking round at the farmers and their wives, "from being robbed when they come from market? That is worth what we pay him. Should we have got the crops off that disputed land at Chitli if he had not sent those spearmen?"

"No, no; do not interfere," said a chorus of farmers' voices, who, in those unsettled times, might, unless their village were known to be under the protection of some local chieftain, at any time have their flocks and herds swept away by the people of a more powerful village, or by any of the independent gentry, or barons, as we may call them, of the country. "What have we to do with state affairs, or with Pahar Singh either?"

So the assembly having voted non-interference with whatever might be in hand, our friend Lukshmun was allowed to get his meal in peace. Smoking—the impossibility of getting anything—and a tight waist-band, had kept appetite down as yet; but with the Patel's kitchen in prospect, it rose fiercely for the occasion as he approached the house.

Lukshmun washed his feet and hands before he entered and sat down. O, what a smell of fried onions there was! and, as a girl set before him a pile of hot, well-buttered jowaree cakes, a cup full of "char," or pepper-water with tamarind in it, a fresh leaf full of a savoury stew of vegetables of all kinds, and some dall or pease-pudding, well-seasoned with red pepper and garlic, Lukshmun's heart expanded, and he set to work with a good will. Every now and then a woman at the fireplace asked him if he would have more, and it was brought him from the pan, smoking hot. Lukshmun dallied with each morsel as he ate; and when even reduced by repletion to licking his fingers, grudged the summons brought by a man that he was to come.

"Couldst thou not give me a few cakes, O sweet one, and some dall?" he said to the good-natured looking wench who had been serving him. "I have a brother—hungry—all day in the rain—while I have eaten. Thou art like the moon, O beauty, and thy heart as soft as butter. Give me the cakes for a poor, weak, hungry brother."

"Was there ever such a tongue and such a face?" retorted the damsel, laughing. "Look, Rookmee!"

The cook turned round and looked, too, laughing heartily; for Lukshmun's attitude on one leg, with the sole of the other foot pressed against the calf of it, his hands joined and stretched out imploringly, and his seared face twisted into a grotesque expression of supplication, was not to be resisted.

"Give him these cakes," said the cook, handing two to the girl.

"By your antelope eyes, O sweet ones, more!" he said, not altering his posture. "Do you think two would fill a hungry man's belly? By your lotos feet——"

"There, begone!" said the cook, handing him a few more and some dall; "there is a meal for a Rajah. Go, if the mistress should hear you——"

"I am gone, O my beauties," continued Lukshmun, folding the cakes into his waist-cloth, and tying them behind, then washing his hands elaborately. "You have made my heart——"

"Come quickly, come," said a voice at the door; "they want thee. Wilt thou eat all day?"

"I worship you, lovely nymphs, even as Rama adored——"

"Begone!" cried both the girls in a breath. "Here is the mistress coming, and if she hear such nonsense thou wilt be whipped."

"Here is the man who will be your worship's guide," said the Patel deferentially to our friend the Lalla, who, having arrived safely, was now divested of his upper clothing, which some of the men were drying in the opposite chamber, and seated in the place of honour of the assembly; "but your worship should eat before you go on, and the Rao Sahib here will take you to his house—a Brahmun's house," he added, as the Lalla appeared to hesitate.

"Ah, no, sir," returned the traveller, who indeed was very hungry, "I could not eat without I bathed, and I had better wait till I get to Allund. Shookr, shookr! I should be too long about it, and my horse has had his feed, and is ready to go on. And this is the guide?—not beautiful exactly."

"No, Maharaj, I am not beautiful, truly," replied Lukshmun, with a deprecatory gesture to the Patel, "but I may be useful to this noble gentleman. You may trust me, my lord. The Patel knows me, and so do all these worthy gentlemen; and am I not come for you?"

"They expect me, then, good fellow," replied the Lalla, amused by the man's broken Oordoo, and his grotesque expression of face.

"Ah, yes, noble sir," answered the man, joining his hands, "ever since morning; and as I was coming here on business I was told to bring you on. And now let us proceed, else it will be night ere we reach Allund; and," he added, with a wink to the Patel, "it is not good to be out late on the roads."

"What, are they dangerous, then?" asked the Lalla, looking anxiously around him.

"O no," cried Lukshmun, interposing readily; "there is no trouble in the country, and my lord is armed, and so am I. O no, only in regard to the mud and the stones. My lord will not find the road long, for I can sing him Mahratta 'lownees' if he likes."

"There was a tree and a temple which I was told to avoid, and to ask to be sent by the south road," said the Lalla, preparing to mount.

Lukshmun exchanged glances with the Patel and the Putwari. "Could any one have warned the stranger?"

"A tree!" said the Patel, gravely. "What tree? dost thou know any, Lukshmun? And the south road? what road?"

"O, I suppose the noble gentleman means that by Navindgee, and Hoshully, and Chik-Wondully, and Hully Sullgarra," said Lukshmun, rolling out a volley of hard Canarese village names. "That road? Why, it is six coss further from here! They should have sent him by it from Surroori. No," he continued, dropping the Lalla's stirrup, which he had taken in his hand, "if the gentleman likes to go he can do so, of course, but his slave begs to be excused;" and he put his joined hands up to his nose.

"Very good," said the Lalla, "I don't know; only I was told——"

"By whom?" interrupted the Putwari.

"By Déo Bawa, the Byragee at Surroori."

"O, the old Bawa!" said the Patel, laughing. "Curious, is it not, noble sir, that the old man thinks that there are devils in the tree? He tells me he was bewitched there once, and I ought to cut it down."

"And I told him I was not afraid of them, Patel; but he said there was something else," returned the Lalla.

"Robbers, I suppose," said Lukshmun, readily; "Pahar Singh's men, perhaps."

"Perhaps," added the Lalla, "but he did not say so."

"Well for him," thought the Putwari, "or his stacks would have been burnt to-morrow night."

"Ah! no fear of thieves when you have one of 'the hunchbacks' with you," said Lukshmun. "Come, mount, my lord. Salaam, Maharaj," he continued, making a mock salutation to the sun, which was just struggling through a cloud. "Salaam! thou hast been moist to-day; come out and dry thyself and us too. Now, noble gentleman, mount, and you will see how fast the excellent dinner I have eaten in the Patel's kitchen will take my feet to Allund, and the good horse, too, looks as fresh as if he were but just starting," and he patted him. "Ah, well done, sir!" he continued, as the Lalla mounted not ungracefully; "we poor Dekhanies cannot compare ourselves on horseback with you northern cavaliers. Come, sir, the road waits for us."

And with a salutation all round, the Lalla rode out of the gate, and our friend Lukshmun, cutting a caper which showed his marvellous activity by way, as he said, of getting the dinner out of his legs, and calling to the guide who carried the bundle, they passed on over the village common.

The Putwari sighed as the party left the gate.

"I tell thee, Seeta Ram," said the Patel, "he will come to no harm, and he is gone away happy."

"I am glad he did not eat at my house; it is not pleasant feeding a man who has death in his throat," returned the Putwari.

"I tell thee he is safe," retorted the Patel; "and if he is killed, it is no affair of ours."

"No, it is no business of ours," said the Putwari, settling to his accounts with a sigh which vexed the Patel. "No, it is no business of ours," echoed the farmers.

At that time Rama, who was seated on the heap of stones, looking from the top of the hill, exclaimed, as the three persons emerged from a lane into a low field in which the road was distinctly visible.

"Jemadar! he is coming at last, and Lukshmun is with him; we must be ready. Look, they are there!" he continued, as Gopal Singh joined him, "between the village and the stream."

"Ah, I see them, Rama, and thy brother is as true as gold. We will join them as they go on; he must not suspect us yet."