Chapter X
_THE WHITE TURRET_
In the open space before the main entrance to the Rani's palace, acrowd of nobles, soldiers, and sightseers had collected. High mettledhorses led by grooms, paced back and forth, while their owners indazzling groups discussed the news of the morning. Peddlars of trifles,beggars, and ascetics, plied their various callings profitably in theinterval awaiting the Rani's departure for the White Turret.
Before the door a suite of officers and servants in gala liveries,surrounded a royal elephant, gorgeously caparisoned with plumes, andscarlet velvet cloths embroidered with gold thread. To its back wasstrapped a canopied state _houdah_ for the use of the Rani.
Near by, a groom with difficulty controlled the impatient spirit ofa pure blue-black Arabian charger, the property of Ahmad Khan. TheMohammedan noble had entered the palace to make his daily report to theRani.
Presently, without ceremony, the Rani came forth. A short period ofconfusion ensued as the nobles hurriedly sought their horses, and thesoldiers pressed back the throng surging about the palace.
The Rani paused on the steps and gazed round as if she missed afamiliar object. In so doing her eyes chanced to rest approvingly uponAhmad's mount.
"Whose brave steed is that"? she asked of an attendant.
Ahmad strode forward and acknowledged himself as its owner.
"A gift from the Amir of Bukhara," he explained, "in recognition of aslight military service rendered. I prize the beast more than all theoccupants of my stables together. No one hath ever crossed his back butmyself, and," he added, "I doubt if anyone would care to try."
"Ah," laughed the Rani. "Dost wager a challenge then on Akbar's behalf"?
"Not I, fair Rani," returned the Mohammedan, "for it might mean aspeedy death to one so venturesome."
Impulsively the Rani walked toward the beast. "Akbar," she cried, "Dostrecognize a friend with those clear eyes of thine"?
The animal started, arched its proud neck, and snorted defiantly.
"Come, good Akbar," exclaimed the Rani soothingly. "Come. Thou art toonoble a beast to display malice to a woman."
Fearlessly she raised her arm and affectionately stroked the glossyneck, passing her hand gently downward across its face.
A tremor passed over the beast's frame. It stamped the ground andwhinnied as if half pleased with the caress, yet still uncertain in itshumor.
Ahmad hurried to the Rani's side, while others watched with expressionsof alarm.
"Noble Lady," he urged. "I pray thee touch not the beast. Its temper isso uncertain that I cannot answer for your safety."
The Rani again laughed lightly, as she permitted the animal to sniffher hair, her face, and hands.
"Akbar knoweth whom to trust," she cried. "See, he discerneth a trueMaratha, of whom it has been said, he is born in the saddle with asword in his hand. I vow, O Ahmad," she added, "this day I will rideyour Akbar, or go in no other manner to the White Turret."
Before Ahmad could interpose a further objection, she had gathered thereins in her hand, placed her foot in the stirrup, and sprung lightlyon to the charger's back.
The horse swerved violently, then halted, with ears set back and formrigid.
A moment of suspense for those watching followed.
"Come Akbar," urged the Rani firmly, while gently patting the beast'sneck. "Come, thou must curb thy temper for thou canst not throw adaughter of the Marathas."
The beast pricked up its ears at her voice, and neighed its subjection.
"Ah, Ahmad," she cried with taunting pleasantry, "thou must seekanother mount. Why not ride in the _howdah_ of my elephant. How muchdidst thou wager, friend"?
"Surely the devil is in the girl," he muttered in astonished accents."What will be her next performance"?
A servant approached the Rani deferentially.
"If my Lady Rani," said he, "elects to ride on horseback, will she lether pleasure be known concerning the noble elephant"?
"Truly," she replied. "If Ahmad Khan likes not to go in so much state,let my worthy secretary, Bipin Dat mount on high. From that exaltedperch, he can survey the heavens and the earth complacently, frownmajestically upon the populace, and imagine that he has at last becomea Maharaja."
The Rani shook the reins and curveted to the front of her nobles.
Gallantly she led the brilliant cavalcade through the bazaars andstreets to that part of the walls upon which the White Turret had beenspecially erected to fly her banner.
Plaudits saluted her progress on all sides. The people were accustomedto witness the exercise of greater personal freedom on the part of theMaratha ladies, to what is usually accorded women of high rank in otherparts of India, but it was the first time they had beheld a princess ofsuch beauty and high spirit leading, instead of being surrounded by theretinue of her court.
With admirable skill she controlled Ahmad's restive charger, untilshortly, as if proud of its lovely burden, the beast followedobediently the guidance of her hand. At the bastion of the White Turretshe dismounted and approached the spot where a group of officersawaited her arrival.
Her banner was already bent to the halliards, and held by a lieutenantso that its silken folds might not be sullied by contact with theground. Near by, a soldier stood at a gun ready to ignite the powder ofa first salute as the flag rose upon its staff.
The nobles grouped themselves about the Rani. An officer holding thehalliards begged to know her command.
For a moment she hesitated. Then as if a sudden impulse had takenpossession of her mind, she took the ropes from his hand and turnedtoward the nobles.
"My Lords," she cried. "The Rani will herself raise her banner on thewalls of Jhansi, aye, and defend it, against whatsoever enemy may come."
Slowly hand upon hand she pulled upon the rope. Slowly the banner,embroidered with her device, rose upon the staff. It reached the topand waved proudly in a gentle breeze against the pale blue morningsky. A white cloud of smoke for an instant hung over the ditch belowthe bastion, as the tongue of the cannon saluted her military rank.Spontaneously swords flashed in the bright sunlight: spontaneously aloud chorus rose, mingled with the repeated roar of the cannon, hailingthe fair defender of a throne.
"Lachmi Bai! Lachmi Bai! Rani of Jhansi," they cried.
She gazed round with joyful gratitude. A moment later, the same wistfullook that marked her countenance upon the palace steps, came back intoher eyes.
She beckoned Ahmad to her side.
"Where is the noble Prasad Singh"? she asked. "I have not seen himsince the _Darbar_ of yesterday."
An expression of regret settled upon Ahmad's face.
"Noble Rani," he explained. "Prasad Singh is sick."
His manner and intonation, whether intentional or otherwise, clearlyimplied a desire to conceal another reason.
The Rani returned his gaze penetratingly.
"I would speak with thee upon our return to the palace," she enjoined.
Ahmad bowed his compliance to her wish.
The ceremony was over. The Rani thanked the nobles for their reneweddemonstration of affection. She again urged them to lose no time inrepairing the defenses of their fortresses, and in the arming anddrilling of fresh troops. She bade them farewell until she would againsummon them to _Darbar_.
So while the Rani's banner fluttered defiantly from the peak of theWhite Turret, the procession retraced its way to the palace. Upon theRani's countenance happiness called forth by the enthusiastic greetingsof the people, was occasionally shaded by a look of disappointment.Something evidently had been wanting to complete the gladness of thehour.
On dismounting she summoned Ahmad to follow her into the interior.
"My Lord," she said, when they were alone, "thy reply concerning PrasadSingh causeth me to suspect that something hath gone amiss with him.Hath the foolish fellow taken umbrage at some new imaginary slight"?
Ahmad looked uneasy. He hesitated to reply, as if under the necessityof exercising prudent d
issimulation.
"Thou dost not answer me," resumed the Rani, in a tone of someimpatience. "Tell me, I command thee, why it was that Prasad Singh didnot comply with my invitation to be present at the ceremony of themorning"?
"Fair Lady," Ahmad replied evasively, "surely the truth is, that thenoble Prasad Singh is sick. I doubt not he was unable to be present."
"Sick is he," the Rani echoed, "Aye, but thy manner leadeth me tosuspect another cause. I beg thee, good Ahmad, to tell me the nature ofhis malady. Is it a distemper of the mind"?
"Noble Rani," returned Ahmad, "Prasad Singh is sick. I ask thee to urgeme to no further explanation."
"But I will urge thee," retorted the Rani imperiously. "I will have thewhole truth from thee ere thou dost leave the palace."
Ahmad Khan appeared a victim of deep confusion.
"Most gracious Rani," he besought her, "I trust thou wilt not visitthy displeasure upon one who is my friend, my good comrade. Verilydo I love Prasad as a brother. Ill would it seem in me to expose thepardonable follies of a gallant youth."
"Follies," exclaimed the Rani petulantly. "Speak! What follies hathPrasad Singh committed"?
Ahmad assumed an apologetic mien.
"Merely, noble lady," he replied, "the usual overflow of spirit in oneof his high birth. He hath indulged too freely of the accursed spiritsof the Foreigners."
A look of disdain settled on the Rani's face.
"So," she cried. "Like too many others he forgets the precepts of hiscaste. This, I did not think of Prasad. The spirits of the Foreigners!Truly one of the many curses brought to India in their civilizingwake." She concluded with intense bitterness in her voice.
"Noble Rani," continued Ahmad. "It was to draw him from the evil habitthat I took him to my house; but alas! by some means he procured the_Giours'_ intoxicating drink, and--"
He checked himself suddenly as if he would draw back from disclosing amoral precipice yawning beneath Prasad's life.
"And," caught up the Rani quickly. "And what more, good Ahmad Khan.What more hast thou to tell of Prasad"?
"Noble Rani," he petitioned with apparent earnestness. "I implore theenow to close my mouth."
"Nay, thou shalt open it the wider," she rejoined. "Speak, tell allthou knowest, I command thee."
"Miserable, faithless friend, that I must appear," he exclaimed selfreproachfully.
"Thou wouldst be a disloyal servant if thou didst not obey thy Rani,"she retorted. "Come! It is the Rani who commands thee."
He spoke in a tone of regretful emotion.
"Thou hast heard, noble Rani, of the charms of a certain _natch_ girl,Ganga, by name"? he asked.
"Aye," she replied tersely.
"Alas! then," continued Ahmad. "The noble Prasad lyeth sick or drunk, Iknow not which, of the Giours' spirits and the subtle influence of thisdancer of Kashmir."
For a moment even Ahmad quailed before the display of jealous anger onthe Rani's face. She raised her arm with a threatening gesture as ifabout to give full play to her resentment; but as suddenly as the flameof passion had been called forth, as quickly it yielded to her controlof temperament.
"Go," she commanded in a quiet voice, made more impressive by theemotion with difficulty suppressed. "Go, tell Prasad Singh, the Raniorders his presence hither immediately. If he delays, he may mount hishorse and ride forth from her state.
"I have spoken," she concluded, turning from the Mohammedan.
"Noble Lady," petitioned Ahmad, "thou dost not blame thy servant fordisclosing that which his conscience had enjoined him to conceal. Alas!Prasad hath eaten of Ahmad's salt."
"Thou hast obeyed my command," she replied. "In so doing thou didstwell."
Ahmad bowed low and left the apartment.
The Rani turned again to watch his retreating form. When it haddisappeared from view, sorrowfully she unfettered her emotion.
"Oh! that Prasad--Prasad, whom as a woman I have loved, and as the RaniI would honor, should appear in such a weak, a worthless light. Prasad,my Prasad," she cried, "that thou of all men shouldst be the shadow todarken my hour of happiness."
A sob broke from her lips. She covered her face with her hands.