Part 15
“I do not believe that this war will be so soon at an end. Only reflect, half the globe is in flames.”
“All the same, you ought not to reject his offer. We could, to ease your mind, make inquiries on your behalf in Berlin. The field telegraph is open as far as Peshawar, and there is consequently connexion with Moscow, St. Petersburg, and Berlin.”
“I accept without further consideration. I should be happy, if permission were granted, to fight in your ranks.”
“There is no doubt of that whatever. I will at once procure you our white summer uniform and that of a captain of dragoons; and this sword, comrade, I hope you will accept from me as a small gift of friendship.”
“I thank you from my heart, Colonel.”
“I salute you as one of ours. I might even be in a position to give you at once an order to carry out.”
“But not without permission from Berlin, Prince?”
“Well, then, we will wait for it; but it would be a great pity if, contrary to our expectation, it were to be delayed. The commission that I was on the point of procuring for you would certainly have greatly interested you.”
“And may I ask--”
“The General has the intention to send a detachment to Simla.”
“To Simla, the summer residence of the Viceroy?”
“Yes.”
“But this mountain town is at the present moment not within the sphere of hostilities; the Viceroy remains in Calcutta.”
“Quite right; but that does not preclude the news of the occupation of Simla having a great effect on the world at large. Moreover, in the Government offices there there might possibly be found interesting documents which it would be worth while to intercept.”
“And you consider it possible that His Excellency would despatch me thither?”
“As the detachment to which my dragoons, as well as some infantry and two machine guns, would belong is under my command, I have begged the General to attach you to the expedition.”
Heideck understood the high-minded intentions of the Prince, and shook his hands almost impetuously.
“Heaven grant that permission from Berlin comes in time! I desire nothing in the world so earnestly as to accompany you to Simla.”
XIX
ON THE ROAD TO SIMLA
Almost quicker than could have been expected, considering the heavy work imposed upon the telegraph wires, the communication arrived from Berlin that Captain Heideck should, for the time being, do duty in the Russian army, and that it should be left to his judgment to take the first favourable opportunity to return to Germany.
He forthwith waited upon the commanding general, was initiated into his new role formally and by handshake, and was in all due form attached as captain to the detachment that was commanded to proceed to Simla.
The next morning the cavalcade set out under the command of Prince Tchajawadse.
Their route led across a part of the battlefield lying east of Lahore, where the battle between the sepoys and the pursuing Russian cavalry had principally taken place.
The sight of this trampled, bloodstained plain was shockingly sad. Although numerous Indian and Russian soldiers under the military police were engaged in picking up the corpses, there still lay everywhere around the horribly mutilated bodies of the fallen in the postures in which they had been overtaken by a more or less painful death. An almost intolerable odour of putrefaction filled the air, and mingled with the biting, stifling smoke of the funeral pyres upon which the corpses were being burnt.
The greater part of the Russian army was in the camp and in the city. Only the advance guard, which had returned from the pursuit of the fleeing English, had taken up a position to the south of the city. The reinforcements which had been despatched from Peshawar, and which had been impatiently expected, had not yet arrived.
Heideck heard that about 4,000 English soldiers and more than 1,000 officers were dead and wounded, while 3,000 men and 85 officers were prisoners in the hands of the Russians. The losses of the sepoy regiment could not at present be approximately determined, as the battle had extended over too wide an area.
Prince Tchajawadse, although showing the same friendly feeling towards Heideck, now adopted more the attitude of his military superior. He narrated during the journey that the Russian army was taking the road through the west provinces, and would leave the valley of the Indus, and the country immediately bordering it, unmolested.
“We shall march to Delhi,” he said, “and then probably advance upon Cawnpore and Lucknow.”
The detachment was unable to make use of the railway which goes via Amritsar and Ambala to Simla, because it had been to a great extent destroyed by the English. But the rapidity of the march naturally depended upon the marching capabilities of the infantry. And although Heideck could not fail to admire the freshness and endurance of these hardened soldiers, they yet advanced far too slowly for his wishes.
How happy he would have been if, with his squadron, he had been able to make a forced march upon the road which the unhappy Edith must have taken!
On the second day after their start, the blue and violet peaks of the mountains were silhouetted in the distance. It was the mountainous country lying beneath the Himalayas, whose low summer temperature induces the Viceroy and the high officials of the Indian Government every year to take refuge from the intolerably hot and sultry Calcutta in the cool and healthy Simla. Moreover, the families of the rich English merchants and officials living in the Punjab and the west provinces are accustomed to take up their quarters there during the hot season.
The vegetation as they advanced became ever richer and more luxuriant. Their way led through splendid jungles, which in places gave the impression of artificially made parks. Hosts of monkeys sprang about among the palms, and took daring leaps from one branch to the other. The approach of the soldiers did not appear to cause these lively creatures any appreciable fear, for they often remained seated directly over their heads and regarded the unaccustomed military display with as much inquisitiveness as they evidently did with delight. Parrots in gay plumage filled the air with shrill cries, while here and there herds of antelopes were visible, who, however, always dashed away in rapid flight, in which their strange manner of springing from all fours in the air afforded a most strange and delightful spectacle.
On the third day a gay-coloured cavalcade crossed the path of the detachment. They were evidently aristocratic Indians, who in the half-native, half-English dress were seated upon excellent horses, a cross-breed between the Arabian and Gujarat. At their head rode a splendidly dressed, dark-bearded man upon a white horse of special beauty.
He halted to exchange a few words of civil salutation with the Russian colonel. When he had again set himself in motion with his lancers, soon to be lost to view in the thick jungle, the Prince motioned Heideck to his side.
“I have news for you, comrade! The aristocratic Indian with whom I just spoke was the Maharajah of Sabathu who is on the look-out for his guest and friend, the Maharajah of Chanidigot, who is engaged on a hunting expedition.”
“The Maharajah of Chanidigot?” Heideck exclaimed with sparkling eyes. “The rogue is then really in our immediate neighbourhood?”
“The hunting-camp that the two Princes have formed lies directly in our line of march, and the Maharajah has invited me to camp this night there with my men. I have really more than half a mind to accept his kind invitation.”
“And did you not inquire about Mrs. Irwin, Prince?”
The Colonel’s face assumed at Heideck’s question a strangely serious, almost repellent expression.
“No.”
“But it is more than probable that she is in his camp.”
“Possibly, although up to now every proof of that is wanting.”
“But you will institute inquiries for her, will you not? You will compel the Maharajah to give us news of her whereabouts?”
“I can, at most, politely ask him for information. But I cannot promise you even that with certainty.”
Heideck was extremely surprised. He could not explain in any way the change in the Prince’s demeanour. And he would have been inclined to take his strange answers for a not too delicate jest, had not the frigid, impenetrable expression of his face at once excluded any suggestion of the sort.
“But I don’t understand, Prince,” he said, surprised. “It was only a few days ago that you were kind enough to promise me your active support in this matter.”
“I am to my regret compelled to cancel that promise; for I have received strict instructions from His Excellency to avoid everything that can lead to friction with the native Princes, and that my superiors laid great stress upon a good understanding with the Maharajah of Chanidigot was not known to me at the time of our conversation. He was the first who openly declared for Russia and whose troops have come over to our side. The happy issue of the Battle of Lahore is perhaps in no small degree due to him. You understand, Captain, that it would make the worst possible impression were we to come into conflict with a man so needful to us for such a trifling cause.”
“Trifling cause?” Heideck asked earnestly, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Well, yes, what appears to you of such great importance is, when regarded from a high political point of view, very trifling and insignificant. You cannot possibly expect that the political interests of a world empire should be sacrificed for the interests of a single lady, who, moreover, by nationality belongs to our enemies.”
“Shall she then be handed over helpless to the bestiality of this dissolute scoundrel?”
Prince Tchajawadse shrugged his shoulders, while at the same time he cast a strange side-glance at Heideck, who was riding beside him, which seemed to say--
“How dense you are, my dear fellow! And how slow of understanding!”
But the other did not understand this dumb play of the eyes; and, after a short pause, he could not refrain from saying in a tone of painful reproach--
“Why, my Prince, did you so generously procure for me permission to take
## part in this expedition if I was at once to be doomed to inaction in
a matter, which, as you know, is at present nearer my heart than aught else!”
“I do not remember, Captain, to have imposed any such restraint upon you. It was purely my own attitude as regards this matter which I wished to make clear to you. And I hope that you have completely understood me. I will not, and dare not, have anything officially to do with the affair of Mrs. Irwin, and I should like to hear nothing about it. That I, on the other hand, do not interfere with your private concerns, and would not trouble about them, is quite a matter of course. It entirely suffices for me, if you do not bring me into any embarrassment and impossible situation.”
That was, at all events, much less than Heideck had expected after the zealous promises of his friend. But after quiet reflection he came to the conclusion that the Prince could, as a matter of fact, scarcely act otherwise, and that he went to the utmost limits of the possible, if he did not absolutely forbid him to undertake anything for the advantage of the unhappy Edith. Heideck’s decision to leave not a stone unturned to liberate the woman he loved was not thereby shaken for a moment, but he knew now that he would have to proceed with the greatest circumspection, and that he could not reckon upon anyone’s assistance--an admission which was not exactly calculated to fill him with joyous hope.
After a short march the detachment reached the spot lying immediately at the foot of the first hill, a wide space shaded by mighty trees, upon which the Maharajah had erected his improvised hunting-camp. A great number of tents had been pitched under the trees. A gay-coloured throng of men surged amongst them.
It was perfectly clear to Heideck that he could not himself search the camp for Edith Irwin without exciting the attention of the Indians, thereby at once compromising the success of his venture. And he had no one to whom he could entrust the important task, except the faithful Morar Gopal, who, in spite of all the terrors of war, had also followed him on this march to Simla, although Heideck had offered him his discharge, together with the payment of his wages for several months more.
Accordingly, after the signal had been given to halt and dismount, he took him aside and communicated to him his instructions, at the same time handing him a handful of rupees to enable him to give the necessary bribes.
The Hindu listened with keen attention, and the play of his dark, clever face showed what a lively personal interest he took in this affair nearest his master’s heart.
“Everything shall be done according to your wishes, sahib,” he said, and soon afterwards was lost to view among the innumerable crowd of the two Indian Princes’ servants and followers.
XX
A FRIEND IN NEED
Whilst the Russians were digging their cooking trenches somewhat aside from the main camp, and making all necessary arrangements for bivouacking, Heideck had an opportunity of admiring the magnificence with which these Indian Princes organised their hunting excursions.
The tents of the two Maharajahs were almost the size of a one-floor bungalow, and on peering through the open entrance of one of them into the interior, Heideck saw that it was lavishly hung with red, blue, and yellow silk, and furnished with most costly carpets.
About half a hundred smaller tents were destined to receive the retinue and servants. Behind them again was a whole herd of camels and elephants, which had carried the baggage and material for the tents. The bleating of countless sheep mingled with the hundred-voiced din of the Indians as they busily ran hither and thither, and Heideck computed the number of buffaloes and tethered horses which grazed round the camp at more than three hundred.
The Maharajah of Sabathu regarded the Russians, who had here made halt at his invitation, as his guests, and he discharged the duty of hospitality with genuine Indian lavishness. He had so many sheep and other provisions placed at the disposal of the soldiers that they could now amply compensate themselves for many a day’s privation in the past. But the officers were solemnly bidden to the banquet that was to take place in the Maharajah’s tent.
Heideck’s hope of meeting on this occasion the Maharajah of Chanidigot once more, and of perhaps finding an opportunity of conversation with him, was disappointed.
On returning from a walk through the camp, in which he did not discover anywhere a trace of Edith, back to the Russian bivouac, Heideck learnt from the mouth of Prince Tchajawadse that the Maharajah of Chanidigot had met with a slight accident in the hunting excursion that day, and was under surgical treatment in his tent, whither he had been brought.
It was said that the tusks of a wild boar, which had run between his horse’s legs, had inflicted a severe wound on the foot, and it was in any case certain that he would not be visible that day.
On this occasion Heideck also learnt the circumstances to which the meeting with the two Indian Princes was due.
The Maharajah of Chanidigot, who knew full well that the English had sentenced him to death for high treason, had fled from his capital. With a hundred horse and many camels, carrying the most precious part of his movable treasures, he had advanced northwards out of the sphere of British territory into the rear of the Russian advancing army. He had visited his friend, the Maharajah of Sabathu, who was likewise a Mohammedan, and both Princes had for their greater safety proceeded hither to the foot of the mountain chain, where, for the present, despite the exciting times, they could pursue the pleasures of sport with all the nonchalance of real gentlemen at large.
The treacherous despot of Chanidigot would probably have preferred to have gone direct to Simla, and it was only the intelligence that had reached the Russians, that English troops were still in Ambala, that probably caused him to stop half-way.
Prince Tchajawadse was also induced by this intelligence to abandon his intended route via Ambala, and to proceed in a direct line through the jungle. In this way he could confidently hope to reach Simla without a battle, and, moreover, should it turn out that the garrison of Ambala was not over strong, he might deliver a surprise attack upon the English from the north. In time of peace Ambala was one of the larger encampments, but now it was to be expected that the main body of the troops stationed there had been ordered to Lahore.
The whole opulence of an Indian Court was unfolded at the Maharajah’s banquet. At the table covered with red velvet and luxuriously laid with gold and silver plate, the Russian officers sat in gay-coloured ranks with the chiefs of the Prince’s retinue. The viands were excellent, and champagne flowed in inexhaustible streams. The Russians required but few invitations to drink, but the Mohammedan Indians were not in this respect far behind them. It is true that the drinking of wine is forbidden by the tenets of their religion; but in respect of champagne, they understand how to evade this commandment by christening it by the harmless name of “sparkling lemonade,” a circumlocution which of course did not in the slightest counteract its exhilarating effects. The Indians who were less proof against the effects of alcohol were much more quickly intoxicated than their new European friends; and under the influence of the potent liquor universal fraternisation inevitably resulted.
The Maharajah himself delivered a suggestive speech in praise of the Russian victors who had at last come as the long-desired saviours of the country from the British yoke. Of course he had to employ the accursed English language, it being the only one that he understood besides his own mother tongue; and Prince Tchajawadse had to translate his words into Russian in order that they should be intelligible to all the Russian heroes.
In spite of this somewhat troublesome procedure, however, his words roused intense enthusiasm, and embracings and brotherly kisses were soon the order of the day.
When the universal jollity had reached its height, two Bayaderes, who belonged to the suite of the Maharajah of Sabathu, made their appearance, Indian beauties, whose voluptuous feminine charms were calculated to make the blood even of the spoilt European run warm. Dressed in gold-glittering petticoats and jackets, which left a hand’s breadth of light brown skin visible round the waist, with gold coins upon the blue-black hair, they executed their dances to the monotonous tone of weird musical instruments upon a carpet spread in the middle of the tent. The bare arms, the bones and toes of their little feet were adorned with gold bracelets set with pearls and rings bedizened with jewels. Though their motions had nothing in common with the bacchanalian abandon of other national dances, yet the graceful play of their supple, lithe limbs was seductive enough to enchant the spectators. The Indians threw silver coins to the dancers, but the Russians, according to their native custom, clapped applause and never tired of demanding amid shouts of delight a repetition of the dance.
Amid the general wantonness there was only one who remained morose and anxious, and this was Heideck, the newly-made captain in the Russian army.
He knew that it would be easy for Morar Gopal’s shrewdness to find him in case he had something to report. And that the Hindu did not make his appearance was for him a disheartening proof that his servant had not hitherto succeeded in discovering Edith’s whereabouts or in obtaining any certain news of her fate.
What did it avail him, that after much thought he had already evolved a plan for her liberation, if there was no possibility of putting himself in communication with her!
Believing her to be kept prisoner in a harem tent, his idea was to send Morar Gopal with a letter to her, fully convinced that the wily Indian would succeed by stratagem and bribery in reaching her. Before the banquet he had negotiated with one of the Indian rajahs for the purchase of an ox-waggon, and if Edith could by his letter be prevailed upon to make an attempt at flight, it would not in his view be very difficult to bring her under Morar Gopal’s protection to Ambala, where she would again find herself among her English countrymen.
But this plan was unrealisable so long as he did not even know where Edith was. Incapable of bearing any longer this condition of uncertainty, he was just on the point of leaving the tent in order, at all risks, to hunt for the beloved lady, when a Russian dragoon stepped behind his chair and informed him with a military salute that a lady outside the tent wished to speak to the Captain.
Full of blissful hope that it was Edith he jumped up and hurried out. But his longing eyes sought in vain for Captain Irwin’s widow. Instead of her whom he sought he perceived a tall female form in the short jacket and short-cut coloured dress which he had seen on his journeys among the inhabitants of the Georgian mountains. The hair and the face of the girl were almost entirely hidden by a scarf wound round the head. Only when, at his approach, she pushed it back somewhat he perceived who stood before him.
“Georgi--you here!” he exclaimed with surprise. “And in this dress?”
He had indeed reason to be surprised, for he had not again seen the handsome, blonde page, to whom he chiefly owed his life, since their meeting on the way to the place of execution.
When on the evening of that for him so eventful day he asked Prince Tchajawadse about Georgi he had received only a short, evasive reply, and the Prince’s knitted brows showed such evident anger that he well perceived that something must have taken place between them, and so it appeared to him to be best to him not to mention again the name of the Circassian girl.
When the detachment started he had in vain looked for the page who had hitherto been inseparable from “his master,” and only the anxiety for Edith, which was so much nearer his heart, was the cause that he had not thought much about the inexplicable disappearance of the disguised girl.
He had certainly least of all expected to find her here, so far from the Russian headquarters, and in woman’s dress to boot. But the Circassian did not seem inclined to give him detailed information.
“I have begged you to come out to see me, sir,” she said, “because I did not want the Prince to see me. I met your Indian servant. And he told me about the English lady whom the Maharajah of Chanidigot has carried off from you.”
“He did not carry her off from me, Georgi, for I have no claim upon her. She only placed herself under my protection, and therefore it is my duty to do all that I can to set her free.”
The girl looked at him, and there was a glance as of suppressed passion in her beautiful eyes.