Swords From the Desert (32 page)

Because Mahabat Khan had commanded it, I remained in the tower-that is, within call of the tower. The gate was still closed and held in strength by the garrison-threescore Moguls, short and stocky men, in good chain mail and leather, wearing burnished steel helmets. The Sirdar's escort of Rajputs sat by their saddled horses, with the air of men awaiting a summons. To them I went, seeking Dost Muhammad, the leader of the escort, who was striding back and forth, examining girths and stirrup leathers.

Dost Muhammad stood even taller than I, by reason of his white silk pugri; he was a man gaunt and restless as a racing horse and almost as sparing of words. His beard, brushed to either side his chin, was streaked with white. Verily, with his feathers and his stiff muslin skirt projecting out from his knees, and his white leather slippers and the tiny jeweled hilt of his light sword, he seemed to be robed for an audience at court rather than service of any kind. Yet Kushal had told me that he was terrible with the sword, when aroused. When I asked whether he was in command here, at the gate, he looked down at me, as if searching for insult, and said that Rajputs never mounted guard.

Then he remembered that I was the guest of his lord and he began to explain what all Kandahar was talking about. The men of the garrison sent out by Mahabat Khan last night-the party I had heard riding off-had scouted around the Persian lash gar. They had brought back three prisoners, sentries carried off from an outer post. These captives proved to be Red Hats, soldiers of the great shah of Persia. They had been persuaded-Dost Muhammad did not choose to explain in what manner-to talk and had admitted that twelve hundred or more soldiers of the shah were in that camp, commanded by royal officers.

The Red Hats swore that they did not know why they had been led beyond the frontier, although they believed that the hunting was only a pretense. They swore likewise, very earnestly, that their leaders had no designs on Kandahar, because no artillery or siege tools had been brought along.

"There are no greater liars anywhere," said Dost Muhammad, "than these dogs of Persians. Still, it must be true that their camp is a military camp, and it is well indeed for the Mogul governor that the Sirdar of Ind is here."

"Why?" I asked, for the captain of the Rajputs was too blunt to relish anything but plain words.

"When the eagle is perched on the edge of his nest, the hawk keeps its distance," he smiled.

He added that Kandahar, being the gateway in the mountains between Persia and Ind, was greatly desired by the shah.

For the present the shah and the Mogul were at peace, but it was the uneasy peace of powerful emperors, who complimented each other while they had their hands on their swords.

"Nay," said Dost Muhammad gravely, "those Persians have crept up to pluck Kandahar from Baki."

"What will the governor do?"

The tall Rajput had all the contempt of his race for the man of peace and trade.

"Kaki the Wise! I went before him with the Sirdar after the dawn prayer, and he was like a man struck on the head. He begged the Sirdar to defend Kandahar, and hastened off to eat opium and pray."

Evidently Baki thought that calamity was descending upon him! Now it was clear why Kushal had been carried off. The leaders of the Persians had heard of the Sirdar's presence in Kandahar and wished to get him out of the walls, in their hands, away from the garrison. The Sirdar of Ind would be a splendid hostage, in their camp. But if he chose to defend Kandahar against them, their task would be no easy one.

"No doubt," I said, "they will pay the woman, Nisa, a fine price for bringing them the songmaker."

Although Dost Muhammad would admit no knowledge of this woman, it seemed to me that she had planned the trap for the Sirdar, knowing that Kushal was his friend-knowing that he would risk his own life to aid Kushal.

Mahabat Khan, by his prompt sortie of the night, had their plans. But what he would do now, I did not know. With three hundred Mogul menat-arms and a handful of Rajput riders, he could not attempt to rescue Kushal; nor could he hope to defend the outer wall of the city against an attack of twelve hundred Persian Red Hats. Then, too, he had to watch alKhimar, who was no doubt hovering like a vulture in his hills.

I saw only one thing for Mahabat Khan to do-to retire with the governor into the citadel and try to defend it as best he could. But Dost Muhammad chose to mock at this plan.

"When did an eagle fly into a cage?"

Indeed, Mahabat Khan did otherwise-and of all things this seemed to me the most mad and vain. He rode up to us alone, but clad in a cloth-ofsilver robe of honor. He chose me and Dost Muhammad and two troopers from the Rajputs. He left the gate in charge of a Mogul officer and, when all the men of his cavalcade had mounted and reined behind him, trotted off toward the citadel.

In the garden by Baki's tower he dismounted, leaving our horses with the other Rajputs, who looked crestfallen when they were ordered to remain in the garden until his return. With only Dost Muhammad and me he walked under the trees to a narrow door like the one beside the main gate. This he unlocked and locked again after us, confiding the key to one of the troopers.

We had come out into a shadowy ravine and, before the Sirdar had gone a hundred paces, I knew the place. It was the same ravine by which we had come down from the heights the day before. Mahabat Khan, looking neither to right nor left, began to climb up among the boulders.

Before the shadows turned, we reached the spot where I had dozed during our flight from the Pathan's son gar. Here the Sirdar halted to gaze down at the city and the distant plain, which was motionless under a burning sun. No caravans moved along the road; no horsemen entered and left the villages. As birds quiet their noise and take shelter before a storm, the people of the valley had withdrawn from sight to await events. Mahabat Khan looked at everything and turned, striding into the rock-strewn gully that led to the caverns.

"May God prosper it!" I muttered, thinking of what we had left behind us in that place.

"Are there horses ahead?" Dost Muhammad wondered aloud.

Unlike the Sirdar he hated to walk; indeed, he limped already in his light slippers, and the other Rajputs eyed the rocky way with little favor. They would rather have galloped in the saddle down to Satan than have climbed afoot to Paradise! Mahabat Khan had given them a half-dozen split pine torches to carry, while he let me walk unburdened.

"Where is he going?" I asked.

"To preach to some hill tribes," Dost Muhammad muttered, "some men of that prophet."

W'allahi! It seemed to me then that Baki was wiser than we. I would have relished both wine and opium before entering that pit again.

"Yea," I said to the Rajput captain, "there are horses beyond us, but it is likely thou and I will descend into our graves before we mount a stirrup again."

This prospect of danger put an end to his grumbling. The hillmen he held in utter scorn. But it seemed to me that Mahabat Khan might stroke a wounded panther more easily than talk to those Pathans again. He must have counted on al-Khimar's absence from the valley this afternoon and on persuading the tribes to take his side in the coming struggle.

It is written that God deals lovingly with the bold of heart, and many times since have I thought of that saying. Mahabat Khan staked his own life and ours that day, and God put a weapon into his hand. Nay, he did not look for it!

It was Dost Muhammad who caught my arm and whispered-

"What is this?"

I looked up and saw, a bowshot ahead of us, al-Khimar sitting on a boulder in the gully. He wore the same brown mantle and wide green turban and veil, and his back was toward us. He sat like a man who rests beside the path he follows.

Mahabat Khan saw him in the same instant and sprang forward. He made no sound, but one of the troopers, shifting the torches on his shoulder, made some noise and al-Khimar looked over his arm at us. At once he sprang to his feet and ran. His mantle floating behind him, he skimmed among the boulders, holding something in his arms.

"Take him!" Mahabat Khan cried to his followers.

But before we had run ten bowshots, al-Khimar vanished. We saw him disappear into a narrow cleft of the rock that walled the end of the gully. This was the place where we had come out under the stars. At the cleft, Mahabat Khan checked us, bidding us light the torches.

It was no easy task. Mahabat Khan went on into the cleft, and Dost Muhammad knelt, cursing the damp wind of the place, while he struck flint against steel, dashing little sparks upon a wad of dry hemp that he placed in the end of the pine sticks. Many sparks died before the hemp began to smoke, and the flame caught slowly upon the wood. Then Dost Muhammad seized the torch and waved it until the fire sputtered and flared.

Still waving it, he ran into the rock passage, his men after him, and I following. We did not see anything ahead for awhile, but when we came down over the ledges, we made out two figures hastening below us.

Al-Khimar must have had eyes that could see in the dark, or he knew every step of the way. He might have had a torch or lantern of his own hidden somewhere, but he had not waited to light it, thinking that we could not follow in the darkness.

When Mahabat Khan and I had felt our way out of those accursed caverns, the path had seemed endless and terrifying. In reality it was not far to the chasm where the rock bridge led across.

Guided by our torch, Mahabat Khan was only a spear's thrust behind the veiled figure. Al-Khimar ran out upon the narrow bridge and slipped or stumbled. Suddenly he screamed, falling to his knees and clutching that which he held still in his arms. The shrill cry echoed and quivered in the chasm, and Dost Muhammad cursed aloud.

Sword in hand, the Sirdar bent over the kneeling figure. He reached down and jerked off the veil and stood thus without moving. When we came up, Dost Muhammad held the torch high, and we stared at the terrified face of the kneeling man.

Eh, we saw before us Baki the Wise. His eyes were fixed on the darkness beneath him, his whole body rigid with terror.

After a moment the Sirdar thrust back his sword and helped Baki to our side of the chasm.

"Light another torch," he bade us, "and retire beyond hearing until I summon you."

When this was done, we went and sat on a ridge of rock, breathing heavily, staring at the tall and gleaming figure of the Sirdar and the man who crouched at his feet.

What they said I know not. Mahabat Khan seemed to ask many questions, and Baki, after a space, began to complain shrilly. Swiftly Mahabat Khan cut him short and called to the Rajput captain.

The Sirdar looked and spoke like a man who sees his way clear before him, after searching through darkness and uncertainty. Although he was no longer on the brink of the chasm, Baki still labored with his fear. His eyes gleamed, when Mahabat Khan took from his arms the bundle that he had carried during his flight.

It was a gray sack of coarse cloth. The Sirdar thrust his hand into it, drawing out a little heap of silver coins. At these Baki stared anxiously, and I wondered what strange hope he might have in this money-sitting thus after that wild chase through the gut of the mountain. His face fell when Mahabat Khan handed the sack to me.

"Nay!" cried Baki. "Nay, that is mine!" He trembled and kept stretching out a thin hand toward the sack. Mahabat Khan looked down at him in silence for a moment, while the governor of Kandahar put forth his hand and drew it back like a child, desiring something greatly, yet fearing to be punished.

"Art thou," the Sirdar asked presently, "the servant of the emperor, to whom a trust was given?"

Baki nodded several times.

"Then let there be an end of al-Khimar," the Sirdar said. "And do thou, yield to me the command of the men and treasure of Kandahar, until such time as thou canst go before the emperor and justify thyself."

Again Baki assented, his eyes still fixed upon the sack in my hands. But the tall Pathan was not content with this.

"Wilt thou yield thy trust to me?" he asked again.

"Into thy hands," muttered Baki, "I give the government of Kandahar."

He glanced up at us with such malice that Dost Muhammad swore into his beard, and I felt misgiving. Truly, in that day of calamity few men would have wished to take the reins Baki let fall.

"And I accept the responsibility," answered Mahabat Khan.

At once he gave an order to his two troopers to take Baki back with them, going slowly along the heights and not descending to the garden gate of Kandahar until sunset. He bade them escort Baki to his tower, taking care to veil his face, and to keep him there, a captive, through the night.

Immediately Dost Muhammad voiced an objection.

"Mahabat Khan, the follower of this man slew Rai Singh. Let him come with us and make atonement."

The Sirdar did not reprove his officer for this speech.

"Within an hour," he said, "the murderer of Rai Singh shall face my sword, or thine."

Dost Muhammad uttered an exclamation and touched his sword hilt, stepping back. Then the troopers took one torch and Baki, and they has tened back, desiring to be out of the cavern. Mahabat Khan and the old Rajput and I went forward.

Nay, I would have chosen to go with the troopers. Surely Baki, who had taken the veil of al-Khimar, had laid many plots, and Shamil likewise. That Baki was a coward made matters no easier for us, because the intrigues of a weak and covetous man do more harm than the scheming of a bold rogue.

I thought that Mahabat Khan was taking a mad risk, to go among the Pathans. Baki had tricked him and nearly slain him twice. Indeed, Mahabat Khan was not the match of these men, much less the Persians, at scheming. By good fortune, when he ventured into the heights, he had made Baki captive. What more could he do?

But Mahabat Khan was a leader of cavalry, a man of his word, faithful alike to his lord and his men. He saw only one thing to do-to go forward until he was overcome. And God had given him one weapon-the knowledge that Baki had played the role of al-Khimar. This weapon he used in a very simple way.