Dur Khaima (part 5)

Our hero was totally dumbfounded, as he knew the Rana would go to his funeral pyre before sunup on the morrow.

After the shock had worn off, and knowing that his love would follow her husband into the flames, he set about concocting plan after plan to save her, each one more outlandish than the last, as he lay on his bed after the evening meal.

Could somehow the Hakim save the Rana? Could their advisors be reasoned with? How about storming the Palace from the inside, disguised as the Hakim's helper? How about bluffing with threats from the English Authorities? This last was the silliest as he forgot he was basically a spy.

The Hakim left the house to go tend the Rana possibly for the last time, and our hero reuctantly decided to discuss with his friends what to do. However, one thing was missing, and this was that they only thought he was fighting injustice, and if the real story had been told, it would have alienated them.

As it was, they were up very late when the Hakim finally came back, after having talked through everything. As the hero came out of his room, the Hakim noticed something profoundly different about him. He was laughing, joking, and ate a fine meal. He seemed not to be the brooding, troubled man he had left there, but once more his carefree self, a self the doctor hadn't seen in months. He commented to his friends about it. Our hero overheard, and patted him on the shoulder with a smile

"Sir, I know what you are thinking. Have I gone mad? The truth is Sir, " and he flourished another smile, " I have given up. They say drowning is quite pleasant once you have accepted it".

The Hakim felt like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He had envisioned all kinds of things involving flashing Tulwars, pistol shots, and maybe hostages.

There was a legend in the city that when the bell tolled for the death of a Rana, his spirit, mounted on a beautiful golden horse, galloped through the open city gate, eager to be reborn a warrior.

But that was just a rumor. However, the Hakim's news was bad. The Rana had but hours to live.
The Hakim also told him that during his time in the city, he had time to make five sets of clothing, from material available in the markets, in the colors of the palace servants, orange and yellow. He had had a feeling they would be needed come the time, but now there was no plan, thankfully, they would not. However, he kept them handy just in case.

In all this excitement, they had forgot the time, and almost without warning, the palace bell began tolling. They looked at each other, and our hero stood up.

"Well," he said, " this is it".

They asked him what.

"I have my revolver, and I intend to beat those crowds to the Chattris (out-buildings) and the pyre. I will not let the princess die a horrible death. I at least can spare her from the flames. I intend to shoot her. "

And without another word, he left.

He mounted his horse, and urged him to the now open city gate with all haste, and maybe it was the golden sparks of a coming sunrise, that some of the city, for years hence, swore they had seen the Rana'a spirit hurtle past them that fateful night.

The horse knew his master was excited and somehow that spurned him on. It was so exhilarating that our hero couldn't resist singing the well-known hymn;

"The golden evening brightens in the west;
Soon, soon to faithful warriors comes their rest;
Sweet is the calm of paradise the blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!"

and suddenly he fell silent, for on the back of his singing he could hear his echo from the other side of the valley in that quiet morning light.

Presently he arrived at the appointed place. He hushed the horse, secured him and wondered where and when he should fire that loving shot.

He climbed onto a ledge overlooking the pyre, but which had a good view. In his waiting he wondered how history would remember him. The Great Rana being bore by his advisors, followed by his two brides, the young one, and then the elder one, barefoot and unveiled. It isn't every day that common people get a look at a high-born woman, and it was told that the younger bride was one of exceptional beauty, and, of how an unknown madman......

He steeled himself. This was going to be a great tamarsha (show). About an hour later he heard a humming noise. It was the beginnings of the crowds come to look. Soon the place was overwhelmed with a seething mass of city dwellers, all eager to feast their eyes on the younger bride's beauty. Then it went quiet, and the hero was almost boxed in by the crush.

And then they heard it. The procession was on it's way.

It was quite some time before there was a real noise, the sun was now up, and it was going to a hot day. A great cheer went out from the awaiting people around, making it easy so as the shot was not to be heard. However, he was wedged tight on the parapet and his companions would be sure to see him take aim.

Then they saw the bier, and an even louder shout was heard. It was flanked by two elephants, obviously obscuring what was coming behind. The elephants passed and there she was, her little head held regally high, open and unveiled. At only 16 she was taking it rather well, thought our hero, as everybody greedily looked at her classically Indian beautiful features, her slender body, covered only by a Sari, but wearing some of the most magnificent jewelry ever seen. But where was the other Princess?

His thought was distracted by somone pulling on his arm, and turning around saw the uniform of a palace servant. He had been discovered! However the voice he recognised. It was the Hakim dressed in the robes he had made, pressing him to follow. This he did, down a staircase cut from rock, and into a large room. There he found his guide and the horse master, but he saw only one. She was standing by the chik (bamboo curtain) and he very nearly lost control and took her in his arms, but just in time remembered that none of his group actually knew the truth.

She turned to look at him and her face was one of stone. He was rooted to the spot. Could this really be her? Her features were still the same but she looked so...so thin and alien . She resumed her gaze onto the scene below them. The Hakim's explanation of the situation was simple. They had learned that the elder princess was NOT to be burned on her husband's prye, but made to watch her sister, and then her eyes were to be put out. He hadn't noticed before but in the corner there were four more people, one of them dead, plus a hot brazier with a poker in it. His face went red with fury. The Hakim stopped him. They had learned where this was to be done as the younger princess had told the Hakim in a moment of grief.

They had put the uniforms on, actually arrived with the cortege, and came upon the place exactly as told. The Hakim, being a doctor, disposed of the guard silently the only way he knew how. He had put a dagger through his eye. From then it had been easy, but they had to find the Sahib.

What a relief, he thought, so our hero called to everyone to escape quickly before the alarm was raised, but the Princess didn't move. He went over to her.

"Don't you know me, Larla?"

She turned to him. It was her sister, the younger bride. She had always been terrified of fire. He replied she didn't look it.

"It is just a show for her. Once she sees those flames, she will be absolutely mortified with terror"

" What shall I do?"

" Do for her what you would have done for me. "

He looked out. He was now lower, but further away.

"'Tis all of forty paces. " he thought.

She must have read his mind.

"Do it, please, if not for her, then for me."

He looked around.

"She is the Rani, Sahib" the guide said.

He sighed, took his hunting knife, and cut a gap in the chik large enough for a revolver, but small enough not to be noticed. He peered out. The cortege had stopped, and all was quiet . His fears returned about the sound of the shot.

The Rana was placed on the pyre, and the Rani followed. The Palace advisors now began to remove the jewelry from the little girl, after all, THAT must not be burned. That finished, she lay by her husband, and cradled his head on her tiny thigh.

"NOW!" the elder princess urged. " Once she sees the fire all the show will be over"

He waited. The young heir, as chosen by the advisors of course, was given a flaming torch. Being only five, he nearly dropped it.

Only when the pyre had been touched with the torch, and the tinder-dry wood laced with spices was ignited, did something happen.

The crowd roared, and the little girl on the pyre looked up and saw that it had begun. Her face a mask of horror, she stood up, and looked in panic all around her as the fire was already singeing her beautiful long hair.

He took aim and fired.

It sounded deafening in the room, and the little girl on the pyre threw up her arms in apparent grief and collapsed onto her husband. The crowd roared approval.

With that, the party, four men and a girl, raced from the room. The guide suggested killing the three other palace guards, but the Hakim would not allow it. They ran outside to the awaiting four horses, mounted and took off in the middle of the tamarsha, heading for the secret gap in the uncrossable foothills.

They hadn't got 100 yards when a shot, a rifle shot, was fired from behind them . At once the Hakim regretted not having killed the three guards.

They raced on, hero and heroine on one horse, the other three with one each. But the ground was stony, their horses not used to it, whereas the Rana's horses had been trained to run in such country. The chase was on. They were 200 yards from the passage when the horseman realised they wouldn't make it, so he turned full circle and ran head-on into the pursuers, bringing them down with himself, and the passage, guarded by a huge rock, was upon them. They took refuge behind it. With four muskets between them, it was decided the princess's safety was most important, so the Hakim would remain behind, even though he was not used to guns, the rock providing much cover.

This done, the guide and our two lovers, went through that same narrow passge that had been traversed only the day before, it seeming a lifetime ago. Slowly the sound of the gunshots receded. They travelled until the guide thought them safe enough to stop, and decided to go back, leaving our two alone.

During this time, she told of how her sister had mistreated her badly and did not want her sharing the Rana's bed, being a half-caste. Her sister had become jealous and had her locked away with little food. When the Rana became ill, it was decided that the elder sister would not be allowed to "contaminate" the pyre, and, as a punishment for being half-Russian, the death of the younger bride was to have been the last thing she saw.

Again, there was rage in him, but his rage turned to concern when there was no sign of the guide, and there was the smoke from a camp fire on the horizon. His concern grew as the guide was just that, being the only person who could lead them over the hills

They fell asleep waiting.

When they awoke, the guide was cooking chuppatis.

He told them he had spotted the Rana's men early and had returned to the passage by another route.

The Hakim had died defending them.

Knowing the country better it was soon a matter of time only before the guide overtook the enemy, who were ignorant of all the paths, to get back to the sleeping couple. But they still had to hurry.

Six days later, they found themselves in familiar country, and their guide left them with heartfelt thanks. But how to explain the Princess? She could never be a Princess again, and she was a widow. They could not openly marry, as it would arouse both distaste and suspicion and may lead to them to certain death would the Rana's spies find out, and they would.

In despair, they took a small merchant ship, the captain of whom was known, just to lay low. During the voyage they were married by the captain, as they made their way north to Peshawar. However, it was totally unthinkable to present himself there as the husband to a widowed Hindu Princess.

He has once been told he was "two people in one skin", with loyalties neither with England or India, to the effect that he would always have to take sides.

They realised that he had now become a third person, himself, with his love becoming the other half. Having been put down near the borders of Afghanistan, it came to pass that to find that "Third" country, the one that would be theirs and theirs alone, would make everyone happy. So on they trekked on horseback, through the desolate but lonely passes, to look for it.....

....and rumour has it, they found it.