The Ruby Sword Part 30

"The sirdar would like to hear the story of that ring," he said. "You need not fear to talk, sir. I am his half brother. I learnt English at Lah.o.r.e when I was Queen's soldier, so I tell the sirdar again all you say."

Decidedly this was better than being dependent on an unreliable scamp such as Buktiar Khan, and Campian felt quite relieved. For somehow he realised that his peril was over--probably his oft repeated trials and wearing captivity, but that might depend upon his own diplomacy, and what deft use he might make of the circ.u.mstance of the ring.

For a few moments he sat silent and pondering. The story of the ring was so bound up with that of the ruby sword and the hidden treasure that it was difficult to tell the one without revealing the other. The information which he himself possessed declared that the only man who would be likely to know anything about the matter was the Syyed Ain Asraf. He, however, had not recognised the ring. Could there be two Syyeds Ain Asraf?

Then he remembered that Yar Hussain was of Afghan descent. Did he know anything of the hiding of the treasure, or at any rate where it was hidden? The first was possible, the second hardly likely, or he would almost certainly have removed it.

"What was the name of the Durani sirdar?" asked Yar Hussain at last.

"Dost Hussain Khan," replied Campian. "He is my father," said the chief, "and he rests on the rim of Paradise. There is truth in thy statement, O Feringhi, who--they tell me--art now a believer. He was saved by a Feringhi, and an unbeliever, yet a brave and true man, and for him and his we never cease to pray."

"Then are we brothers, Sirdar," said Campian, "for the man who saved the life of thy father is my father."

The astonishment depicted on the faces of those who heard this statement was indescribable.

"Ya Allah!" cried the chief, raising hands and eyes to heaven.

"Wonderful are Thy ways! Hast thou a token, Feringhi?"

"Is not that of the ring sufficient?" returned Campian, purposely simulating offence. "If not, listen. The Sirdar Dost Hussain Khan, when pressed by his enemies, concealed his treasures, princ.i.p.al among which was a ruby hilted sword of wellnigh priceless value. This treasure is lost. None know of its whereabouts to this day."

The chief's kinsman, whose name was Sohrab Khan, hardly able to mask his own amazement, translated this. An emphatic a.s.sent went up from all who heard.

"The treasure was enclosed in a strong chest of dark wood, three cubits in length, covered with words from the blessed Koran, and clamped with heavy bra.s.s bindings," went on Campian. "The Durani sirdar was killed by the Brahuis. And now, why has the secret of its whereabouts been lost? Does not the Syyed Ain Asraf know of it?"

The astonishment on the faces of those who heard found outlet in a vehement negative.

Then Sohrab Khan explained. The Syyed, he said, knew nothing. All that the Feringhi, now a believer, had said was true. But the Sirdar Yar Hussain Khan would fain repurchase the ring, because there was a tradition in their house that its gift to an unbeliever--good and brave man as that unbeliever was--had caused the disappearance of the treasure. When it was recovered the secret of the whereabouts of the ruby sword and the other valuables would be revealed. Would five thousand rupees repurchase it?

To this Campian returned no immediate answer. He was turning the matter over in his mind--not that of the sale and the proffered price, for on that head his mind was clear. Of whatever value this lost property might be, these people, and they alone, had any claim to it. There was a strange fatality about the way they had been enabled to save his life, and that at the most critical moments--first the Syyed Ain Asraf when the sword of Umar Khan was raised above his defenceless head--now the arrival of Yar Hussain and his following in time to rescue him from the savage vengeance of the friends and kinsmen of Ihalil. His father had foregone any claim upon the treasure, even when a share of it was proffered him by the grateful potentate whose life he had saved; and now he, too, meant to make no claim. He had ample for his own needs--all he asked was restoration to liberty. Yet even for this he did not stipulate.

"Listen," he said at length, and during the time occupied by his meditations it was characteristic that no word or sign of impatience escaped those dignified Orientals, notwithstanding the grave import of the matter under discussion. "It seems that the tradition relating to the recovery of the ring is one of truth. For if it was given to an unbeliever--albeit a brave and true man--now is it recovered by a believer. See"--holding out his hand, so that all might see the green stone and its cabalistic characters--"see--am I not one of yourselves?

And now, O my brother, Yar Hussain Khan, I will restore unto thee this treasure, even I; for it hath been revealed unto me. I have described it and the chest which containeth it. Now, let us fare forth to the valley called Kachin that thou mayest possess it once more."

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

THE RUBY SWORD.

As they rode forth from the village fort, and its gates closed behind them, Campian could not but once more realise the strangeness of life, and the sudden and unexpected turns the wheel of fate will take. He had entered in a state of swooning unconsciousness, swung, in agonising and ignominious att.i.tude, one bale among the many which const.i.tute a camel's load. Now he rode forth at the right hand of the powerful Marri sirdar, whose honoured guest and almost blood-brother he had become, and that by a fortuitous chance which partook of the nature of a triviality. He was mounted on a fine steed, and his worn and dingy garments had been replaced, as though by magic, by the finest and snowiest of raiment-- even to one of the chief's highly ornamented vests of state.

How good it was to breathe again the air of freedom. Even the desert waste in its wide expanse, the jagged treeless mountain peaks, took on all manner of soft and changing lights in the golden glow of the cloudless afternoon. Soon his terrible experiences would be as a dream of the past. No impatience was upon him now. Life had taught him a certain amount of philosophy, and so completely had he identified himself with the part he had for months past been forced to sustain, that something of the Eastern stoicism had transmitted itself to him.

Now he could allow himself to think--to dwell upon those last days before the tragedy that had forced him into captivity and peril and exile. Yet, why that uneasy stirring--why that misgiving? Could it be that his impending restoration to nineteenth century life brought with it something of the cares and pains and heart-searchings of busy, up-to-date, restless, end of the century struggle after chimeras and will o' the wisps? For months now all trace of him would have been lost. He would have been given up as dead. How would Vivien accept the general opinion? Perhaps she had long since left Shalalai. He remembered their last parting well--ah, so well! But it had taken place under stress of circ.u.mstances--of circ.u.mstances abnormal and strained.

In cooler moments all might have been different. And acting upon this idea he had made no stipulation or request that he should be escorted to Shalalai previous to revealing the place of concealment of the long buried treasure. He had known experience of a meeting of this sort--all the antic.i.p.ation, the dwelling upon the thought thereof day and night, the figuring out of its programme, and all the rest of it--and then, when it came--mere commonplace; disappointment perhaps--not to say a strong dash of disillusionment.

To reach the Kachin valley would take them some days--but Campian easily prevailed upon the sirdar to despatch a swift messenger to Shalalai announcing his safety and approaching return--and, indeed, it suited Yar Hussain's own plans to do this.

We left that chief under arrest. Not long, however, was he detained.

It was found practically impossible on investigation to hold him responsible for the doings of Umar Khan; moreover he represented, and with perfect truth, that the hostage's interests were likely to suffer from such detention--even if it did not entail upon him actual peril.

So he was released.

Even then, however, he was in an ugly and vindictive frame of mind, and whether his intervention or protection would have been extended to the captive under ordinary circ.u.mstances, it is hard to say. As it was, the mere accidental glimpse of the ring worn by Campian had worked wonders.

The fact was that Campian seldom wore this ring. He had done so of late, thinking it in keeping with the Eastern dress he had a.s.sumed, but formerly he had hardly remembered that it was in his possession. Even of late, however, it had pa.s.sed unnoticed, partly from the fact of Ain Asraf's sight being dim with age partly that none of those who custodied him were of the family of Dost Hussain. Fortunate, indeed, that it had been upon his finger at that critical moment.

At a village on their road they fell in with Ain Asraf. The old Syyed was genuinely rejoiced at beholding his neophyte once more. The latter, in spite of his own protests, anger, menaces even, had been spirited off by the lawless and irreligious followers of Umar Khan, nor had he been able to learn his whereabouts.

"Ah, my son," he said at the close of their cordial greeting, "Allah watches over His own--and His Prophet holds h.e.l.l in store for they who oppress them. Yet, it is well. I may no more be with thee to instruct thee in the fair flowers of the faith. Yet forget not that Allah has delivered thee in thine extremity, and that not once."

Then he signed that the hour of prayer was at hand, and all dismounted, and the same orisons--uttered alike by chief and lowest herdsman--by the upright and the criminal--by the true ally and treacherous outlaw--went up from the desert sand from that group with their faces to the setting sun.

The old Syyed attached himself to their band, being readily provided, by the people of the village, with a camel, for they had no horses, and was treated with great deference by all--both as the uncle of the chief, and in his capacity of saint. Through the medium of Sohrab Khan, the English speaking Baluchi, Campian was able to while away the monotony of the road in converse. He learnt much of what had befallen since his captivity--of the arrest of the Sirdar, the anxiety as to his own fate, and the doings of Umar Khan, with whom his present friends seemed not altogether out of sympathy--in fact, he decided that if it depended upon their aid, the chances of capturing that redoubted freebooter were infinitesimal. Thus they fared onward, day after day, through _tangi_ and over _kotal_, threading deep mountain valleys, and traversing sun-baked plains; now resting for the night at mud-walled villages, now camping out in the open beneath the desert stars.

The Kachin valley at last! How well he remembered its long, deep configuration. Now after his enforced wanderings over those grim deserts, even its spa.r.s.e foliage was like a cool and refreshing oasis.

And what experiences, strange and startling, had he not known within its narrow limits. There, above the juniper growth rose the ma.s.s of rock wherein was the markhor cave. It seemed strange to think that the face of that ordinarily rugged mountain side should contain what it did.

Then a misgiving seized him. What if it should contain nothing? What if he had been allowing his over-wrought imagination to run away with him? The chest was there--no doubt about that, but what if it contained nothing more than a lot of old parchments, or a storage of ordinarily trumpery trinkets? Things might, in that event, take an awkward turn.

But no, he would not believe it. The strength of the chain, the weight of the chest, the weird, unheard of place of its concealment, the care and labour involved in designing such a hiding place, all pointed to this being the object of his search. And then, too, the topographical features of the surroundings were all exactly as set forth in his father's instructions. Every piece of the puzzle seemed to fit in to a nicety.

And this chief was the son of the refugee Afghan whose life his father had saved, and in the inscrutable workings of time it had come about that the debt should be repaid twofold, that his own life should be saved, first by the brother, then by the son of Dost Hussain. On the eventual slaughter of the latter by the Brahuis, Yar Hussain then an infant, had found refuge with the Marri tribe, and by dint of descent on his mother's side, had, on reaching years of manhood, claimed and seized the position he now held. All this Campian learned as they travelled along; and a very stirring--if complicated--tale of Eastern intrigue, and fierce, ruthless tribal feud it was.

A feeling of awe was upon the party as they entered the gloomy crack which const.i.tuted the portal of the now historic markhor cave. Upon the Baluchis the superst.i.tious a.s.sociations which cl.u.s.tered round the place had their effect. The Syyed Ain Asraf was muttering copious exorcisms and adjurations from the sacred book, and the wild desert warriors were overawed at the thought that here was about to be unfolded that which had been placed there by the hands of those long since dead. Upon the European, however, the a.s.sociations were multifold. That first exploration of the cave, the chance arrival of Vivien Wymer, and their long, quiet talk as they investigated it together all came back to him.

Then the tragedy, his escape, and the hours he had spent hanging in the very mouth of that hideous gulf--here again the hidden h.o.a.rd of the dead chief had been instrumental in preserving the life of his rescuer's son, for what would the latter have done but for the resting place afforded by the chain and that which it supported, whit time Umar Khan, with his bloodthirsty brigands had run him literally to earth?

Taking a torch from one of the bystanders, and holding it out at arm's length over the gulf, he said:

"Look down there, my brother, yonder is the Ruby Sword."

"I see nothing," replied Yar Hussain, who, lying flat on the brink, was peering over. "Stay--yes. Something is hanging. It is of iron. It is a chain. You--three of you--hold your lights out over yon black opening of h.e.l.l." Then as they obeyed he went on--"Yes. There it is. There is a chest--bound with bra.s.s. Of a truth the secret is at length revealed."

Even the impa.s.sive reticence of the Oriental seemed to relax. There was a note of strong excitement in the deep tones of the chief, and his eyes dilated as he beheld at last that which contained his long buried heirloom. He gave orders that the chest should be at once drawn up.

This was not difficult. By Campian's advice they had come well provided with strong camel-hide ropes. These were noosed, and the loops being swung round the chest on either side of the chain--a very simple process in the strong light of many torches--were drawn tight. Then, at the word from Campian, who superintended the operation, and whose interest and excitement were hardly less than that of the chief, they hauled away. The chest proved of less weight than they expected, and lo!--in a trice--it lay safe upon the floor of the cave.

Many and pious were the e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of those who beheld. The ma.s.sive chain, somewhat indented in the wood through the weight it had so long sustained, was at length filed through, and the chest borne to the entrance of the cave to be opened in full daylight.

Seen there it was indeed black and venerable with age, and the lettering on the cover so blurred that the old eyes of Ain Asraf were hardly equal to the task of deciphering it. But the impatience of those around was deepening every moment, and Yar Hussain with his own hands began to open the chest.

It was secured by cunning locks, the device of which was known to him.

The hinges, stiff and rusty with age and damp, at first would not turn, then yielded to a couple of hearty tugs. The while every head was craned forward, every spectator was breathless with expectation. As an instance of how one can persuade oneself into a belief in any theory, even now no misgiving came to Campian lest the chest should contain nothing of any value.

An aromatic and pungent odour filled the air on the opening of the box.

At first a layer of sheepskin vellum, then parchments. At these Yar Hussain merely glanced hurriedly and continued his investigations. One bag--then another--five bags of the same soft sheepskin and carefully tied, each about the size of an orange. On opening these--lo! three of them contained precious stones, cut, and some of splendid size and water. The other two were filled with uncut stones. This was beginning to look promising.

The next layer being uncovered yielded to view some magnificent personal ornaments, bracelets and the like, thickly jewelled. These were lifted out, and then the third skin covering being removed, that contained by the last and lower compartment of the chest lay revealed. Something long, wrapped in several rolls of the soft wash leather. Carefully, almost reverently, Yar Hussain unfolded these and--There it lay, in the bottom of the chest, hilt and scabbard literally glowing with splendid rose red jewels, relieved by the white flash of diamonds, dazzling the eyes of the beholders with the suddenness of its glare--there it lay, in its long hidden splendour, the cherished heirloom of the refugee Durani chief--the priceless Ruby Sword.

For some moments the surrounding Baluchis stood staring in stupefied silence, then they broke forth in e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns as to the wonderful ways of Allah, and so forth. Campian, beholding the wealth thus displayed, could not but feel some sort of qualm as he remembered how he might have concealed his knowledge until able to turn it to his own material account. It was only momentary, however, and he was the first to break in with a practical remark.

"Hearken, Sohrab Khan," he said. "I think I have now done all that I can do. Tell the sirdar that he and his have returned to me the service that my father rendered to his, have returned it twofold, and I, for my part, am rejoiced to have been the means by which he has come into the possession of his own. But there are those in Shalalai I would fain see again, and if it is all the same to him, I think"--with a glance at the sun--"we might fetch Mehriab station in time to catch the afternoon train."