XVI

Ready for Action

Half-swooning, I sat down upon a bench. My brain, however, began to work again at once. Angulimala had been there, of that there could be no doubt; and the reason for his coming was only too clear to me. How many tales had I not heard of his implacability and greed for vengeance! Moreover, I had had the misfortune to slay his best friend, and, from my residence with the robbers, I well knew that friendship among them does not count for less than among highly respectable citizens⁠—indeed, if anything, for much more. At the time when I was his prisoner, Angulimala couldn’t kill me without sinning against the laws of the “Senders” and at the same time putting an indelible blot upon his robber honour; yet he nevertheless all but did it twice over. Now, however, he had at last been able to seek out this land, in spite of its lying so far from the scene of his wonted activity, and evidently intended to make up for that past omission. In the disguise of an ascetic he had succeeded in leisurely surveying the places in the neighbourhood, and, without doubt, had resolved to act that same night. Even if he had by any chance perceived that I recognised him, he dared not delay, for this was the last night of the dark half of the month, and to carry out such an enterprise in the light half would have been an offence against the sacred laws of the robbers, and would have brought down upon him the angry vengeance of the bloodthirsty goddess Kali.

I at once ordered my best horse to be saddled, and rode into town to the palace of the king. I could easily have obtained an audience, but, to my disappointment, learned that he was just then residing at one of his distant hunting seats. I was therefore obliged to be content with a visit to the Minister of State. As it happened, this was the very same man who had conducted the fateful embassy to Kosambi, and in whose protection, as thou wilt remember, I did not travel back. Now, from that day on which I had refused to follow him, he was not very friendly to me, as I had noticed on several occasions when we chanced to meet; in addition to which, I knew he had frequently criticised my mode of life. To have to bring this matter before him was not exactly agreeable; its justification, however, and even merit, were so apparent that here, as it seemed, there was no room left for personal likes or dislikes.

I related to him, therefore, as shortly and clearly as possible, what had taken place in my courtyard, and added the all but self-understood petition that a division of troops might be stationed for the night in my house and garden, for the double purpose of defending my property from the certain attack of the robbers, and of capturing as many of these as possible.

The Minister heard me in silence, and with an unfathomable smile on his fate. Then he said⁠—

“My good Kamanita; I do not know whether thou hast already indulged in an early and very heavy draught, or art still suffering from the effects of one of thy famous nightly banquets which have become the proverb of Ujjeni; or, indeed, whether thou mayst not have ruined thine inner organs to such an extent by thy no less proverbial than remarkable spiced dishes, as to have evil dreams, and not only by night but also in broad daylight! For as such I am compelled to designate this interesting tale, particularly as we know it is long since Angulimala ceased to sojourn among the living.”

“But that was a false rumour, as we now see,” I called out impatiently.

I by no means see it,” he replied sharply. “There can be no question in this instance of a false rumour, for a short time after the affair Satagira himself related to me in Kosambi that Angulimala had died in the underground dungeons of the Ministerial Palace, under torture; and I myself saw his head on one of the spikes over the eastern gate.”

“I do not know whose head thou didst there see,” I cried, “but this I do know, that one hour ago I saw the head of Angulimala safe and sound on his shoulders, and that, far from meriting thy mockery, I deserve that thou, on the contrary, shouldst thank me for giving thee the opportunity⁠ ⁠…”

“Of killing a dead man and making a fool of myself,” the Minister interrupted me. “Much obliged!”

“Then I beg thee at least to remember that this is not a matter which concerns the first best estate thou mayst hear of, but relates to a mansion and grounds reckoned among the wonders of Ujjeni, and inspected by our gracious king himself with great admiration. He will not thank thee if Angulimala reduce all these splendours of his capital to ashes.”

“Oh! that troubles me little,” said the Minister, laughing. “Take my advice: go home, calm thyself by a short sleep, and don’t let the matter disturb thee further. For the rest, the whole affair arises from this, that thou didst plunge thyself into a gallant adventure that year in Kosambi, and, in thy headstrong folly, didst fling my words to the winds rather than return with me. Hadst thou listened then, Angulimala would never have made thee prisoner, and thou wouldst not now have been tormented by an empty and baseless fear. Moreover, thy monthlong life in the company of that robber pack did not improve thy morals, as we all of us here in Ujjeni have perceived.”

He launched out into a few additional moral platitudes, and then dismissed me.

Even before I reached home I was considering what was to be done, seeing that I was now thrown on my own resources. Arrived there, I had all the movable treasures⁠—costly carpets, inlaid tables, and similar matters⁠—carried into the courtyard and loaded on wagons, in order to have them conveyed to a place of safety in the inner town. At the same time I had weapons distributed among all my people; both wagons and weapons being forthcoming in abundance, owing to the fact that the caravan was in course of preparation. But I didn’t let things rest there. My first measure was to send several trusted servants into the town, in order, by the promise of a handsome reward, to enlist for the night courageous and capable fighting men. For any other, this would have been, it is true, a hazardous proceeding, for how easily might such fellows at the critical moment make common cause with the assailants. But I relied upon certain female friends, who recommended to my servants only trustworthy rascals⁠—that is, fellows really capable of anything, but to whom their solemnly pledged word and earnest-money, once accepted, were sacred. As I knew this raff and their curious customs, I was well aware of what I was doing.

During these preparations, as I had no time myself to go to my wives, I sent a servant to each of them, with instructions that they should hold themselves in readiness⁠—the first with her two daughters, the second with her little son⁠—to move into town to the paternal home. That it was only to be for one night, I didn’t let them know, because I had very wisely considered that, once there, they might as well stay a week or longer, and I should meanwhile enjoy an unexpected time of peace at home⁠—supposing, of course, that I succeeded in beating off the attack. Just as little did I let them know the reason for this arrangement, because one should never give reasons to women.

Meantime the work went on, and I was on the point of making a stirring speech to my armed servants, recurring to an old practice which had been mine when danger threatened on our caravan journeys, and which had always been attended with excellent results, when, with one accord, and as if by prearrangement, my two wives dashed out of separate doors into the courtyard, an air of consternation on their faces and screaming loudly, so that everyone looked round at them, and I was forced to interrupt my speech ere it was well begun.

The first dragged her two little daughters, the second my little son, with her. No sooner had they reached me than they pointed each at the other, and shrieked simultaneously⁠—

“So at last this base woman has succeeded in turning thy heart against me, so that thou dost drive me forth and dost lay upon me, thy faithful wife, the disgrace of being sent back to my father’s house, with thine innocent little daughters (with thy poor little son)⁠ ⁠…”

The foaming rage that possessed them, aggravated by their naturally narrow understanding, brought it to pass that neither perceived how the other accused her of the very same thing which she herself brought forward, and complained of the same hard fate which she herself bewailed as her own, and that, without question, there must be a mistake somewhere. Far from suspecting anything of the kind, they screamed and howled on, tearing their hair and striking their breasts with their fists, until at last, as if by way of relaxation, each began to pour out upon her supposed victorious rival abuse which, in its coarseness, far surpassed anything I had ever heard even in the company of women of ill-fame.

Finally, I did succeed in making myself heard, and also in making clear to them, if with no little difficulty, that they had utterly misunderstood my message, that neither of them was to be sent to her own parents, but to my father’s house, and by no means as a punishment or as a sign of my displeasure, but solely on account of their own and their children’s safety. When, however, I saw that they at last fully understood this, I could no longer contain myself, but cried out⁠—

“This is what you have from your unbearable rudeness; learn at last to behave yourselves in seemly fashion! This is what your ‘bald-pated monk’ has done for you! Who, do you suppose, that was? It was Angulimala, the robber, the horrible fiend, who slays human beings and hangs their thumbs about his neck. He it is whom you have abused, he, whom you have angered! A miracle that he didn’t beat you to death with his alms-bowl. But we others, if any of us should fall into his hands, will have to pay to the uttermost farthing, and who knows whether ye yourselves are safe from him, even in my father’s house.”

When my wives at last fully comprehended the meaning of my words, they forthwith began to scream as if they already felt the knife at their throats, and wanted to rush out at the gate with their children. I had them stopped, however, and then carefully explained that for the present no danger was to be feared, because Angulimala, as I well knew, would not attack us before midnight. Then I bade them go back into our dwelling and pack all the things together which they and the children would be likely to need during the time that the danger from robbers compelled them to remain in town. This they then at once did.

At the same time I had quite overlooked the possible effect of my words on my people. And that, as I soon discovered, was anything but agreeable. For when they learned that it was the terrible Angulimala, long since believed to be dead, that had spied out my house, and would certainly attack it in the night, first one and then another slunk quietly away, till, finally, they threw down their arms by dozens, and declared that they would have nothing to do with such a devil⁠—that no one could possibly ask it of them. Those also who had been enlisted in the town, and of whom the first comers arrived just then, when they heard how things stood, said that that was not what they had bargained for, and withdrew. Only about twenty of my own people, at their head the brave steward of my house, professed they would not leave me, but would defend the place to the last drop of their blood; for they all could see that I was determined not to sacrifice this splendid property in which my heart was wrapped up, but, if need were, to perish with it.

Several resolute fellows from the town, attracted almost more by the prospect of a hot fight than by the money; and who not only did not fear the name of Angulimala, but talked themselves into the belief that, after they had fought well and been taken prisoner, they would be enrolled in the band⁠—several such desperate characters joined themselves to us, and so I finally had command of about forty well-armed and brave men.

Meanwhile, evening was almost upon us and the wagon for my wives drove up. They came out, bringing the children with them, and were by this time quieted down to some extent. But a fresh howl arose at once when they perceived that I was not going with them⁠—that, on the contrary, I had not the slightest intention of leaving the house. They threw themselves on their knees, seized my robe, and besought me, as the tears streamed down, to rescue myself with them: “Our lord, our protector, don’t forsake us, don’t cast thyself into the jaws of death!” I explained to them that, if I abandoned my post, our house would become a prey to flames and plundering hands, and my son would lose the chief part of his inheritance, while, on the other hand, there was still a possibility of rescuing it, if we held out bravely, as no one could say whether or not Angulimala would attack in great force.

“Ah, woe! woe!” they cried; “our lord and protector leaves us! And the horrible Angulimala will make away with him, and will wear our lord’s thumbs on his necklace! He will torture our husband to death in his fearful fury, and ours will be the fault. Because of our abusive speeches our lord must suffer, and evil, on that account, will it be with us in hell.”

I sought to comfort them as well as might be, and when they saw that I was not to be moved from my resolution they were obliged to make the best of it and get into the wagon. Scarcely, however, had they taken their places, when they began to hurl accusations at one another.

“It was thou who didst begin!”

“No! thou!⁠—thou didst call my attention to him as he stood there beside the gatepost. Yes, that thou didst!⁠—just there thou didst point thy finger at him.”

“And thou⁠—thou didst spit at him⁠—red spittle⁠—I had up till that time chewed no betel⁠—I never do that in the morning⁠—”

“But thou didst call him a tramp, a lazy beggar⁠—”

“And thou a bald-pated monk⁠ ⁠…”

And so it went on; but the creaking of the wheels, as the oxen now began to pull, drowned their voices.