Ivanda, or, the Pilgrim's quest. A tale

Front matter

IVANDA he found himself face to face with a young and wonderfully lovely girl. P. 186. IVANDA OR THE PILGRIMS QUEST A TALE BY CAPTAIN CLAUDE BRAY AUTHOR OF 'RANDALL PAVENAXT,' ' TO SAVE HIMSELF,' AND 'THE LAST OF THE DVNMOKES LONDON FREDERICK WARNE AND CO. and NEW YORK 1804 [AU rights reserved] CONTENTS CHAPTER FACE I. THE dying pilgrim 1 II. THE GOLDEN LOTA, 8 III. ERASMUS CLUTTEREUCK, 17 IV. JOSPAL 32 V. THE START, 44 VI. KALI NARAIN, 57 VII. HOW ERASMUS SAW THE SHRINE, ... 70 VIII. THE GOLDEN LOTA SHOWS ITS POWER, . . 82 IX. DEFEAT OF THE GOSSKIN, ..... 95 X. THE CROSSING OF THE SNOWS, .... 107 XI. A CHINESE SWELL, . . . . . 118 XII. FORBIDDEN GROUND, 133 XIII. THE SAGE WITH SEVEN EYES, .... 146 XIV. CONCERNING THE INHABITANTS, .... 103 XV. A FRESH SURPRISE, 174 XVI. IVANDA, 187 b VI CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE XVII.

THE WARNING, . . . . - . . 200 XVIII. ERASMUS SHOWS HIS SPITE, .... 214 XIX. THE COUNCIL OF SEVEN, .... 223 XX. TREACHERY 241 XXI. IN DURANCE VILE, 253 XXII. TURNING THE TABLES, 2G7 XXIII. THE ESCAPE, 280 XXIV. BALAORI ONCE AGAIN 293 XXV. IVANIIA FINDS A HOME 305 XXY'I. IVANDA IS CLAIMED, 316 XXVII. IVANDA GOES AWAY, 324 XXVIII. TWO YEARS LATER, 336 XXIX. THE LAST OF THE LOTA, .....

Chapter I The Dying Pilgrim

' Who is he ? The questioner looked round upon the crowd, but nobody answered. His own particular familiar, a smooth-faced, long-legged hillman from British territory, shook his head, as one who neither knew nor cared. As for the rest of the loafers — whose curiosity had caused them to collect round the Englishman when he stopped beside the unknown — with true native apathy they looked at each other and murmured softly, ' Who indeed . ' But no one volunteered an answer. John Borradaile was nonplussed. Strolling home through the bazaar, towards his temporary quarters at the Rest-house, his attention had been drawn to that not uncommon sight on the road frequented A by Indian pilgrims, an old man lying uncared for on the ground close to the main road. Guessing that this must be some unfortunate wayfarer, who was either travelling alone, or had lost the rest of his party, the young Englishman stepped up to take a nearer view.

A very brief glance satisfied him that the sufferer was in a bad way, and John's feelings of humanity being quickened by what he saw, he had put his question to the crowd, intending, if necessary, to take upon himself the care of this poor deserted wretch. The sufferer was either sleeping or insensible. It was a handsome head that the young fellow saw, quite bare and recently clean shaved, as were cheeks and chin. But the snow-white eyebrows and the close-trimmed moustache left no doubt about the supposed pilgrim's age. A common native quilt was thrown over him, and he lay upon a blanket with a coarse cushion under his head. The Sahib, as was usual, had not walked through the town without attracting attention. A few of the more curious, to whom the sight of an English man was a rare occurrence, had been following him down the street.

The fact that Jack had stopped to ask his question attracted more, and, in less time than it takes to write it, quite a little crowd was THE DYING PILGRIM collected round the group of which the sick man formed the centre. ' "Who is he ? ' asked John Borradaile for the second time. ' Protector of the poor,' answered a dirty little hill bunniyah, coming out of a doorway close at hand and salaaming till his head almost touched the ground, ' this is a poor traveller from beyond the snows.' ' Indeed — when did he come here ? ' was Jack's next question. ' Lord of Life, he was brought here last night by four coolies in a dandy.' ' And who are you ? ' ' Suraj Balli, my lord — a bunniyah.' ' Why did they bring him to you ?' ' Janab, this humble one at times entertains Brahmins and poor men. Doubtless they brought him here on this account' ' Is he very poor then ? ' ' No, oh ! my father and my mother, he is not.

He paid the coolies their hire, and contracted with me on suitable terms for his night's entertainment,' replied Suraj Balli, who, however anxious he might be to entertain the poor, had apparently no objection to fleece the rich. ' And when was he taken ill ?' asked Jack. ' My lord, very early this morning.' ' Why is he here V was the next question. ' Sir, he ordered it himself.' 'And why did you not send to the dispensary for a doctor 1 ' ' Protector of the needy, I am a very poor man. Who am I that I should trouble the honourable doctor, when there are so many sick men in this town just now ? ' ' Well, you won't find many who are worse than he is. I think the man is dying. Can we not take him to the hospital ?' ' By your honour's good fortune all things are easy. We can take him swiftly if your lordship orders us.' ' Which I certainly do.

Come, take him up at once, and send some one — or stay,' he added, ad dressing his own chuprassi, who was standing close at hand, an indifferent spectator of the scene, ' you go, Dhan Singh, and take my salaams to the native doctor, and ask him to be at the hospital to receive a very sick man whom I am bringing to him.' The chuprassi departed to do his master's bidding. Then John Borradaile himself superintended the others, who lifted the sick man, blanket and all, THE DYING PILGRIM 5 on to a common native bed, which was forthwith picked up by four men and carried to the dispen sary which did duty for an hospital, where they found Dr. Rahim Khan, who had fortunately been at home when Dhan Singh delivered his message, and who was now waiting to receive them. Mr. Borradaile knew the doctor. They had already met once or twice in the district, and the Englishman's servants had needed attention.

One glance at the sufferer's face caused the doctor to shake his head. ' I am afraid he is past medicine,' he said. ' The man is dying.' And then taking hold of the quilt, he threw it back, and revealed to the view of all a curiously-shaped package, done up with the greatest care in Chinese silk, which emitted a faint aromatic smell, and was closely strapped to the old man's body, and clasped as well by both his hands. The doctor's curiosity caused him at once to lay his hand upon the bundle, and then at last the old man showed some signs of life. There is an old but trite saying that the ruling passion is strong in death. The threatened danger to his treasure roused the sufferer as nothing else had been able to do. He opened his eyes and feebly asked for water. Rahim Khan turned to a cupboard and took IVAXDA, OR THE PILGRIM'S QUEST 6 down some brandy, which he mixed in a vessel and held to the dying man's lips.

It revived him a little. Then, as returning consciousness enabled him to distinguish his surroundings, his eye fell upon John Borradaile, and immediately his face lit up with pleasure. ' When did you arrive ? ' he asked. ' Yesterday,' was the wondering answer. ' I could not hear of you,' said the pilgrim. ' And when did you leave England ? ' ' Not long since,' replied John Borradaile. ' Is there any doctor here V was the next question, and, as Rahim Khan signified his presence, the pilgrim continued in authoritative tones, which so ill assorted with his mean appearance that the fact struck them all. ' Give me something, doctor sahib, to keep me alive a little longer. Half an hour will do, and take me to some place where I can be alone with this gentleman.' So the doctor gave him more brandy, and then, as he wished, the patient was carried to a small chamber on the far side of the building, where he would be free from interruption.

And at his re quest John Borradaile, wondering greatly, went with him, and at his bidding cleared the room of THE DYING PILGRIM spectators and shut and locked the door. For the best part of an hour Rahim Khan, the doctor, and Suraj Balli, the bunniyah, sat with John Borradaile's chuprassi in the far verandah. The night was coming on apace, and the crowd, on being informed that the man was merely dying, had dispersed. Then at length the inner door opened and the young Euglishman, looking pale and shocked, came out. ' It is all over, doctor,' he said (and his voice quivered a little from excitement or emotion) 'good night, and many thanks for your services.' So, followed by his chuprassi, he strolled away. Then the doctor, declining Suraj Balli's offer of assistance, went in alone to inspect the dead man's body.

It struck him at first as curious that the mysterious bundle was still there, though closer examination showed that the silk had been recently torn. But whatever the Englishman had carried away, must have been small. The doctor had been on the look-out for anything bulky, and had failed to discover aught amiss.

Chapter II The Golden Lota

It would be an exaggeration to say that John Borradaile enjoyed his dinner that night. Far from it. Post equitcm sedet atra cura. The young fellow was for the time being an idler, shooting and fishing at his own sweet will. He ought to have been free from worries, and so he was, speaking generally. But his late trying experience had given him something to think about. And when the meal was finished and he sat beside a blazing fire of pine logs, smoking his solitary pipe, he kept enacting over again his strange adventure of that afternoon. For strange it was, unquestionably. The instant he had closed the door, shutting out the curious, the dying man had called him to his side. 'Quick,' he had said, laying his hands upon the bundle strapped to his body, 'unfasten this at once. There is no time to lose.' Wonderingly the other had obeyed him.

Then the old man took the bundle reverently in Ids hands, and glanced at his companion. ' I little thought that the end was so near,' he began, ' and it is fortunate that I knew you were travelling this way. Now, quickly untie my loin cloth, the extra one, there are two ; and make a bundle similar to this. In a corner of one end of it you will find some coins tied up in a piece of silk like this. Take them and place them in the middle. They will serve to mislead the curious.' John did as he was bid, and the other continued, ' That is right. Now, bind it to my waist. That will do. Now tell me how you can conceal this package, for it must not be known to any but myself that you have received it. Hasten, for my time is short and there is still much to say, and, until this is safely in your hands, I dare not think of other matters.

Alas, that you cannot conceal it about your body, as I have always done ! ' The energy of the dying man's directions astonished Jack. But, being a young fellow of ready resource, he pulled off his sun helmet and held it towards the other. 'Place it here,' he said. It was a curious pro posal, and at any other time its absurdity might have deterred him. But the terrible earnestness of IVANDA, OR THE PILGRIM'S QUEST the dying man, and the shortness of the time at their disposal, put to flight all other considerations. 'Yes, that will do,' said the sufferer. 'Open that door that I may look upon the distant snows for the last time.' By a wonderful effort he raised himself from the ground on which he lay, and holding the mysterious package aloft, closed his eyes for a brief space as if in prayer.

Then he reverently placed the bundle where Jack had proposed. ' Kneel, my son, kneel,' he said. ' You know not what you are receiving. I hereby, knowing myself to he dying, freely grant you this sacred emblem of the headship of our people, in the full assurance that it will guide you to right uses and right ways. Know that in your hands there rests a great power for good or evil. May many years of usefulness lie before you ! I was as old as you are young, when the power fell upon me, and had I time to choose I should have ordered differently, but let that pass. You hold the emblem which will bear you harmless wherever you may meet our people. It will open prison doors, and guide you un questioned into the recesses of palaces. But, as you value your own security, let no unauthorised person see it, or know you hold it.

My oath bids me hand it ere I die to my chosen successor, and the rules of our people have fixed this ordinance, that whosoever holds the Shotra, on him for the time being rests the headship over all. But, as you are full young, I charge you, go to the Zamputra, and tell him how, dying, I had none to whom I might hand the Shotra save only you. Take counsel with him, and, if it be that the burden be too heavy, pass it to some older man, to whom it is not allowed me to suggest. That your conscience must decide.' He placed the package iu the topee which John Borradaile, overwhelmed with wonder, held to receive it. ' Conceal it quickly,' he said, ' lest any one come.' And Jack, mechanically obeying, and too amazed to think, replaced his topee, bundle and all, on his head. Then at last the dying man's eyes glistened with satisfaction. ' My lord,' he said, ' let me be the first to do you honour.' But he tried in vain to rise. 'Forgive me, then, if this poor weak and worn-out frame fails me now in my last duty.

My lord, an old man's blessing cannot hurt you. Preserve our tradition. Spread the light. Foster your servants as I in all humility have tried to do.' He paused a moment, and then, as if reverting to IVANDA, OR THE PILGRIM'S QUEST the Brah minical training of his early youth, he added as a last command : ' My lord, I die. Place your poor servant on the earth, with which ere long his ashes shall be mingled, that I may part in peace.' Reverently, in the presence of the great change, the stalwart young Englishman laid the poor attenuated body on the ground. And then, at last, John found his tongue, and, anxious as he was not to break in upon the sufferer's dying moments, he could not withhold his question. ' A moment,' he said. ' I don't understand all this. Who are you, and what are you talking about?

Who is the Zamputra, and where does he live ? ' The sufferer's eyes had been closed for some moments, but the young fellow's words seemed to recall him to the world once more. ' Your name ! your name ! ' he screamed in an agony of fear. ' Oh ! have I erred at last. Quick, tell me your name.' ' John Borradaile ! ' replied the owner of that patronymic. ' Then you are not — ' he fell back on the ground. ' Too late ! too late ! The spirit has erred, not I. Quick, give me back that package — and yet stay, my course is spent. Give it I must to some one, failing others to you. 'Tis no use fighting fate. But listen. You are honest and young and truth ful. As you hope for a future, better than this weary world, swear with joined hands that if ever a time shall come when you can give the Shotra back to those whose right it is — do so — swear ! ' ' But where can I meet them ?

How shall I know the right men? ' ' Where ! In the unknown land that lies be yond the eternal snows. There is wealth there ; they will reward you ; gold and precious stones and much beside. It is freely yours. Swear you will go — go — go — .' But here the flickering light failed. He never finished his sentence. The last word died away in a gurgle, and, as a sudden change convulsed his face, he fell back — dead. It was all as vivid as if the scene were being enacted once again. John almost shuddered as he recollected the dead man's energy and his last convulsive effort to ensure the delivery of what he had to leave. For himself, he had returned to his room, and locked up the package just as he received it, and now he was waiting till time per mitted him to retire without exciting comment, when he meant to examine the dead man's gift free from the risk of prying eyes.

And as he smoked he wondered. Was it all a lie, or were his dreams of recent days about to come true in this extraordinary way? Possibly. The old man was delirious, John knew that dying men often are, and yet he could not quite make up his mind that this was so. If the old Bralimin, for such he judged him to be, was right, it was just as he had pictured to himself. Beyond the snows, in the unknown land where Europeans never penetrate, lay a region of wondrous wealth, wealth hoarded, perhaps, in some queer place by people too innocent to suspect its worth, and, as he knocked the ashes out of his pipe preparatory to turning in, his mind was made up. Come what might, he at least would go and see. He called his servant and made a great show of going to bed. It was past ten o'clock, and all his people, except his bearer, had long since carried themselves off in the direction of the bazaar.

Mr. Borradaile, pretending it was chilly, had a blanket fixed across the window as a rough and ready blind. Then, taking a book as if to read, he told his servant he might go to bed. For fully a quarter of an hour, after the servant left the room, his master lay silent on his bed. Then rising, he quietly lifted a box, and put it so that the door, which had no lock, might not be opened without his concurrence, and then at last turning the lamp low, he unlocked his strong box and drew out the mysterious bundle which he had received. It was most carefully done up. There in the close room the air was quickly filled with the strong aromatic odour which he had noticed before. The package was hard. He could not squeeze it, and, as he unwound the great quantity of soft Chinese silk in which it was wrapped, he formed the opinion that it must be metal.

Slowly, and with the greatest care, he unrolled it till at last he held the article itself in his hand and stared in blank surprise. There was no mistaking the metal. It was the purest gold. A tiny little vessel on which were rudely graved various mystic signs, that to its new possessor had no meaning. But there was no mistaking the shape, and, as John looked at this wonder-working relic, he whistled half derisively to himself. ' A golden Lota, by all that 's quaint,' he said. It was not the Lota which puzzled him, but its size and the metal of which it was constructed. A Lota is the article in commonest use among the natives. Invariably constructed of brass, and of small dimensions, possibly four to five inches at the greatest splay of the bowl, it is the first possession acquired by the poorest, the last a man parts with when fortune frowns.

More than that, it accompanies its possessor wherever he goes. A man starting on a journey seldom takes a change of clothes, often forgets his blanket, but never moves without the article of universal use, with which he draws water from the well, and cooks his food. No ! It was not the fact of this mysterious em blem being a Lota which puzzled its new possessor. It was the size, which was so tiny, and the metal, which was gold. There was nothing to connect it with its reputed meaning save the curiously carved and embossed outer surface, which, in its commoner fellows, was left almost invariably smooth and unadorned.

Chapter III Erasmus Clutterbuck

John Borradaile hastily completed his examina tion of the tiny golden vessel, and then, recollecting the dead man's injunctions, carefully rolled it up in its own silk covering, and locked it away in his trunk. This last was secured by a good English lock of a peculiar construction, warranted to baffle the curiosity of a native servant. Then he noise lessly withdrew the box which he had placed before the door, turned up the light, and lay down to think. His meditations were not comforting. Far from it. When he left that popular hill-station Balaori a month previously, he had been craving for ad venture of an exciting kind to take his mind off recent events, and, now the adventure had come, he did not like it. John, or as every one called him, Jack Borradaile was the only child of an officer of the Indian Army.

Like many Anglo-Indian children B he had been educated in England away from parental supervision, for his mother died iu his infancy, and his father had remained at his post in India, in preference to visiting a land with which he had lost touch. Jack had had a highly satisfactory career at school — from his own point of view. He was too kind-hearted and honest to be personally unpopular, while his skill in outdoor games had won him honours in every species of sport that required a ready hand, a quick eye, and a fair share of physical endurance. But when he reached the age of seventeen, and was looking forward to a brilliant finish to his school career, an unsympathetic head master suggested to Colonel Borradaile that Master Jack's position in the school did not fit in with his age, and that his removal was imperative.

Jack nearly broke his heart, the Colonel raged and stormed, but the unsympathetic one had his way. And his estimate of Jack's ' book-learning' having been endorsed by an army crammer, there was nothing for it but to order the lad out to India to be under his father's eye till such time as there could be procured for him a vacancy in the police, or other refuge for the less brilliant sons of deserving officials under the Indian Government. Jack had by this time been two years in India without setting the Ganges on fire. He had per fected his natural aptitude for riding, shooting, flirting, and making himself agreeable. He had also picked up a fair colloquial knowledge of Hindustani, and had acquired no small insight into the ways and wiles of the natives. He had unfortunately done more than this.

He had managed recently to fall head-over-ears in love with the belle of Balaori, who had prudently rejected his addresses in favour of the more matured pay of a bald-headed colonel of native cavalry; and so Master Jack was now, by his father's advice, seeing a little of the interior and getting over his disappointment at one and the same time. And hearing of Ramesur Fair, he had come to see it. But he had never contemplated this last develop ment. The situation was (to put it mildly) em barrassing — Given a dead pilgrim, head of an unknown sect, and anxious to dispose of the emblem of sovereignty to one of his followers, and given further a young Englishman who, thanks to some inexplicable error, had been ceremoniously invested with the said emblem. Problem — to find the way out of the tangle, before which hard cases or missing-word competitions appeared to Jack insignificant.

Jack's knowledge of the religions of Hindustan was decidedly superficial. But he was unable to overlook the one important fact that he had, locked up in his box, something which might easily become a dangerous possession. The dead Brahmin's advice and Jack's own sense of prudence caused him as a first step to register a mental vow, that, could he help it, no one should hear of his being in possession of this quaint relic, or emblem, and outward sign of a mystic creed. To whom did it of right belong ? That was the question which puzzled the young fellow, and set him racking his brains for any possible theory which could supply an answer. Jack as aforesaid had not a very deep acquaintance with the religions of the East. The Shotra itself might have thrown light upon the subject, for the signs and tracings ou its outer surface evidently meant something ; but Jack in his ignorance might as well have tried to read the message of an Assyrian stone, or to work out the mystery of the Great Pyramid.

To do him justice he frankly recognised the mistake, and would gladly have restored his inconvenient charge to its rightful owners, but there again he was unfortunately balked by the fact that the dead man had given him no clue except the solitary name — the Zamputra — to guide him, and that might mean anything, and be the official title of a complete circle of men ; his Zamputra being only one among the many. His only other clue was the saying of the dying man that the key to the mystery lay in a land beyond the snows. Now, to penetrate into Thibet was at all times a difficult and hazardous under taking, and, above all, required money. Jack was fairly well supplied with this latter, but his father, he knew, would disapprove of his going so far beyond the reach of a post, and would certainly refuse the increase of supplies necessary for the successful carrying out of such a trip.

On the whole his midnight reflections, for it was in the small hours that his excitement at last permitted him to go to sleep, brought him little comfort. On the contrary, the more he thought matters over the less he liked the prospect. He slept till late, and when he did awake his first inclination was to have a hearty laugh at the situation. Yesterday he had risen plain Jack Borradaile; to-day he was, by virtue of the possession of the Shotra, the lord paramount of an unknown sect. An unlucky and divided following just then, in which the shepherd did not know his flock, and the flock little suspected the identity of their shepherd. While he was waiting for his breakfast he strolled across to the infirmary, which was only a short way off, to learn what had become of his pre decessor's body aud effects.

The former (so Dr. Rahim Khan told him) had been burned at daybreak by the Brahmins of the place ; the latter, after defraying the small expenses of the funeral, consisted of a few gold coins, which would be locked up pending a magistrate's orders regarding their disposal. There were five gold mohurs among them, and two other coins the doctor could not identify. He had seen an English sovereign, he said, but these were different. Jack asked to see them, and at once pronounced them to be French. He parried the other's inquiries as to how they could have got there, and, bidding the doctor 'good-day,' went home again. He had just finished his late breakfast, and his watch told him it was nearly twelve o'clock, when his bearer coming in announced with the usual deep obeisance that; — ' A sahib has arrived and sends your lordship his compliments.' 'Ask him to come in,' replied Jack, and a few HE HAD TO LOOK A SECOND TIME BEFORE HE COULD QUITE TAKE IT ALL IN.

P. 23. ■2?. moments later the stranger's figure darkened — in a way filled — the door. Jack had risen to meet him, and, as he advanced to greet his guest (for such he must be in a few minutes), he got a good look at him. But there was so much to see that he had to look a second time before he could quite take it all in. The stranger was abnormally tall — he must have been at least six foot three in his stockings — and he was also abnormally thin. The first thing that struck the eye was a very bushy beard and whiskers of so fiery a red that it made Jack's optics ache to look at him. His upper lip was shaved; his eye brows were straw colour ; his eyes concealed behind large round spectacles of the hue known as ' neutral tint'; his head was covered, almost smothered, in a large pith hat shaped like a mushroom ; his clothes were of brown Holland, the coat made like a Norfolk jacket, and fastened at the neck with hook and eye to obviate the necessity for a shirt collar.