Rosa Mundi by Ethel May Dell (e books free to read .TXT) 📖

he said, "when I have seen you go."
They went a little farther, ghostly, white figures gliding side by side. Wildly as her heart was beating, Averil felt that it was all strangely unreal, felt that the man beside her was a being unknown and mysterious, almost supernatural. And yet, strangely, she did not fear him. As she had once said to him, she believed he was a good man. She would always believe it. And yet was that awful doubt hammering through her brain.
They reached the bounds of the club compound and Carlyon stopped again. From the building behind them there floated the notes of a waltz, weird, dream-like, sweet as the earth after rain in summer.
"I want to know," Carlyon said steadily, "if you trust me."
She stretched up her hands like a child and laid them against his breast. She answered him with piteous entreaty in which passion strangely mingled.
"Colonel Carlyon," she whispered brokenly, "promise me that when this is over you will give it up! You were not made to spy and betray! You were made an honourable, true-hearted man--God's greatest and best creation. You were never meant to be twisted and warped to an evil use. Ah, tell me you will give it up! How can I go away and leave you toiling in the dungeons?"
"Hush!" said Carlyon. "You do not understand."
Later, she remembered with what tenderness he gathered her hands again into his own, holding them reverently. At the time she realized nothing but the monstrous pity of his wasted life.
"It isn't true!" she sobbed. "You would not sacrifice your friends?"
"Never!" said Carlyon sharply.
He paused. Then--"You must go, Averil," he said. "There are two sentries on the Buddhist road, and the password is 'Empire.' After that-straight to Akbar. The moon is rising, and no one will speak to you or attempt to stop you. You will not be afraid?"
"I trust you," she said very earnestly.
Ten minutes later, as the moon shot the first silver streak above the frowning mountains, a white horse flashed out on the road beyond the camp--a white horse bearing a white-robed rider.
On the edge of the camp one sentry turned to another with wonder on his face.
"That messenger's journey will be soon over," he remarked. "An easy target for the black fiends!"
In the mountains a dusky-faced hillman turned glittering, awe-struck eyes upon the flying white figure.
"Behold!" he said. "The Heaven-sent rides to the moonrise even as he foretold. The time draws near."
And Carlyon, walking back in strange garb to join his own people, muttered to himself as he went: "One woman, at least, is safe!"


IX
A FIGHT IN THE NIGHT

An hour before daybreak the gathering wave broke upon the camp. It was Toby Carey who ran hurriedly in upon the dancers in the club-room when they were about to disperse and briefly announced that there was going to be a fight. He added that Carlyon was at the mess-house, and desired all the men to join him there. The women were to remain at the club, which was already surrounded by a party of Sikhs and Goorkhas. Toby begged them to believe they were in no danger.
"Where is Averil?" cried Mrs. Raymond distractedly.
"Carlyon has already provided for her safety," Toby assured her, as he raced off again.
Five minutes later Carlyon, issuing rapid orders in the veranda of the mess-house, turned at the grip of a hand on his shoulder, and saw Derrick, behind him, wild-eyed and desperate.
"What have you done with Averil?" the boy said through white lips.
"She is safe at Akbar," Carlyon briefly replied. Then, as Derrick instantly wheeled, he caught him swiftly by the arm.
"You wait, Dick!" he said. "I have work for you."
"Let me go!" flashed Derrick fiercely.
But Carlyon maintained his hold. He knew what was in the lad's mind.
"It can't be done," he said. "It would be certain death if you attempted it. We are cut off for the present."
He interrupted himself to speak to an officer who was awaiting an order then turned again to Derrick.
"I tell you the truth, Dick," he said, a sudden note of kindliness in his voice. "She is safe. I had the opportunity--for one only. I took it--for her. You can't follow her. You have forfeited your right to throw away your life. Don't forget it, boy, ever! You have got to live for her and let the blackguards take the risks."
He ended with a faint smile, and Derrick fell back abashed, an unwilling admiration struggling with the sullenness of his submission.
Later, at Carlyon's order, he joined the party that had been detailed to watch over the club-house, the most precious and the safest position in the whole station. He chafed sorely at the inaction, but he repressed his feelings.
Carlyon's words had touched him in the right place. Though fiercely restless still, his manhood had been stirred, and gradually the strength, the unflinching resolution that had dominated Averil, took the place of his feverish excitement. Derrick, the impulsive and headstrong, became the mainstay as well as the undismayed protector of the women during that night scare of the Frontier.
There was sharp fighting down in the camp. They heard the firing and the shouts; but with the sunrise there came a lull. The women turned white faces to one another and wondered if it could be over.
Presently Derrick entered with the latest news. The tribesmen had been temporarily beaten off, he said, but the hills were full of them. Their own losses during the night amounted to two wounded sepoys. Fighting during the day was not anticipated.
Carlyon, snatching hasty refreshment in a hut near the scene of the hottest fighting, turned grimly to Raymond, his second in command, as gradual quiet descended upon the camp.
"You will see strange things to-night," he said.
Raymond, whose right wrist had been grazed by a bullet, was trying clumsily to bandage it with his handkerchief.
"How long is it going to last?" he said.
"To-night will see the end of it," said Carlyon, quietly going to his assistance. "The rising has been brewing for some time. The tribesmen need a lesson, so does the Government. It is just a bubble--this. It will explode to-night. To be honest for once"--Carlyon smiled a little over his bandaging--"I did not expect this attack so soon. A Heaven-sent messenger has been among the tribesmen. They revere him almost as much as the great prophet himself. He has been listening to their murmurings."
Carlyon paused. Raymond was watching him intently, but the quiet face bent over his wound told him nothing.
"Had I known what was coming," Carlyon said, "so much as three days ago, the women would not now be in the station. As things are, it would have been impossible to weaken the garrison to supply them with an escort to Akbar."
Raymond stifled a deep curse in his throat. Had they but known indeed!
Carlyon went on in his deliberate way: "I shall leave you in command here to-night. I have other work to do. General Harford will be here at dawn. The attacking force will be on the east of the camp. You will crush them between you! You will stamp them down without mercy. Let them see the Empire is ready for them! They will not trouble us again for perhaps a few years."
Again he paused. Raymond asked no question. Better than most he knew Carlyon of the Frontier.
"It will be a hard blow," Carlyon said. "The tribesmen are very confident. Last night they watched a messenger ride eastwards on a white horse. It was an omen foretold by the Heaven-sent when he left them to carry the message through the hills to other tribes."
Raymond gave a great start. "The girl!" he said.
For a second Carlyon's eyes met his look. They were intensely blue, with the blueness of a flame.
"She is safe at Akbar," he said, returning without emotion to the knotting of the bandage. "The road was open for the messenger. The horse was swift. There is one woman less to take the risk."
"I see," said Raymond quietly. He was frowning a little, but not at Carlyon's strategy.
"The rest," Carlyon continued, "must be fought for. The moon is full to-night. The Great Fakir will come out of the hills in his zeal and lead the tribes himself. Guard the east!"
Raymond drew a sharp breath. But Carlyon's hand on his shoulder silenced the astounded question on his lips.
"We have got to protect the women," Carlyon said. "Relief will come at dawn."


X
SAVED A SECOND TIME

All through the day quiet reigned. An occasional sword-glint in the mountains, an occasional gleam of white against the brown hillside; these were the only evidences of an active enemy.
The women were released from durance in the club-house, with strict orders to return in the early evening.
Derrick went restlessly through the camp, seeking Carlyon. He found him superintending the throwing-up of earthworks. The most exposed part of the camp was to be abandoned. Derrick joined him in silence. Somehow this man's personality attracted him strongly. Though he had defied him, quarrelled with him, insulted him, the spell of his presence was irresistible.
Carlyon paid small attention to him till he turned to leave that part of the camp's defences. Then, with a careless hand through Derrick's arm, he said:
"You will have your fill of stiff fighting to-night, boy. But, remember, you are not to throw yourself away."
As evening fell, the attack was resumed, and it continued throughout the night. Tribesmen charged up to the very breastworks themselves and fell before the awful fire of the defenders' rifles. Death had no terrors for them. They strove for the mastery with fanatical zeal. But they strove in vain. A greater force than they possessed, the force of discipline and organized resistance--kept them at bay. Behind the splendid courage of the Indian soldiers were the resource and the resolution of a handful of Englishmen. The spirit of the conquering race, unquenchable, irresistible, weighed down the balance.
In the middle of the night Captain Raymond was hit in the shoulder and carried, fainting, to the closely guarded club-house, where his wife was waiting.
The command devolved upon Lieutenant Steele, who took up the task undismayed. Down in the hastily dug trenches Toby Carey was fiercely holding his men to their work.
And Derrick Rose was with him, unrestrained for that night at least.
"Relief at dawn!" Toby said to him once.
And Derrick responded with a wild laugh.
"Relief be damned! We can hold our own without it."
* * * * *


Relief came with the dawn, at a moment when the tribesmen were spurring themselves to the greatest effort of all, sustained by the knowledge that their Great Fakir was among them.
General Harford, with guides, Sikhs, Goorkhas, came down like a hurricane from the south-east, cut off a great body of tribesmen from their fellows, and drove them headlong, with deadly force, upon the defences they had striven so furiously to take.
The defenders sallied out to meet them with fixed bayonets. The brief siege, if siege it could be called, was over.
In the early light Derrick found himself fighting, fighting furiously, sword to sword. And the terrible joy of the conflict ran in his blood like fire.
"Ah!" he gasped. "It's good! It's good!"
And then he found another fighting beside him--a mighty fighting man, grim, terrible, silent. They thrust together; they withdrew together; they charged together.
Once an enemy seized