THE PRICE OF VICTORY.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 273, 17 November 1936, Page 17

THE PRICE OF VICTORY.

By DEW AN SHARAR.

WHEN the Khilji, King of Delhi, made war upon Kajputana, and saw it come near to crumbling beneath his blows, only one small stubborn kingdom —the kingdom of Nagda—still stood obdurate between him and victory. At that time Kumbha Maharajah of Xagda, saw fit to take a bride. He married one Meera, daughter of a royal line, and lovely beyond description. She esteemed courage above all other virtues, and thought her fierce warrior husband marvellous. Meera, since she was only a woman and might not fight at his side, set herself to understand and learn and be a worthy consultant when he talked to her of war and strategy, of his plans for the strengthening of the frontiers, of his hopes for Rajputana's ultimate deliverance from the aggressor. * # * # That was his dream, his life's ambition and his heart's desire.. "Here and here will the Khilji attack next, if I am any judge of tactics," he would say. "Therefore it behoves me to be ready for him,, sincc Nagda, whence go all the roads that traverse Kajputana, is the key to the whole country. "Ah, could I but be sure that my fellow-princes would support me, we could combine and drive the Khilji back and have no more fear of Rajputana coming under his rule!" Then he would leave her, and ride off in inspect Nagda's defences, or journey forth and hold counsel with neighbouring rulers, trying to make them «se how urgent the danger was. Sometimes days elapsed before she saw him again. * * * * Meera was far from idle during his absences. All her life she had been devoutly religious, a faithful worshipper of Krishna; and it shocked and grieved her, on coming to Nagda, to see the poor condition of the god's local temple. With Kumbha's willing sanction she had cunning masons replace the old decaying stone with great blocks of white marble. She had the roof made anew, and crowned with golden pinnacles. She ordained a new and sumptuous .flight of steps. She bade that the neglected well be cleaned, and new ones dug, and the garden made into a garden once more. And so the temple became a centre of life again; the people of Nagda frequented it to do honour to the god, and to meet one another; women filled their brass buckets at the new-made wells, the old men rested their bones in the shady garden. • • • • Only the image of Krishna, ancient though it was, remained unaltered. Meera had it enshrined in the deepest recess of the new lovely temple, beneath the tower, and went there daily to pray and worship. Meanwhile the Khilji king, harassed with border troubles and minor wars, left Rajputana alone for the moment, but made no secret of the fact that he was accumulating troops which should in due course march against it to its downfall. The news of this reached Kumbha, and he nodded grimly. "Let him try, this Khilji," he said. "I have not been idle, either. Have I not fortified Nagda to the utmost of my power 7 Have I not done my best to prevail upon the rulers of the other Rajput States to join forces with me should need arise? "If the gods will but keep him back a little longer —only a little, until my dream of a united Rajputana is fulfilled and all the States are at one against him—then I need ask no more. Victory will be within my grasp." "I pray daily to Krishna that it may be granted you," said Meera. He smiled at Iter with deep tenderness, and caressed her petal-soft cheek; she gazed back at him adoringly. There was the sound of quick, soft feet .at the door; a servant entered. "Highness," he said. "Commander Ratansi is here and asks immediate audience of you." "Bid him enter," said Kumbha; and the young officer came in. "You bring news," said Kumbha, looking at him keenly. "Urgent news. Highness," said Ratansi. "The King is massing his troops for an immediate attack on Nagda, with the avowed intention of invading Rajputauft. They march toI night." . | • "We shall be ready,' said the Mararaiah. "How far off ic> the I Khilji?" ~ , I' "Highness, two days' march,' replied Ratansi. When he had gone, the Maharajah and his wife faced one another. "This is farewell for a little while. Sweet," said Kumbha. "Mv messengers shall ride at once to call up the other States; if enouch of them rally we may yet beat the Khilji back." "Oh, that it may be so!" said Meera. "The gods know it is my life's desire," said the Maharajah from his heart. "There is nothing in the world that I hold so dear." Both knew too well, as she clung to him in farewell, how frail a chance it was. * » « • They rode away by the morning light, he and his sniali 'gallant army. From her verandah Meera watched them go. and all her heart went with them. When the last glimpse of them, little more than a cloud of dust far down the distant road bevond the ramparts, had vanished from sight, she went to the temple of Krishna to pray for him. . "Lord Krishna," she said, "the boon that I pray for is that which is dearer than anything else to my lord; that he may gain victory and Rajputana be a nation once more, united and unafraid of any invader. ... ' "Lord Krishna, hear my vow. Grant me this and in return I will make sacrifice to Thee of that which is dearest to me, a willing offering. Here in" Thy presence I swear it!" Then she knelt again, hiding her face;' and so stayed, rapt, losing all count of time in her absorption. After a while Meera returned to the palace, but she had no thoughts to spare for lesser matters; nor, when night came, could she sleep. A little after daybreak there was a cry from the watchers whom she had set to keep vigil upon the roof. "See! See!" they cried. "One rides hitlipr in haste!" » • * » Along tiie far road down which, two days before, the Maharajah and his troops had gone, a horseman came spurring. I

(SHORT STORY.)

As he drew nearer Meera recognised his uniform as that of Nagda's army. His horse was foam-flecked and weary, and he himself near to exhaustion, but he looked up at Meera with a glad face. "Lady, it is victory!" he cried. "Just when we thought that all was lost, in the nick of time came reinforcements from the other States, and turned the tide of battle.

"It was like a miracle! The King and his hordes fled before us, routed. He will not attempt the conquest of Rajputana again. Victory is ours." "And is all well with the Maharajah?" asked Meera.

"All is indeed well, Lady. He sent me on ahead to tell you the good tidings'," said the messenger. Her ladies, crowding about her, wondered at the look on their Maharanee's face, so strange a mingling it held, in that moment, of joy and exaltation and sorrow.

But the exaltation triumphed. She did not speak; she did not even seem to hear their exclamations of delight.

She had turned and was gazing beyond tile trees of the garden and roofs of the town to where the golden pinnacles of Krishna's temple gleamed dazzlingly in the morning sun.

With pride and rejoicing, with martial music, with the acclamation of the people all about them, the Maharajah and his victorious troops returned to Najrda. Through the crowded streets they rode, and came in triumph to the gates of the palace. The Maharajah entered joyfulhearted, as a man well may who has achieved his very heart's desire, and looked to see his Maharanee waiting to greet him, with her ladies about her and the sacred articles of Arti in lier hands, as the ceremonial custom was. She was not there. He was suddenly alarmed lest flome ill had befallen her. He went very quickly to the zenana quarters, and there her ladies met him with grief in their faces. "Where is the Maharanee?" he said. "Highness," said one gravely, "you will find her in the Temple." He left them and went, perplexed and rather troubled, across the palace grounds and through the crowded streets to the little marble temple. ••• • ■ It was cool and pleasant and shadowy there after the heat and brightness outside. He looked about him; and at the sound of his footsteps Meera came out from the marble pillars to meet him. He stared at her in amazement. He had looked to see her in one of her usual rich colourful saris, goldembroidered, with gems at neck and wrist and forehead. But instead she was jewelless and clad from head to foot in a plain white cotton dlioti —the dress of a temple servant. "Meera!" he said. He held out his arms to her. She looked at them, and then into his eyes; but that was all. She. did not come any nearer. Her face was inexplicably sad and serene. "Meera," he said again, "what is this ?" At the smile she gave him, fear caujrht suddenly at his heart. "My lord, my dear lord," she said, "do not let it grieve you too much. I have loved you well, but this is the end of everything between you and me." "The end?" Kumbha echoed. "Never! "What do you mean? You are my wife—" "Not so," she said. "I am a devotee of Krishna now, and a servant of his j temple for the rest of my life. Listen, and I will explain. "On the day you set forth to battle I came here to pray for your success and safety; and knowing well, from your own lips, how supremely dear to you was the hope of victory, I made a vow to Krishna that if he would grant it you, I woitfd sacrifice, in return, that which was dearest to me. "My prayer and your wish were granted; and I am hero to fulfil my vow. Henceforth lam his devotee, my life dedicated to his service." * * » » -v. She ceased, and watched his incredulous face with eyes that were not yet wholly free from wilfulness. "It* is impossible!" the Maharajah said. "You cannot do this thing, Meera —" "It is done; and I am no longer even Meera," she said unanswerably. "I am] Krishna Dasi—Servant of Krishna and consecrated to him. Let be farewell between us, and may Krishna's blessing rest upon you always." There was no shaking her resolution. He might as well have striven to move a rock. She would not There was nothing whatever to be done. Ho left her at last, a small, slender figure, resolutely tranquil, at the foot of the smiling image, and went homeward, unseeing and unhearinjr, ; through the streets where his people, still shouted in his honour, hailing him, as saviour and hero. I He was aware of only one thing; that , his long-covetcd victory was an empty triumph, all too dearly bought; and that in'losing Meera he" had lost that which was dearer to him than anything else in the-world.