"Arimanes take them! Get rid of him! Throw away those baskets! I am terrified of serpents!" The Persian had turned deathly pale.
"Now who's getting excited?" I said. "The lids of the baskets seem to be well tied down, so the serpents can't get at you. Now I'm glad we have Master Bhumaka with us; I have always wondered how one charms a serpent."
'Then you shall change places with me," said Otaspes, "to put me as far as possible from those accursed reptiles."
When this had been done, Koka whacked his beast on the head, Prasada resumed his shuffle, and we breasted the long slopes that led up into the Paripatras.
As we wound higher into the hills, the villages and cultivated fields became smaller and fewer, until we were plodding through dense jungle, dripping from the morning's rain. A herd of deer bounded across the road before us. I snatched at my bow case, which dangled from one of the footboards along with the rest of my gear.
"Better not," said Otaspes.
"Why not? We could have a venison dinner—"
"I think there is some law that only the king may hunt. Besides, these people are mostly Buddhists, who consider it wicked to slay even an animal."
"If it's wicked for me, why isn't it wicked for King Girixis?"
"He is a Brachmanist, and in any event the king may do as he likes."
We passed on. A piercing scream made me start until I realized it was only a peacock. An immense pile of dung by the road caused me to ask what monster could possibly have dropped it.
"Rhinoceros," said Otaspes.
"Then your Indian rhinoceros must be thrice the size of this elephant!" said I in some alarm.
"No, it's much smaller than an elephant. But it has the habit of coming to the same place to relieve itself every day."
We stopped for lunch in an open space, while Prasada wandered through the nearby woods, stuffing greenery into his vast pink maw. A monkey stole up, snatched Gnouros' piece of bread, and ran away with it, chattering in triumph.
Bhumaka opened one of his baskets to exercise his serpents, while Otaspes moved as far away as he could without leaving the clearing altogether. Bhumaka's troupe comprised three serpents: a six-foot python, a four-foot snake of an extremely venomous kind they call a naga, and a smaller snake of some harmless species.
All were torpid from having been lately fed, but by flapping a cloth Bhumaka persuaded the naga to rear up and spread its hood. Then he played his tootle-pipe to it, swaying his body in time to the music. The naga swayed likewise. It is said that the music compels the serpent to sway, but it looked more as if the creature were sighting upon its owner in order to make its deadly lunge. Every time its target moved, it had to move also. After a while the naga got bored, shrank its hood, and sank back into its basket. Bhumaka seized it by the neck, dragged it forth, and pried open its jaws.
"What is he doing?" I asked Koka.
"He is looking to see if the naga's fangs have grown in."
"How do you mean?"
Koka: "A charmer from time to time makes his naga bite a piece of cloth and then jerks the cloth to break the serpent's fangs. But, when a naga loses its fangs, a new pair grows in. Hence the charmer must assure himself that a new pair grow not in unbeknownst to him, lest he lose his life."
Bhumaka spoke angrily. Koka said: "He says I give away his trade secrets."
'Tell him we won't tell a soul," I said.
"I do not want any more lunch," said Otaspes, looking green.
"Well, you came on this journey to lose weight," I said.
The afternoon passed pleasantly, with glimpses of the swarming wild life: buffalo, deer, antelope, wild pig, and once a rhinoceros, standing a few paces from the road and staring at us, as unmoving as a great, gray boulder. The Indian kind has but one horn on its snout. Birds and monkeys chattered overhead.
When night came, we found another open space, ate, and told stories around the fire, which attracted a vast swarm of moths. Koka and Bhumaka performed a ritual to keep ghosts and goblins away, and we lay down, wrapped in our cloaks, on beds of leaves. I spent the first watch in tramping around the clearing with bow and arrow in hand, hearing the distant toot of a wild elephant and the rhythmic snarl of a hunting tiger, which sounds like a man sawing wood. Koka assured me that the presence of Prasada, prowling around the camp and gorging on green stuff, would discourage any dangerous men or beasts from molesting us.
Otaspes, who also had brought a bow, took the second watch. Then came the turn of Gnouros. Although the little man swore afterwards that he had been wide awake the whole time, I think he must have dozed. For, the next thing I knew, I was awakened by a chorus of yells, and several men landed on top of me. I kicked and punched but was never able to shake off more than one at a time.
I was lined up with the rest of our party in front of our campfire, all battered and disheveled. Our captors were a wild-looking, ragged crew of fifteen or twenty Indians, thin as skeletons and armed with only crude spears. The tall, gaunt chief wore a turban and carried a sword.
Several Indians held each of us by the arms while a man with cords began binding us. While he was tying Gnouros' wrists, Koka spoke to the chief.
"What is all this?" I asked Koka. "Just thieves?"
"Nay, my lord," said the mahavata. "This is a religious sect. Besides robbing us, they believe they can achieve union with God by a ritual, wherein they torture us to death. That is why they have not yet slain us. They will tie us to yonder trees ..."
There was no sign of Prasada, who had discreetly withdrawn. The chief was looking at Bhumaka's baskets near the fire. He cut the cord of one and knocked off the lid. Up popped the heads of Bhumaka's serpents, which, having been warmed by the fire, were in a lively mood.
The chief gave a wild yell, backed up, tripped, and fell into the fire. With a shriek he bounced out, scattering coals and beating at his burning skirt and shawl. The serpents began to slither out of the basket. One of the men holding me let go and, shouting his alarm, backed away. In the excitement, the others loosened their grasp.
A quick wrench freed my arms; a blow knocked one of my captors sprawling and a kick in the crotch doubled over another. A glance showed that Otaspes had freed himself likewise and was laying about him with his sword.
I still wore my sword, too; but Hermes sent me a better idea. I sprang to the basket and picked up a serpent, the naga. The reptile struck at my arm but failed to draw blood in its fangless state. I tossed it into the faces of the nearest Indians, who scattered screaming. The harmless serpent followed.
Then I grabbed the python. The beast gave me a nasty bite on the knee, tearing the skin with its many needle-pointed teeth. But I gripped it by neck and tail, whirled it around, and let fly at the chief, who had torn off his shawl and was stamping out the flames.
When the brigand saw the huge serpent whirling through the air towards him, he threw up both hands before his face, covering his eyes. Otaspes stepped forward with a mighty backhand swing. The chiefs head leaped from his shoulders and went bounding and rolling across the clearing, while the body, spouting blood, fell. Then there was only the backs of Indians, fleeing into the forest. I caught one and sworded him to death. Otaspes pursued them, too, but he was too stout to catch them.
Back in the clearing, I had to lean against a tree to get my breath. Koka cut Gnouros' bonds. Bhumaka wept and be wailed the loss of his serpents, all of which had vanished into the darkness.
"Tell him I'll buy him a new set of serpents," I bade Koka. "And round up that accursed elephant of yours before these scoundrels recover their nerve and come back."