THE ESCAPE FROM PRISON.

At night Realmah was always bound; but the guards who had charge of the Ainah did not care to bind this helpless-looking, insignificant young woman.

Realmah’s thoughts that night were very bitter. The poets say that “a sorrow’s crown of sorrow is remembering happier things;” but there is no sorrow for a generous mind that eats into the heart so closely as thinking that you have brought evil upon others, and that they are to suffer for your sake. Realmah feared that it would go ill with the Ainah the next day. He knew that there was one man in that council who was perfectly aware of the relation between them. To that man he had given one imploring look while she was telling her story; but he could not discern whether that look was answered favourably or not. Upon that man much of the fate of the south of Europe at that time depended; but it is not now a fitting occasion to enter upon that subject. Moreover, Realmah conjectured that there were in Abinamanche some common soldiers of the Sheviri, who, like himself, had been taken prisoners. The probability was that they knew the Ainah very well; and, in fine, he felt certain that it would be discovered who she was.

Realmah, suffering greater misery than he had hitherto endured, remained for some hours sleepless in his bonds. Notwithstanding all this misery, there was, occasionally, a strange feeling of pleasure in his mind connected with the Ainah. He was continually thinking with admiration of her cleverness, and pitying her to himself for her wan looks. He thought, too, there was some affection as well as archness in the glance with which the Ainah favoured him when she was descanting upon the good-for-nothing husband she had come to look after. Suddenly he fancied he heard a soft voice whispering his name. Soon he was assured that it was not fancy, and that the Ainah was close to him on the other side of the wooden division that separated his prison chamber from the next one. How she got there, and what was the nature of her enterprise are now to be told.

During the many months that Realmah had remained in prison, there was one faithful heart in Abibah which never ceased to think of the peril of her Realmah. Through the long nights the Ainah meditated as to what could be done to rescue him. She did not dare to interfere as long as there was any hope from the public negotiations on his behalf. When these failed, she made up her mind to attempt his rescue herself. She did not speak of her determination to any one. What she greatly relied upon to aid her in her enterprise was a wine-skin which she took with her, containing the choicest and most intoxicating liquor known to the Sheviri. This was prepared from honey and from various herbs, amongst which was the _voroo_, a powerful opiate. The Ainah also took with her some strips of dried deer’s flesh, and a very sharp instrument made of quartz, which was the pride and delight of the Varnah, and which she had brought with her as part of her marriage dowry. This the Ainah now abstracted furtively.

She set off one morning before daybreak; and, when missed, no one took much heed of her departure but the Varnah, who mourned over the loss of a good helpmate, and, moreover, regretted the theft, as she was pleased to call it, of the sharp instrument of quartz, which was the most perfect one of that kind known in the town of Abibah.

Meanwhile, the Ainah, as we have seen, made her way without much difficulty to the outskirts of the town of Abinamanche, subsisting chiefly on berries, for she hoarded up the strips of deer’s flesh for a great occasion.

Now Abinamanche was built very much in the same form as Abibah--a fact which was well known to the Sheviri. The Ainah, therefore, thought that she could readily make her way to the principal buildings, which were placed in similar positions to those in her own town. Her plan was to approach the prison by night; to allow herself to be despoiled of her wine-skin by Realmah’s warders; to watch for its effect upon them; and then to attempt, by means of the quartz instrument, to cut a way from the outside into Realmah’s prison. She conjectured, and rightly, that this building would be constructed of wood, and therefore not very strong, for both the Sheviri and the Phelatahs relied more upon guards than upon prison walls, which reliance, with their knowledge of building materials, was certainly prudent. There were guards posted day and night about the prison of Realmah.

We have seen how the Ainah got into the town, and by what mistake on her part she had been recognised. Her original plan had therefore been defeated; but a favourable chance and her cunning and her ready wit had, in reality, brought her closer to Realmah than she could have hoped to have been brought if her original plan of escaping notice had been successful.

As the Ainah, after her examination by the Council, was being taken to prison by the soldiers, four in number, who were to watch at her prison room for the night, and to be answerable for her appearance next day, she contrived to show that she was secreting something, and thus to awaken curiosity.

Afterwards, when she was in her prison room, suspecting that they were watching her through some aperture, she, in a furtive manner, appeared to drink something from the wine-skin, which contained the powerful liquid before mentioned. Soon one of the soldiers entered the room, and, rudely jesting with her, partly by intreaty, and partly by force, compelled her to give up the wine-skin to him. She threatened to scream for assistance to her fellow-countryman in the next apartment. This was a mere guess of hers, thrown out to gain some knowledge of the spot were Realmah was confined. And it succeeded, for the soldier told her that she might scream, as the young cripple was two rooms off; and if he were to hear he could do nothing. “The next room is empty, so scream away, my pretty young maiden,” said the soldier, ironically and tauntingly. And so saying, he left her.

The guards who watched the Ainah did not partake their prize with the guards who watched Realmah, and who were stationed at the other end of the building. The potent liquor, divided among so few, soon had its effect: they were first merry, then noisy and quarrelsome, then silent.

The Ainah, who had carefully watched for these signs, then commenced her operations. In two hours’ time, working very softly with the sharp quartz instrument, she had made an aperture sufficiently large for her to crawl through into the next chamber. It was then that she whispered Realmah’s name, and told him what means she had with her for escape. She had meant to make a small opening, which would be soon cut, and to pass the quartz instrument through it, enabling him to do the rest of the work quickly. To her dismay she learnt from him that he was bound, and that she would have to do the work herself, not knowing where the weak points of the woodwork were. Three long hours were passed in an agony of fear by both of them before she succeeded in cutting her way into his room, for it was the strong room of the prison, in which the greatest offenders were always confined. His bonds were soon severed, and the prisoners commenced to make their escape, passing through the vacant apartment into the room in which the Ainah had first been placed.

It was now two hours past midnight, and there was still an exit to be made from this room. They boldly resolved to try the door, and they cut out that part where the simple latch that fastened it on the outside was placed. This did not take more than half an hour. They then opened the door gently, descended the steps, passed the sleeping guard; and Realmah, though still in the midst of a hostile city, felt that he was once more a free man, and he could have shouted for joy at his deliverance. He was not, however, the kind of man to indulge in shouting before he was thoroughly out of danger.