The deity breathed the breath of his divinity on the Diamond in the forehead of
the god. And the Brahmins knelt and hid their faces in their robes. The deity
commanded that the Moonstone should be watched, from that time forth, by
three priests in turn, night and day, to the end of the generations of men. And the
Brahmins heard, and bowed before his will. The deity predicted certain disaster
to the presumptuous mortal who laid hands on the sacred gem, and to all of his
house and name who received it after him. And the Brahmins caused the
prophecy to be written over the gates of the shrine in letters of gold.
One age followed another--and still, generation after generation, the successors
of the three Brahmins watched their priceless Moonstone, night and day. One
age followed another until the first years of the eighteenth Christian century saw
the reign of Aurungzebe, Emperor of the Moguls. At his command havoc and
rapine were let loose once more among the temples of the worship of Brahmah.
The shrine of the four-handed god was polluted by the slaughter of sacred
animals; the images of the deities were broken in pieces; and the Moonstone
was seized by an officer of rank in the army of Aurungzebe.
Powerless to recover their lost treasure by open force, the three guardian priests
followed and watched it in disguise. The generations succeeded each other; the
warrior who had committed the sacrilege perished miserably; the Moonstone
passed (carrying its curse with it) from one lawless Mohammedan hand to
another; and still, through all chances and changes, the successors of the three
guardian priests kept their watch, waiting the day when the will of Vishnu the
Preserver should restore to them their sacred gem. Time rolled on from the first
to the last years of the eighteenth Christian century. The Diamond fell into the
possession of Tippoo, Sultan of Seringapatam, who caused it to be placed as an
ornament in the handle of a dagger, and who commanded it to be kept among
the choicest treasures of his armoury. Even then--in the palace of the Sultan
himself-- the three guardian priests still kept their watch in secret. There were
three officers of Tippoo's household, strangers to the rest, who had won their
master's confidence by conforming, or appearing to conform, to the Mussulman
faith; and to those three men report pointed as the three priests in disguise.
III
So, as told in our camp, ran the fanciful story of the Moonstone. It made no
serious impression on any of us except my cousin-- whose love of the marvellous
induced him to believe it. On the night before the assault on Seringapatam, he
was absurdly angry with me, and with others, for treating the whole thing as a
fable. A foolish wrangle followed; and Herncastle's unlucky temper got the better
of him. He declared, in his boastful way, that we should see the Diamond on his
finger, if the English army took Seringapatam. The sally was saluted by a roar of
laughter, and there, as we all thought that night, the thing ended.
Let me now take you on to the day of the assault. My cousin and I were
separated at the outset. I never saw him when we forded the river; when we
planted the English flag in the first breach; when we crossed the ditch beyond;
and, fighting every inch of our way, entered the town. It was only at dusk, when
the place was ours, and after General Baird himself had found the dead body of
Tippoo under a heap of the slain, that Herncastle and I met.
