All around the fort of Rohtasgarh lies a dense forest, where the thick shade of towering trees—sal, shisham, tendu, asan, and salai—casts a kind of perpetual gloom. Night is another matter altogether, but even by day, it was difficult to discern any path or trail, for the golden rays of the sun rarely found their way to the ground through the thick canopy of leaves. In some places, thanks to the smaller trees, the forest was so impenetrable that those who lost their way could hardly hope to escape. At such times, thousands of men could hide within it so completely that, even if one were to search and scour a thousand times over, it would be impossible to find them. Darkness reigned in this forest even during the day, but now we write of the night, when its shadows and the deep silence would seem to announce death itself to any lost traveler, and for the earth there, the nights of the new moon and the full moon were all the same.

On the right side of the fort, in the forest at midnight, we see three figures wandering—each cloaked in black robes and veiled, their identities concealed. Who knows what they seek, or what land they search for in such bewilderment? Among them are Kunwar Anand Singh, Bhairon Singh, and Tara Singh. After wandering for some time, the three arrived at a small walled enclosure, the surrounding wall of which was no higher than five cubits, and where the trees were less dense, the undergrowth thinner. Here and there, moonlight even touched the ground.

Anand Singh: "Perhaps this is the enclosure?"

Bhairon Singh: "Certainly, this is it. Look, there is a heap of bones at the gate."

Tara Singh: "Well, let us go inside and see what we find."

Bhairon Singh: "Wait a moment! The rustling of leaves suggests someone is coming this way!"

Anand Singh: (listening intently) "Yes, you are right. We should hide and see who it is, and why they come here."

All three, alert to the approach of the newcomer, concealed themselves behind the trees. Soon, they saw a woman dressed in white coming towards them. She paused at the gate, listened carefully for any sound around her, and then slipped inside. Bhairon Singh said to Anand Singh, "You two wait here; I will follow this woman and see where she goes." The others agreed, and Bhairon Singh, keeping himself hidden, set off after her.

Even within that enclosure, despite the dense forest, there were neither trees nor undergrowth—

It was indeed a matter of astonishment. Bhaironlil found the ground there to be very clean and tidy, though there were ten or twenty small wild jujube trees, which could neither cause any harm nor provide cover for anyone to hide behind. However, the abundance of dead animals and their bones made the place exceedingly dreadful. Inside that walled enclosure, there were many graves, some freshly dug, others made of brick, lime, and stone. In the garden stood the largest grave, made of marble.

As soon as Bhaironsingh set foot inside the gate, he saw the woman he had been following standing atop the large marble grave in the center, looking all around. But in just a moment, before his very eyes, she vanished. Bhaironsingh approached the grave and searched for her, but found no trace. He looked around the other graves and here and there as well, but found no sign. Helpless, he returned to Anand Singh and Tara Singh and said—

Bhairon: That woman has gone exactly where we wish to go.

Anand: Indeed!

Bhairon: Yes, exactly.

Anand: What do you suggest now?

Bhairon: Let her go. Come, let us also proceed there. Even if we meet her on the way, what harm can it do? That one woman cannot do us any damage.

The three men entered the walled enclosure and, reaching the large marble grave in the center, stood there. Bhaironsingh began to carefully feel the ground around the grave. In a short while, there was a clicking sound, and a small piece of stone, which must have been held in place by a spring, swung open like a door. The three men entered through it and closed the stone behind them in the same way before proceeding further. Now they found themselves in a tunnel, very narrow and long. Bhaironsingh took a candle from his pouch, lit it, and after carefully surveying the surroundings, led the way forward. Soon, the tunnel ended, and they reached a large hall. The ceiling of this hall was very high, and from beams hung several chains. On the other side of the hall was another door, through which they entered a small room. Beneath this room was a cellar, with marble stairs leading down. The three descended.

Now, the sound of a large bell ringing reached their ears, causing them to pause for a moment. It seemed that in a room adjacent to the cellar, a bell was being rung. The three suspected that there were several other people present there as well.

In this underground chamber, there was another door on the opposite side. As Bhaironsingh approached it, he extinguished the candle and quietly opened the door. Peering through, he saw a grand, imposing barahdari with marble pillars. In this pavilion, two torches were burning, their light illuminating every object clearly. By this light, ten or fifteen people could be seen, among whom were three women bound with ropes.

Bhaironsingh recognized that one of these women was Kishori, whose hands were tightly tied behind her back, her head bowed as she wept. The two women beside her were in the same condition, but neither Bhaironsingh, Anand Singh, nor Tarasingh recognized them. Behind the three women stood three men with drawn swords, whose appearance and attire revealed them to be executioners.

In the very center of the barahdari, upon a silver throne, sat an enormous statue of black stone—so large that even a man