The Mystery of the Fort

Part One

When I had accompanied Byomkesh to that town in the Santhal Parganas for a change of air to restore his health, I had not imagined that, within a year, we would be compelled to return there once more. This time, however, it was not in pursuit of health, but in search of the new quarry that Purandar Pandey Mahashay had brought to our notice. It was for this very investigation that Byomkesh and I set out together.

During our first visit to this town, I had become acquainted with several Bengalis residing there. Yet, no one had mentioned that, beyond the town’s limits, there lived a wealthy Bengali family. It is this very family around whom this strange tale revolves. Therefore, it is fitting to begin with their story. Of course, I did not learn everything at once; rather, I gathered fragments from the lips of various people. For the reader’s convenience, I have arranged these scattered accounts in a continuous narrative at the outset.

To the south of the town—that is, in the direction opposite the railway junction—runs a road stretching nearly six miles. This road is very old, dating back to the days of the Bardahi era. It is paved with large, sturdy stones; grass and weeds have sprung up between the gaps, yet it is still possible to drive a motorcar along it. The rugged, stony terrain on either side seems to hesitate before encroaching, allowing the road to maintain its hard, unyielding presence.

Where the winding path finally ends, there stand side by side two small hillocks. The description of Kalidasa comes to mind: "In the midst, dark as the space between two breasts." They are not very tall, but there is a deep cleft between the two peaks. Even without Kalidasa’s simile, the sight is captivating.

The hilltops are not barren. Atop one stands the crumbling ruin of an ancient fort; on the other, a whitewashed house of modern construction. Both the house and the fort belong to Shri Ramkishore Singh, who lives here with his family.

At this point, some introduction to the ancient fort and its modern owner is necessary. During the reign of Nawab Alivardi, a certain Janakirām, a Dakshin Rarhi Kayastha, became a particular favorite of the Nawab. He was granted the title of Raja Janakirām, and for some time governed the province of Bihar, amassing great wealth and property. But the country was entering a time of crisis; after Aurangzeb’s death, the Mughal empire was crumbling; the relentless Maratha raiders repeatedly ravaged Bengal and Bihar, leaving devastation in their wake; the English traders, shedding their mercantile guise, were reaching for the sceptre of power. The land was rife with unrest; neither king nor subject, rich nor poor, found peace of mind. Raja Janakirām was a man of keen intelligence; he had a small fort built amid these secluded hills, and there he secured his vast fortune and his family.

In the great flood