FOOTNOTE:
[1] 100th, 112th, 113th, and 114th chapters of the Koran.
END OF BOOK I.
BOOK II.
CHAPTER I.
BEEJAPOOR.
Westwards from the city of Beejapoor the ground rises in a succession of barren downs, which decline in gentle undulations towards the broad valley of the Done river to the east, the valley of the Krishna to the south, and the general plateau of the Dekhan to the west and north; and they form the most elevated portion of the country lying between the Bheema river to the north and the Krishna to the south. At the period we write of, these downs were uncultivated, as, indeed, from the shallow nature of the stony surface soil, they still are for the most part; and the natural grass was preserved, partly as forage for the great city, and for the Royal cavalry stationed in its vicinity. In a military point of view also it was necessary to keep the ground beyond the suburbs of the city as open as possible on all sides; and in consequence there were few villages, and but little cultivation, except market gardens, attached to any of them.
Beejapoor depended for its supplies of grain upon the fertile valley of the Done, a singularly productive tract exemplified by the Dekhan proverb, "If the crop in Done fail, who can eat? If the crop ripens, who can eat it?" The Beejapoor downs bore neither trees nor jungle of any kind to break the loneliness of their aspect. Here and there a little low brushwood appeared to struggle for existence; but the demand for firewood was so great in the city, that the bushes were cut down almost as soon as they sprung up, and afforded no corn for wild animals of the larger species. Antelopes, however, were very numerous, and roamed in large herds over the grassy slopes; while wherever a tiny rill, issuing from some spring below the crests of the highest portions of the tract, trickled down a very small valley, its borders were plentifully stocked with feathered game of all kinds and hares.
From the highest points of these downs many a noble view is obtained of the country around. The heights descend by gradual slopes into the less elevated tracts on all sides, producing long, wavy lines, not only of conformation, but of tints blending in exquisite harmony, from the decided though monotonous colours of the foreground to the greys, blues, and dim purples of the far distance. For the most part, on three sides there are no objects to break the continuous uniformity, whose monotony is only varied by difference of colour; but to the northward lies the noble city, then, as now, changing the dreary expanse into a vision of superb splendour; and it is evident that the aspect of the city cannot have altered in any great degree in effect for the last three hundred years.
The isolated palaces of the suburb of Torwéh, and the gardens which follow the course of the little stream on which they were laid out, appear from a short distance as perfect and as fresh as ever. The groves of tamarind and mango trees, out of which they rise, are still luxuriant; and here and there the feathery palm foliage of a cocoa nut lends additional grace to the view. Even the palaces, though now ruined and roofless, have the appearance of being yet perfect, and stand out of the foliage as if decay and the spoiler had not touched them.
Beyond Torwéh, northwards, the vast city spreads over the plain to the fort and citadel, which terminates the view. The lines of streets are distinct, and that of the principal one, three miles in length, remarkably so; and it is only when the traveller draws near that the illusion is dispelled, and the streets are seen to be lanes amidst borders of crumbling walls, and the whole to be a mass of ruin only broken by the tottering remains of a house, a mosque, a palace, or other building which has resisted the effects of time and desolation. Here and there a few houses remain in clusters, which have, as it were, survived destruction, and have become, indeed, separate villages; but even they seem to be out of place among the general decay of all around them.
As the fort wall is approached at the end of the long street it is seen to be quite perfect. The noble gateway, with its flanking bastions and loopholed defences, rampart and towers, with their fausse-braye and broad ditch and counterscarp, lead to the supposition that within, at least, prosperity still endures; but this, too, is a delusion, for on every side is ruin even more melancholy and more impressive than that without. In the outer town there had been few buildings calculated to resist time. For the most part built of rough stone, with clay for mortar, and terraced clay roofs, yet had fallen when abandoned to disrepair; but within, the most, costly palaces, the magnificent citadel, public edifices which have been palaces, mosques, bazaars, mausoleums, have toppled down into ruins, or show, if they are still entire, the condition of neglect into which they have fallen. Thanks to the British Government, a few of the finest edifices have been placed in good repair, and are so maintained; but all that was private property, palaces, gardens, mosques, mausoleums, have already crumbled away, or are disappearing as fast as their wonderfully tenacious construction will admit of.
With the ruined aspect of Beejapoor, as the traveller now sees it under feelings of wonder and admiration, I have no concern. Those palaces, now desolate, from which the horned owls hoot the night through, have to be restored; those miles of streets have to be rebuilt and repeopled; the busy population which thronged the deserted expanse presented as they were at the period of this tale, when Beejapoor contained upwards of a million and a half of people, and its Government was the most powerful in the Dekhan, for the power and prosperity of the State and its people were then at their zenith, and all that wealth, taste, and art could do to embellish the Royal city was being freely lavished by men of all conditions, from the young King Ibrahim Adil Shah II. to the nobles, merchants, and religious orders over whom he ruled.
Then, as the spectator, turning round, looked back from the heights we have mentioned beyond Torwéh, the scene was, indeed, magnificent. The palaces of Torwéh, perfect in their noble extent, with their bright terraces, their large carved lattice windows, some of them open, which showed them to be inhabited, were in bright contrast to their present condition of huge misshapen apertures, from which the windows have been torn and removed altogether.
People were moving about these terraces and gardens in all directions, and the song of the drawers of water at the garden wells was borne upon the morning air. Beyond was the busy city and its countless objects, with the smoke rising up from the early fires, and covering it as with a thin blue veil of mist. Palaces, mansions, bazaars, mosques, temples, with their spires, domes, and minarets, were intermingled with the terraced roofs of the houses, and showed no break in the continuity of the streets and suburbs, leading the eye onwards to the fort itself, which terminated the view, for here the chief interest of the great panorama centred, and the noblest buildings seemed clustered together.
To the right, a little way outside the south-east gate of the city, the noble mausoleum of the Ibrahim Roza was now rising slowly to eventual completion; and at the period we write of, the mere outlines of one of the most superb buildings in India were hardly recognisable; but beyond that, within the fort gate, all the public edifices which now claim the admiration of those who see them, were then at their gayest and brightest—the great grim cavalier which overlooks all; the splendid bastion, on which the largest gun in the world is mounted; the domes of the mausoleum of Ministers of State, Princesses, and Royal servants, rising out of the soft foliage of the Royal deer park. Again, the citadel, with its lines of ramparts, bastions, and wet ditches, its crowd of Royal palaces and public offices, among which the graceful and elegant seven-storeyed edifice reared its dizzy height. Many of them rich with gilding, and all with the perfect appearance of residences and use.
On the northern edge of the citadel stood the Asar Mahal, then recently constructed to contain the sacred relics of the Mussulman faith which had arrived from Mecca, in itself a noble edifice, which of all the Royal buildings is alone perfect as it was left. To the right of the citadel rose the fine domes and minarets of the Jooma Mosque, where six thousand men could kneel at prayer; and thence the eye, passing over a plain partly bare, used as an encamping and exercising ground, and partly covered by mosques, private palaces, and dwellings, rested upon the huge mass and dome of the mausoleum of Sultan Mahmood; all else seeming to lie at its feet like pigmies. As the dome of St. Peter's towers above all other objects at Rome, so in Beejapoor all seemed dwarfed beside and around this huge structure, which, second only to the Pantheon in outward diameter, was then, as it is still, the glory of Dekhan architecture. Away to the north was a wide, barren plain, often the scene of heavy general actions, dotted here and there with groups of mausoleums, or single edifices, and with a crowd of more humble tombs, lining the high way to the small village of Allapore, which occupied the summit of a height behind; and thence away to the north spread the wavy lines of undulating distance, till they mingled together in the distant horizon.
As yet all was grey, for the sun had not risen; but his beams were fast filling the eastern sky, and tinging the light clouds with crimson and gold, heralding the birth of a new day, and in a few moments more the fiery globe, magnified by the earth mists, rose over the horizon. The change then was as striking as it was superb. The eastern plain seemed filled with a rosy, golden light, and the distinctness of objects was blurred by it; but nearer, every object in the city and plain assumed a new beauty; the sombre mass of the great mausoleum shone with a roseate glow, its gilded spire flashing in the sun; so also the Jooma Mosque, the delicate Mehturi Mahal, the palaces and gardens within and without the citadel, with their gilded spires and white terraces.
All that the eye had followed while they were yet dimly grey, burst on the sight as if endowed with a fresh life from the new day which had come; even the Royal flag, which had drooped against its staff on the high cavalier, was stirred by the faint breeze which rose with the sun, and fluttered out as if rejoicing in the freshness of the dewy morning, and flags waved from bastions and palaces, and Moslem and Hindoo shrines and temples; while the early Royal music playing out as the sun rose, followed by that of nobles who enjoyed the privilege of the "nóbat," came fitfully and sweetly upon the clear air even to that distance; and the rosy light of morning passing from the higher buildings to the lower, lighted up all in an effulgence which was almost dazzling in its collective splendour.
Ere the sun had risen, a numerous party which issued from the Royal palaces at Torwéh had ridden slowly up the rising ground beyond, and spread out very considerably, evidently with the purpose of beating the grassy slope for game. On the right and left flanks of the line, nearly a mile from the centre on both sides, heavy bodies of cavalry marched at a slow but steady pace onwards, regulating their movements by those of the party in the centre; sometimes halting, if they had proceeded too far; sometimes despatching parties further to the right and left, to drive the game as much as possible into the centre.
The cavalry—one division being Abyssinians, the other Dekhanis—were accompanied by their accustomed bodies of elephants in their war panoply, and green or scarlet housings; but there was no noisy clash of bells, as was usual when war elephants moved, lest it should disturb the deer, and both bodies of cavalry marched with that deep, hollow, rustling sound which proceeds from large numbers. In the distance, and before the sun rose, they appeared to be dark, heavy masses; but a nearer view would have shown the men to be handsomely, not to say gaily, clad—many wearing shirts of mail, or other defensive armour, and steel morions, round which gay scarfs were wound; while the housings of their horses were as rich and gay as their own dresses. They were by no means uniformly armed, for each man wore what arms he pleased, or in which he was most expert; but with the Abyssinians, with whom were bodies of Persians, Tartars, and other foreigners, the bow seemed to be the favourite; while with the Dekhanis the national spear showed gay fluttering pennons over the mass of their superb force, which gave a livelier effect to their detachment than to that of the other party.
In the centre was a small cavalcade consisting of not more than twenty persons, all gorgeously attired, who were in attendance upon one to whom all, it was evident, paid extreme deference. Some of these were the chief eunuchs of the State, who, for the most part, were Nubians or Abyssinians; others the chief officers of the hunting establishments, and the commanders of the bodies of cavalry, who attended to receive any orders that might be given to them; and although their splendid costumes and martial figures might well command attention, all seemed to dwindle in interest before the strikingly attractive figure on whom they were in attendance.
This was a lady, who, after the fashion of a man, as was the custom of the Dekhan, rode a milk-white Arab or Dekhan palfrey, of beautiful proportions and evidently high spirit. Its caparisons were of the richest, softest bright blue Genoa velvet, deftly quilted and padded, so that the seat of the saddle was luxuriously soft and comfortable. The whole of the saddle-cloth, housings, and broad crupper piece, as well as the neck and head pieces of the suit, were richly embroidered with heavy gold patterns, studded with seed pearls, in the style for which Beejapoor was then famous, and of which some of the embroidered carpets, throne seats, and curtains, still preserved in the Asar Mahal, frayed and faded now, are interesting examples.
On its crest between its ears stood a plume of glittering feathers, composed of bright gold tinsel, which stood in a socket of gold set with flashing diamonds, which sparkled at every toss of its beautiful wearer's proud head. The bit, a short curb, was of steel, inlaid with gold and diamonds, while the broad bridle rein, of the same velvet as the housings, was embroidered with seed pearls like the rest of the trappings. The beautiful animal in its perfect caparisons was in all respects an object of true admiration; but, compared with the rider, at once lost interest and dwindled into a secondary place.
She, for it was the Dowager Queen Chand, sat her horse with the most perfect grace and mastery of its often fiery spirit, and her costume, though simple, was suitable to her high rank. On her head she wore a light steel morion, round which a white muslin scarf of the finest texture was bound as a sort of turban, and a handkerchief of the faintest rose colour, with borders of narrow gold tinsel, was tied over the crown and below the chin, so that the face, except the eyes, was concealed. Her tunic, worn high to the throat, was of white cloth of gold of the richest texture, and her breast was crossed by a baldrick of broad gold lace, which was confined at the waist by another white muslin scarf, the gold brocaded ends of which hung down at her right side.
Thus, except the light yellow Persian boots of the softest leather, which reached high above her knees, and were embroidered in white floss silk, there was no positive colour about the Queen's figure, and yet the richness and beauty of her whole equipment were strikingly chaste and elegant.
The Dowager Queen had worn no colour since her widowhood, and that was now long ago. On her arms, from the wrists to the elbows, she wore light gauntlets of steel, inlaid with gold and set with diamonds, which were clasped over her rounded arms; and upon her right hand and wrist was the strong glove and gauntlet on which her favourite falcon sat proudly erect, his light musical jesses clashing with the gentle motion of the well-trained horse. Nothing could have been more perfect than the figure of the Royal lady. Her face could not be seen, but the close-fitting tunic showed a perfect grace of contour; and though the figure was very small and slight, like that of a girl, yet it displayed by the firmness of the seat unwonted ease, strength, and confidence.
The Queen's seat was perfect, not even that of the most practised cavalier could have excelled it. She was seemingly part of the horse itself, while the animal appeared to feel the light weight he bore only as a pleasure to urge him to those bounds and caracoles in which his Royal mistress delighted. It was not often that the Queen could enjoy a morning ride over the downs with true zest, but the freshness of the air, the gallant company around her, the Royal falconers, the gaily caparisoned carts, on which sat the hunting leopards, and the crowd of beaters, grooms, mace-bearers, and others who followed the Royal cavalcade, were for the time truly inspiriting.
On the crest of the first of the long waves of elevation which have been described the Queen drew rein, and turning round looked over the city. At first the distance was grey and misty, as we have seen it; but as her eyes wandered over the expanse, they seemed to fill with tears, as her bosom heaved responsively.
"I have loved thee like a mother her child," she thought to herself; "and thou art still mine in all thy beauty. How long, how long, O Alla! wilt thou continue it to me and mine? But with all its faults thou hast blessed it, and thy poor servant; and thy mercies none can tell. Other cities have been ravaged, but as yet no enemy hath placed foot in this; and what could a weak arm like mine have done without thee!"
Almost as she spoke the sun rose up, and the golden and rosy light we have already mentioned spread over the whole scene, even to her very feet. Her slight veil had somewhat fallen from her face, and the light now showed a soft rounded cheek, flushed with rich colour by exercise, on which the sun's light rested lovingly; while silent tears, also catching the golden ray, welled up in her eyes, fell over the lids, and trickled down her cheek. There appeared to be no sadness in them, only the out-pouring of a great loving heart before its Maker. Then, too, while the light flashed over her own beautiful dress, it caught the spears, the morions, and the armour of the bodies of the cavalry in glittering points, which dazzled the eye and lent fresh splendour to the martial array.
"Come!" cried the Queen, as she turned her horse, "thou hast been impatient, my pearl; and thou, too, Diamond," she said to the horse and the falcon; "but I promise ye a race this morning, if a quarry rise, that shall content ye. Come, sirs, we linger."
Now that the Queen once was again in motion, the main bodies of cavalry on the wings fell back, so as not to interfere with the Royal sport. Two of the light carts of the hunting leopards came to the front, and took their places considerably in advance of the Queen's line, one on each hand, while men with sparrow-hawks or small falcons flew them continuously at quails or partridges as they arose from out of the thick grass. Now scouts on a crest about half a mile in advance made signs that a herd of antelopes was near, with several black bucks in it, and the leopard carts pressed on with somewhat increased speed, the Queen and her line keeping pace with them.
Thus the carts reached the crest of the rise, whence the view to the front was open; but the Queen waited below the crest till she should see whether either of the leopards should be loosed or not, and in a few moments the result was apparent. One of the leopards had its cap removed, the antelope pointed out to it, when it leaped gently from the cart to the ground, making its way gradually towards the herd, which, partly lying, partly grazing, was in the little valley below; while the cart in which it had been fastened was driven on to the right, to keep up the notice of the deer, who appeared to watch it unconcernedly. Meanwhile, the Queen, with some of her footmen and attendants, pressed up the ridge, whence the scene could be easily and completely watched.
They could see the leopard distinctly making its way down the slope, taking advantage of every inequality of ground, of small bushes, of ant-hills, and even of tufts of grass; creeping softly from one to another, and crouching to the ground if the deer showed the slightest symptoms of alarm. Once a huge black buck, the monarch of the herd, rose from the ground where he had been lying, stretched himself lazily, and ran playfully after some young fawns who had dared to approach him; and the leopard seemed to understand this, for it lay as if dead among some grass of very much its own colour. Presently it looked up, and saw the buck grazing with its head turned away; and a few more moves were made, the leopard crouching whenever there was a chance of being seen.
It was a strange sight to watch the extreme sagacity of the leopard in securing its natural prey. Until it got within a certain distance from which the deer could be run down, anything might cause a failure; some skittish doe or fawn might run and alarm the whole herd, and if so all chance of capture must be abandoned. Now, however, the leopard's runs were shorter and more frequent, and yet there was no alarm; the deer were lying on a spot where the grass was short and sweet, and there were little mounds here and there which afforded ample cover for their enemy, who was now so near that the Queen could not help exclaiming to one of the falconers near her,—
"Fie on the brute! he is a coward, Ahmed, and shall be shot if he fails!"
"Nay, lady," was the reply, "he is no coward. Your slave never saw him miss. Look!"
As the man spoke the leopard had made at last one spring forward towards the buck, from a distance of some yards; but ere it could seize the deer, it had bounded off at a pace which can hardly be described, followed closely by its pursuer, and for a few seconds it seemed doubtful whether the speed of the deer or the leopard would be the greater. The actions of both were beautiful; the deer with its head thrown back, its body stretched till its belly almost touched the ground; the leopard's movements so rapid that they could hardly be followed by the eye. But there was no doubt at last; putting forth all its speed and strength, the leopard seized the buck by the throat with its powerful teeth, and with the impetus both rolled over together.
"Shabash! Shabash! Well done, well done! good Julloo!" cried the Queen, enthusiastically, as she raised her bridle hand and cantered down the slope, as at the same time the leopard's cart was rapidly driven to the spot, and the customary offering made to the animal to induce it to quit its prey. "Shabash! Julloo! Shabash!" said the Queen, as, reaching the spot, she guided her snorting horse up to the cart, and patted the sleek skin of the leopard. "Thou hast done well, my son."
"And he is ready to do the same again, lady," said his keeper, with a profound reverence, "if he may, and if your Majesty be not weary."
"Nay, Hussein, I am never weary of good sport. Time has been, as thou rememberest, when I, a girl, rode with our Royal master on the plains beyond the Krishna from morning till sundown, and the sweetest meals we ever ate were those that thou and thy fellows used to cook for us. Well, some such thoughts as these came over me as I stood on the top of the crest yonder; and 'tis no harm telling them to thee, for thou hast not forgotten old days."
The man looked up, his rough cheeks and grizzled beard wet with tears, and kissed her foot reverently.
"No, lady," he said, gently. "Those who never forget the humble offices of their poor servants live in their hearts, and those of their children. Such an one art thou, and wilt be till Alla calls thee to join him who is gone! Surely thy poor servant is blessed this day that he hath brought back the memories of old times that were so happy!"
"And now away; take thy place; there will be no more deer till the next ridge is passed; and this herd took to the west, I think. Then we will go southwards, and beat round by the Talikota road; perchance we may find a heron or a floriken, for the falcon is impatient;" and she rode on up the gentle slope before her, which was clothed with the low soft white grass in which floriken like so much to lie; and she had not reached the crest before a fine bird rose silently out of the grass and flew lazily on.
In an instant, however, the Queen had loosed the hood of her favourite, and cast off the cord which tied its leg to her wrist, and the noble bird at once darted in pursuit of its quarry. The Queen followed, and her spirited horse strained at the bit to increase his speed; but the Queen contented herself with keeping the birds well in view, and watching the final swoop, though it might be prolonged. Indeed, few of the Royal falcons could ever succeed in striking down a floriken strong on the wing; its powerful swift flight, its endurance of distance, were very different from the comparatively sluggish flight of a heron; and it required a really good rider and horse to follow the direct flight taken. Fortunately, on these downs the ground was firm if sometimes stony, and the Queen rode on nearly at full speed until she saw that except a few distant horsemen she was quite alone. Still she did not slacken her speed, and alternately ridge and valley, valley and ridge, were passed; and still the birds flew. At last the floriken turned, and strove to evade its pursuer; but the effort was futile. After a few turns the falcon struck it down, and began tearing off its feathers.
Just then a man, who was evidently one of the cavaliers of the city, dashed up at full speed, and dismounting from his horse began to call in the usual manner of hawkers to the falcon, but the bird did not know him, and paid no heed to his endeavours; and at this moment the Queen, dashing over a slight eminence by which she had been concealed, and crying to the stranger to refrain, drew rein and called to the bird herself, at the same time tossing a small strip of flesh in the air, which she took from a pouch at her saddle-bow.
"Who art thou that interferest with the Royal falcons, and who taught thee falconry to attempt to secure a hawk in that clumsy fashion? Who art thou?" she said, sharply.
"Your Majesty has forgotten me," said the young man, removing the scarf with which he had tied up his face during his march; "and yet may allow your slave, Abbas Khan, to kiss your feet;" and the young man advanced and made a low obeisance, even to the ground.
"Mercy of God!" cried the Queen; "and thou art surely in the flesh! Why, they told me thou hadst been killed in battle; then that thou wert sorely wounded, and dying in some fort."
"Thy slave is in truth here, and his destiny is propitious that he hath thus met your Majesty alone. But is it seemly that my Royal mistress should be thus alone? Where be all the laggard attendants?"
"No one could ride with me, Khan. None of their heavy war chargers have so fleet a foot as my Mótee. Nay, by all the saints, he seems as if he had not forgotten thee."
"Nor need he, lady," was the reply, "for I have often fed him and exercised him, and have taught him some of his paces." And Mótee had not forgotten his kind teacher; he buried his nose in his hand, and rubbed it gently against the young Khan's breast.
"And who is this?" cried the Queen, smiling, as a strange figure rode up on an ambling palfrey. "By all the saints, was there ever so strange a figure on a horse!"
"It is my friend, the Senhor Padré of Moodgul, whom I received orders to bring with me. Dismount," he said to the priest; "this is the Queen, and thou shouldst give her thy salutation."
"Nay, but my blessing," said the priest, humbly, kneeling on one knee, and taking off his hat and bowing low. "The blessing of God and Mary the mother of Jesus be on the most noble and virtuous lady of her time!"
"The blessing of a holy man is ever acceptable to me," said the Queen, with a gentle inclination.
The Padré had made no alteration in his usual priestly attire. His broad-brimmed shovel hat of his order covered his head; his black cassock descended almost to his feet; inside, he wore a pair of strong riding drawers and his under garments, and a pair of simple sandals on his feet.
"A Nazarene Fakeer," continued the Royal lady; "as such thou art welcome to our house. But who taught thee to speak such excellent Persian? I could follow thee at once."
"I learned it in my Lord's service, as I learned Canarese also," replied the Padré; "but I speak Canarese better."
"Wonderful!" cried the Queen; "it is even as I heard when I sent for thee. Abbas Khan, wilt thou see to the good man's comfort till I can give my own orders?"
"And his sister, Doña Maria, is in the litter which they have set down yonder."
"I had hoped so," returned the Queen. "I fear I shall not be able to see her at once. We shall be at Torwéh till to-morrow evening, and the next day there will be a durbar in the gilded palace. Fail not to come."
"And my uncle, lady?"
"He is away with the King towards Purendah. There is no peace, I grieve to say, with Ahmednugger; but thou hast heard this. And thy wound is well?"
"It is quite healed, and now I am strong again, ready for my Queen's service wherever it needs me."
"Ah, well! we will speak of that by-and-bye, Abbas Khan; but meanwhile have great care to thyself, for I have heard unpleasant rumours, and thou knowest I am thy well-wisher. Do not cross the Abyssinians; they are not friendly, I hear, to thee. But I cannot explain more here, a body of them is in the field with me, and it would be well if thou couldst avoid them. Take the road by the Roza, it will be the safest."
As she spoke the Queen turned her horse, and without waiting a reply, cantered up the slope by which she had come, and meeting her attendants at some distance, displayed her trophy of the chase.
"Ye were but laggards," she said, with a smile, to the eunuchs. "I, and my Diamond, had all the honour, had we not?" and she stroked her glossy favourite's plumage, caressingly.
"But how did your Majesty get the bird? Who held your stirrup? Surely you have been too rash!" said the head falconer.
"I did not dismount, my friend. A passing traveller picked it up for me, and Diamond came to my wrist at my call. Enough, sirs, for to-day; we are far from the palace, and the sun grows hot, even though my umbrella is over me. Take Diamond from me, one of ye, he is too heavy for my arm now that the chase is past."
CHAPTER II.
A RETROSPECT.
As the Queen rejoined her party she rode on in silence, musingly. "They told me," she thought to herself, "I should never see the boy again; that he lay wounded and dying in a distant fortress; and there were many who wished, doubtless, in their hearts that he had died—many to whom news of his death would have been welcome, to prevent strife. Yet, would that have prevented it? Alas! how many times hath it sprung out of trifles! How often the streets of my city have been red with the blood of my own people! And now, again, these scenes may be renewed if this poor fluttering heart be not firm! Ever since his dying mother put him, a babe, into my arms, and said he was my son—ever since his father, wounded to death, gave his hands into mine, and asked me—for the sake of the blood shed for me—that I would be a mother to him, have I not been so? Brought him up with the King, as his foster-brother; borne with all his waywardness and rashness, and yet loved to hear of his gallant deeds, and his devotion, and his honour? And now am I to believe that he is an assassin and a coward? that he slew Elias Khan treacherously, and abandoned his people to destruction without striking a blow in their behalf? No! His face is as fair and open as ever. His eyes could not have met mine so frankly had they been those of a coward and traitor; and I must hear from his own lips all the particulars of what has occurred ere I can make any decision. I should not fear were the King present; but he is far away, and some time must elapse ere he returns. Yet why should I fear? Greater crises have passed over me than this; and the just Alla will help me to avert strife, as He has done before. My boy will come to me to-morrow. He shall attend the durbar, and in that he will hold himself, as he ever doth and ever will, as a true and brave man should. I will caution him to speak the truth fully, yet not so as to give offence, and among soldiers who hear him that will carry greater weight than my poor words. So, O beating heart, fear not, for the Lord is just, and thus I trust, though I am but a weak woman."
The little colloquy with herself seemed to have revived the Queen's confidence; her joyous spirits returned, and, as was usual with her, she chatted gaily with those around her; and the field duty being concluded, many of the leaders of both Abyssinians and Dekhanies joined the cavalcade which preceded and followed her to the Royal palace.
I think, however, that it would be interesting to my readers to know something of the real antecedents of this Royal lady; and without attempting history, which would be out of place, I may be able to review some of the events of her life briefly, yet with sufficient distinctness to furnish materials from which her character may be judged, at least, in some respects. The Mussulman historian, Mahomed Kasim Ferishta, is fond of the character of Queen Chand, and very simply, yet on every appropriate occasion, holds it up to admiration. Yet this is little in comparison with the traditional knowledge of the Queen which lives still among the people of Beejapoor and Ahmednugger, and displays the popular affection for the Royal lady in a manner at once affecting and sincere.
Chand Sooltana was the daughter of Hoossein Nizam Shah, the King of Ahmednugger; and at the period at which the crusade against the Hindoo Prince of Beejanugger was determined on, the alliance of Beejapoor and Ahmednugger was cemented by a double marriage. Ally Adil Shah of Beejapoor gave his sister to become the bride of Moortuza, the Prince Royal of Ahmednugger, while he took the beautiful daughter of the King of Ahmednugger to be his own bride. The great battle which decided the supremacy of Hindoo or Moslim in Southern India was fought on the right bank of the Krishna river in 1563, with immense loss on both sides; but the powerful artillery of Ahmednugger, equipped and used in the field under European system, mainly contributed to the victory which the cavalry of Beejapoor secured. On former occasions there had been alliances by marriage between these Royal houses which had had good effect in preventing those jealousies and wars which had been but too common; and on this occasion the result was no less beneficial.
After the war was over, the Royal pair betook themselves to the settlement and pacification of the new provinces which, under the terms of partition, had fallen to the lot of Beejapoor. These had been ruled over by petty Hindoo barons and chieftains, who held these possessions in feudal tenure, and had always been noted for turbulence and disorder. They belonged, indeed, for the most part to the clans of Beydurs who had held them for ages, and acknowledged the rule of no power, Hindoo or Moslim, except when they were too weak to resist. In this delicate work the Queen took a very active and most beneficial part. She visited the Hindoo Princesses, was their advocate with the King, and gradually brought them to yield to love and consideration what they would never have yielded to threats or violence. Gradually, too, the King's authority was established over all the new territory, and though the work occupied some years, it was complete. All this time the Royal lady was her husband's constant companion. She was not secluded, and rode with him as he marched or hunted, without a formal veil, though in deference to custom her face was always slightly concealed. She was never absent from him in case of any resistance or skirmish, and she became as familiar with war as he was himself. All this time, however, her education proceeded. She became skilled in Persian and Arabic, and spoke Turkish, Toorki, and the dialects current in the army with ease and fluency, as well as Canarese and Mahratta, which were the vernacular languages of Beejapoor and Ahmednugger. And she had many other accomplishments. She drew and painted flowers with great delicacy; she played upon the vina with skill, and sang with a delightful voice many Persian ghuzals, and the pathetic Hindoo ballads of her own native tongue. But, alas! she had no children.
Ally Adil Shah, her beloved husband, died in 1580, or sixteen years after her marriage. At this period she must have been twenty-five years old, or thereabouts. The King left no male heir, but by his will appointed his nephew Ibrahim, son of his brother Thamash, to succeed him, and the Queen Dowager as his guardian and Regent of the Beejapoor kingdom, then, except the Moghul Empire of Dehly, the largest Mussulman power in India; and thus the Queen's independent political life began. Heretofore she appears to have led a joyous and peaceful existence, without care. Her husband, though of a warlike disposition, fostered trade, literature, and arts of peace; and after the destruction of the Hindoo power he became at liberty to prosecute those great works for the defence and adornment of his capital which still remain as monuments of his enlightened liberality. By him the city was surrounded by a superb wall of stone and a broad deep ditch. The Jooma Mosque, which held six thousand persons at prayer, was begun and completed. The whole of the city was supplied with water, the pipes of which were laid through every street. A magnificent reservoir, called the Houz-î-Shahpoor, was excavated and surrounded with apartments and cloisters for merchants and travellers. In all these works, including the King's mausoleum, which, however, was never completed, the Queen, according to the traditions and contemporary records of Beejapoor, took an active part, and was the King's constant companion in directing them. She was his chief almoner also, and her charity and sympathy for the poor were unbounded. In all this love and confidence she had no rival; the King had no other wife, nor yet a mistress.
There is a portrait of the Queen still, I hope, in existence at Beejapoor, taken before her husband's death by some Persian artist at the Court. It is a profile, exquisitely painted in body colour, with none of the stiffness which usually accompanies Oriental pictures. The features are regular and very beautiful; the eyes large, of a soft brown, with long dark eyelashes, the eyebrows arched. The mouth is very sweet and gentle in expression, and bears a slight smile; but there is a decided tone of firmness about the full round chin and graceful throat; and the forehead, though not high, has a breadth and power which must have been very remarkable. Altogether the Queen's is one of those faces which, once seen, is never forgotten; and the complexion is fair, with a faint tinge of carnation through the cheeks, which makes it almost European. Could Titian but have painted the face, it would have been one of the most perfect and interesting in the world. Her acknowledged beauty, her talent, and her sweet disposition, rendered her a popular favourite, and though local parties at Beejapoor were often seriously divided, all accepted her regency with enthusiasm.
Kamil Khan, a nobleman at the head of the Dekhany party, who had been employed as Executive Minister by her husband, was confirmed in that capacity by the Queen Dowager, while she herself superintended the education of the young King as her especial duty. Every day, except Wednesday and Friday, he was seated on the throne to hear the transactions of public business, accompanied by the Queen, who sat veiled immediately behind him; and for a time Kamil Khan behaved with every apparent respect and fidelity, but the man was base and treacherous at heart. His constant endeavour was to sow dissension between the Queen and her nephew; and his ill-usage of the people and general unpopularity reached such a pitch that the Queen, finding remonstrance of no avail, determined to remove him from office.
Kishwar Khan, a friend of her late husband, and whose character was hitherto above suspicion, was invited to Court, and on his arrival in the citadel with a small retinue, Kamil Khan, who had no friends, fled to the outer wall, leaped into the ditch, swam across it, and eventually passed the outer wall of the city by letting himself down by his turban. He was pursued, however, and overtaken in his flight towards Ahmednugger, and perished in a vain attempt to resist the parties sent to apprehend him. But it was a rare thing in those times to find any Minister of a native kingdom true to his duty and his faith. Submissive, and apparently faithful for a time, Kishwar Khan was unable to escape the temptation to which his office exposed him. He became, according to the history of the time, haughty and insolent, not only to the Queen, but to the nobles and officers of State, and she was strongly advised by many to dismiss him. It had been well had she done so at once. She had resolved to appoint Syed Moostafa Khan, Governor of Bunkapoor, to the office, but her desire was frustrated by a horrible and base act of treachery. An order under the Royal seal was secretly written by Kishwar Khan, and despatched to Bunkapoor to a confederate, who, in concert with the officers of the garrison, and believing the purport of the Royal order to be true, put the unfortunate nobleman to death.
The Queen's grief and anger at this infamous transaction, which had resulted in the death, under her own supposed order, of one of her oldest and most valued friends, knew no bounds; but she was helpless before the power of the Minister who held sway over the Dekhany portion of the army and the civil administration, and began to propagate rumours that the Queen was secretly instigating her brother, Moortuza Nizam Shah, now King of Ahmednugger, to invade the territories of Beejapoor, and even to annex the kingdom to his own. Pretending the utmost consternation on the subject, and fidelity to the young King, he rushed with disordered clothes into his presence, and demanded for the safety of the throne either that the traitorous Ahmednugger Princess should be put to death, or confined for life in a distant fortress. The young King bravely preserved his aunt's life, which was in imminent danger, at the hazard of his own; but he could do no more, and under acts of the most studied and offensive insult, Queen Chand was forced out of the harem, and publicly carried off to the hill fort of Sattara, one hundred and twenty miles distant.
The Minister had, however, only increased the love and sympathy of the people of the capital for their beloved mistress. He endeavoured to regain popularity by a splendid entertainment to the King; but as he rode in the Royal cavalcade through the streets he was hooted by the women, dust and ashes thrown upon him, and he was reviled as the oppressor of the Queen and the murderer of Moostafa Khan. On such occasions of violent popular excitement in the East, there is seldom time or opportunity for flight, and the Queen's partisans were not idle. Advantage had been taken of the absence of the largest portion of the army on the northern frontier to force her from the city; but these troops were now hurrying back to Beejapoor, and the very day before their arrival, Kishwar Khan took the King to one of the Royal gardens, not, as was believed by most, with the intention of putting him to death and usurping the crown; but, as is perhaps more probable, of concealing his own flight, for, leaving the King in the gardens, he fled at once towards Ahmednugger. He arrived there, but was refused shelter, and proceeding to Golconda, was slain by one of the relatives of Moostafa Khan, in revenge for his kinsman's death.
Delivered from Kishwar Khan, the young King at once sent for his aunt, and her office of Regent was resumed. The new Minister, Ekhlas Khan, was an Abyssinian, but, like all his tribe, violent and uncontrollable, and the factious dissensions which ensued between Dekhanians and Abyssinians, which led to bloody contests in the streets, encouraged the invasion of the kingdom by the Kings of Berar, Beedu, and Golconda, and the close investment of the city followed at a time when there were not two thousand troops for its defence. Ekhlas Khan, though turbulent as a Minister, was, however, a brave and faithful soldier, and the city was well defended. The Queen, accompanied by her nephew the King, went from post to post at night, though the weather was the severest of the rainy season, cheering, encouraging, and directing all. Two divisions of cavalry without the walls did good service in cutting off supplies and forage from the enemy and harassing their flanks; but at last twenty yards of the city wall fell down after a night of heavy rain, and an assault was imminent, but, owing to dissensions in the enemy's camp, did not take place. Meanwhile the Queen, taking advantage of the respite, not only guarded the breach in person, but collected the masons of the city, and setting the example herself, and freely distributing rewards, had the breach completed in time to prevent any chance of attack by storm. She had never left the spot by day or night, and all entreaties for her to spare herself from the inclement weather and take rest were unavailing.
The sore straits to which the kingdom had been reduced by the violence and obstinacy of the Abyssinian party now struck them so forcibly, that their leaders went in a body to the Queen and laid down their authority, beseeching her to do what she pleased with them so long as she and the King were safe. The Queen received this evidently earnest submission in a generous spirit. A new Minister, who possessed the confidence of all, was appointed, and in less than a month an army of twenty thousand of the old troops had collected at the capital. The Queen's devotion and spirited personal valour had inspired confidence in all, which now amounted to positive enthusiasm. The city had been invested for more than a year, its weak garrison was often mutinous and despairing, a large breach had occurred in the works, and without them anarchy prevailed throughout the whole kingdom. Yet this noble woman had redeemed all by her personal example, and the siege was raised, the several allies retiring to their own dominions. And now the Queen hoped for peace.
Alas! it was not to be yet. Dilawar Khan, one of the military commanders, attacked the Minister, and blinded him, usurping the Executive power. Many other atrocities were committed, and again the Queen's authority was reduced to the mere control of the palace and education of the King. But, in spite of many cruelties, Dilawar Khan was an able administrator; the resources of the kingdom were again developed, its Government began to be respected, and no more attacks were made upon its possessions. The events I have detailed were crowded into the space of four years, and as the King was approaching the age at which his majority could be declared, the Queen hoped that with it the rest and peace she so intensely longed for would come to her. But there was still more to be done.
Not at Beejapoor, but in her native city, Ahmednugger. The King Moortuza asked for the hand of Khodeija Sooltana, the sister of his ward the King, for his son the Prince Hoosein, and considering that all trouble at Beejapoor was at an end, the Queen Chand accompanied the bride elect, the Royal party being escorted by the choicest of the Ahmednugger cavalry. She had hoped to find peace in her old home; but she found that home more convulsed with faction, and more distracted within and without, than when she had left it. Her brother, Moortuza, always violent, had become in reality mad, and had attempted the life of his son Meerass, who, in revenge, attacked his father in the palace at Ahmednugger, and caused him to be suffocated in a hot bath. An account of this revolution is given minutely by the historian Ferishta, who was in command of the palace guards, and which is very dramatic in its details, but too long for extract. He does not, however, mention the Queen Chand, who must have been in the fort at the time of the tragedy. The new King did not long survive this act of parricide, and, after a few months, was seized by his Minister and publicly beheaded amidst the execrations of the people. After his death a frightful tumult arose: the fort was carried by the mob, and hundreds of persons of distinction, chiefly foreigners, perished. A period of anarchy then ensued, when Ismail, a son of Boorhan, who was brother of Moortuza Nizam Shah, and, therefore, nephew of Queen Chand, was declared King; and Jumal Khan, head of the Dekhany party, constituted himself Regent and Minister. This revolution was opposed by Beejapoor and Berar, and the troops of the latter were defeated by Jumal Khan; but peace was concluded with Beejapoor, and Queen Chand, wearied by constant strife and atrocities which she had no power to control, was allowed to join the Beejapoor army then in the field, and returned with it, though with no authority, to the capital, there, as she trusted, to end her days in peace. She was received by the people with their former enthusiasm, and by the young King with no diminution of his old affection; but she took no part in public affairs, which, under the young King, were very prosperous. At Ahmednugger other revolutions followed with which this tale has no concern. Ismail, who had succeeded, was, after some time, attacked by his father, Boorhan, who had obtained the aid and sympathy of Akbar, Emperor of Dehly, and was deposed, and Boorhan himself reigned till his death in 1594 in comparative peace. He was succeeded by his son Ibrahim, a weak, violent prince, and the fortunes of the kingdom will be understood from the course of the present story to its close. At Beejapoor Queen Chand lived in peace, and only assumed local authority at the request of her nephew whenever his temporary absence was necessary in tours of his dominions or in the field.
Such were the real antecedents of our "noble Queen." I trust they may not be considered out of place in a work professedly of fiction, but tend to make more intelligible that which would be otherwise, perhaps, strange and confused. Few in England know that the contemporary of our Queen Elizabeth in the Dekhan kingdoms was a woman of equal ability, of equal political talent, of equal, though in a different sense, education and accomplishments, who ruled over a realm as large, a population as large, and as intelligent, and as rich as England; a woman who, surrounded by jealous enemies, preserved by her own personal valour and endurance her kingdom from destruction and partition; who, through all temptations and exercise of absolute power, was at once simple, generous, frank, and merciful as she was chaste, virtuous, religious, and charitable—one who, among all the women of India, stands out as a jewel without flaw and beyond price.
CHAPTER III.
THE EVENTS OF A DAY.
Abbas Khan had no intention of disregarding the Queen's directions to avoid the body of Abyssinian cavalry which he would have met if he had gone by Torwéh and the main streets of the city. It would have been pleasant, no doubt, to have exchanged greetings with old friends of all kinds, merchants and others, who lived in the great thoroughfare; and at one time he had thought of lodging the priest and his sister with a certain Armenian banker and jewel merchant who was well known to him; but the priest had expressed some doubt as to consorting with the Armenians, who were, as he explained, heretics in faith, and chances of disagreement were better avoided in a strange place. "No matter how humble they may be, we should prefer our own people. I have heard they are numerous in the city, in the service of the King, and have no spiritual guide among them," said the priest; and they rode on together.
Musing on his own affairs, and arranging in his mind how he should lay the whole best before his Royal mistress, Abbas Khan rode slowly on towards the city. Passing through the great cemetery known as the Roza, or Garden, in which the mausoleum and mosque of the reigning King were then in course of erection, and entering by the south-eastern gate, he had completely avoided the outer portion of the city, and was on the direct road past the citadel, to his uncle Humeed Khan's house, which lay to the north-west side of it, not far from the stupendous mausoleum of Mahmood Adil Shah, commonly known as the Gól Goomaz. This was, if we may call it so, the most aristocratic quarter of the fort. Here were the mansions of Ankoos Khan, of the Nawab Mustafa Khan, of Khawar Khan, and a host of other noblemen, all surrounded by pleasant gardens and courtyards, according to their pretensions. That of Humeed Khan was by no means one of the largest, but it was a substantial, comfortable residence, and its well laid-out garden was perhaps superior to most others in its vicinity.
Abbas Khan had sent on his own baggage and the priest's overnight, with a note to his aunt to announce his arrival; he was met, therefore, at the gate by his trusty steward and a crowd of retainers, and by several of the chief women servants, who, with trays containing mustard seed, flowers, spices, and small lighted lamps, waved them over his head, with cries of welcome; and bidding the steward see to the comfort of the priest and his sister, Abbas Khan passed on into the inner court of the Zenana, where his aunt, with her chief attendants, was ready to receive him.
And it was a warm welcome that the Lady Fatima accorded to her long absent nephew. She stroked his face fondly, and passed her hands over his person from head to foot, kissing the tips of her fingers; and at last, fairly casting ceremony aside, took him in her arms and embraced him heartily, holding him from her from time to time as if to assure herself that he was in very truth her own son. Fatima Khanum had, however, no real son; one had been born years ago who had died young; her two daughters were married, and with their husbands in different parts of the country, and the good lady had adopted Abbas, the son of her husband's late brother, as her son; and the boy had grown up before her, the foster-brother of the King so long as his age permitted of his living at the Royal palace, and afterwards with herself, until the service of war and of the State called him into active life, since when she had seen him rarely, and till the present occasion it was months since he had been near enough to ride home to see her.
"Yes, thou art the same Meeah," she said, as the tears coursed down her face, and an occasional sob of joy broke from her; "the same, only stronger and more manly. But take off thy heavy mail and morion, and sit here by me till thy bath is ready, and tell me all thy adventures. Nay!" she continued, as he was about to seat himself on his cushions, "not a word will I hear till thou hast bathed and eaten. I have provided for thy friends in the garden pavilion, where they will be quite private, and more at their ease than among us. Now away, and return as soon as thou canst, when thou art refreshed."
The return to his old luxuries was by no means unacceptable to the young man. The delicious bath, the offices of the eunuchs in attending him, and their skilful manipulations; the absence of his heavy mail shirt, greaves, and gauntlets, and the light fresh clothes ready for him, gave him a sense of relief such as he had not enjoyed since he left home months ago. Since then he had had unremitting active service in the field, and was, indeed, never at rest even for a day; for alarms were constant, skirmishes with rebel parties frequent, and anxiety always present that he might be outwitted or overwhelmed by superior forces. Nor was he quite easy about his men. Except ten retainers, all the household troops were with his uncle, and the rest of those under his command were at best uncertain, and often, indeed, insubordinate and mutinous.
For before the plans of Eyn-ool-Moolk were developed, the Beejapoor soldiery in the western part of the kingdom were much divided in opinion as to whether it would be most profitable to join the Prince Ismail's party, and to obtain the rewards in money, rank, and estates that were so freely promised; or to hold to their own old position in the State army, and be faithful. Abbas Khan's situation, then, had been a trying one in many ways; but it was one he had sought himself, and through all risk or positive danger he was determined to do his duty. His stern uncle would accept nothing less in any case, and under any failure would, he knew, cast him off for ever. Part of this we have explained before, but it is necessary that his position should be entirely known to account, for its peculiar interest.
I need not recapitulate the events which had occurred, and which, now refreshed by his bath and breakfast, and with his aunt's own hookah specially provided for him, Abbas Khan related with animation. His wound was long since healed, but the discoloration of the cicatrix showed clearly through the thin muslin tunic he wore, and the history of it was none the less interesting that it could be seen and felt. The Lady Fatima sat in an ecstasy, now weeping, now flushing with anger, fascinated by the detail as it flowed with an eloquence and power which were new to her; but when her nephew pressed her to tell him what account had been given of him by those who had returned and by general rumour, she was silent.
"I was sent for yesterday," she said, "by the Queen, who ordered me to tell you nothing. She expects you to-night, and purposes to tell you all herself; and you must bear me witness, by the love you have for me and her, that I have told you nothing. I sent a messenger to inform her that you had arrived, but she is still at Torwéh, and will not return till after the afternoon prayer, and you will not hear till then. Meanwhile many will come to see you, and you may hear something, but believe nothing till you hear it from the Queen herself."
"And why this mystery?" asked the young man; "why do thine eyes fill with tears? Danger is too familiar to me to dread it, and I know of no enemies but the faction of Elias Khan; what have I to fear from that?"
"I cannot tell thee, my son," said the worthy lady, her eyes at last fairly overflowing, "I cannot tell thee; danger I fear not for thee, but for thy honour and the fame of a noble house I do fear. Do not ask me more; when the Queen tells all to thee thou wilt know how to act. Now go forth into the audience hall, and sit there. Many have come to see thee, and may tell thee somewhat of the common gossip; but the opinions of an old woman like me are little worth, and I have said already that I am under promise to tell thee nothing. She, the Queen-mother, loves thee, Meeah, and she is wise beyond the wisdom of men. Now go, and forget what I have said."
We do not suppose that Abbas Khan's mind was much assured by this mystery. Arrival at home, after a long and painful absence, is a time to look for sympathy and for a joyous welcome; yet, after his aunt's loving reception, there ensued a painful reticence which was entirely unexpected, and foreboded something intensely disagreeable, if not positively dangerous. But this depression did not last long, and gloomy thoughts disappeared before the pleasant gossip of the crowd of visitors who poured in as the day drew on. How much he had to hear of old companions, of their fortunes and misfortunes, of political events, and the progress of public affairs! He expected, perhaps, some allusion to his own proceedings; but, beyond congratulation on his recovery from his wound, nothing was said of any moment, or that could excite the smallest suspicion; and, so far, he was assured. The Queen would return from Torwéh in the evening, and had convened a full Court for to-morrow, in which some business of importance was to be transacted, but what it was had not transpired.
So after his visitors had departed, Abbas went into the small mosque for the afternoon prayer; and this finished, he strolled into the garden, where the priest and his sister awaited him with profuse thanks at the comforts he had bestowed upon them, and the kind hospitality of his aunt.
"Maria has been with her a long time," said her brother, "and she presses us to stay; but we feel that Christians residing in a Moslim's house would be out of place and inconvenient to you, and in this bigoted city might bring obloquy upon you. We have, therefore, made arrangements with the artist, Miguel de Furtado, whom you kindly sent to us, to lodge with him. And as, by order of the Queen, an empty mansion, which lies close to this garden, has been given him to reside in, we shall all be able to live together in comfort. His wife, and sister, and children are with him; and among them and others, our countrymen, we shall live happily, so long as our presence is needed, and with your permission, noble Khan, we will remove there in the evening."
Indeed, it was an arrangement which suited every one. There was evidently truth in the good Padré's remark, that obloquy might attach itself to Abbas Khan's family if they entertained a Christian priest and his sister as guests. Miguel Furtado was a person much respected, and was then employed in the decoration of the chambers of the Asar Mahal, and was treated with much consideration. He had originally been a stenciller of ceilings and room panels in his native country, and had been engaged at Goa; but the Royal offers from Beejapoor were too attractive to be refused, and when decoration there became fashionable, he found ample employment and remuneration for his work in the palaces and private mansions of the city; and the paintings still to be seen in the Asar Mahal, though sorely faded and obliterated, are yet distinct enough to be easily followed.
The muezzins had barely proclaimed the evening call to prayer from the mosques around, including that in his own garden, when he was informed that one of the messengers of the Palace desired to see him; and, bidding his friends farewell for the present, Abbas Khan returned to the house, and in his own private apartment awaited the Queen's message. The Mirdha, or Court usher, who delivered it, seemed as mysterious as everyone else. He looked right and left, then over his shoulder, to see if any one followed, made a profound obeisance, and, stooping down and covering his mouth with his scarf, whispered,—
"The Queen Mother desires to see you, my lord, about the first watch of the night, when the night council is over; but you are to come before that, and be in attendance in case you are wanted. Perhaps," added the man, "my lord had better come well armed, though not so as to excite suspicion, and with a few followers."
"I thank thee for thy caution, Meer Sahib," said the young Khan. "Surely thou wert ever careful of me, even when I was a wild boy; and now cares come on me, and warnings of danger which are not to be put aside heedlessly."
"Nay, God forbid there should be danger to my lord, and in presence of the asylum of the world," replied the man; "but precaution is needful in one who has enemies, and the passages of the Palace have not been safe on some occasions."
"Good!" returned the young man, "I will be careful. And the Queen is well?"
"She rode to-day, my lord, as she did when she was a girl with her husband of blessed memory, and brought back her hawk's quarry. Ay! and when she spoke of old times to us as we sat by her side, there were many eyes wet with tears. And what should we do here, my lord, with Dekhanies and Abyssinians ever ready to fly at each other's throats, and duels in the streets as common as ordinary greetings, but for her?"
"Between Dekhanies and Abyssinians?" asked Abbas Khan.
"Nay, not so much, but among themselves; and the Dekhanies have been the worst by far. 'Twas only a few days ago that nine of them, Bhylmees and Siah Chuttrees, were lying dead and dying between the citadel and the great well; and one survived, who will be tried in the Adalut, and we hope beheaded for an example. The Queen has vowed to put an end to this shameless license. But I must depart, my lord. Fail not to come, and I will be ready at the entrance of the private audience room to await you."
"I will be there without fail, Meer Sahib, and will be cautious," was the reply. Abbas Khan saw at once that more than ordinary care was necessary. Before the Queen, indeed, there might be no danger; and yet even her presence or the King's was no safeguard against deeds of violence; but in the precincts of the palace, and especially at night, there was little security, save that which resulted from a man's own personal bravery and caution. As the time drew near, then, at which he must proceed to the palace, Abbas Khan dressed himself with unusual care, selecting a very light but extremely flexible shirt of Italian chain mail of exquisite temper, completely dagger proof, which he could wear under his ordinary costume without chance of notice, and the lightly-quilted yellow satin tunic, indeed, completely concealed it. Into the folds of his turban also he twisted a chain of steel links, which could not be noticed, and which protected his head. Thus secure in his person, a light sabre usually worn at Court completed his equipment; and a rich brocaded muslin scarf tied round his waist, and a handsome Cashmere shawl over his shoulders, formed a costume appropriate to his first visit to his Royal mistress. From the house guard of spearmen he took six, and his trusty standard-bearer, Yasin Khan, with four others of the household cavalry, composed his escort. He had inquired about the men who had been with him in the skirmish, but only a few had returned home, reporting him dead, and had been sent on to his uncle with other drafts for the main army, which was still in the field. Of the rest he could hear nothing, but he trusted to discover them as time wore on; though it was only too probable they had joined the rebel forces of Eyn-ool-Moolk and the young Prince.
From his house to the main gate of the citadel was only a short distance; and though it was dark, the light from his two torches borne before him was ample. As he entered the citadel by the bridge over the ditch, the gloomy, narrow passage and traverses were lighted up by the torches, though the dark battlements above seemed to frown upon him as he passed under the lofty archway of the gate. Within, the officers of the guard, whom he knew, greeted him kindly and with a hearty welcome; and he passed the deserted Hindoo college and the streets which led up to the Palace itself, meeting crowds of accountants and officials of all degrees on their way home after the labours of the day. Not far beyond the gate of the Royal treasury the old messenger who had brought the Queen's order advanced to direct him, and informed him that the Queen was in her private audience chamber with some of the Executive Ministers, and that he was to wait in the ante-chamber till he should be called; and bidding the groom in charge walk his horse about till he should require it, and his escort to keep together, Abbas Khan dismounted, and entered the door which led to the Queen's apartments.
He was in no humour to converse, though the loquacious old Mirdha, and others of his acquaintance, crowded around him with humble greetings. Strive as he would, Abbas Khan felt as if he were approaching some crisis in his life which he could not avert, and to which—even though it might be death—he must, as a true Moslim and soldier of the State, submit without question. Several of the Ministerial officers passed out as he sat: the Peshkar, or Hindoo Ministers of Revenue and Finance, with their bundles of papers tied up in coarse red cloth; the head judges, civil and criminal; the Superintendent of Public Works, and the Kotwal, or head of the police of the city, with his deputies; the Secretary of Correspondence, and others—the whole representing an immense mass of public business of many kinds. But every night, ere she slept, the Royal lady had heard and passed her orders upon all, and signed the documents and warrants presented to her. It was some labour for a woman, mentally as well as physically, for during the whole of every day, from early morning till the afternoon, with but little intermission, the current business of the State was constantly before the Queen. No accounts were kept more accurately than those of the State as to its revenues; and though there might be laxity in some respects if contrasted with a modern standard, yet in the main it was systematic and regular, and the old revenue settlements of Beejapoor often met with in the country are more minute and more practically useful than can easily be credited.
Abbas Khan had not to wait long before the first watch of the night had sounded from the gongs of the citadel; the curtain of the Royal chamber was drawn aside by the eunuch in waiting, and he was directed to enter into "the presence." All the Ministerial officers had withdrawn, but the blind and venerable Ekhlas Khan, Hyat Khan, the head Kotwal of the city, who had first denounced Eyn-ool-Moolk's conspiracy, and had rendered service during the short rebellion, and Kureen-oo-dein Chishtee, the head of the orthodox religious party in Beejapoor, who was the Queen's spiritual adviser as well as the King's, and might be termed keeper of the Royal conscience—a man from his calling and position bigoted, but in the main just and reasonable as he was eminently charitable and benevolent. All these persons were seated near the cushion which formed the throne, and seemed to be in earnest conversation with the Queen as Abbas Khan entered, and with the necessary respectful salutation kissed the foot of the throne thrice, and, presenting the hilt of his sword to his Royal mistress, stood before her in an attitude of humble expectancy, as the Queen, with a gracious smile, bade him welcome.
CHAPTER IV.
THE EVENTS OF A DAY.–Continued.
The Queen was seated in her usual place in the beautiful room which Abbas Khan had known from his childhood, and where for years he had been the fellow-student and joyous playmate of the King. She was dressed in her usual Court costume, a white muslin robe of the Persian fashion, with a filmy white muslin scarf over her head, lightly edged with gold tissue ribbon, which, passing over her head, hung down over her right arm. She was not unveiled entirely, but the almost transparent muslin, of which the covering of her face was composed, allowed her features to be distinctly visible to those who sat near her. They seemed to the young man even softer and more tenderly beautiful than they had appeared in her hunting dress; and though he had been long absent, he did not observe any change, for she was to him, in his intense love and admiration for his foster-mother, the most beautiful woman, in his eyes, that he had ever seen. There was no alteration in the Royal seat, in the room whose clustered shafts, rising from the corners and sides in slender columns of the whitest polished stucco, looked like marble, and spread out into the bewildering tracery of the roof, while the spaces between the shafts were covered with the most delicate arabesque patterns, portions of which shone with burnished gold. There was no perceptible change in those who sat before him; was the difference then in himself, that all, except the Queen herself, appeared to regard him with suspicion?
"Be seated, Abbas Khan," said the Queen, in her soft, low voice. And with a courteous reverence to each of those present, which he was now at liberty to make, and which was kindly returned, the young Khan took his seat below the rest.
"Thou hast none but elders and friends to listen to thee," continued the Queen; "friends of thy father and uncle; tell them and me in what manner Elias Khan was slain, and why thou took refuge in Juldroog."
"If I might hear any accusation there is against me first, I might reply the better," answered Abbas Khan. "Nevertheless, if this be withheld from me, I am not ashamed to tell my Queen and mother, and my elders, the truth, as the Lord knoweth."
"Conceal nothing, my son," said the Queen, gently. "Even if thou hast chanced to err, speak freely and truly."
"Ye all know," he continued, addressing Hyat Khan, the chief Kotwal, "how Elias Khan was surprised by our lord the King, and how, as he did to Eyn-ool-Moolk, in the generosity of his heart, Elias was released. Ye all know, too, how he fled to Eyn-ool-Moolk and the Prince Ismail. Then he became a declared rebel."
We need not, perhaps, follow the young Khan's narrative of the skirmish in which Elias Khan was slain by him, nor the subsequent events which have already been detailed; nor how he declared he had been sick unto death, while he was living with his cousin, Osman Beg, till relieved by a holy Dervish, and afterwards a Portuguese padré, who had been sent to Juldroog by Dilawer Khan, of Moodgul, and whom he had brought with him under the order of the Queen herself. The young man's narrative was clear and distinct, and the frank manner in which it was given carried with it conviction of its truth to all who heard it.
"Yet," said Hyat Khan, "it was believed, it is believed, that thou wert the traitor, and slew Elias Khan treacherously, because he was thy rival."
"And," added the priest, with a scornful sniff, "that thou hast been consorting with the Nazarene woman, who is a reputed witch and sorceress."
Abbas Khan looked from one to another of the speakers, by turns, with amazement, his fair face flushing with excitement. "Who are my accusers?" he asked. "I can reply only to them on these points, and I pray the Royal justice that I may be confronted with them, and then let Alla judge. As to the Christian lady, let my Queen-mother examine herself; to me she is as a mother or a sister—a holy woman devoted to the service of God by her vows, as her brother is by his."
"As-tagh-fur-oolla! may God forbid!" exclaimed the priest, contemptuously; "as if a Nazarene infidel could devote herself to God! Touba! Touba!"
"While she was in Juldroog," retorted Abbas Khan, with some bitterness, "she was the guest of the holy Syud and his granddaughter, who lived below the fort, while I, weak as I was, resided on the top of the mountain, with my cousin. Till she had been sent for and welcomed by my aunt, the Lady Fatima, I had never seen her face, for she was always closely veiled."
"And she is in thy house still," cried the priest, with a sneer.
"Not so, holy father," was the quiet reply; "as soon as accommodation could be provided for them they went to the house of Miguel Furtado, the painter; and they are there now, waiting the Queen's pleasure."
"They say, too," said Ekhlas Khan, "that thou left thy people to be slain by rebels, and fled like a coward!"
"A coward! Nay, there are few living who dare use that word before me; but I respect their age and infirmity, noble Khan, and am silent. Nay, think; had I been a coward could I have slain Elias Khan? He was no puny antagonist; and could I have borne the wound I bear here," and he pointed to his breast, "had I been a coward?"
"Did he speak to thee?" asked Hyat Khan.
"He cursed me as he struck at me," replied Abbas Khan. "And it was a fair blow, sirs, as one would give in fight to another; but he spoke no more, for I clove him to the breast, and he fell dead from his horse. For many days I could not sleep, for he seemed ever present, with his dying look of hate; but the Syud Dervish gave me an exorcism which I wear, and that has delivered me from him. I have yet ceremonies to perform, as I vowed, at thy holy shrine, Huzrut," he continued to the priest, "and I will not delay them."
"An exorcism!" exclaimed the priest, "and from a poor Dervish; may I see it?"
"It hath never seen the light since he gave it to me, Huzrut," said the young man, respectfully; "but one so reverend and so learned as thou art may see it," and he unloosed it from a cord by which it was suspended round his neck. The paper was enclosed in a thin sheet of silver, which was easily opened, and the priest looked at the diagram and figures with wonder and admiration.
"No novice hath written this, but the writing is that of age. Happy is the possessor of it, for unto him can come no evil of man's device," said the priest, reverently placing the paper to his lips, his forehead, and his breast. "And a Dervish wrote it? Who is he, living in so lonely a place unknown?"
"He told me who he was, Huzrut, and I have no concealment to make. He is a State prisoner since the time of the first King, Ibrahim, by whom he was blinded, and has lived——"
"Protection of God!" interrupted the priest and Ekhlas Khan, in a breath. "Can it be the learned Syud Ahmed Ali, the physician?"
"Even so," replied Abbas Khan. "I was to speak of him to the Queen, and interest her in his fate; and I do so, most gracious mother, now;" and the young man rose, kissed the foot of the throne, and stood with his hand folded in an attitude of supplication.
"He is forgiven," she said, firmly, "since, under the help of Alla, he saved thee, my son. There will be many who remember him."
"Yes, many," said Ekhlas Khan. "I am one of his contemporaries who well remember how he was most trusted of all save the King, who, after he had banished the blind Syud, was never sane again."
"And he is blind, too, Abbas Khan! Merciful God! and hath passed forty years in that prison," said the Queen, from whose eyes tears of pity were stealing.
"Quite blind, mother; but he can write, as the priest has seen; and he hath a child, a granddaughter, who leads him about, as he doeth works of charity."
"We will send for them, Inshalla! to-morrow, and Osman Beg shall be directed to forward them with all honour. As far as can be, the sin of my house to him shall be redeemed. You will see to this, Hyat Khan?"
"Your orders are on my head and eyes," he returned, respectfully; "nothing shall be left undone. But will your Majesty, refuge of the world, pass orders on the Khan's case?"
"I see no order to pass, Hyat Khan," returned the Queen; "surely ye are satisfied?"
"We may be, but the people will not be," said the Kotwal, decidedly. "There is a blood feud now between the people of Elias Khan and Abbas Khan. Put thought of him aside, O noble lady, and prevent bloodshed, a renewal of the old scenes which brought the kingdom to the verge of ruin. There is a public durbar to-morrow, let the case be decided; I have force enough to prevent riot."
"I beg to represent," humbly said the fiery young Khan, who could hardly restrain himself as he bowed reverently before the throne, "let there be no doubt so far as I am concerned. I claim the ancient privilege of all accused persons, that, to clear my honour from stain, I shall be allowed the trial of ordeal. I am alone, except my poor stupid standard-bearer, Yasin. One follower, Jumal, died of his wounds at Narrainpoor, and one, Runga Naik, the Beydur, is far away in his own country; and as he is a Hindoo," he added, turning to the priest, "he might not be believed. I am alone before God, and to Him I commit myself. Do not hinder me, friends and elders; ye know I am right."
"No! no! no!" cried the Queen, stretching out her hands in turns to all around her; "let there be no duel, let not blood be shed. As ye love me, as ye love the King, let there be no duel; it will but increase the feud!"
"It cannot be avoided, lady," said the priest and Ekhlas Khan, speaking almost together. "This will be no brawling duel, but a solemn appeal to the All Just to decide the truth. It is a custom of the State which no one, not even the King himself, would dare to infringe. If I know his brave uncle's heart, he will be the first to rejoice that Abbas Khan offered of himself to undertake the risk."
"But," added Hyat Khan, "let there be no precipitancy, no previous challenge, which would cause new irritation. Let the issue rest upon the events of the durbar to-morrow, when, though rough words may be spoken, there can be no violence, and even the need may pass away. In any case, there is the sanctuary of the Ark if the Khan claims it.
"God forbid I should do so!" returned Abbas Khan. "The sanctuary is but for cowards, who have doubtful hearts; whatever be my fate, it is the judgment of the Lord, and I have faced it too often to fear. Mother! my noble Queen, be just, and deny not to me what is the privilege of all, even the meanest."
"Thou art weak, Abbas Khan," she said; "thy wound is still tender."
"It would take little to prove to thee that I am strong enough, mother," he said, with a smile; and, advancing to the foot of the throne, he took up both the heavy silver lampstands and held them out at arms length without trembling.
"Well done! well done! 'tis the feat of an athlete," cried the priest. "With a strong arm and that holy amulet he is safe, O lady; let it be as he wishes."
"Put your hand on my head, my noble mother," said Abbas Khan, "and fear not. Give me thy blessing as thou didst the first time I went into the field; and if I live, believe me true and honest; if I die, rejoice that Alla hath so dealt with one faithless and a coward. Mother, may I come near?"
"Come," she said, though she was weeping. "Chand Beebee commits thee to God;" and as he knelt down and put his head into her lap, she laid her hands solemnly upon it, and her lips moved; but they who watched her saw she was too much affected to speak.
"And now, friends," she continued, after a while, and as Abbas Khan took his seat once more, "we thank ye for your aid to-night, for your aid and your direction, and ye have liberty to depart. Bring the pán and atar," she called to the eunuch without, and in a few moments all had received their dismissal, and rose to depart, Abbas Khan giving the precedence to his elders, and assisting the blind Ekhlas Khan to descend the steps of the Royal chamber. Outside, in the street, were the palanquins and horses, with the attendants of the councillors; and one by one they departed, the priest saying as he took his seat in his litter, "Only satisfy me about the Christian woman, Abbas Khan, and I am your friend for ever. Alas! they are but too beautiful I hear."
"Let to-morrow pass, Huzrut," was the reply. "If I am spared thou shalt believe me true as my father, thy friend, was before me."
"Ameen!" said the holy man. "Ameen! may it be so."
For a minute or two Hyat Khan, who had a large retinue, stood conversing with the young Khan, suggesting that he should see him safely home. But this he gracefully declined, and Hyat Khan had put his horse in motion to give his companion room, and Abbas Khan's retinue had moved on into his place and awaited their master's coming. There was no one near Abbas Khan but his groom, who was holding the horse's head, and an attendant, who held out the stirrup for him to mount; his old friend the Mirdha and two or three of the eunuchs were looking on. Suddenly a man of tall and powerful frame appeared to leap from behind a buttress of the building, and exclaiming, "Elias sends you this!" struck at the young Khan with all his force. The blow was so powerfully dealt that his intended victim, helpless from his position, staggered, and, as his horse plunged, fell to the ground. Many who saw the transaction thought he had been slain, and for an instant the assassin was in the grasp of several of the eunuchs and others, but he shook them off with ease, and fled into the dark recesses of the citadel, where concealment was easy, or whence he might leap from the wall and swim the ditch, and so escape into the city. A few men with torches followed him, but returned after a vain search.
Had it not been for the shirt of mail, Abbas Khan had never spoken more, for the assassin's dagger would have reached his heart. As it was, except feeling a severe bruise, the young man was unhurt; but the shock had caused his old wound to bleed in some degree, and the warm blood, trickling down his chest, warned him to obtain assistance as soon as possible, and the good Padré was close at hand. As he was about to mount his horse one of Hyat Khan's attendants, looking on the ground, had found the assassin's dagger, and it was at once recognised by all. The point had broken off with the force of the blow, and was found where Abbas Khan had stood. As Hyat Khan examined the weapon, he declared it to be that of Yacoot, the chief retainer of Elias Khan, and commander of his body guard, who was a native Abyssinian, and had brought the weapon from his own country.
"He cannot elude me," said the Kotwal to Abbas Khan. "Ruffian as he is he hath long been notorious for his crimes and violence. But thou hast had a narrow escape, my friend, and mayest thank the Lord and thy good mail for thy life; but, hark! the Queen calls; go, I will wait for thee," and, ushered in by the eunuch, Abbas Khan was again in the Royal presence.
There was no formality now. The Queen stood in the centre of the hall, before the throne, with her arms outstretched. She had cast away her veil, and an agonised sob broke from her, while her slight frame still trembled with the horror she had endured when the first cry of "Abbas Khan is dead!" fell upon her ears.
"Thou art safe, Meeah!" she murmured, stretching out her hands, while he stooped and touched her feet; "tell me thou art safe!"
"I am unhurt, mother," he said, "though it was a fierce blow. I am always safe with thy blessing on my head; and see, is not that proved to-night? Inshalla! to-morrow will pass as safely, for I fear not, O my Queen! my heart is true and my cause just; but suffer me to depart, mother, for Hyat Khan is waiting for me."
"It is well," she replied, "else I should have ordered the Palace guard to escort thee home. Khoda Hafiz, may God have thee in his keeping! Ere morning breaks my thank-offerings will be at every shrine and mosque in the city."
"Thou wilt need to be well armed to-morrow," said Hyat Khan, as he parted from his young friend at the gate of Humeed Khan's mansion. "Make no show of preparation, but, I say, be ready. But for this vile attempt on thy life, I had thought all might pass off quietly, but Yacoot will have his faction at his back, and he is not a temperate one. Sleep and rest, for the events of the day have been exciting, and so may the Lord keep thee!"
Abbas Khan did not disturb his aunt, but retired to his private apartment; sending word that he was tired and needed rest, and would see her in the morning; and he at once sent for his good friend the Padré, writing him a line to bring remedies, for his wound had broken out afresh. Meanwhile he used what precautions he knew, and before the priest arrived the bleeding had nearly ceased. Francis d'Almeida, and the household of his worthy host, had long been asleep, but as the Khan's note was brought to him, he took some strong adhesive plaister and other remedies, dressed himself, and went at once.
"Have I understood thy writing?" he said, as he entered the quiet chamber where the young man was reclining on his cushions, bathing his wound. "Ah! I have always feared this; the bandages were loosed too soon; but let me see.... Ah, well, 'tis none so bad; only the old part which had been mismanaged. So lie down straight, and I will see what I can do."
"Thou art a good fellow," said the Khan, pressing his hand, "and I owe, next to life, the use of my arm to thee. I have been careless, and must take the consequences."
"Nay, there is more than carelessness here," said the priest, as he examined his friend's body; "there is a bad bruise under the shoulder which has been the cause of this. Why dost thou conceal it?"
Then Abbas Khan told him of the blow he had received, and of the dagger having been recognised. "All will be settled to-morrow, Padré, and in the afternoon thou and Maria will be sent for by my noble Queen. Ah! yes, that is easy now, and I shall rest. It must not bleed again, Padré, for these are stirring times, and I may be needed for duty, perhaps—who knows?—ere to-morrow passes."
"I will come at the first watch of the day to-morrow, and see if the bandages hold well; till then, sleep if you can, Khan Sahib, for there are some nervous symptoms about thee which may hinder thy recovery if they continue. May God keep thee! Thou wilt not sleep the less soundly for a priest's blessing." "Let him sleep till he wakes of his own accord," he continued to the head eunuch of the chamber, "and do not wake him. I will be here ere the first watch close."
Abbas Khan slept soundly. All anxiety as to the future was past; his way was clear before him, and it must be death or life, as the Lord willed, which is the true solace and comfort of every devout Mussulman. In his dreams, too, once more came the memory of the Dervish and her who had watched over him that memorable night, and who again seemed to be near him as an angel of Paradise, and ministering to him tenderly.
CHAPTER V.
THE ORDEAL.
Abbas Khan slept soundly and refreshingly. As he woke long after his usual hour, his first action was to stretch his arms to the full, and he was gratified to find that the blow he had received had left no permanent pain or stiffness. The bandages put on by Francis d'Almeida were firm in their place, and the wound felt easy. He remembered that he was not to open them himself, or allow them to be meddled with; and on his attendant informing him that the worthy man had already arrived, he was desired to send him in, and keep out everyone else, and in a few moments the Padré entered.
"I trust you have slept well, my lord?" he asked, after the usual salutations had passed. "You did not suffer from the wound, or the blow upon your back?"
"I slept as a child sleeps, my friend," replied the young Khan; "never stirring, and with no pain; and had most delightful dreams. They appeared so real too, that when I woke I seemed to see sitting by my bedside, where thou art, the figure and the lovely face of her who had given me sherbet in my dream, as she did during the first night I saw her, when the sun fever had stricken me down, and I was nigh unto death. It was a happy omen for the day, Señor Padré."
"May it be fortunate to you," said the Padré, smiling. "And she you thought of—pardon the liberty—was Zóra, the granddaughter of the old Dervish. Ah, poor Zóra! Maria, my sister, loves to speak of her, and loves her truly. You have not heard of her?"
"No," replied the Khan; "but I have not forgotten what I owe her and the old man. I spoke to the Queen about him last night, and a retinue will be sent for him as soon as it can be prepared. When I was at Juldroog he told me his history, and I found it confirmed at once by two of the Royal councillors—old men who knew him well. I will tell you of it another time; but Zóra may have told it to your sister?"
"No," returned the priest, "she cannot have known it, or she would surely have mentioned it. They were like elder and younger sisters; and there is not a night as we pray together that I do not ask the Virgin's blessing on her. Dear child! she used to speak much of thee, my lord, to my sister; and she was so beautiful."
"Of me!" cried the young man, eagerly; "of me! What did she say? What did she tell Maria?"
"Do not excite yourself, my lord," said the priest, gravely, as he now began to examine the dressing of the wound, "else I may do hurt. When she arrives you may perhaps meet her. In truth, I know nothing. And I should have been more cautious in what I said," he continued, blushing. "Think not upon it, my lord."
"It is no use thinking of the girl, Padré Sahib, for it is not likely I may ever see her, and—but no matter. How do you find the wound?"
"Better than I expected," was the reply; "much better. My lord is in excellent health and strength. The muscular development is great," he continued, stroking down the powerful arms; "the livid appearance of the blow behind has gone. I will take off some of the upper bandages and replace them with lighter and easier ones, and my lord will be able to use his arm more freely. Forgive me the question, but was that blow from behind a stab? Nay, conceal it not from me."
"It was, Padré Sahib, a coward blow as I was mounting my horse; and but for a suit of Genoa mail I wore, I had perished."
"And your people apprehended the assassin?"
"No, he escaped in the darkness; but he had fallen and dropped the dagger, and that is witness against him."
"So he is known?"
"As far as his dagger is concerned he is, and is champion of the party of the man I slew, Elias Khan. To-day will decide the question, and all the nobility and officers of the durbar will be present. I would you could see the noble sight; but you are unknown, and had better remain quiet, for it is impossible to say when the Queen may send for you and for Maria."
"In my country there might be an honourable appeal to arms in such a case," said the priest, musingly. "It is a savage custom, but one which satisfies many."
"We have the same here, Señor."
"I understand," replied the priest, the tears rising to his eyes, "and can be secret. If thou art wounded send for me. I will come instantly, and may save thee pain. Meanwhile all is safe and secure in regard to the wound; but the bandages may be strained, and if so, suffering will follow. Take my blessing, noble Khan," and the good priest, kneeling down by the Khan's bed, prayed fervently.
"I am grateful for thy affection and thy blessing," returned the Khan, deeply moved, "and will be careful; but do not mention this to Maria."
"Not even to Maria," he said; "and I will be ready."
"Then Zóra has not forgotten me," thought Abbas Khan, as he mused for a while before he rose; "and that was why she came to me in that sweet dream last night;" and as he shut his eyes and thought of her, the scenes at the mountain fort seemed to be repeated. But it was time to rise, and the soft smile on his bright face lingered there as his attendant Oomur entered, who could not help remarking it.
"May the day be happy and fortunate to my lord!" he said, making his usual profound reverence; "he had happy dreams last night, and rested well?"
"Indeed I had both, and feel strong and refreshed; and I thank you for your good wishes, Oomur."
"The Lady Fatima has inquired often for you, my lord; and once came and looked on you, but she said you slept like a child, and had a happy face, and were not to be disturbed. Now your bath is prepared, and your breakfast also."
"To which I am ready to do ample justice, I assure you. Where is Deenah, the armourer? Bid him come hither; I will follow you directly."
Deenah was in the ante-chamber, and entered with the mail shirt hanging over his arm.
"I have looked over every link of this, my lord," he said, after touching his master's feet, "and it is sound now," and he looked up significantly.
"Here, my lord, there was a dint, which had displaced two of the rings, but none are cracked or broken, and I have made them as good as ever. Mashalla! what workmen those were who made it; what temper in their steel! I am trying to imitate this, but my work will be clumsy. Look, my lord, you cannot see the place where the blow was; but I found some blood where the mail had touched your wound, and have sewn a little soft silk padding over it, and there can be no chafing now. My lord will wear this to-day."
"Yes, Oomur, my other suit of armour is too heavy for one with a partly open wound; and this is just as secure, thou sayest?"
"More so, my lord," was the reply; "against any sword or dagger blow it is perfect protection, and yet so light that it would not fatigue a boy. And what sword will you take?"
"The one I bought from the Portuguese merchant, who said it was Spanish. I have a fancy for that to-day."
"Nor will it fail you, my lord, if there be need. It is quite ready, and I put a fine edge upon it only two days ago. Yes, it is a rare weapon, and there is none like it in the armoury. On foot or on horseback, it is alike useful. If I may, I will bring it."
"Not now, Deenah, I am too hungry; have it ready for me when I dress for the durbar. I have no other orders, except that I shall ride Sooltan to-day, and that I do not require heavy caparisons. The light new set which hath hardly been used will suit me to-day exactly; those of green velvet."
Abbas Khan was soon attired in his morning dress of light muslin, and his skilful barber's operations had removed every straggling hair from the yet tender beard and moustachios, and given a new beauty to his face, while the rakish tie of the beautiful brocaded scarf which he had wound carelessly about his head, gave his handsome face an additional charm.
Very different was it from the pale shrunken features of the period of residence in Juldroog, or even from the anxious expression upon them with which he had visited the Queen the night before; and as he entered his aunt's apartments, the easy swinging gait, the cheerful smile with which he returned the salutations of the grave old eunuchs and the women servants, seemed so different to what she had seen on the preceding day, that his venerable aunt rose with a cry of joy that she could not suppress, and folded him in her arms.
It is not the custom of Mussulmans in India to congratulate any one upon improved personal appearance, for that is considered unlucky; but the blessings the worthy lady poured upon her adopted son went nigh to exhaust the names of saints in the Mussulman calendar, while she vowed thank offerings to every shrine in Beejapoor.
"Lallbee has tried to remember every dish thou art fond of," she continued; "and thou must eat well, for thou hast a long day before thee, Meeah."
"And an eventful one, mother," he said, earnestly, "as I will tell thee presently. Wait till I have eaten."
What a breakfast it was! The old cook was a Persian by birth, and was mistress of her craft; and not only her national dishes but those of the Dekhan were perfect under her skilful hands. She would not be denied the privilege of bringing in the milk pilao, which she esteemed her chef d'œuvre; and, after blessing the young man, by passing her fingers over his face, and cracking her knuckles against her temples, sat down near the edge of the white cloth on which the dishes had been placed, and sometimes selecting a choice morsel herself, and feeding him with it, encouraged him to eat, and watched the gradual disappearance of the viands with a satisfaction that could not be repressed.
But even appetites like the young Khan's cannot endure long under such circumstances; and, after a hearty meal and ablution, he betook himself to his aunt's cushions, where her own hookah was brought to him, and, asking her to send away all the servants, he told her what had happened the night before, omitting nothing, not even the cowardly stab he received which had proved harmless.
At times the dear lady wept plenteously, but silently. She had been a brave soldier's wife from her childhood, and had often sent him to the field when there was little hope of seeing him again. Even now he might be in the heat of battle any day, and was old, with only a portion of his original strength and vigour; and what could she do but pray for him and commit his safety to the Lord?
So it was now. Precious as Abbas Khan was to her, she at once declared that he had decided wisely; that malicious tongues would be silenced, and his honour, and that of the noble house he was heir to, freed from even a suspicion of unworthiness. "Go, Meeah," she said, "I have no fear—none. As thy Royal mistress hath blessed thee, so also do I;" and as he kneeled before her, she put her hands on his head and prayed fervently.
"And now, mother," he said, "in case my fate is against me, and I fall, weep not, for thou wilt know I was unworthy to live. Yet I have but one request to make of thee, mother; one only. I have discovered that it was the old physician Syud Ahmed Ali, who was blinded and banished long ago, who saved my life at Juldroog; and his granddaughter, Zóra-bee, watched by me. She is but a child, mother, and for what she did I would see her safe. The Queen will despatch messengers for the old blind man to-morrow, and she will be with him. But think of her being alone in this evil city, all beautiful as she is, and what chance hath she of escape?"
"She is no unworthy leman of thine, Meeah, I trust," said the lady, doubtfully. "Swear that to me!"
"Mother! mother!" he returned, reproachfully, "it were better I had never spoken. Oh! darling mother! what have I said that thou shouldst suspect me?"
"I was watching thee silently in the night, Meeah, and thou wert dreaming of her. 'Zóra! Zóra!' escaped thy lips, and thy mouth was full of love."
"Yes," he said, gently, "I did dream. She came to me, mother, as a Houri of Paradise, with the celestial nectar, as she gave it to me the night I was stricken down with fever and my wound, and I hope she will tell thee of this herself some day. She is but a child yet; and if thou dost not believe me, ask Maria and the priest about her, they perhaps will satisfy thee more than I. Have I ever been a wanton profligate, mother?"
"No! no! no!" cried the lady, bursting into tears; "thou art true; never hast thou been false; and I believe thee fully. When didst thou ever deceive thy mother? Yet if thy dream had been of thy horse, thine armour, the jewels of thy house, or thy lands, I could have understood thee; but for a girl of whom I had never heard, what could I think, Meeah!"
"If I had been like others, mother," he returned——
"No matter," she said, interrupting him. "I tell thee before a woman's wiles and love the best have ever been weak; why not thou, my son? And yet I promise thee to do thy bidding. If Maria speaks for her she shall be to me as a daughter."
"Enough! enough! beloved mother!" cried the Khan, joyously clapping his hands; "what I have told thee was the only weight on my heart, and that is gone. As for property, surely my uncle is my heir, and may do as he pleases with it. If God wills I should die, what need I to think of it?"
"And I shall see you ere you depart, Meeah?"
"Hardly so, mother; a glance of regret or tears in thine eyes might unman me, and I need all the composure I can command. Embrace me and let me go." And she did so, as he wished, without any outward display of emotion, though her heart ached for her boy.
Abbas Khan attired himself carefully. His turban was of gold muslin brocade, and the links of the Milan chain were twisted into it as on the night before; but three twists were passed over his ears and under his chin, which protected his neck and side of his head completely. The shirt of mail over his muslin tunic felt easy and light, and the padding of the armourer prevented pressure on the wound. Over all he wore a splendid suit of rich cloth of gold of Benares, and jámahs, or petticoat-like trousers, which belonged to the full court dress, but which could be easily cast off if necessary.
Hastily he examined the beautiful Toledo blade he had ordered to be ready for him, which was a broad, double-edged rapier, sharp as a razor on both sides. It was stiff, yet in the highest degree flexible under pressure, and might have been, probably was, once the weapon of a matador. Its quaint handle of inlaid gold balanced the sword exactly, and it was a weapon which inspired confidence in strong, skilful hands. Abbas Khan bound his waist with a rich brocaded scarf, the ends of which hung down on the right side, leaving the sword handle free. His retinue was ready, and at the lucky moment, directed by the family priest, he mounted his gallant horse, with a shout of "Bismilla!" echoed by all his followers, and passed on to the citadel.
He entered the gate with many others, strangers, friends, and acquaintances, and made his way direct through the main thoroughfare between the buildings attached to the Seven-Storeyed palace, and the main edifice in which lived ordinarily the King and his Queen Taj-ool-Nissa, Sooltana, the Queen Dowager, and other members of the family; and finally reached the Futteh Mydan, or plain of victory, a large open space which lay before the great archway of the hall of audience. This is now covered with brushwood, stones from the buildings around, and masses of crumbling masonry; but then it was smooth and clear. Not even a pebble was discernible among the short soft sward, which at that period of the year, the end of the monsoon, was in its greatest perfection.
It presented a noble and picturesque spectacle. Such was well calculated to stir the young soldier's heart. Around, at a little distance, stood the elephants and retinues of those who had already arrived. Some of their rich caparisons were of cloth of gold, others of European cloth, embroidered with gold, or thin native leather also embroidered. On their backs they bore howdahs; some large with canopies, some smaller without coverings, but all bearing the weapons, bows and arrows, lances, or matchlocks of their owners, with their distinguishing banner or pennant.
Many of the noble beasts were excited and restless, and were trumpeting loudly, and blowing dust into the air with their trunks. Others were gentle and quiet, and steady, while their drivers made them play off the little tricks they had taught them. In front of the elephants were a line of horses, for the most part splendidly caparisoned; and from their armour, the morions and coats of mail of the riders—from spear heads and sword hilts by thousands, as well as from the many dresses of cloth of gold, the blazing sun flashed with a power and brilliance that the eyes could hardly endure.
It was a sight at once most gorgeous and impressive in itself; the costumes and banners of the ranks of infantry, interspersed with the cavalry—Dekhanies, Arabs, Persians, Oozbaks, Circassians, Tartars of many tribes, Georgians, Turks, and many other foreigners; while a strong division of Beydurs, in their peculiar costume of conical leather caps, and leather drawers, which has been described on a former occasion, were by no means the least conspicuous or remarkable of the motley assemblage.
"Oh, that Runga Naik were among them!" thought Abbas Khan, as he looked towards the body, whose peculiar long-barrelled matchlocks and broad-bladed spears formed a glittering mass, from which the wild, quivering notes of their brass trumpets sounded at intervals. "Oh, that Runga were here!"
"Go, Yasin," he continued, to his standard-bearer, "see if Runga Naik is among the Beydur people yonder; if so, tell him I am here." But Runga was not there, and it was not known where he had gone; he had taken his men from Korikul and proceeded westwards.
Abbas Khan dismounted at the foot of the steps of the corridor from which the great hall was entered at several points by open arches, and passing by that which was nearest to his "misl," or appointed place, he paused for a few moments before he took his seat, and looked around him.
The vast area was entirely filled, except the middle, by rows of nobles and superior officers, and leaders of the divisions of tribes and troops, and formed a striking scene. All the civil officers, heads of departments, secretaries, and the like, were attired in the usual court dress of white muslin, with simply tied turbans of the same. All else, and they were by far the majority, wore, like himself, vests of cloth of gold, with the loose petticoat trousers, which, when seated, completely concealed their persons from the knees downwards. The varied colours of the cloths of gold, and of the numberless brocaded muslins, scarfs, and turbans, especially where a ray of sun lighted upon them, was dazzling and gorgeous in the extreme, and led the eye to the effect outside, where, from the basement of the hall to the utmost limit of the open space, the divisions of the troops stood in their appointed places.
On the opposite side of the hall sat the grim-looking body of Abyssinians, for the most part clad in black chain mail, worn over their ordinary costume; and in a prominent place among them Yacoot, their champion, who, as he saw Abbas Khan enter, twisted what moustache he possessed with a defiant air, as, indeed, did most of the rest. On his own side, more towards the entrance to the hall, sat the chiefs of the Dekhanies, attired with all the brilliance they were famous for; and he saw that Hyat Khan, the head Kotwal, who, with the chamberlains, had marshalled the assembly, had placed between the several doubtful factions strong parties of Arabs, Turks, Persians, and other foreigners, so that collision between any was nearly, if not quite, impossible.
It was a spirit-stirring sight, and Abbas Khan, as room was made for him by an old friend, looked around him proudly. I shall have a goodly company to witness my fate, he thought, and be the issue as the Lord wills.
The audience hall is still in existence, but only as a noble ruin. The central arch of the façade is ninety-two feet in span, and of noble height, and the hall is perhaps two hundred feet in length. It is plain in character, but the groined shafts spring up to support the roof in graceful contour, like those of a Gothic church, and were once covered with a profusion of gilding which has been scraped away. The King's throne on the upper dais, which was reserved for princes of the blood, religious dignitaries, and prime ministers of the State, was empty; but a small balcony, which projected from the main wall of the edifice, was usually the seat of the Queen, and it remained to be seen whether the actual Queen Taj-ool-Nissa would use it, or whether the Queen Regent would, as was frequently the case, occupy the throne on the dais.
The suspense was not of long continuance. After a short interval eunuchs were seen to pull down the transparent blinds of the balcony, which denoted the presence of the Queen, and almost at the same time the Queen Regent's slight figure was seen to issue from one of the archways on the basement, and, accompanied by a crowd of eunuchs and Royal slaves, seat herself upon the Royal throne. The whole assembly to a man rose to greet her, and the hearty shouts of the troops outside proclaimed the presence of the honoured and beloved lady.
Then the business of the day commenced. Some accounts were signed and audited, some messengers from foreign States bearing despatches were introduced by the Mirdhas, or ushers. Some officers, who had been on service and had returned, arose, and, their names and style being proclaimed, went forward, kissed the steps of the dais, and presented the hilts of their swords to the Regent.
As Abbas Khan advanced and passed close to the ranks of the Abyssinians, he was greeted by a scowl of fierce eyes, and murmurs which could hardly be repressed. But he took no notice, and resumed his seat without interruption.
"They will not be quiet long," said his friend, in a whisper; "they have vowed to be avenged on thee to-day for the murder, as they call it, of Elias Khan; but thou hast many friends, Abbas Khan, and should have no fear."
"Fear!" cried the young man; "I know no fear in this matter. Wait and see; but let there be no violence before the Queen."
Then the ushers called for petitions, and many were delivered to them to be read before the Queen; but, as one approached the Abyssinians, Yacoot arose, and in a loud, harsh voice, and broken Persian, mixed with his own uncouth speech, demanded permission to lay his petition at the foot of the throne.
"Let him approach and speak," said the Regent, in her sweet, clear voice, which was heard through the hall like a silver bell; and, indeed, at that moment a breathless silence had fallen on the whole assembly.
"He cannot speak so that the fountain of justice can understand," said a secretary, "but the paper can be read. Lay it there," he continued to Yacoot.
"She will not get it, someone will take it away; I will give it to herself only," was his rude reply, as he drew his bulky figure to its full height, and twisted up his moustachios with a fierce gesture.
"Let him give it," said the Queen Regent, stretching out her hand; and, apparently satisfied, Yacoot knelt on a step of the dais and delivered it into her hand.
"Now I have seen you receive it," he said surlily; "and we look to you for justice, and I will take it if not given."
At any other time such a threat would have had short shrift, and a bloody ending under the great Adansonian trees, where traitors and other criminals were beheaded, and several persons advanced to arrest the speaker; but again the Queen's voice was heard.
"He means me no evil," she said; "he is only rude and unmannerly; do not molest him; let him go to his place, and he will hear his paper read."
But Yacoot seemed to have no intention of moving, and might have created a disturbance, but that two or three of his brotherhood dragged him away and forced him to sit down. The petition was then read, and purported to be from the whole of the Abyssinians, claiming justice from the State for the murder of Elias Khan, and charging Abbas Khan with rebellion and cowardice in having acted on behalf of the rebel forces.
"Let Abbas Khan reply," was the Queen's answer. "Let him come before the throne and speak freely and truly;" and the young man came forward, with the same easy, graceful step which all knew, and not least his noble mistress.
We know what he told the assembly, addressing them as his friends and fellow-soldiers, praying them not to spare him if he were guilty. "The headsmen are near," he said, "and if God wills it I am ready to meet my fate. What matter how I die for my Queen!" and he said this with so smiling a face and so frank a manner that a murmur of applause ran through the assembly. But the Abyssinians rose to their feet as one man, and their swords, as if by one action, flashed from their scabbards.
"He hath a cunning tongue!" cried one. "We will cut it out of his mouth!" shouted Yacoot.
"Your Majesty had better quit the hall," said Hyat Khan, the Kotwal, joining his hands, "and leave these brawlers to me. Whatever happens, Yacoot must be arrested for last night's work, and I have force enough."
"Ah! Khan," returned the Queen, "that would be the sure way to begin bloodshed. No, I will remain as I am; I have no fear."
Meanwhile Abbas Khan stood where he had taken post as he addressed the assembly. He was exactly in front of the Abyssinians; but their action had no effect on him. Calm and unmoved, he felt secure though a hundred flashing swords were threatening his instant annihilation; but no one struck at him.
"Listen, all of ye, friends and brother soldiers," he cried in his manly voice, which echoed through the hall. "I am accused of murder, of which I am innocent; and of cowardice, which is worse. With my honour I can live, but without it I must die under your contempt. I appeal, therefore, to our time-honoured custom of ordeal, to be decided before our noble mother and Queen. Who of my enemies will meet me now? Even now, in the field yonder, and let Him who knows all hearts decide between my enemies and me. Behold, I am ready!"
Then arose from all parts of the hall cries of "We believe thee, noble Khan; thou hast no enemies among us."
"But I have enemies, nevertheless," he continued; "and, but for an accident, I had not been alive before ye to-day; and even in the precincts of the Palace I was not safe last night from attempted assassination. I see the man before me who struck the blow; he is the champion of the Abyssinians, and it is he I would meet in fair combat unto the death."
"I will not fight him," said Yacoot to his friends; "he bears a charmed life, else——"
"Thou art named Yacoot; and he means that thou wert the would-be assassin. Behold!" cried Hyat Khan, taking the remarkable Abyssinian dagger from his waistband. "Ye all know to whom this belonged; and, look, the point is broken, yet Abbas Khan is safe!"
"He is a coward; I will not fight with him," murmured the Abyssinian.
"Thou art accused of attempt at murder, Yacoot," said one of his companions; "'tis thou who art the coward, if thou refuse to fight Abbas Khan. Either to him and to God or to us thou must answer, for we tolerate no assassins."
"Come!" cried the young Khan. "Come, Yacoot! art thou afraid? Come, like a brave man as thou hast been. Nay, if thou dalliest, will this rouse thee?" and drawing his sword he slightly touched his antagonist on the shoulder, and escorted by a body of his friends turned to depart.
CHAPTER VI.
THE COMBAT.
Abbas Khan walked slowly out of the hall to the steps where his horse awaited him. There he removed his court drawers and pulled on his boots, which had been fastened to his saddle. "Thou must be steady and sure, good Sooltan, to-day," he said, stroking the head of his beautiful charger, who rubbed his nose against his master's breast, and answered by a low, loving whinny; and the young man, vaulting lightly into the saddle, loosed his shield from the saddle-bow, drew his sword, and paced gently round the front of the vast assembly, welcomed by shouts of generous greeting, and cries of "God keep thee safe!" His adversary did not delay to follow. He had replaced his turban with a steel morion, which flashed in the sun, but otherwise nothing relieved the dull black of the heavy chain mail by which he was protected. Many remarked that he looked livid as he mounted his horse, and that he impatiently jerked the bit of his fine Kattywar charger till it became violent and unmanageable; and he rode at full speed, as if it were his intention to overwhelm his antagonist. But Abbas Khan was too good a horseman to be suddenly surprised, and he evaded the charge by a dexterous turn of his horse, which required that the Abyssinian should follow him into the centre of the field, where now the combat commenced in earnest. The Abyssinian had armed himself with a short, very heavy, and much curved sabre, his favourite weapon, which was known by the epithet of "Kussab," the butcher, from the deadly wounds it inflicted; and he had also a large shield, which nearly covered his person, and with his armour rendered him almost impenetrable. But Abbas Khan now felt the advantage of his longer weapon, by which and his skilful horsemanship he was able to keep his enemy at bay.
Who can describe the changing nature of the combat? Each now charging, now retreating, wheeling round, again closing, while blows enough to have beaten down the guard of a stronger man than Abbas Khan were showered upon his shield. The Queen saw the whole from her seat, and her lips were moving in silent prayer as she looked towards the whirling figures, and clasped her hands; and the faint shrieks and cries from the balcony above proved that excitement existed there also. But the combat was of no long duration. Abbas Khan had tried his antagonist again and again, and almost despaired of finding a vulnerable point, when in a fierce charge by the Abyssinian he saw that a portion of his helmet at the side under his ear was open, and as the encounter continued he drove his long narrow sword through it with all his force. There was a gush of blood; and after reeling in his saddle, the huge champion fell to the ground heavily, and did not rise.
"He falls! he falls!" cried hundreds in the hall. "Look, noble lady," said Hyat Khan to the Queen, "he has fallen!"
"Who has fallen?" asked the Queen, faintly. She had been unable to look on to the end, for to her perception Abbas Khan seemed to have no chance before his enemy.
"Yacoot, the Abyssinian," replied the Kotwal. "Such is the wisdom and justice of the Lord. Ameen! Ameen!" and he hastened away to the spot. Yacoot was not dead, and was trying to speak; but he was too weak to rise.
"Some of ye tie a bandage round his neck," said Abbas Khan, "else he will die."
"Let him die," returned Hyat Khan. "Wouldst thou interfere with the sentence of the All Just and Powerful, Abbas Khan? Leave him in His hands. He hath met a soldier's fate, and that is more than he deserved. But what is that he is trying to get at behind, and clutches at though his fingers are stiffening? Take off his mail, some of ye, and untie his waistband. See, he is dead even now, noble Khan, and this is no indignity."
The searchers were well skilled in their work, and soon produced two humeeanas, or long narrow bags of soft leather, which appeared heavy with gold and silver coins, and which Hyat Khan himself took charge of; but there was another, broader bag, which appeared to contain a great number of papers and letters, some of which seemed to be in Portuguese writing and some in Persian.
"Give them to our Lady Mother yourself, Abbas Khan; they may be Elias Khan's, and, if so, we need no more," said the Kotwal, who handed the bag to Abbas Khan. "Come, we delay; and, by Alla! 'twas well we found them. Take that away," he continued to his men; "lay it on the grass without the gate; some of his people will get it buried."
The shouts, the cries of joy and congratulation, the peculiar yells of his friends the Beydurs, had been overpowering; and as Abbas Khan rode past, making his horse caracole and prance at every step, and giving his graceful salutations to all, the enthusiasm was unbounded. As he was preparing to dismount at the steps of the corridor, his old retainer, Runga Naik, rushed through the crowd to embrace his feet. "I saw him die! I saw him die, Meeah!" he cried, "and I have brought in the rest. Do as thou wilt with them, for thou art safe, O my lord, and my prayers have been accepted."
"All of them, Runga? All of whom?"
"The men that were with us at Kórla. One by one I have tracked them down, even to Belgaum. Look!"
As a space was cleared, loud cries of "Amán! Amán! Mercy! mercy!" broke from a crowd of captives tied together; and one of them, who had been Abbas Khan's duffadar, cried out piteously "Let me speak; let me speak before the assembly. I am a traitor and a rebel, and deserve death, but not before I have spoken, O my lord."
"Let me and my people take charge from thee, Runga Naik," said the Kotwal. "Thy men are weary and footsore."
"I thought to have been here yesterday, noble Khan, but it could not be done. Yet I am not too late, and the duffadar should speak before the Queen."
"Let him follow me," said Abbas Khan; "this alone was needful to complete all." And as he advanced into the hall, hundreds poured forward to greet him. Nor was the Abyssinian party less demonstrative than any of the others. Then the duffadar, humbly prostrating himself before the throne, gave a clear account of the skirmish at the first onset by Elias Khan. He, and his men whom he had gained over, deserted to the rebels, and, but for the confusion which followed Elias Khan's death, Abbas Khan could not have escaped. Yacoot had followed them for some miles, but eventually lost them in the dust storm.
"God has judged the right," said a venerable officer of the Abyssinian party, making a low obeisance to the Queen with tears in his eyes as he presented the hilt of his sword to Abbas Khan; "and we pray the Queen's and your own forgiveness, noble soldier, that you were falsely accused, and some day in battle we may prove our devotion to you."
But who can describe the thankful joy of the noble Queen, who, impatient to greet her adopted son, and with her eyes streaming with tears, and in a broken voice, blessed him as he advanced, kissed the step of the Royal dais, and bowed his head before her. "Again I bless thee, O true and faithful," she said; "and the Lord hath done justice openly and before all men. My son, may thy years be long and honoured."
"Ameen! Ameen!" said the chief priest, devoutly; "he is worthy."
"Let no one leave," cried the Queen, in her clear, sweet voice, which all heard. "Keep silence till your lord the King's letter is read."
It was very brief, but he wrote that all the army of Ahmednugger, headed by the violent young King who had just ascended the throne, was advancing upon him; that his own troops were suffering from sickness; and that all the men available in Beejapoor, that could be spared, should be sent under any leader selected by herself; and, at its conclusion, the Queen Regent rose, her slight figure appearing almost visionary among the crowds of warriors who rose with her.
"Nobles and warriors," she said gracefully, "when I name Abbas Khan for this service, can I choose better? Bismilla! let it be so." And as Abbas Khan took the leaf of pán which was handed to him, and turned to the groups behind him, and cried, "O friends, will ye accept me?" a shout arose through the vast building, and was taken up by the masses without with an enthusiasm beyond description. But what is there in life so fickle as the breath of popular favour?
"I must ask permission to return home for a while, mother," said the young man in a low voice as he stood by the throne; "but take this packet of papers which were found on him who died. My wound is uneasy, and needs my good physician's care. And as I saw there were Portuguese letters among them, I will bring the good Padré with me to the evening council. Do not allow them to go out of your own possession, they may be important."
"I will not," she replied. "Go, refresh yourself; I shall expect you and the Padré at the evening council."
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
LONDON: PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
AND PARLIAMENT STREET