"The nuptials could be simultaneous, Most High," interpolated the younger man, who was court lawyer. "It is a royal custom----"
"And the young lady is already betrothed," went on Akbar inexorably. "That in itself is sufficient. The King's promise is given in the first, her father's in the second. Akbar will break neither." And then suddenly resentment, perhaps a faint regret, seemed to come to him and his voice rose. "Lo! have I ever broken faith? Has not my yea been yea, my nay, nay?"
"Of a truth it has, Great Sire," answered the court lawyer deftly as his forehead once more touched the dust. "Yea! even beyond the ordinary faith of kings, since Akbar hath not shrunk in the past from rescinding orders he hath made in error. Will he not do so now? Will he not bow to Fate?"
It was boldness beyond belief, and both Birbal and Abulfazl stood aghast. Yet it was a master-stroke, for Akbar paled and was silent.
"Fate," he echoed at last, and the tone of his voice brought Birbal's to his ear in earnest entreaty--but it was too late. "So be it! Fate shall be the arbiter for this boy and this girl. Let her see to it!" His eyes lit up, a certain buoyancy seemed to lift him above the dull world. "I, Akbar, challenge her! Ye say Fate hath intervened. Let her intervene! If in the hours from dawn to dawn, she can make the King go back from his word in one thing, to her the victory! If not, to me."
The words rang out through the maze of arches in the Diwan-i-Khas. Then there was silence, till on the silence the King's laugh rang out. "Look not so solemn, friends--and foes mayhap!--Akbar, like all things else is in the hands of Fate."
But as Birbal went out with Abulfazl, he cursed and swore. "Aye!" he assented "'tis true enough. All things are in the hands of Fate; but wherefore should the King be in the hands of his enemies? They will strain every nerve----"
"'Tis but for a short time--from dawn to dawn." put in Abulfazl consolingly, "and we must strain every nerve also." Then suddenly his face softened. "Lo! I would not have him otherwise, Birbal. He is like a racehorse! The least touch of the bit of Fate and--for all his words--he chafes against it. 'Tis not Acquiescence, it is Defiance that wings his challenge."
"Aye!" grunted Birbal with a whimsical smile, "and a half-hearted belief that Love is all things."