So Akbar alone, the empty throne above him, occupied those empty steps at the foot of which his challenger crouched. Opposite, on the other side of the marble board the court, a blaze of colour and gems--save for a knot or two of Ulemas in their dark robes--stood ranged; while between them, immovable as statues, waited the living chessmen. The very horses of the knights, black and white, scarce moved a muscle, and the unwieldy masses of the elephants, which in the Indian game do the bishop's duty looked carved of stone. Black and silver, white and gold, each and all ablaze with black and white diamonds. The pawns (peons, footmen) cased in gold or silver armour each carried a pennant in black or white velvet embroidered in gold or silver; and the great castles or forts--also of gold or silver--were worn as corselets by huge giants of men, who each held aloft a royal standard of the Râjpût sun or the crescent moon of Mahommed.
Overhead the hard, blue Indian sky; as a background rose-red palace or grass-green trees; and through it all insistent, never ceasing, like the shiver of cicalas on a summer's night a low tremor of muted strings, and deadened drums.
"Challenge for the King, O Châran!" came Akbar's voice and on it, almost clipping the last sound, followed a blaring clang, as the great steel sword sweeping forward hit the marble floor. The sound echoed and re-echoed through the arches, almost confusing the wild chant borne upon it.
Ohí! the King,
Challenge I bring
Let every man
In the world's span
Do what he can
To best the King.
A faint shiver ran through the crowding courtiers, and Birbal standing in a group composed of the King's greatest friends and allies, looked round anxiously. As a rule these contests were foregone conclusions. To begin with, the King was undoubtedly the best chess-player in his dominions; then as a rule the games were generally of the most jejeune description--mere spectacles of games. But to-day some new interest seemed to make the spectators' faces sharp, and though he could scarcely see how even defeat could be construed into such failure as Akbar had meant in his challenge, he felt vaguely uneasy.
"Thinkst thou they mean mischief?" he said to Abulfazl.
The latter smiled. "Mischief? not they! Mirza Ibrahîm hath as ever, forwarded the schedule and the King hath seen it"--he laughed,--"'Tis an irregular opening, but the onslaught is trivial--an elephant's charge----."
He paused, interrupted by the herald on the other side who took up the challenge on behalf of the Emperor's court.
Birbal looked over to his master. He could scarce tell why, but he was not satisfied. To begin with, that master's eyes were too dreamy. Had he perchance heard that Prince Salîm, seeking consolation from Love, had been found drunk in Satanstown that morning? As like as not; some of those sour-faced holy ones of set purpose had told him.
Ah! if the next few days were but over. If this Râjpût betrothal had but gone so far that there was no drawing back!