It was ready now, and Akbar was eager to see it. But the little party escorting the jeweller and his charge had not arrived that morning, so Akbar had come out alone to a favourite vantage point below the actual snows, whence the whole Panjab plain rising an almost incredible height in the sky, could be seen.
It was like a shield, he thought suddenly, as he noted the palpable curve of the horizon; higher in the middle, lower at the sides. That was the curve of the world's surface, of course; still it reminded one of the curve of a great shield set between these holy snows of Himâlya and the world beyond. Aye! for the blue of that distant plain was darker nowhere, was lighter nowhere; and everywhere alike it was damascened with threads--broader, narrower--of gold.
The land of the Five Rivers! A fair land indeed! A broad battle shield to the rest of India.
"Lo! there is gran'dad!" came a voice from behind him, and he turned at the sound of little pattering feet to see his grandson, a child of about two, stumbling swiftly over the broken ground toward him.
"Have a care Fair-face," (Khushru) he called, holding out his arms, and the child with a laughing crow, hurrying still harder, almost fell into their shelter.
"Truly! thou art as two peas in one pod," gasped a breathless voice, as Auntie Rosebody, completely done by hurrying up the hill, flung herself on the ground beside her nephew. She looked not a day older with her gray hair stuffed away into a Mogul cap, her petticoats tucked away into full Mogul trousers. So, had she roamed the hills, as a girl, with her father Babar, and now, in her old age, she set an example to all other ladies of the camp. Umm Kulsum, ever her close companion, followed on her heels, dressed in like manner, and stood looking down on the little family party.
"Lo! nephew! at times it takes me," said the old lady, nodding her head sagely, "to leave the scapegrace--who hath, nathless been behaving more reputably of late--out of the bargain altogether! The boy is more like Jalâl-ud-din Mahomed Akbar than Salîm ever was, and that is a fact! But"--seeing a frown come to Akbar's face--"I am not here to fashion likeness, but because," here she drew her face into a decent pucker of sorrow, "having been--God forgive me--Aye! and Umm Kulsum too--part responsible for its theft--truly, nephew, your old aunt feels ever about her neck the bowstring that should have been drawn, and was not, thanks to----"
Akbar interrupted her with patient gloom. "We have talked this out many times, oh! most reverend aunt. After all there was no mischief done." He thought ever as he spoke of that Arch of Victory standing deserted on the Sikri Ridge.
"But there might have been," interrupted Aunt Rosebody, hotly. "Take not penitence from my soul, nephew. 'Tis good to have sins to repent when one grows old and there are no more to commit. So, having been in the tale at the beginning----"
Akbar looked pathetically at Umm Kulsum, who had sunk to her knees in contrition.