CHAPTER III.
Soon after she had been betrothed to Shere Afkun, the lovely Tartar was seen by Prince Selim, afterwards well known as the Emperor Jehangire, who became so desperately enamoured of her, that imagining there could be no obstacle to her union with a prince of the blood, he applied to his father Akbar, for his consent to espouse the beautiful daughter of the high treasurer, Chaja Aiass.
The Emperor sternly refused his consent; at the same time upbraiding his son with seeking to degrade himself by a mean alliance. Prince Selim was abashed; and, to his mortification, the accomplished Tartar shortly after became the wife of Shere Afkun.
Selim was from that moment the implacable foe of his successful rival. He could not bear to hear the hated name mentioned in his presence, and, with cowardly vindictiveness, determined upon his destruction. He kept these feelings a secret from his father, who esteemed the Turkoman too highly to approve of the prince’s hostility towards him, and had, moreover, expressed his satisfaction at the latter’s marriage with Mher-ul-Nissa. Selim, however, secretly fomented jealousies among the Omrahs against the popular as well as imperial favourite. These were easily excited; for there will never be found wanting persons ready to traduce those to whom they are conscious of being inferior in moral excellence; and especially in courts where ambition is the ruling passion, nothing can be less difficult than to provoke the envy of men whose sole aim is aggrandisement, and who are therefore naturally disposed to think ill of any who happen to contravene those aims, or to cross the path of their ambition. The prince, therefore, had little difficulty in accomplishing his purpose. He secretly disseminated calumnies to the injury of Shere Afkun, who in disgust retired from court into Bengal, where he obtained from the governor the vicegerency of Burdwan, a considerable district in that province.
Here he lived undisturbed until the death of Akbar, which caused the sincere regret of the whole nation, who in mourning the decease of their Emperor deplored the loss of a great and a good man. When Prince Selim became sovereign, his passion for the daughter of Aiass revived in full force. The restraint being removed under which the smothered flame had been so long and so painfully suppressed, it burst forth with increased fierceness. He was now absolute; and being determined to possess the object of his disappointed love, he made advances towards a reconciliation with Shere Afkun; but the brave Turkoman for a time resisted all his importunities, perceiving their object, and resolving to part neither with his wife nor with his honour, as he could not resign the one without relinquishing the other. His strength was prodigious, and his bravery equal to his strength; his integrity was unimpeached, his reputation high, and he was alike feared and respected by all classes. Upon every occasion where danger was imminent, he was foremost to encounter it; while his desperate valour was the theme of many a romance and of many a song. His bodily vigour was so great, that he had slain a lion single handed; from which circumstance he obtained the cognomen of Shere Afkun, or the Lion-slayer, his original name being Asta Jillo. He was, however, no less esteemed for his virtues than for his bravery; and Mher-ul-Nissa fully appreciated his rare endowments. She was proud of his reputation. To her the Emperor’s feelings were no secret; but she avoided his presence, in obedience to the wishes of her husband, who was not altogether without his suspicions that the hostility which the new sovereign manifested towards him was solely on her account. He continued, therefore, in the province of Bengal, without visiting the imperial capital.
Not long, however, after Jehangire had ascended the throne of the Moguls, Shere Afkun was invited to court, whither, after repeated solicitations, he repaired, trusting to his own high reputation for security against any tyrannical exercise of the sovereign power. Upon his arrival he was much caressed by the Emperor, in order to lull suspicion. Open and generous himself, he suspected no treachery in others. He left his wife at Burdwan, not willing to expose her to the chance of attention from the sovereign, that might keep alive former predilections, and renew his royal rival’s criminal hostility.
The young Emperor’s court was splendid in the extreme. He was fond of state; but hunting being his passion, a day was appointed for the chase. All the chief nobles of the empire attended, hoping to have an opportunity of exhibiting before their royal master their skill and prowess in a pursuit at all times extremely dangerous in eastern countries. A vast train, swelling to the number of an army, issued from the gates of Lahore. The cavalcade was prodigious. Upwards of five hundred elephants, upon which rode the Emperor and his court, led the van towards a jungle where the quarry was expected to be roused. The howdah of the royal elephant was covered by a silken canopy, and its whole caparison profusely ornamented with precious metals. Thousands of spears glittered in the sun, the rays of which were reflected in streams of glowing light from those various arms borne by this motley cavalcade. The neighing of steeds was mingled with the busy hum of men who thronged to the scene of exciting enjoyment.
Shere Afkun accompanied the court on horseback, armed only with the sword with which he had slain a lion—having by that act immortalised his name in the annals of his country. His royal master showed him a very marked respect, occasionally consulting him respecting the chase; thus aggravating the jealousy of the nobles, already sufficiently fierce against him. He received the Emperor’s courtesies with a cold but modest respect, not entirely forgetting former unkindness, though without suspicion of future injury.
The royal party at length entered the jungle, where the forest haunts of the lion and tiger were shortly explored. The hunters soon enclosed a mighty beast of the latter species, of which Jehangire being apprized, immediately proceeded to the spot. He began to entertain a hope that the period so long desired was arrived when he should have an opportunity of exposing the life of his former rival in an encounter from which the latter would have little chance of escaping. Seeing the tiger at a short distance, surrounded by hunters, lashing the ground with its tail and giving other tokens of savage hostility, the despot demanded of those around him, who would venture to attack the ferocious beast?
All stood silent and confounded. They had not expected such a proposal: nor did they appear to entertain any wish to expose their lives in a conflict in which more danger than glory would be reaped.