As none of them advanced, and the Emperor began to knit his brows and show symptoms of displeasure, Shere Afkun already entertained a hope that the enterprise would devolve upon him; but, to his extreme mortification, three Omrahs stepped forward and offered to encounter the forest tyrant. Jehangire cast upon the bold Turkoman a glance of such unequivocal expression that his pride kindled, and he longed to show how little backward he was to engage the brindled foe; but as three nobles had first challenged the encounter, he could not set aside their prior claim to a distinction which they insisted upon striving for.
Upon receiving the approbation of their royal master, they severally prepared for the encounter, dismounting from their elephants, and arming themselves with sword, spear, and shield. Shere Afkun, fearing that he was likely to be rivalled, and that his fame would be tarnished by inferior men undertaking a conflict which by his silence he might be supposed to have declined, advanced, and presenting himself before the sovereign, said firmly: “To attack an unarmed creature with weapons is neither fair nor manly; it is taking an advantage of an animal which cannot plead against such injustice but by a fierce retaliation. Such is not in accordance with the character of the truly brave. All manual contests should be undertaken upon equal terms. The Deity has given limbs and sinews to man as well as to tigers, and has imparted reason to the former in order to countervail the deficiency of strength. Let the nobles of your imperial majesty then lay aside their arms and attack the enemy with those only with which the Deity has provided them. If they shrink from such an encounter, I am prepared to undertake it.”
Jehangire rewarded the speaker with a smile of gracious approbation; but his Omrahs, one and all, declined such a perilous contest, insisting upon the madness of the enterprise. To the Emperor’s infinite surprise and delight, the bold Turkoman instantly cast aside his sword and shield, and prepared to engage the tiger unarmed.
The circle of hunters, which had surrounded the forest tyrant, opened to admit the champion. The ferocious beast with which he was to engage lay at the root of a tree, snarling hideously as its enemy approached, erecting the fur upon its tail and back, passing its tongue every now and then over the terrific fangs with which its jaws were armed, but seeming ill disposed to commence the contest. Shere Afkun was stripped to his trousers, and his fine muscular frame, a model for an Indian Apollo, exhibited its noble proportions as he advanced cautiously but firmly towards his foe. The tiger lay upon its belly without attempting to stir, nevertheless giving evident tokens of a determination to retaliate if attacked. The ponderous paws projected from beneath its chest; and upon these it occasionally rested its head, until roused by the approach of its adversary. Every eye was fixed upon the scene; every heart throbbed with the strongest emotion of anxiety. The sovereign alone sat upon his elephant, apparently calm and undisturbed; but the deep flush upon his cheek showed that he took no ordinary interest in the approaching encounter. He did not utter a word as he saw the man whom he considered doomed to inevitable destruction march resolutely up to the prostrate tiger and strike it in the ribs with his foot. The animal, now excited to ferocious resistance, instantly sprang upon its legs, but crept backward with its face to the enemy and its belly to the ground. Shere Afkun advanced as it retreated, keeping his eyes fixed upon those of the enraged beast. At length the latter suddenly turned, and bounded forward; but was stopped by the spears of the hunters, who still encircled it at a distance, all armed to prevent its escape. Finding its purpose foiled, it again turned, and being beyond the influence of the Turkoman’s eye, prepared to make its perilous spring.
Shere Afkun now retreated in his turn, and, pausing near a tree, awaited the approach of his enemy. It instantly bounded onward, sweeping its tail above the ground with an uncertain motion, but without uttering a sound. The brave champion, who from experience was well acquainted with the habits of those animals which are the terror of the jungles and their immediate neighbourhood, well knew that the creature was about to spring. Placing his right foot forward, and planting his left firmly against the projecting root of the tree, he calmly awaited the menaced peril. The tiger crouched, and uttered a short sharp growl, projected its body forward with a celerity and force which nothing could have resisted; but the wary Turkoman leaped aside as the living projectile was about to fall upon him, and turning quickly, seized his baffled foe by the tail; then swinging it round with a strength and dexterity that astonished every beholder, brought its head in such violent contact with the tree, that for several seconds it was completely stunned. After a while, however, it recovered, but lay still and panting, not at all relishing, as it seemed, a renewal of the conflict. As the victory was not yet decided, Shere Afkun again approached the prostrate beast in order to rouse it to resistance. He kicked it several times, but it only growled, lashed its tail, showed its fangs—remaining perfectly passive under these acts of aggression.
The hero, tired of this indecisive mode of warfare, seized it again by the tail, and, swinging it round as he had already done, brought its head once more in stunning contact with the tree. The blow, though severe, did not produce the same effect as before; for the enraged animal, suddenly rising to the full height of its stature, turned on its aggressor with a savage roar, and seized him by the fleshy part of the thigh behind. As his trousers were loose the tiger was somewhat deceived, and therefore, fortunately, did not take so large a mouthful as it no doubt would have done had the limb been entirely naked. Shere Afkun instantly grasped it by the windpipe, and, squeezing it with all his might, soon obliged the creature to quit its hold; but with a violent twist it freed itself from the strong grip of its adversary, and instantly renewed the encounter.
The struggle now became indeed terrific, and the anxiety of the spectators increased in proportion. Jehangire could no longer control the feeling by which he was overborne. His parted lips, between which the tongue protruded with a quivering nervousness of motion, his eyelids so raised as to discover the entire orb of his eager, restless eyes, the tremulous aspect of his whole frame,—showed the extent of his interest in the issue of this unnatural strife.
By this time the tiger had again rallied, and having raised itself upon its hind-legs, struck both its fore-paws upon the Turkoman’s breast, tearing the flesh from the bone. Shere Afkun fell under the weight of this deadly assault; but, still undismayed, after a desperate effort he contrived to roll over upon his panting foe, now nearly exhausted from its exertions and by the severe blows it had received, and, forcing his hand between its extended jaws, griped it so firmly by the root of the tongue, that in a few seconds it lay strangled beneath his grasp. He then rose streaming with blood, pointed to his dead enemy, made a salaam to the Emperor, and quitted the field grievously lacerated.
The Emperor was astounded at the issue. The champion was borne home in a palankeen, and for several weeks his life was despaired of. To the surprise of Jehangire, Shere Afkun eventually recovered, though he carried the marks of the tiger’s claws to his grave. The royal rival was nevertheless determined not to forego his purpose of destroying this remarkable man, though he feared to do it openly. Meanwhile the hero went abroad, everywhere unattended, utterly unsuspicious of a design against his life. He was not conscious of having offended a human creature, and therefore did not suppose that any man living could desire his death. He lived in retirement; but whenever he appeared at court, which he occasionally did, he was always treated by the sovereign with marked respect and great apparent cordiality. This, however, was only to mask the most sanguinary intentions, which were no secret to many of the nobles, who, in common with their master, desired the destruction of a brave man because he was a hated rival.
Private orders had been given to the driver of a large elephant to waylay the Turkoman and tread him to death. The opportunity did not immediately occur, as the victim went abroad at uncertain periods; and though his movements were watched, it was found a difficult matter to come upon him at a favourable moment. One day, however, as he was returning from the public baths through a narrow street, observing an elephant approaching, he ordered his palankeen-bearers to turn aside and permit it to pass. As the huge animal came near, he at once perceived that there was no room for it to pass without crushing the palankeen, and thus endangering the lives of himself and attendants.