Meanwhile the Emperor forwarded a letter to his royal consort, begging her to join him, speaking in high terms of the respectful treatment he received from Mohabet, and giving her assurances of a kind reception; urging her at the same time to forget past causes of animosity, and lay aside all thoughts of further hostilities, that the empire might not be involved in the horrors of a civil war. He besought her to follow him to Cabul, whither he was then proceeding; declaring that there was no restraint put upon his actions, but that he was allowed to direct his march wherever he thought proper.
Noor Jehan, seeing at a glance the desperate condition of things, determined to comply at once with the Emperor’s commands, being satisfied that there was more danger in resistance. She therefore came to the resolution of choosing the least of two evils, and, setting out from Lahore, joined her captive husband on his march towards Cabul. Mohabet sent a strong detachment to meet and pay her the honours due to her rank; but she was not to be deceived by so flimsy an artifice. It was evident to her that she was surrounded by her future guards; nevertheless she affected to receive the ostensible compliment, and met the Emperor with a cheerful countenance.
She was immediately subjected to a rigorous confinement. Her tent was surrounded by troops, and she was not permitted to stir abroad. Mohabet accused her of treason against the state, and insisted that so dangerous a criminal should be instantly put to death. “You who are Emperor of the Moguls,” said he to Jehangire, “and whom we look upon as something more than human, ought to follow the example of God, who has no respect for persons.”
CHAPTER IX.
Mohabet, feeling that his future safety depended upon the death of Noor Jehan, had sent a soldier to despatch her. The minister of destruction entered her tent after midnight, when she was plunged in profound repose. Her beautiful limbs were stretched upon a Persian carpet, the rich colours of which glowed in the light of a lamp that burned upon a silver frame near her bed. Her fine features were relaxed into that placid expression which sleep casts over the countenance when no disquieting dreams disturb and excite it into muscular activity. The slow and measured breath came from her lovely bosom like incense from a sacred censer. Her right arm, naked to the shoulder, and on which the scar of the wound she had lately received appeared still red and tender, was thrown across her bosom, showing an exquisite roundness of surface and delicacy of outline that fixed the attention of the rugged soldier, who hesitated to remove so beautiful a barrier to that bosom which his dagger was commissioned to reach. He stood over his victim in mute astonishment. He was entranced by her beauty. The recollection of her undaunted heroism disarmed his purpose, and he dropped the weapon of death. Noor Jehan was roused by the noise;—she started from her slumber. Seeing a man in the tent, she sprang from her couch, and, eyeing him with calm disdain, said,
“I apprehend your purpose; you are a murderer;—Noor Jehan is not unprepared to die even by the assassin’s dagger. Strike!” she said sternly, and bared her bosom.
The man was overcome; he prostrated himself before her, pointed to the fallen weapon, and besought her to forgive the evil purpose with which he had entered her tent:
“I am but an humble instrument of another’s will.”
“Go,” replied the Sultana with dignity, “and tell your employer that your mistress and his knows how to meet death when it comes, but claims from him the justice awarded to the meanest criminal. The secret dagger is the instrument of tyranny, not of justice. I am in his power; but let him exercise that power as becomes a brave and a good man.”
Mohabet was not surprised, though greatly mortified, when he found that his purpose had been thus defeated. He therefore sought the Emperor, and insisted that he should immediately sign a warrant for the death of his Sultana. Jehangire knew too well the justice of the demand, the wrongs which she had heaped upon the man who made it, and his own incapability of resistance, to disobey. Not having seen the Empress for some time, he had in a degree forgotten the influence of her charms; and prepared, though with reluctance, to comply with the sanguinary requisition. When the awful announcement was made to the Sultana, she did not exhibit the slightest emotion. “Imprisoned sovereigns,” she said, “lose their right of life with their freedom; but permit me once more to see the Emperor, and to bathe with my tears the hand that has fixed the seal to the warrant of my death.” She was well aware of the influence she still possessed over the uxorious Emperor; and, her request being complied with, she attired herself in a plain white dress, with the simplest drapery, which showed her still lovely figure to the greatest advantage, and was thus brought before Jehangire in the presence of Mohabet. There was an expression of subdued sorrow upon her countenance, which seemed only to enhance the lustre of her beauty. She advanced with a stately step, but did not utter a word; and, bending before her royal husband, took his hand and pressed it to her bosom with a silent but solemn appeal. Jehangire was deeply moved. He burst into tears, and raising the object of his long and ardent attachment, turned to Mohabet, and said in a tone of tremulous earnestness, “Will you not spare this woman?” Mohabet, subdued by the scene, and feeling for his sovereign’s distress, replied,