CHAPTER X
“Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.”
Shakespeare, “King Henry IV.”
Jahangir received them in the Hall of Public Audience. If he wished to inspire respect by a display of magnificence, his appearance and surroundings were well calculated to achieve this purpose.
The fine building itself supplied a fitting shrine for regal splendor. The Arabesque roof was borne on Byzantine arches, which gave free access on three sides from a delightful parterre. It was closed on the north, as here it rested against the higher ground which contained the private apartments. A raised marble canopy stood out from the center of the built-in side, the floor being some eight feet above the mosaic pavement of the hall. This retreat held the Emperor’s throne, to which a small door communicated from the back.
The throne was elevated on a dais of silver steps. Four massive silver lions bore an inner canopy of gold, curiously wrought and emblazoned with jewels. Tavernier, the French traveler, himself a goldsmith, estimated the value of this wonderful structure at so many millions sterling that later historians have held the sum named to be incredible. Nevertheless, it made a brave show in the clear light of an Indian interior in the cold weather. Not less striking was the figure of Jahangir himself. Robed in white muslin, his belt, simitar, dagger-hilt, and scarf literally blazed with diamonds. On his turban reposed a Persian diadem with twelve points, each terminating in a large diamond of purest water and most brilliant luster. Within a mass of sparkling stones in the center was set a shimmering pearl of extraordinary size and value, while a necklace of smaller but exquisite pearls served to enhance the lustrous ornament in his crown. Tavernier, probably with reasonable accuracy, valued the diadem alone at two millions sterling.
Grouped near him on the steps of the dais, or on the platform, were several court dignitaries, amidst whose gorgeous robes the Englishmen’s eyes quickly discerned the cassock of Dom Geronimo. A host of officials and nobles of lesser importance thronged the floor of the great hall, and the scene was one of glittering animation at the moment the two friends arrived, the only somber and sinister note being the unrelieved black robe of the Jesuit.
That they were expected was demonstrated by the sudden stilling of tongues and craning of necks as they approached. All men made way for them, as men will, though the path be to the steps of a throne, when they think a fellow creature is doomed to instant death or torture. It was common knowledge that these two had not only thwarted Jahangir’s amours and laid violent hands on him in the process, but that he was their creditor, in his father’s behalf, for a considerable sum of money. What better reasons could there be for hanging the pair of them forthwith?
Yet, some prudent souls, noting the fearless glances cast around by Sainton and his less colossal but powerfully built companion—thinking, perhaps, that the Emperor might call on his faithful subjects to seize these two—edged away from the vicinity. It would be much easier to yell than to act when Jahangir cried “Maro!”[D]