“Sir,” he said, “if you buy our goods and give us good cheer we shall do that which those in your court ought to do every day, but fail therein most scandalously, I fear.”
“And what is that?”
“We shall pray to God for your health and happiness.”
Akbar grasped him by the shoulder.
“List, all of you,” he shouted. “Here is our Elephant showing his wisdom. By the Prophet’s beard, I regret, for once, that there is peace in our dominions, else you and I, Elephant, should go to the war ere ever you sailed away to your distant land. But we shall find sport, or my wit fails. You, sir,” he went on, speaking to Mowbray, “shall tell us something of the ways of your country when the Elephant and I have wearied ourselves. Meanwhile, the Sultana will buy your wares at your own rates. I judge as much by the cackle of women’s voices I heard as I came hither.”
By way of a joke he gave Sainton’s shoulder a farewell squeeze that would have dislocated many a man’s bones. Roger, pretending he had not felt it, stooped and picked up a small brass jar which he grasped around its narrow neck.
“Let me give your Majesty a reminder of to-morrow’s meeting,” he said.
The Emperor, seeing more in the words than their mere purport, took the jar. Roger had bent the brass cylinder into a double fold.
“Thanks, friend,” he said, quietly. “’Tis well it was not my neck which received that grip, else there would be a new ruler in India. And, by the Koran!” he added under his breath, “I am minded now of another matter.”