“Do you think so?” asked Akbar, pleasantly. His composure disconcerted her. Nevertheless, love for her eldest born and favorite son gave her strength.
“Yes,” she cried. “I would force no maid to wed where her heart is not set. It oft leads to evil.”
“Ah!” he answered, “you are becoming an old woman. Were I one also I might think like you.”
The kindly tone of his words deprived them of their sting. When he clenched an argument in such wise Akbar had a habit of stroking a large wart on the left side of his nose, a slight disfigurement which astrologers assured him was a most propitious sign. Gently rubbing the wart now he turned again towards Sher Afghán.
“Has delight rendered thee dumb?” he growled good humoredly.
“Not so, O King of Kings,” cried the young Persian. “Fearing that my ears betrayed me I was silent. When your Majesty speaks all tongues are stilled. I have but two possessions which I cherish, my sword and my honor. The one has always been and will ever be at your Majesty’s disposal; the other I fly to place at the feet of Nur Mahal.”
By this fearless utterance, Sher Afghán accepted the Emperor’s command and flung defiance to all others. Salaaming deeply, he withdrew. In the hush which had fallen on the assembly they heard him rush down the outer stairs, and, an instant later, the clatter of his Arab’s hoofs as he rode towards the gate showed that the wedding ceremony would not be delayed by any dilatoriness on the part of the bridegroom.
Akbar vanished. The Diwán, who had not taken any overt part in the scene, followed him, and the Sultana, without casting another glance at the brave array of merchandise, withdrew with her retinue.
Mowbray and Sainton were left gazing blankly at each other, but an official, knowing better than they the domestic trouble which was brewing in the royal household, advised them to repack their goods, as, in his opinion, the bazaar projected for the morrow would certainly be abandoned.
“I thought for sure yon sloe-eyed wench would bring us no luck,” muttered Roger when he heard Mowbray bidding their servants load up their mules again. “My mother always advised me to wed a homely wife if I wanted to be happy. Not that she was ill-looking herself, but I have heard her say that my father never had spirit enough to quarrel with anybody.”