“Why, then, is one of the foreign preachers closeted with Jahangir since the ninth hour? Why hath this same preacher spread the rumor in the bazaar that you are spies, emissaries of a king beyond the black water who is sending armed ships to prey on our territories in the west?”
Here was unpleasant news, indeed. Mowbray must have looked his annoyance, because the other continued eagerly:—
“This black gown hath established too great an influence over Jahangir. Were he dead, and his brother Khusrow recognized as heir, all would be well, and the store thou hast made to-day would be quadrupled.”
“To whom do I speak?”
“I fear not to give my name. I am Raja Man Singh, and this other is the chief of Bikanir.”
“Why do you tell me these things?” said Walter, sorely troubled, for the men were grandees of high position.
“Because, in God’s name, if Jahangir comes in front of thy sword again, plunge it into him.”
Roger, who gathered the drift if not the exact significance of the talk, broke in in English:—
“If they’re athirst for Jahangir’s blood, Walter, bid them slit his weazand themselves.”
They evidently read his ejaculation as hostile to the Prince, for he from Bikanir murmured:—