“I!—I am Kshatriya! Among you there is no caste.”
“There is pride.”
Rai-Khizar laughed. “Thou’st a tongue, slave. It were my duty to have thee whipped. But this day is a day devoted to the gods. Begone, then. Get thee a morning meal and wait for a message from me. Yet remember this, my Asra: here there is no prince but me. If thou anger me, I shall have thee killed.”
“You dare not!” rose to Fidá’s lips, but he checked the words; for it was indeed time that he learned his place. And he stood with lowered head as the Rajah turned away and left him.
This encounter strongly affected Fidá’s state of mind. Reconsidering the conversation, he perceived that he stood the debtor of the man whose slave he had become—an infidel dog, a worshipper of images and Jinn. It could not be denied that Rai-Khizar’s toleration was greater than that of any Arab chief; and Fidá felt bitterly the humiliation of his leniency. Yet in all the Rajah’s mildness there had been a dignity that inspired in the Mohammedan an unwilling admiration and respect.
Perfunctorily, Fidá finished his prayers, and then acted upon the first of the two commands of his master:—he left the palace in search of food. It was some time, however, before he found it, and then only in the house of slaves, where a number of his fellows were beginning the morning meal. Among them was Ahmed, who sat a little apart from the chattering herd, apparently watching for some one. At sight of Fidá he rose eagerly and ran forward, greeting him with marks of respect which the Asra reproved. Then the boy led the way into the interior of the dirty, barren house, in the centre of which was a wood fire, overhung by a large iron pot filled with a bubbling mass of millet. Near by, on a stand, was an immense bowl of clarified butter, or “ghee”, which, mixed with the meal, formed the staple as well as the sacrificial food of the low-caste Hindoo throughout India. Fidá waited in silence while Ahmed handily procured him a dish of the none too appetizing mess. And then, eager to escape the vile and smoky air of the interior, the two hurried out into the shaded veranda, while the other slaves were eating.
It was now a not unpleasant scene that the captives looked upon. The day was hot, gay with sunshine and the chatter of birds, sweet with the perfume of the jessamine vines, which were still covered with flowers. The slave-house faced the angle of the palace formed by the juncture of the central building and the south wing. Directly opposite them was a long, wooden-pillared arcade called the veranda, running the length of the wing. It was covered with flowering vines, and furnished like a great room, with cushions and stands and hangings in place of more customary frescoes. In the end that faced the central courtyard, invisible from without, was a temple room, the priests of which seemed to spend the greater part of their lives lounging on mats in the fragrant veranda. In this same side of the palace lodged Manava’s suite and Purán’s; and at the end of all was a wooden barracks, where the soldiers were now just waking from the sleep induced by last night’s festivity. A group of these hung about the well, which stood between the house of slaves and their domicile, waiting their turn for water. There was a general splashing and shouting, little laughter, but also no swearing, for the Hindoo is always clean-mouthed.
From their vantage-point, Ahmed and Fidá, observing this life, found themselves entertained; for all the human nature of the palace found vent here. The two captives lingered over their meal, talking generally; and presently Fidá remarked on the number of slaves who had been passing and repassing near them. Ahmed answered him at once:
“There are more than three hundred employed here—including eunuchs, who do not sleep in this house. I have been made a sweeper. This morning the slave-master, Kanava, roused me at dawn, gave me a broom of dried kusa grass and sent me, with nine others, to sweep the corridors of the north wing.”
“Then thou hast had little enough sleep. Go, therefore, lie down and rest while I sit here. By my life, I would I knew what my duties are to be. No one orders me about. I am given no instructions. I have not even seen this Kanava.”