The flame-gatherers

by Margaret Horton Potter

The slave rose, took Fidá by the hand, and turned to leave the room, when they perceived that a newcomer was standing in the doorway: a eunuch of high office. Ragunáth, seeing him, gave an exclamation.

“Kasya! Enter! enter!”

“My lord summoned me?” The man did not move from the doorway, and Fidá and his companion stood aside.

“Yes, yes, I summoned thee. How goes thy office? Enter, Kasya. All thy work is well?”

“The Lady Ahalya—is well.”

The answer was made in such a tone as brought Fidá’s eyes to the face of the man that uttered it. Kasya’s eyes were bright, Kasya’s lip was curled, and Fidá perceived that the sarcasm, the almost insult, in the eunuch’s tone had been fully intentional. In another moment Fidá was drawn from the room, but not before he heard Ragunáth utter a smothered oath, and had perceived a light of satisfaction in the eunuch’s eyes. It was an incident unusual enough to impress itself on the mind of the new-made slave; for he was sometimes a student of men. But there seemed no adequate reason why one word, the name that Kasya had spoken, should so have fixed itself in Fidá’s brain that, for the next hour or two, it beat upon him with a constant rhythm, “Ahalya—Ahalya—Ahalya,” till it seemed fuller of import than the great battle-cry the syllables of which so much resembled it. And, in the end, Fidá accepted it as an omen of all that afterward came upon him in this new land.

In the meantime the whole palace, and especially the great central portion of it, had been humming with life. Manava, the regent-minister, and all his staff of servants, were preparing an unexpected welcome for the return of the Rajah and his victorious troops. By half-past eight in the evening, the vast audience-hall presented a gala appearance; and shortly after that hour Rai-Khizar-Pál, with Purán on his right hand, Ragunáth on his left, and a great company bringing up the rear, entered and was received at the foot of the daïs by Manava, who, with this act of reception, discharged himself of his three months’ regency.

The hall, which was the largest in the palace, and opened immediately from the central courtyard, was a remarkable example of the massive, clumsy, and inartistic architecture of uninvaded India. Stone pillars, of unequal size and design, supported the roof. The walls were covered with multicolored hangings, and furthermore were to-night covered with ropes of flowers. A hundred lamps of wrought bronze and silver hung from the ceiling, and torches were fastened to the pillars. At the head of the room, opposite the entrance, was the daïs, on which stood a broad divan overhung with a canopy. This was the judgment seat of Mandu, to be used to-night in a lighter cause. As the Rajah laid himself in his place, the three high officials squatted on cushions near the royal couch, each with a low, round stand before him. Below, in the hall, stood three long, low tables, raised not more than eight inches from the floor, beside which were rows of woven mats, on which the feasters squatted in customary fashion. In three minutes every seat was taken, and immediately a throng of slaves came hurrying in, each bearing his burden of food or wine or metal bowls filled with water for the washing of hands. Among these ministers of the feast was Fidá, who came halting along in the rear, side by side with the young Ahmed, now perfectly content by reason of the nearness of his lord. Fidá was dressed in a loose white cotton vestment that hung to his ankles, and was confined about his waist with a broad, red scarf. The sleeves were wide and short, and the tunic opened loosely in the front, disclosing his bare, bronzed chest. His feet were unshod; but his head was bound round with a brass circlet, the sign of slavery. In his hands he carried a jar of the liquor forbidden to his creed. As he neared the royal divan many eyes were turned to him, and he was pointed out, here and there, as a prince of the enemy; and if the feasters gazed at him once for his station, they looked a second time at his beauty, for Fidá was worthy of his birth. Taller in stature, better shaped as to limb, cleaner-cut in feature than any Indian, he gave ample evidence of the higher civilization and keener intellect of his race. For at this time the men of Arabia were at the zenith of their power; and were bearing the religion of their Prophet at the point of their swords into every nation of the known world.

Fidá went up and bent the knee before his master; and Rai-Khizar-Pál turned upon him a gentle and kindly glance. “Come up, young man. Let me behold thee. So. Thou art named master of my drink. Fill, then, this cup, and Indra grant it may be full forever!”

Fidá obeying this command, the Rajah lifted the golden vessel to his lips, and instantly all those in the room sprang to their feet. He drank deeply, replaced the cup on the stand before him, waved one hand to his people, and the feast was opened.