"Many, my lord," replied the Peer earnestly; "all the Dekhanies are my disciples, and I will answer for them to a man. All the artillery are with them. Fear not."
The King looked inquiringly to his Secretary.
"Yes, my Prince," he said, "fear not: we cannot wait for them; nothing good ever came of vacillation or expediency. Bismilla! shall I order silence?"
"Bismilla-ir-rahman-ir-raheem!" exclaimed the King devoutly, looking up. "I am ready. Order silence," he said to one of the mirdhas.
"Khámôsh! silence!" cried the man in a loud, deep voice, which rang through the hall, and sounded strangely, interrupting the loose murmuring chat which had prevailed before—"Khámôsh!"
"Khámôsh!" was reiterated by all the mirdhas and chobdars stationed about the hall, and by the attendants behind, and was taken up by those in the corridors, spreading to the crowd without, and to the troops—"Khámôsh!"
The silence that ensued was almost oppressive. In the hall itself, after the men had once more settled themselves in their seats, there was not a sound or murmur. The struggles and gibes without ceased, and even the troops were still, save where a neigh, or the rattle of caparisons, as horses tossed their heads or champed their bits, broke the stillness; or an elephant, clashing his bells, and being admonished by his driver, lifted his trunk, and gave a short scream.
It was the Secretary's office to open the business of the day, and just as he was about to speak, the chief of the eunuchs entered, bearing the Queen's billet, and kneeling down behind the rail, while he spoke aside, covering his mouth, said to the King hastily—
"It is a matter of life or death. If Afzool Khan hath any favour in your eyes, O King, save him! there may be time."
"This is some trick on thee, Daood," said the King sneeringly; "we know where he is, and how employed. He is ours no longer, and hath left us of his own free will."