‘This speaks well of the prisoners,’ he said at length to Syud Ghuffoor, who sat near him; ‘the Killadar of Bangalore writes that one of them, a captain, is a man of knowledge, well versed in the science of war and tactics; that he understands fortification and gunnery, so that he is worthy of being offered our clement protection. Inshalla! therefore, though we need no instruction in these matters,—thanks be to Alla, who hath implanted a natural knowledge of them in our heart, which is not surpassed by any of the whoreson Feringhees—’
And all around interrupting him, cried ‘Ameen! Ameen!’
‘Inshalla!’ he continued, ‘as this is an auspicious day, we will offer life and service. If he accept it, well; if not, I will send him to hell, where thousands of his accursed and mother-defiled race await his coming: are not these good words?’
‘Excellent—excellent words! They are not worthy to live! the race is accursed of Alla!’ cried several; ‘the Sultaun’s clemency is great!’
As this ceased, the tramp of many feet was heard on the wooden staircase, and as the noise approached nearer, Kasim, who had been watching the Sultaun narrowly with intense interest, could see that he was far from being at ease; he fidgeted upon his musnud, the rosary passed twice as fast as usual through his fingers, his eyes winked sharply, and he stroked his mustachios from time to time, either with exultation or inquietude, Kasim could not distinguish which; at length the prisoners reached the head of the stairs, and their escort appeared to wait there for commands.
‘Bid the officer advance,’ said the Sultaun; ‘the rest may be withdrawn for the present, we will send for them when this man is disposed of.’
The order was obeyed, and all were withdrawn but one, who, being desired to come forward through the lane which was opened for him to the foot of the musnud, advanced slowly, but with erect and manly gait and proud bearing, nigh to where the Sultaun sat.
‘Salaam to the light of the world, to the sun of Islam! Perform thine obeisance here, and prostrate thyself on the ground,’ said a Chobdar who accompanied the prisoner.
‘I will salute him as I would salute my own monarch,’ said the prisoner, in a voice audible to all, and in good Hindostanee, but spoken with rather a foreign pronunciation: and still advancing, he had placed one foot upon the white cloth which has been already mentioned.
‘Kafir!’ cried the Chobdar, striking him, ‘son of perdition, keep back! dare not to advance a step beyond the carpet; prostrate thyself to the Sultaun, and implore his clemency.’