[5] Rig-Veda.
[6] “Rig-Veda,” x. 129.—H. S. Colebrooke. See also Max Muller, “Hist. Anc. Sansk. Lit.,” p. 560.
Chapter XII.
Assassination.
It was on a bright fresh morning when Siddha, accompanied by two horsemen, took his way to Fathpúr, charged with the delivery of some letters, too important to be trusted to the hands of an ordinary messenger. The sun shone brightly, but its beams did not burn. In the trees sang many coloured birds, and squirrels and small monkeys sprang from bough to bough. All nature seemed awake and full of joy; and even the peasants met with on the road had exchanged their usual heavy tread for a lighter one, as if they also shared in the joy that reigned around.
But Siddha, once so full of mirth and hope, took no part in it. Sombre and lost in thought, he rode on silently, followed by his attendants. He seemed, indeed, another man from what he was when he first arrived in Agra and joked with Parviz and his friends, listening with sympathy to the confidence of the former about the noble daughter of the Treasurer. With surprise Parviz had remarked the change, though discretion withheld him from making any inquiries; and still more deeply did Siddha himself feel how different all with him now was. How different from the day when Kulluka had seen him spring forward gracefully on his steed, as though he would conquer the world, calling on the loved name of his future bride! How different when a single kiss from Iravati was bliss to him—before he had learned to long for the passionate embraces of a Rezia—when his conscience was pure, and he had no cause for shame in having made himself guilty of treachery, faithlessness, and ingratitude! Sombre indeed were his reflections, for now more than ever suspicion crossed his thoughts. Was Rezia really faithful to him, or did she only treat him as she did her husband, who, far more than he, deserved her love? In truth, did Salim only come to her for state reasons, or were there other motives for his visits? And then the conspiracy, in which Siddha had become more and more entangled. Now that he thought it over it began to assume quite another character; it was not entirely for the defence of his fatherland, but appeared to be directed to very different ends. And had not Rezia, on her own confession, deceived him more than once? and what reason had he now for believing that this time she indeed spoke the truth? Into what new entanglement had he now fallen? and for the perpetration of what crime did he allow himself to be used as a tool?
An exclamation from one of his troopers awoke him from his reflections, and looking in the direction to which the soldier pointed with his lance, he saw in the distance a group of horsemen engaged in combat.
“Forward!” cried Siddha, putting spurs to his horse; and followed by his companions at full gallop, he turned towards the combatants. As he approached, to his astonishment and alarm, he recognised Abú-l Fazl, and in the man who sought to cut him down with his sabre Nara Singh, a Raja whom he had met more than once with Prince Salim. Directly the Raja’s followers caught sight of the new comers, a detachment rode to encounter them. Siddha attacked the leading man of the troop, who soon lay with his horse on the ground, pierced by Siddha’s lance. He then drew his sword, and with one blow emptied another saddle. He had harder work with the third, who was an accomplished soldier, and well acquainted with the use of the sword; and while the two troopers were busy with their opponents, others came riding up to the assistance of their comrades. The affair began to look very critical for our three, when Siddha by a fortunate blow placed his enemy hors de combat, and was just ready to receive the new comer, when the retreat was sounded, and they at once turned bridle; but at the same moment that he had felled his opponent and seen the others hurrying up, Siddha beheld Abú-l Fazl throw up his arms into the air, letting his sabre fall, and then sink from his horse to the ground. The next moment Nara Singh had called off his soldiers and retreated at a gallop over the plain. Siddha’s first impulse was to pursue the murderers; but on second thoughts he saw that he, with his two men, one of whom was wounded, could do little, while the Minister’s four servants lay stretched out dead on the field, and Abú-l Fazl, above all, required his aid.
Springing from his horse, and flinging the reins to one of his followers, he knelt by the side of the wounded man, and loosing his clothes, sought to staunch the blood that flowed from a deep wound in his chest. To his joy Abú-l Fazl opened his eyes, and recognised him; but his joy was of short duration.