“Yes, and a wretched one, too. Whatever support it receives from superstition, by respectable Brahmans it is only looked upon with contempt. But did you not say there were to be elephant and wild beast fights?”
“Certainly, and by yonder flag I see they are about to begin; let us make our way there and find a place.”
This was not difficult, for their rank gave them instant admission to the space railed off, and provided with seats, where the combats were to take place. In the midst the Emperor was seated surrounded by his courtiers. They had not waited long when from the opposite sides the fighting elephants entered the arena, each covered with a splendid cloth, and mounted by a brightly dressed mahout. Very little preparation was necessary. No sooner did the gigantic animals approach each other, than, rising on their hind legs with a snort, they seized each other with their trunks, each endeavouring to stab his foe with his long tusks, while their riders, now clinging by their knees behind the creatures’ ears, and now holding by their hands to the girth of the cloth, still kept their places. For some time the fight continued with uncertain fortune; now one elephant was driven backwards, and now the other. At last one was overthrown. His mahout leaping nimbly to the ground alighted on his feet, and the rider of the victor struck his hook into the constantly kept open wound behind the ears, and forced him to draw back without injuring his fallen foe. The Emperor applauded loudly, his example being followed by the courtiers and spectators, and then they slowly left the tribunes.
“Akbar seems to have a great liking for these combats,” said Siddha to his friend, as they continued their walk.
“Yes,” was the answer; “Akbar likes everything that displays courage and dexterity, whether in man or beast. As you know, he is of unusual strength himself, and unsurpassed by any in the use of arms; and his personal courage in war and hunting is of that description that one might call recklessness. He seems to seek danger instead of avoiding it, and his generals and hunting comrades have at times enough to do with him when his blood is up. You must have heard of his adventures; certainly some are exaggerated, but you can trust to Faizi, who has been present at many, and who will tell you about them some day.”
Thus talking they wandered on, and at last having seen all they wished, turned towards the city. Suddenly Siddha stood still, struck with astonishment: his eye had accidentally fallen on the hauda of a magnificently caparisoned elephant, and the lady he there saw, with one or two others leaning back on the silken cushions, could be no other than Rezia! Her thin veil fastened with diamonds had been pushed on one side, there could be no mistake, and there by her side was the well-known servant. But what was she doing here, she who lived in solitude, carefully hidden from all eyes—just at this moment, too, when she believed that Siddha had marched with the army! Could she have deceived him? could she be other than she had told him?
As calmly and indifferently as was possible, he asked his companion, pointing to Rezia, who had not seen him among the foot passengers—“Do you know that lady?”
“She with the veil thrown back, and a servant holding a fan of peacock feathers?” asked Parviz. “Certainly I know her, and I wonder that you do not; however, of late she has shown herself but seldom. She is”—and here Parviz named a name which gave our friend such a shock as never before in his whole life he had experienced; and he felt as if, standing on the brink of a precipice amongst his northern mountains, he had been seized with a sudden dizziness and fallen into the abyss beneath. “She is,” said Parviz, “a lady of whom, at any rate, you must have heard—Gulbadan,[10] Faizi’s wife.”
[1] These Englishmen were John Newbery and Ralph Fitch, merchants, William Leedes, a jeweller, and James Story, a painter. They came to India by way of Aleppo and Ormuz, and were sent prisoners to Goa by the Portuguese Governor of Ormuz. At Goa they fell in with a priest named Thomas Stevens, who was an Englishman, a native of Wiltshire, and who afterwards wrote an account of his voyage. They also met the Dutch traveller Linschoten. This was in January 1584. Stevens interceded for them, and “stood them in much stead.” In September 1585 they reached Agra, and also visited Fathpúr Sikri. Thence Newbery set out on his return journey through Persia. Fitch went to Bengal, whence he visited Pegu and Malacca, and eventually took ship for Cochin and Ormuz, in 1589. Leedes took service under Akbar, who gave him a house and suitable allowances. Newbery had a letter from Queen Elizabeth to “Zelabdim Echebar.”—See “Hakluyt,” ii. pp. 375 to 399, 2nd ed.