A Prince of Dreamers Part 33

As usual she had the last word.

Poor Auntie Rosebody was at the same moment giving herself the same advice. Sleep had of course, been effectually banished from her eyes, and she was still sitting with the little packet she had received from the women close clasped in her hand. She had held it for so many minutes--nay, surely hours!--that it seemed to have become part of herself, and her thoughts had long since left even the question as to whether she ought not at once to summon the King and give it back to its rightful owner. The only point with her now was how she could manage her part without help. She had made up her mind not speak to Hamida. One never quite knew what she might think or say. But was there no one else? Aunt Rosebody felt as if she must burst without speech; but it must be speech with silence. And except at night time, it was almost impossible for any one to have a private interview with any one else in the woman's house. It was full to the brim with idle hussies, eunuchs, actual spies! Naturally if she wanted audience of Hamida Begum, she could claim a private one; or even of Rakiya--here the blood flew to Auntie Rosebody's face. No! it should never be old Rakiya, with her hemist.i.tches, her girding tongue, her ill-bred remarks about dead saints! Gulbadan Begum was a good hater and the mere thought of confiding in her enemy quite fl.u.s.tered her. Yet she could not wait for discreet nightfall. What was to be done must be done at once, that very morning; since the festivities that were to commence the six weeks revelling in honour of Salim's coming marriage were to begin that afternoon. And then, suddenly, a thought struck her. Umm Kulsum! Little Umm Kulsum who was such a tower of good sense and sympathy! She would tell her. Yes! she would tell her, not in the dhooli going to the bathing steps. There they might be overheard by the duennas who walked beside it. That was the worst of being a woman--there were spies everywhere, even upon the bathing steps. But out on the water, right away in the tank, under the azure-silk sky of heaven--there she could ensure solitude!

Aunt Rosebody heaved a sigh of relief. Ah! it was very well of Rakiya Khanum to jibe at indecent youth, but it was something to be able to swim and so get away from old cats!

And so it came to pa.s.s that Umm Kulsum coming up to shake her head like a wet spaniel after her dive through the arches, nearly went to the bottom from sheer affright of what she saw in Auntie Rosebody's face.

"Don't" cried the little lady, catching her by the hand and thus largely adding to her imminence of sinking. "Now do listen, Ummu. But I think, my dear, you had better turn on your back and float, for what I've got to tell will make your liver melt, for sure."

So side by side, hand in hand, they floated in the warm, morn-lit water, Auntie Rosebody's gray hair mingling in snaky fashion with Umm Kulsum's black locks while the former told her tale. And more than once the elder woman had to adjure the younger one to keep a straight back and float decently, since some of Aunt Rosebody's revelations were disturbing.

"And now O Umm Kulsum, pilgrimess, mind you, to holy Mecca, save my soul from sin--if thou canst--and tell me, above all, if I be asleep or awake."

The confused appeal brought silence for a moment whilst those two brave, superst.i.tious, affectionate women's faces stared into the azure blue.

Then Umm Kulsum said softly, "It is G.o.d's will. He has sent us to do this thing, and we must do it. Yea! Auntie, even if they kill us we must save the King's Luck, and buy favour to Salim."

"Oh Ummu!" sobbed Auntie Rosebody. "How glad I am I told thee! Thou art wisdom itself and thinkest even as I do. We are two splits to one pea."

And so two set, determined, and in their exaltation, supremely happy, faces showed ducking and bobbing as they swam and made plans. Ummu was to set to work at once and make a seed-pearled and gold-embroidered brocade bag for the stone, which should deftly disguise its shape, and Aunt Rosebody was to say it contained a precious relic from Mecca, and insist on the scapegrace wearing it concealed in his turban for the day. After that? Why ... why...? After that all would depend upon the fortune of the Prince.

So little Umm Kulsum retired to her violet garden in hot haste to dry her hair as usual, and then, having dismissed her maids, began work in the solitude of the secluded spot set round with low walls and orange trees.

She had thought it all out, had seen that time pressed, and so without remorse cut a bold snippet out of the pearl-edged embroidered hem of her very best overcoat which she had told her tirewomen she meant to wear. The damage would not be seen if she wore a thick veil, and a very little sewing, but a few pearls deftly applied, would make of the precious piece a relic holder as good as any in the palace. So her round simple face grew absorbed in her task, when a rustle in the orange tree above her made her look up.

She saw another laughing face looking down; a face that with its orange-coloured veil showed like a ripe fruit amongst the burnished green leaves. The next instant Mihr-un-nissa's lithe, still-childish figure had swung itself to the ground and her forefinger was wagging roguishly at Umm Kulsum's hasty and futile effort to conceal her work.

"Oh fie! Ummu. What! secrets?" came the mocking voice. "Dost not know," here it took on a ludicrous likeness to her mother's, "that only ill-bred young women degrade themselves by duplicity." Then she cuddled close and looked at Umm Kulsum with a perfectly ravishing smile. "Say, sweetheart! is it a love letter?"

Umm Kulsum gave a little shriek of horror. "Go to! thou art a bad girl, Mihru! How didst come here? And how darest thou even mention love letters?"

Mihr-un-nissa cuddled closer. "How? Because I needed to see thee, Ummu--Auntie Ummu I shall call thee, dearest. So when they denied me, I crept out by the window and along the wall. Mother is at the reception, but I needed thee. And as for love--Ah! Ummu! I _have seen him!_"

"Seen whom?" asked Umm Kulsum stolidly. Her mind was busy with likely lies, for she knew the penetrating wit, the cold clear-sightedness, of this child-girl.

"Why!--my man, of course," came the reply with sage noddings of the pretty head.

Everything save horrified outrage flew from Umm Kulsum's mind.

"Thou--thou shameless one!--thou canst not mean it. And if thou hadst--by chance--to dare to say it. Mihr-un-nissa Begum, say it is not true!"

The pretty head nodded again cheerfully. "But it is true, Auntie Ummu, and it was not by chance. I climbed into a tree--thou knowest I can climb trees--and saw him over the wall as he came to sup with father.

And I like him. He hath a kind, strong face. And--lo! Ummu, one can be queen of a man's heart."

As she sate there, her small slender hands closed on each other as if she held something very precious, a mysterious smile came to her eyes, her mouth. Years younger than her companion, in all things of womanhood she outpa.s.sed her utterly. So, as she paused, sudden shame came to her.

"And dost know, Ummu," she went on, a fine blush invading her cheeks that were the colour of ripe wheat, her hands unloosing themselves to plait and replait in her confusion the fold of Umm Kulsum's best overcoat which lay beside her, "I--I think he saw me for--for he smiled--though he walked on sedately as a gentleman should. But I am not sure his eyes----"

She paused abruptly, gave a little shriek, "Oh! Ummu! thou hast cut it--thy beautiful overcoat----"

She held up the accusing gap in the hem, and her young face took on swift, keen interest. "So--thy secret! Come out with it, Auntie!"

She s.n.a.t.c.hed at Umm Kulsum's work and held it out derisively. "An amulet--nay! a relic holder!" she cried gaily. "Lo! Umm Kulsum Khanum!

it must be for thy lover to wear--in his turban likely."

Umm Kulsum gasped, and leant back against the orange bole helplessly.

"Truly, Mihru! thou--thou art a witch!" she murmured feebly.

The expression on the girlish face intensified into absolute cunning.

"So--then it is for some one's turban--Prince Salim's I dare swear--to bring him luck with his father. Ohi Ummu! I have hit it! Tell me, sweetheart, what goes in it? Come! let me have a look at thy face"--for Umm Kulsum in sheer dread of those piercing inquisitive eyes had swaddled herself hastily in her veil. "What thou willst not.

Then it is something worth knowing. I will find out--but la! that scent of ambergris portends my mother's pa.s.sing. I must begone, Auntie Ummu, ere they seek for me. Farewell--and--and good luck go with thy Prince. He needs it!"

She had swung herself into the orange tree once more and was gone, leaving Umm Kulsum with a beating heart. It was an ill chance, and the girl was as a wizard with her guesses; but seeing that the Audience of n.o.bility was to be held that night, there was small chance for Mihr-un-nissa's wit to do harm. And the Prince would be under solemn promise to bring the talisman back next morning without fail.

Whether he intended to keep the promise or not, certain it is that he made it, while Auntie Rosebody's voice shook over the oath she administered, and little Umm Kulsum stood by trembling in her very marrow. And when the young man had gone off, all duly dressed for his part in the festivities, sulkily carrying with him the well wishes of every woman in the harem in addition to that mighty talisman which they all looked at from a distance with awe, those two poor conspirators retired together and wept on each other's neck.

"I will fast to-night O child!" said the old woman ruefully. "G.o.d knows it may be my last; but he may spare thee, being young."

Umm Kulsum only sobbed the more. Why should she add to Aunt Rosebody's anxieties by telling her of Mihr-un-nissa's visit? And after all, the girl had wished the Prince good luck! Something at least should come of that.

And ere many hours were over something did; for, as Prince Salim walked back through the Palace Gardens, Fate beckoned to him, and from that time forth until his death he never forgot the call.

It happened on this wise. Vaguely disturbed, he dismissed his retinue in an ill temper, and despite the heat of the early afternoon sun sought solitude. Wherefore, who knows?

Had the conspirators gone so far as to tell him that he carried with him the King's Luck, and that he had but to declare himself to find following sufficient to give him the sceptre? Or had they merely begun to prepare the way for such telling in the future? Certain it is that he was moody, thoughtful beyond his wont. In half an hour or so the festival would begin by a grand illumination; the festival which would bring him marriage, if his father ...

That break in his thoughts seemed to end every subject for thought.

If his father--if his father...?

The noise of the firework makers and lamp sellers who were at work in the princ.i.p.al paths, annoyed him, so he wandered off into the more private ones, amusing himself idly, almost unconsciously, with a pair of doves he had taken, as the only silent companions--he had said bitterly, in the court.

If his father--if his father...? The question obsessed him.

Whether he knew actually that he carried kingship with him, certain it is that his thoughts were with himself, as king. What he would do, what he would say, what he would think.

If--this thing--were to happen, _now_, would he marry this Rajputni?

Not--by all the twelve Imams--if she were ugly! And, as his friends said--they were all Mahommedans--the first wife should be of Islam.

He had wandered farther than he knew, and without realising it had entered the garden belonging to the women's apartments. But it was empty; the hour was early and every one busy dressing for the festival. So he went on unhindered. It was cooler here in the pleached alleys, and perfumed too. Out yonder in the sunlight the very scent of the flowers seemed burnt up.

Yes! If he married----

The onyx-eyed birds of love he was carrying fluttered and fretted.

Were they too, dreaming of liberty. Curse the brutes! Why could they not keep quiet, and give him a chance of making up his mind.

His eye caught someone, a slip of a child it looked, wrapped close in a creamy veil sitting beside a fountain. Some coolie's daughter, no doubt, waiting for her father to finish work.

"Here, hold these birds, child," he cried peremptorily. The figure did not move and with another curse on its stupidity he strode up to it, thrust the pigeons into its lap and with a brief order to hold them fast till his return, strode off again. Something he must settle, he felt, before he met his father in the Audience of n.o.bility.