A Prince of Dreamers Part 45

"The Twain once more as One, s.e.x and its vain search forgotten.

Strange if it should be so! Strange if the finding of Self in the Giving of Self should bring back memory yet forgetfulness of that far beginning when the Ocean of Light everlasting, quiescent, stirred into ripples of Shadow, and the One became Two."

"The Audience waits, sire," said Birbal drily.

Akbar laughed, and went on. Yet he turned to Birbal swiftly half an hour afterward when, in the course of business, words were let fall which brought back the memory of this conversation.

It had been rather a disturbing audience and Akbar, ere he commenced it, had felt wearied beyond his usual measure.

So, as he sate below the throne, the position he invariably occupied as symbolising that he was but the representative of a higher power, he had listened with a certain sense of irritation, while a letter, which Father Ricci, the Jesuit, had left behind him, was read aloud by a slim white-robed man with a marked bend of the head and a kindly, patient face.

It ran as follows:

"To the Most Merciful and Most Ill.u.s.trious King and Emperor Jalal-ud-in Mahommed Akbar greeting, from his Father in G.o.d and Vicar of Christ, servant of the King of Kings: Whereas for long years past I have to the great injury of the cause of Christ, yet with the most pious hopes of eventual harvest, permitted that good servant of the Lord, priest Rudolfo Acquaviva to reside at the Most-Excellent's court in the hopes that by his G.o.dly example and teaching light might come to the eyes, and knowledge to the ears of the Emperor. Yet having, during my recent visit, seen with mine own eyes how small a part the great truths of the Church play in the life of the Most-Excellent, and having in view also the most great favour extended to heretick Protestants----"

Birbal's mime-like face puckered, he bent over the King.

"Said I not the reception of the English merchants would bring about greater zeal for Majesty's conversion?"

But Akbar checked him with a frown; so the long phrases of disappointment, partly pious, partly pique, went on and on. When they closed he turned swiftly to the reader.

"Be thou the arbiter, friend Rudolfo. Dost wish to go? Is Akbar not kind enough?"

Padre Rudolfo Acquaviva looked affectionately at the man whom he refused, almost to the point of insubordination, to count accursed.

"The King is not kind enough to himself," he said, his gentle face a benediction, as he noted the strain, the anxiety, which in all moments of rest sate on Akbar's countenance. "Wherefore should not weariness lay down its burden at the gracious command, 'Come unto me and I will give you rest'?"

For a second there was a pause. Then Akbar rose, and squared his broad shoulders. "I could not if I would, friend," he replied proudly. "A King's burden must be carried." So with a loud voice he cried:

"Has any or aught further need of the King's wisdom?"

There was no pause this time.

The Makhdum-ul'-mulk, in his robes of chief doctor of the law, stepped forward hastily and began to read.

"Lo! Makhdum-_sahib_," interrupted Akbar lightly vet impatiently, "Majesty hath listened to this before. The pet.i.tion is dismissed. It hath seemed good to the Crown so to cement union with our Rajput Allies, the marriage ceremonies are commenced, therefore this demand that the Heir-Apparent shall have his first wife one of his own faith is idle--and ill-timed."

"It hath the signature of fifteen thousand learned Ulemas of Islam,"

continued the Makhdum militantly.

"If it had fifty thousand----" interrupted Akbar again; this time sternly.

Ghia.s.s Beg, the Lord High-Treasurer flung himself, suddenly at the King's feet, and his example was followed by half a dozen of Akbar's most tried and trusted Mohammedan counsellors.

"If the Most-Auspicious will grant us private audience for a s.p.a.ce, we will disclose that which may alter Majesty's opinion," said their leader.

Akbar frowned; Birbal and Abulfazl scenting some further conspiracy, stepped forward with instant excuse.

"It is not on the list, sire," said the latter. But the Emperor's sense of Kingship had been aroused, first by his reply to Padre Rudolfo, next by the Makhdum's militant protest. So with a quaint admixture of pride and humility he set aside the Prime Minister's plea haughtily.

"Justice, Shaikh-jee, is not listed like an auctioneer's tale of goods. Ushers! clear the a.s.semblage! My friends, farewell! I would be alone with these gentlemen for a while."

After the ceremonial salaamings, the rustle and glitter of retreating silks and satins had died away, he faced those few as he stood below the throne.

"Well," he said, "speak."

A little old man, poet as well as prince, prostrated himself, and so began with many flowers of speech, many ambiguities, and many quotations from Hafiz, on the story of Prince Salim's sight of Mihr-un-nissa. "Thus O Most Ill.u.s.trious King, O! Most Indulgent Father, Fate hath intervened and sent Love!" he concluded, adding in pompous monotonous chant the well-known lines:

He whose soul by Love is quickened, never can to death be hurled; Written is his name immortal in the records of the world.

Then it was that Akbar turned and looked at Birbal. The latter was instant in reply to the unspoken questions.

"The love of a lad of eighteen, Most High, can scarce be counted love.

And might we learn the honourable family of the lady? That hath been omitted."

Ghia.s.s Beg prostrated himself, "My daughter, sire! The shame of this plea overwhelms me, but in justice to Majesty, I cast away honour. My daughter, sire, a most excellent, admirable, and beautiful young lady."

"But surely," put in Abulfazl swiftly, suavely, "already betrothed to Sher Afkan, captain in the King's horse?"

Akbar frowned. "Is this so?" he asked and listened, the frown deepening, to the altercation that followed. Finally, he raised his hand.

"Enough," he cried, "that ends it. What is talked of is bespoken; and not even a King's son hath right to interfere."

The Makhdum-ul'-mulk was the next to prostrate himself and speak.

"True O Ruler of the Universe! but the Head of the Church hath ever had the right to annul such promises, and Majesty having a.s.sumed that t.i.tle, might exercise the functions thereof." The suggestion was deft, but it failed.

"For my son's benefit," retorted Akbar "not so, Makhdum-_sahib_. The office is held more incorruptible now."

"The August Pillar of Empire mistakes," put in a younger man, alert, intelligent. "It is for the good of Empire. Lo! we be here as humble friends, advisers, counsellors. With all duty be it spoken, the young Prince--may he live for ever!--hath given cause for anxiety. This chaste cupola of chast.i.ty of whom undesirable mention has been made, whose name my unworthy lips refuse to utter, hath a reputation for great wisdom as well as beauty. If then the Heir-Apparent were wedded to her, if love----"

Akbar raised his hand again sharply, and Birbal divining hesitation, whispered in his ear.

"Remember the Rajput Allies sire; a hint of this----"

The King checked him haughtily, "Peace! That goes on as ever. I was but thinking--thinking of the boy and--and the girl." Then he raised his voice. "Gentlemen! I admit much of what hath been said. The Prince hath given cause for anxiety--he gives it still. And if Fate had been beforehand with fact, such might have been good solution for much anxiety. But she is behindhand. The wedding festivities of the Heir-Apparent have already begun----"

"The nuptials could be simultaneous, Most High," interpolated the younger man, who was court lawyer. "It is a royal custom----"

"And the young lady is already betrothed," went on Akbar inexorably.

"That in itself is sufficient. The King's promise is given in the first, her father's in the second. Akbar will break neither." And then suddenly resentment, perhaps a faint regret, seemed to come to him and his voice rose. "Lo! have I ever broken faith? Has not my yea been yea, my nay, nay?"

"Of a truth it has, Great Sire," answered the court lawyer deftly as his forehead once more touched the dust. "Yea! even beyond the ordinary faith of kings, since Akbar hath not shrunk in the past from rescinding orders he hath made in error. Will he not do so now? Will he not bow to Fate?"

It was boldness beyond belief, and both Birbal and Abulfazl stood aghast. Yet it was a master-stroke, for Akbar paled and was silent.

"Fate," he echoed at last, and the tone of his voice brought Birbal's to his ear in earnest entreaty--but it was too late. "So be it! Fate shall be the arbiter for this boy and this girl. Let her see to it!"

His eyes lit up, a certain buoyancy seemed to lift him above the dull world. "I, Akbar, challenge her! Ye say Fate hath intervened. Let her intervene! If in the hours from dawn to dawn, she can make the King go back from his word in one thing, to her the victory! If not, to me."