Akbar Part 2

"I intended no harm and no disrespect," rejoined Siddha. "But what is that?" cried he, suddenly pointing with his spear towards the tall gra.s.s on the mountain side, which was waving gently, though unstirred by the wind.

Before his calmer companion could restrain him, the impatient hunter had turned his horse into the long gra.s.s, and was hurrying towards the spot where the movement had been seen. But before either Kulluka or the servants could hasten after him, they saw him draw rein and remain motionless, gazing before him.

All movement in the gra.s.s had ceased, not one blade stirred, and not a sound was to be heard. Then again the gra.s.s moved and bent, but much farther off, betraying the presence of a large glossy tiger bounding away.

Siddha put spurs to his horse, and the next moment lay full length on the ground. A hole, thickly covered with vegetation, had thrown horse and rider. But both instantly recovered their footing.

"It is nothing, Vatsa," [46] he said to his servant, who had flung himself from his pony and hurried to his master. "I have fallen softly enough; nor, it is to be hoped, has any harm come to my horse."

On examination they found that the n.o.ble grey was as uninjured as his headlong rider; but no sign of the tiger was any longer visible.

There was nothing left to be done but to spring into the saddle and continue the interrupted journey.

Siddha rode silently by the side of his guru, not a little ashamed of his foolish adventure, but the latter broke the silence by saying, "That was but a childish trick, dear lad."

"Yes," replied Siddha, in a shamefaced tone, "I must have indeed appeared ridiculous, rolling over in such a way."

"But," continued Kulluka, "that you could not help."

"No one can see concealed holes."

"What I mean is something quite different."

"What then?"

"That you will soon learn, if what I suspect is the case."

The smile that played round Kulluka's mouth at these words only increased Siddha's curiosity; but his questions were interrupted by their reaching a turn in the road where, spread out before them, bathed in golden sunshine, lay another part of the valley.

"See there," said Kulluka, pointing with his lance to a thick clump of trees below them, near which, like a silver thread, flowed a little stream; "there lives Gurupada!" And, without more words, the riders descended a steep declivity, following a path partly formed by nature and partly by the labour of men, that led towards the plain.

Under the dense shade of trees stood a low building roofed with reeds, and built with slight bamboos overgrown with creepers, more like some resort of pleasure than the poor cell of a holy man pa.s.sing his life in penance. Behind was the dark jungle, in front an emerald lake, reflecting back a hundred different tints, and bordered by blue and white lotus flowers. The clear silver stream entered at one end and, flowing out at the other side, continued its course to the lower valleys just seen in the haze of the distance. Far away the ranges of mountains rose like rocky giants to the heavens, their summits never trodden by the foot of man.

For a moment our travellers remained still, lost in admiration of a view at once so magnificent and so lovely. But quickly remembering that they had reached the end of their journey, they dismounted and entrusted the horses to their servants, while Kulluka advanced to the dwelling, meaning to give notice of their arrival. But he might have saved himself the trouble, for he had scarcely reached the door when the hermit appeared in the threshold, followed by a servant who, at a sign from his master, took charge of the visitors' horses.

Extraordinary was the impression which the sight of this recluse made on Siddha. In his own country, among his mountains and forests, he had seen penitents, self-denying holy men, wandering mendicants, in numbers and of all kinds--some in foul and sordid rags, with long bamboo staves in their hands and rosaries at their sides, some with a cloth made of the bark of trees, others with no clothing, shaven, and covered with ashes, their foreheads and b.r.e.a.s.t.s smeared with white chalk: all supported by the strength of a boundless fanaticism. No wonder that the young man, used to the most polished civilisation, should have looked with the deepest contempt on such people; and in spite of his respect for his tutor, who had always named the hermit of Badrinath with veneration, he had expected but little from the man who now stood ready at his door to receive them. All the greater was the impression now made upon him by the tall and stately figure advancing to them, with dignity but at the same time with an air of friendly welcome.

He was an old man, in a dazzling white garment, with a few fine locks on the otherwise bald head, and a heavy silvery beard, but not in the least bent by the weight of years. His friendly though proud expression showed plainly that he had been accustomed to give, rather than to receive and obey, commands.

"You are welcome friends," he said, taking his two visitors by the hand, who bent respectfully before him. "Welcome to my solitude. It is indeed a pleasure to hear again of"--here he seemed to hesitate, but proceeded in a firm voice, "of you and my country and people."

Before either Kulluka and Siddha could reply, their attention was drawn to a low growl close to them, and in another instant, from behind the building, a magnificent tiger appeared with slow and stately tread, and drew near the three men, waving its heavy tail from side to side. Instantly Siddha drew back a step, and laid his hand on the dagger in his belt.

"Leave that plaything in its place," said Gurupada, laughing. "Do not injure Hara." [47] Then, turning to the tiger, he called him in a commanding tone, and instantly the powerful animal laid himself down at his master's feet.

"Did I not tell you?" said Kulluka to Siddha, pointing to the tiger. "Do you now understand why it was a foolish trick you played?"

"Pardon, honoured lord, pardon!" said Siddha, turning with clasped hands to Gurupada, understanding that it was the tiger of the hermit that he had given chase to. "Indeed I did not know."

"I understand," interrupted Gurupada, "you have been hunting Hara. That has happened before, but has not always ended so well for the hunter as for my four-footed friend here. For he can become angry, though he has never harmed those who leave him alone. I have had him, as Kulluka knows, ever since he was a small cub, and we are now well accustomed to each other. Is it not so, Hara?" he said, bending towards the tiger, that, half raising itself up, rubbed its broad head against its master's hand. "And my friends," continued he, "are also his. See now!" And Siddha, drawing near, laid his hand gently on its shoulder, on which the tiger, looking alternately at both, laid down at Siddha's feet, and leant its head against his hand. This time the young man did not step back, but stroked the animal's head; nor was he startled when, yawning, it opened its mighty jaws, showing rows of white sharp teeth.

"That is right," said Gurupada, as Hara returned to him. "I have seen many older than you who would not have remained so calm. But now let us think of other things. Travellers, after so long a journey through a wilderness where there is not much to be found, must need refreshment. Follow me." And, going before them, the hermit entered his dwelling.

The interior contained nothing beyond necessaries, but all in most perfect order, and arranged with elegance.

After the guests had rested themselves with him, on fine mats spread on the floor, the servant, who had taken charge of the horses, brought in some dishes of food.

The simple and easy tone in which the otherwise dignified hermit spoke, showed that he was a man of the world, and soon gave confidence to the Minister's son. Siddha answered Gurupada's questions respecting his father, his betrothed Iravati, and his life in Kashmir, with frankness mingled with respect. To his astonishment the hermit appeared to know all that had happened in earlier days in Kashmir, and showed himself acquainted with circ.u.mstances that must have been a secret to all excepting those who had access to the most private parts of the royal palace. Without doubt, in earlier years, Gurupada must have been a trusted councillor of one of the princes. But Siddha dared venture no indiscreet questions touching the hermit's former rank. He remarked that Gurupada's conversation was cheerful, and that he appeared perfectly content with his present station. Yet at times, in talking over political events in the north, a dark cloud momentarily crossed his n.o.ble countenance, as though the strong will of the philosopher could not hinder a pa.s.sing emotion from being visible.

It had become late, and night was drawing on, the moon throwing her silvery light over the landscape which was visible through the open bamboos.

"Now," said Gurupada, rising, "pardon me, n.o.ble Siddha, if with your tutor and my friend I withdraw from the pleasure of your company. I have much to say to him which for the present must be a secret, and in which you probably would have but little interest. If you wish to refresh yourself there is the lake, and to a bath in the open air you are doubtless well accustomed."

The two elder men left the room together, and for long after Siddha saw them arm-in-arm, walking up and down, deep in earnest converse. When they returned it was time to go to rest, and the travellers were well pleased to stretch their weary limbs on the sleeping-places prepared for them.

Early the next morning, after a fresh bath and hearty breakfast, our travellers were ready to continue their journey. While the horses were being saddled, Gurupada drew Siddha on one side, out of hearing of Kulluka, and said--

"Holy hermits, when young men visit them, are not accustomed to let them depart without some instruction and advice. You expect, perhaps, the same from me; but you are mistaken. I can add nothing to what Kulluka, your wise and learned guru has doubtless already taught you. The world you are going to seek, and life itself, must teach you what remains. Still, one word, to which I will add a request. Do not fear, when you enter the luxurious and magnificent court at Agra, to take your part in all lawful diversions and amus.e.m.e.nts; and thus you will learn to distinguish the real from the unreal. Think always of what doubtless your tutor has often taught you, keep your conscience pure, and take good care that no deed of yours shall ever give cause of shame either to others or to yourself. But should it happen that, in spite of your earnest striving to keep these precepts, the repose of your conscience should be disturbed, and you wish for some friend to whom you could open your heart, think then of an old friend of your father and your tutor, and come to the Hermit of Badrinath. Will you promise me this?"

"I promise it," answered Siddha, simply, but with manly earnestness, as he folded his arms respectfully on his breast. With greater friendliness than before, Gurupada took him by both hands, and pressed them heartily.

The horses were soon brought forward, and the riders, after taking leave of the hermit, sprang into their saddles, and, followed by the servants, took their way from the jungle to the mountain path.

More than once Siddha looked back, casting a glance to where the figure of the wise man was still visible between the trunks of the tall trees, standing at the threshold of his dwelling, with the tiger by his side, and then rode silently by his companion, buried in thought.

Suddenly, as though waking from a day-dream, he drew in his horse with such force as almost to throw it upon its haunches.

"Kulluka," he exclaimed, "I never saw such a man as Gurupada." But at the same time he coloured to the ears, thinking, but too late, that this exclamation might not be very pleasing to his friend and teacher.

But he had needlessly alarmed himself. Kulluka's countenance expressed unfeigned pleasure at the admiration of his pupil for his old friend.

"Indeed," he said, "it gives me great pleasure that you should so think of him, and it speaks well for you."

"But," Siddha said, after a moment of silence, "who then is Gurupada?"

"Well," was the answer, "that you have seen for yourself--a hermit of the Himalaya."

"Yes," replied Siddha, impatiently, "that I know well; but what was he first, before he came here and tamed tigers?"

"He attempted to tame men," answered Kulluka, "but in that he did not always succeed. But why did you not ask him yourself who he was?"

"Would that have been discreet,--should you have approved of that?"

"Certainly not, and you acted rightly in not violating the rights of hospitality by indiscreet curiosity, even if it arose from real interest and for that you deserve that your curiosity should be set at rest. Gurupada gave me permission to recount his former life and tell you his name. So listen!

"He was once a king."

"How now," said Siddha, a little disturbed, "are you going to tell me a tale from Somadeva, [48] like those I heard so often from you when I was a little boy?"