The Adventures of Akbar Part 16

Even so, with the daily content of knowing that all were at least safe, the time pa.s.sed with deadly slowness, for the days grew to weeks, the weeks to months, bringing no change. Denied, as he was, the outdoor life, the fresh air to which he had been accustomed, little Prince Akbar grew pale and thin. But his spirits did not flag, and he would laugh over the tale of how Rajah Rasalu swung the Seventy Maidens as heartily as ever, though sometimes his little lip would go down and he would say, "If Bija were only here I'd never ask her to tumble down. I would go on swinging till she wanted me to stop."

So the winter came on, but still Dearest-Lady did not return. A letter had come from her saying she had reached Kandahar in safety--that she was staying in the Kar Garden outside the town which her father had planted--that King Humayon was not angry--that he had already forgiven Prince Askurry--that k.u.mran had nothing to fear if he only kept to his promise.

The prisoners, of course, knew nothing of this letter, but the effect of it showed in a greater freedom. Foster-father was moved to a more comfortable dungeon and Bija, Head-nurse and Foster-mother were allowed to go and see the Heir-to-Empire. Their delight may be imagined, and even Tumbu shared in the joy, for, when he was refused admittance and left down below, he dashed up the stairs, evading the sentries and barked furiously at the door to be let in. And the meeting between him and Mirak was so pretty that the sentry had not the heart to insist on poor doggie going down again. And this, in its way, was a good thing, for it was the beginning of a sort of friendship between the young Prince and this particular Afghan sentry. Sometimes, after he had been relieved, he would come up to the little captive's room for a bit, and listen to Roy's stories, or tell a few in his turn; for he had wandered about, over half India, giving the use of his sword to any one who would pay him well for it.

"Lo! I have not heard that tale since I was in Rajputana!" he said one day after Roy had been singing an old-world legend of fighting days. "It was an old Brahman of Suryamer told it me of the Sun-Heroes."

Roy's face flushed up in a second. "Suryamer is mine!" he said proudly; "I am of the Sun-Heroes!"

Then he started to his feet, pale as ashes. "I have remembered! I have remembered at last," he said almost with a cry. "It is true! I was Rajah of Suryamer! It has come back to me at last!"

Then as suddenly he crouched down again and covered his face with both hands.

"Roy!" said little Prince Akbar gravely. "Why should you cry because you are a King? I don't."

The sentry laughed. "By my word," he remarked, "there is a blessed pair of you Kings!"

"Of course there is," a.s.sented the Heir-to-Empire with the greatest dignity. "I have been one ever since I was born, and I always knew Roy belonged to me!" Then in quick impulse he ran over to the Rajput lad and flung his arms round his neck crying, "Oh Roy! Roy! I'm so glad you are my brother!"

"Not so fast, young sir," objected the sentry, who was hugely amused and interested; "what proof can you bring of this, stripling?"

Roy lifted a scared face; then hung his head.

"None, save my memory, and this mark upon my breast. My mother said we all had the stamp of truth over our hearts."

The sentry shrugged his shoulders. "That is not much in this wicked world," he said carelessly. "And anyhow it matters little if either or both of you be Kings, since ye are in cruel k.u.mran's power."

"Not till my Dearest-Lady returns," dissented little Akbar gravely.

"Head-nurse said so; and if cruel Uncle k.u.mran is to get me, Dearest-Lady _won't_ come back. I _know_ she won't--so there!"

And, as events turned out, the Heir-to-Empire was right!

But a few days afterwards a messenger, bearing a blue handkerchief in his hand--the sign of death tidings to the Royal Family--appeared in hot haste before the n.o.bles a.s.sembled in the Audience Hall.

"News! News!" he cried breathlessly. "Cover your heads with dust, ye people, while ye thank the Merciful One that Khanzada Khanum of the House of Babar hath found freedom, that after a long and G.o.dly life she hath found rest and peace. Bismillah--ul----"

The long Arabic sentence went rolling through the Hall, while k.u.mran stood stunned by the suddenness of his aunt's death. And yet it might have been expected; the journey was far too trying for one of her years.

And she had risked it--for what?

With a rush k.u.mran realised that his promise still held good, and for the moment disappointment, anger, savage desire for revenge swept away his regret. Yet even he could not fail to be touched by the letter his brother Humayon had sent him by the hand of the messenger. Dearest-Lady had, he said, pled his, k.u.mran's, cause well, and he, Humayon, was ready to forgive for the sake of the dead woman who had loved them both, whom they both loved, and who had died with a smile.

But such softer feelings did not, could not linger long in a mind that had no fixed belief in anything. Before a day had pa.s.sed the feeling that he had been tricked onto an oath he dared not break came uppermost again. Foster-father was ordered back to his damp dungeon, the little Heir-to-Empire and Roy were taken from the Palace and given over to the charge of a man noted for his hardness of heart. Only the women and little Bija, being of no account, were turned out into the streets to beg or starve as they chose.

Then followed a terrible month in which the little party were cut off from news of one another. Only Down, the cat, wandering over roofs and Heaven knows where and how, looked in here and there to settle on some one's lap and purr.

"Cats," said poor Head-nurse, as she sat opposite Foster-mother, grinding for all they were worth at a stone hand-mill in order to gain enough to keep Bija from starving, "are of all G.o.d's creatures the most contented; and so little pleases them. Hark! to Down how she purrs, just because she has found us poor miserable women."

"Allah!" replied Foster-mother more cheerfully. "Is love such a little thing? I think not, and Down hath seen my darling. Of that I feel sure; she would not come and purr otherwise."

Still it was silent comfort and there was so much going on; so much that even the "miserable women" could not hear, though they were free to come and go. But one day when Down was purring on Bija's lap in the straw thatch which was all the three had for lodging, a pa.s.ser-by paused to say:

[Ill.u.s.tration: _And one day the door did open.... "My son--my little son."_]

"That is the cat I used to see with the little King. Have you ought to do with him, sister?"

"I _am_ his sister," replied Bija haughtily, whereat the sentry, for it was he, laughed; but for all that he paused to tell the two women what he knew; though that was not much. It could not be long, however, he said, before news of one sort or another came to them; for King Humayon was, so they said, within a day's march of Kabul, and any time they might hear the guns begin. Then would be his turn. He would fight till all was blue, and then if the outsiders won, turn round and fight for them as hardily, since all he required was plenty of fighting and plenty of food and wine.

He was right in one thing. The very next day about noon, a sudden _pouf_--_bing-bing_--_thud_, told that the first shot had been fired.

And after that there was no peace and little safety. Only Foster-father in his dungeon was free even from anxiety; for fever had seized on him and he lay unconscious. And in his close prison room, where there was little air and less light, and where Roy racked his brain for stories wherewith to while away the leaden-footed hours, the little Heir-to-Empire lay listless also, yet not ill. Only weary, weary.

"I want Tumbu," he would say, "I want to run a race with him. I want to be out of doors."

And so while the city was alive with armed men, when there were a.s.saults and repulses and sorties and forlorn hopes going on day after day, Roy would tell Mirak that some day something would happen. Some day the door would open and----

And one day the door did open. And a tall man stood for a second, half-blinded by the darkness. But the next he strode forward and caught the little Heir-to-Empire to his heart, murmuring, "My son--my little son!"

It was King Humayon; for k.u.mran, after pleading for a few hours' truce to allow him to make submission, had taken advantage of this breathing time to make his escape with the more desperate of his followers. Fear had overcome him once more. Having nothing in himself on which he could rely, he could not trust to the generosity of his brother.

So, after more than two and a half years of separation Akbar found his father again.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE GARDEN OF GAMES

And now, for the time at any rate, Prince Akbar's adventures were over, and all the little party prepared to enjoy themselves. Foster-father, taken out of his dungeon, soon recovered consciousness, and the news of King Humayon's victory and the Heir-to-Empire's safety, being the best tonic in the world, he was soon about again.

Head-nurse, at last absolutely restored to her proper position in Court, found, however, that her young charge had considerably outgrown the nursery. To begin with, his father, overjoyed at recovering his son, could not see too much of him, and took him about with him wherever he went.

"Time enough for his education to begin when he is four," said Humayon, when Foster-father pointed out that the boy was old beyond his years and that if he did not soon begin schooling it would be difficult for him by-and-bye.

"Let be--friend, let be!" continued the fond father; "let us have a while to amuse ourselves, now the trouble is over! I tell you I have been in such straits these last four years that I have had no time to amuse myself. Now I mean to show Kabul that life isn't so bad after all!"

So tall, handsome, good-natured, with a vivid love of colour and beauty and a light-heartedness almost beyond belief,--light-heartedness which had carried him through dangers that might have proved too much for one less gay--Humayon set to work to lavish his money on the most magnificent entertainments that ever were seen.

So long as winter lasted these had to be held in the Bala Hissar, where a sound of music and a ripple of laughter was to be heard day and night; but as spring began once more to carpet the barren hills with millions of flowers, Humayon's amus.e.m.e.nts went further afield. One day he and his Court, a glittering cohort of merry men, flashing with diamonds, and prepared to enjoy everything, would ride out many miles to see the great groves of Judas trees flushed with their pink blossoms; ride out to find a magnificent camp awaiting them, a magnificent repast prepared, and all the best singers and dancers in Kabul ready to amuse them. Then the next day, mayhap, they would all go a-hawking, and at each and all of these diversions Humayon's little son was part of his father's enjoyment, and so naturally, became more and more of a man every day.

He used to ride on Horse-chestnut, and Tumbu was always of the party, getting in consequence rather too fat, by reason of the rich food which was given him.

But despite all this fun and jollity little Prince Akbar was not quite satisfied.

"You took my mother away with you to the hills," he would say to his father. "Why didn't you bring her back with you? I want to see her."

Then King Humayon would laugh--for he was always merry--and bid his little son be patient. His mother would come with the spring. At present she was in Persia, but so soon as the pa.s.ses were open she would start for Kabul. And then there would be fun! Whereupon little Prince Akbar would smile a dignified smile, and say, _of course_ there would be fun!