The Great Mogul Part 14

"Nay, nay," said Sainton, with irritating composure. "I credit thee with wisdom beyond thy years, but if Solomon, who had three thousand wives, could go daft about yet an extra woman, there is small cause why thou, who hast no wife at all, shouldst not be bitten by the craze. I warrant you Prince Jahangir hath a bevy of beauties in his private abode, and this chuck who hangs his head so dolefully may have half a score or more waiting his beck and nod at home, yet they both are keen to fall to with sword and dagger to dispute the possession of the quean we have just quitted. 'Garden of Heart's Delight,' i' faith! The flower they all seek there is of a kind that stings in the plucking."

Mowbray, conscious that the dethronement of Nellie Roe in his mind was but momentary, regained his normal good humor.

"You are in a mood for preaching this morning," he cried. "Now, had your tongue run so smoothly when the Sultana was present, you might have won her favor, as all the women have an eye for you, Roger."

"A murrain on the barbarous words that trip my speech! I could talk to her Majesty in honest Yorkshire, and I can make some headway in the language of the common folk hereabout, but when it comes to your pretty poesy of Shiraz I am perforce dumb as a Whitby mussel."

Here, Sher Afghan, rousing himself from a mournful reverie, began to hum a verse of a well-known Persian love song:--

"O love! for you I could die; 'Tis death from your presence to fly; O love! will the pain never end?

Will our hearts ne'er in unison blend?"

They were crossing the bridge of boats at the moment, and the singer, more occupied with his thoughts than with external events, did not notice that a laden camel, advancing down the center of the swaying roadway, gave the party little enough room to pa.s.s on one side.

Walter drew his attention to the fact. The Persian, disdainful of the lower orders as were all of his cla.s.s, spurred his mettlesome Arab forward, caught the lounging _unt_ by the halter and imperiously swung the beast to one side.

A shriek rang out wildly from behind the camel, whose load of firewood had struck a native woman walking on the side of the bridge. She staggered and fell. The infant she carried was jerked out of her arms into the river.

Walter, who saw what had happened, sprang from his horse, jumped into the water, which was deep enough at that point to drown a man, and caught the little naked child as it rose, struggling and gasping for breath. With a vigorous stroke or two he reached the side of the nearest pontoon. Roger leaned over, seized the collar of his friend's jacket, and lifted him and the baby back to the firmer footing of the bridge.

The distraught mother flung herself at Mowbray's feet and wound her arms around his ankles, thereby embarra.s.sing him greatly, as he was soaked from head to foot, and the dense crowd which gathered with extraordinary speed threatened to block the bridge for an hour.

Sher Afghan, who was divided between wonder that a man should take so much trouble to rescue a wretched infant and amazement at Roger's feat of strength, for Sainton had lifted Walter clean over the rails of the bridge with one hand, now awoke to actualities.

He beat a path through the gaping mob, extricated Mowbray from the extravagant grat.i.tude of the Hindu woman, and quickly led the two Englishmen to the open road beyond the river.

"Did you not know that the Jumna swarms with crocodiles?" he asked, when they were all mounted again, and riding onward at a sharp pace.

"Yes," said Walter.

"Then, by the tomb of the Prophet, you did that which I would not have done for the sake of any brat in Agra."

"I gave no thought to it, or perchance I should have hesitated," was the modest reply.

The incident served one good purpose. It effectually banished Sher Afghan's love vapors, and he exerted himself so well in behalf of his new acquaintances that they and their packs (Walter having donned dry clothing) were admitted to the palace at the appointed hour, and marshaled past countless officials who would otherwise have barred their path.

The great fortress, in the center of which lay the royal apartments, was a city in itself. Its frowning walls of dark red sandstone, sixty feet in height and defended by many a tower and machicolated battlement, surrounded a low hill. This was crowned by the famous Moti Musjid, or Pearl Mosque, an edifice as celebrated to-day for its perfect architectural proportions and refined taste in embellishment as it was when the Great Mogul, during his daily orisons, occupied the small floor slab nearest to the northwest, and, behind him, six hundred and forty-nine n.o.bles bent in devout homage towards Mecca.

The Hall of Public Audience, a splendid structure, was separated from the mosque by a large garden. Near this rallying ground for all having business with the court stood the smaller but even more impressive Hall of Private Audience, to which there was direct access from the Emperor's personal apartments. The Zenana, marked by its exquisite Jasmine Tower, containing the Sultana's boudoir and giving a far-spread view across the Jumna, lay beyond.

These buildings, and many another, constructed almost exclusively of white marble and decorated with scrollwork festoons of flowers wrought wholly in precious stones, shone in the rays of the afternoon sun as the Englishmen pa.s.sed through the somber depths of the great City Gate and entered the open s.p.a.ce surrounding the palace.

That they were the cynosure of many eyes goes without saying. But here, curiosity was restrained. The grave courtesy of an Eastern court was blended with the iron discipline enforced by a powerful ruler like Akbar.

"The King's order!" said Sher Afghan, and before the King's order every head bent.

Thus, avoiding the crowd which thronged the path leading to the s.p.a.cious Hall of Public Audience, where the Emperor in person was then dispensing justice with that even-handed prompt.i.tude which won him the respect of all his subjects irrespective of cla.s.s or creed, Sher Afghan led them to a secluded stairway.

Certain formalities needed fulfilment before the strangers or their goods were allowed to ascend. Guards with drawn swords stood there, and even Sher Afghan himself was compelled to satisfy the high-pitched questions of a gorgeously robed eunuch ere sanction was given to advance.

Mowbray and Sainton, eager to witness the successful end of their twelve hundred miles' journey, were more concerned, doubtless, to display their silks and spices, their rich store of Arabian and Persian goods, than to note the marvels in sculptured stone with which they were encircled. A mosaic pavement worth a monarch's ransom was to them only a fine s.p.a.ce for opening out bales of cloth cunningly bedizened with gold thread, whilst a balcony of carved marble served excellently as a counter.

At last, when all was ready, a messenger was despatched to the Sultana.

Queen Mariam came promptly, and with her were many ladies of the court.

They were all veiled, as was the strict rule when the Emperor was near at hand, but among them Sher Afghan, and perhaps Mowbray, looked in vain for the sylph-like form of Nur Mahal.

The scrutiny commenced at once. "Shopping" was as dear to the heart of those Eastern dames as to their sisters of other climes and modern days.

The babble of tongues waxed eloquent, and the two traders, comparatively new as they were to the occupation, saw with gratification that the Sultana was as loud in her appreciation of the novelties spread before her eyes as was the youngest lady in her train.

All was going well; Queen Mariam had asked the value of the whole consignment, and Mowbray, with some trepidation, had added half a lakh to the lakh of rupees with which he would be well content--expecting, indeed, to obtain no more than the latter sum at the close of the bargaining--when a sudden hush, a drawing together of the women, a protest suspended in its utterance by the Sultana herself, announced that the elderly man dressed solely in white muslin, who entered the hall from a raised veranda at the further end, could be none other than the Emperor.

His appearance was at once engaging and dignified. Not so tall as his eldest son, he was even broader in build. Possessed of prodigious muscular strength, due to the great breadth of his chest and his long, sinewy arms and hands, Akbar looked a ruler of men both in physical and intellectual properties. His eyes were full and penetrating, with eyebrows that met in a straight line over his well shaped nose. His face, a ruddy brown in color, was firm yet kindly in expression. His forehead was high and open, and in the front folds of his white turban lay a single large ruby in which the sun kindled a fiery glare.

He surveyed the scene in silence for a moment. Then, as his glance dwelt on Sainton, a somewhat prepossessed smile gave place to a look of genuine surprise. He turned and uttered some comment to one behind, and, as he strode forward, they saw that he was accompanied by the Prime Minister, Itimad-ud-Daula.

Every man present, save the armed guards and the two Englishmen, dropped to his knees and bent his forehead to the ground, but Mowbray and Roger, not accustomed to genuflection, contented themselves with bowing deeply.

The Emperor was in no wise offended. He smiled again, showing his teeth plainly.

"They told me you were a big man," he said to Sainton, "but are you a strong one? Big men are oft like long-backed horses--they bend when the strain comes."

Luckily, Roger understood him, and, though his Hindustani was rude, be sure it never lacked point.

"I do not think," he said, "that my back is too long for my height, your Majesty. Be that as it may, they tell me there is no better judge of strength, whether of man or horse, than your Majesty in all India."

"By the shade of Nizam-ud-din, this giant is no fool!" cried Akbar, whose voice, though loud, was very pleasant. "Were I younger I would test thee, Elephant, but that day is past. Tell me, couldst thou shear two tigers' heads with a single stroke?"

"Yes, if your Majesty first tied both heads together."

"Allah, here is a spark after my own heart! What is thy name?"

"Roger Sainton, may it please your Majesty."

"Raja Sainton! If you be of n.o.ble rank why do you come hither in the guise of a trader?"

Sainton was puzzled, as Akbar's elegant diction rendered the mistake difficult to understand, so Mowbray, in a few well-chosen words, set things right.

The Emperor gave a quick glance at Walter, and seemed instantly to appreciate the relation between the two. But he addressed himself again to Roger:--

"You have traveled far, and are welcome. To-day I am busy, or I would discourse with you further. Be here to-morrow, two hours before sunset, and we shall give each other entertainment. Meanwhile, what can I do for you and your friend?"

Sainton, filled with the sense of _camaraderie_ which makes men of kindred sympathies quickly known to each other, realized that Akbar would not resent a little familiarity.

"Sir," he said, "if you buy our goods and give us good cheer we shall do that which those in your court ought to do every day, but fail therein most scandalously, I fear."

"And what is that?"

"We shall pray to G.o.d for your health and happiness."