The Great Mogul Part 39

"And neither you nor she are in league with my enemies?"

"Some of them lie in the garden. You hear the others without. Are you man or king enough to help us in repelling them?"

Jahangir bowed his head.

"G.o.d is great," he said, as though in self-communion. "Never was mortal more deceived than I have been."

Ibrahim, Chief Eunuch, somewhat restored from the rare fright of the trembling roof, thought it high time to trim his sails to the new wind.

"I always told your Majesty," he began; but Jahangir, for answer, smote him in the face with his clenched fist so heavily that he fell into the lake and lay there insensible. He would have been drowned had not a Rajput pulled him out and held him by the heels until a good deal of water came from his mouth and a good many gold pieces from a tuck in his c.u.mmerbund.

Mowbray, whose judgment was cooler and truer in the frenzy of a fight than when a woman's eyes a.s.sailed him, did not forget that where Jai Singh had introduced his hirelings others might follow. Nevertheless, with the inadequate force available, it was impossible to conduct an effective defense of a square enclosure containing many acres. It was above all else essential to resist the main a.s.sault. The Eastern fighting man is moved to the madness of heroism by success, and driven to despair by failure. The gateway must not be carried.

He detailed sentries, therefore, to report any hostile move from the flanks or rear, in which case he would fall back on the house, which occupied the exact center of the garden. Then he and the others hastened to the gate.

They were not a moment too soon. A huge balk of timber, carried up from the bridge and swung by fifty men against the st.u.r.dy door, smashed the panels and dislodged the hinges. Through the gap poured a torrent of a.s.sailants, all well armed, and the struggle must have resulted in instant victory for the rebels had not Roger faced them.

There was light in plenty. Many carried torches, whilst ma.s.ses of tow soaked in oil had been placed on the ground to enable the archers and matchlockmen to shoot. Luckily the onward rush prevented anything like a volley being fired in that narrow s.p.a.ce, or the Emperor and his English supporters must certainly have been hit. As it was, the giant had a fair field, steel against steel, and one man against a hundred.

When Roger was busy there was no standing-room for friends by his side or foes in front. His tremendous strength was no less astounding than his tigerish agility. His long sword whirled in lightning circles, he sprang back, forth, and sideways with incredible ease, and such was the area he covered, combined with a quick eye to discern and a supple wrist to disconcert every adventurous cut or thrust aimed at him, that, whilst those outside were yelling to the van to press forward, the unlucky wights of the front rank were making a new rampart of their bodies.

Walter found a corner where Sainton's sickle did not reach, and Jahangir, fired to emulation, joined him. The three practically held the gate, because Jai Singh, with his horde of freebooters, did not quickly regain his self-possession after the stupefying discovery that the Emperor, whom he was actively fighting against, was laying on with a will in behalf of the Englishman.

Others, too, learned the bewildering fact that here was Jahangir himself in the very hatching ground of the conspiracy. The Maharaja of Bikanir saw him, and having missed him twice with a pistol, adopted a new tactic which might easily have involved the monarch and the Englishmen in common ruin. Awaiting the rebel leader, to carry him to the fort, was a war elephant, a huge brute, well protected by iron plates, thick k.n.o.bs of bra.s.s, and chain armor, penetrable by no missile short of a cannon-ball. The animal was trained to charge any one or anything at the bidding of its _mahout_, and the Maharaja, mounting the _howdah_ with some of his officers, bade the driver launch the elephant at full speed through the gate.

Among the many physical advantages Roger held over other men not the least was his height. While dealing with the present danger he could see that which threatened farther afield, and now, above the heads of the combatants, he caught sight of the great moving ma.s.s of shining panoply.

Such a thunderbolt would rend its way through all opposition. Swords and lances were powerless against it, but there lay on the ground, wrenched from its sockets by the battering-ram, the heavy iron bar which the big Yorkshireman had used so effectively on the night that Sher Afghan carried off his unwilling bride.

None of the others knew of the approaching peril. Roger turned to Jai Singh.

"Come on, Don Whiskerando!" he shouted. "I thought thou hadst better stomach for a fray!"

Though he spoke English, his look was enough. The old Rajput awoke from his trance and rushed forward manfully. His levies followed, the rebels yielded a few feet, and Roger secured breathing s.p.a.ce. He sheathed his reeking sword, picked up the iron bar, and stood on the left of the gateway, balancing the implement over his right shoulder and bracing his feet, set wide apart, firmly against the ground.

A fiercer yell, a stampede of both parties, announced the oncoming of the new danger. Mowbray and Jahangir thought that this was the end until they saw Roger, not smiling now but frowning, whirl the bar lightly as a preliminary to the greatest feat he ever performed. For the story lives yet amidst the glorious ruins of the Mogul Empire how the Man-Elephant killed the elephant. Trumpeting loudly, rushing through the swaying ma.s.s of human beings as a whale cleaves water, the immense brute seemed to enjoy the sensation it created. As it entered the gate, with trunk uplifted, the bar crashed across its knees. The elephant stumbled and fell. Again the iron flail whistled in the air, this time striking the bra.s.s-studded boss on the beast's wide forehead. The thick metal disks shivered into fragments, and the monster, with fractured skull, lurched over heavily on its side, throwing the Maharaja of Bikanir and his lieutenants to the ground, where they died quickly at the hands of those nearest to them.

A great shout went up, a shout of terror and wonder. Men ran, throwing away their arms and shrieking incoherent appeals, whether to Allah or Khuda, for protection. It was recorded that some went mad, some died from fright, and many dropped from exhaustion miles away from Dilkusha and its magic. For never before had one man met a full-grown fighting elephant face to face in single combat and killed it. Such deeds were told of lions and tigers, of many-antlered deer and ma.s.sive bulls, but never of the elephant, which, in the plenitude of its majestic strength, can drag four score men in triumph, let them tug their best at a rope.

"_Shabash, hathi!_" cried Jahangir. "By the soul of my father, Akbar, if I am spared to-night those two strokes shall be writ in history and recorded in stone!"

"'Twill please me better if they remain in your Majesty's memory," was Sainton's gruff answer. Truth to tell, his mighty effort had shaken him.

In that last almost superhuman blow he had surpa.s.sed himself. His muscles still twitched from the tension, and he experienced a curious sympathy for the magnificent creature whose dying convulsions alone betokened the abundant life with which it was endowed.

He leaned wearily on the long bar. The slaying of the elephant was the culmination of a day's toil such as no other man in India could have endured, for many a stout warrior had fallen under his sword ere he carried the Countess di Cabota into the Garden of Heart's Delight.

But the Emperor, not to be rebuffed thus curtly, seized him by the arm.

"Harken, friend," said he, "one lie will poison a river of truth. They told me 'twas thy intent to tumble my palace about my ears. Tomb of the Prophet, what will not a man believe when he lends his wits to women and wine? Never was king more beholden to stranger than I to thee and thy friend; canst thou not credit my faith when I say that no recompense you ask shall be too great for me to give?"

Sainton turned and clapped the Emperor on the shoulder.

"I have oft wondered," he cried, "how so good a soldier could be a bad king. Now I see 'twas a pa.s.sing fit, which, mayhap, like certain distempers, leaves thee wholesomer."

And that was how Jahangir and Roger began a comradeship which was never marred nor forgotten while either lived.

Mowbray, though delighted that Sainton's rough diplomacy had won the Emperor so thoroughly, nevertheless kept a sharp lookout for any recrudescence of the fight. But the back of the revolt was broken. He who escaped with the Maharaja of Bikanir, riding post-haste for fresh troops, was captured by the imperial forces, and a strong contingent of mounted men arriving at Dilkusha relieved the little garrison of further concern. Jahangir despatched several officers with instructions, the exact significance of which Walter failed to grasp. He knew it was hopeless to expect clemency for those who fomented the disorders. In the East, and indeed elsewhere, rulers had a habit, not wholly lost to-day, of repressing such outbreaks with merciless severity.

The Emperor quickly completed his arrangements. Then he drew Walter aside.

"You spoke of Nur Mahal. She is here, I know. What was her errand?" he asked.

"To warn me of the plot of which I was the unconscious figurehead," was the ready answer.

"Her action is the chief surprise of a night of marvels," said Jahangir, thoughtfully. "No matter how greatly I was misled by others, I vow she was candid. Never did woman belittle a man as Nur Mahal belittled me.

She said much that was true, and a good deal that was false. But her spleen was manifest. Had my head rolled at her feet she would have kicked it. Why, then, should she risk her life to save me?"

"You must ask her that yourself, your Majesty."

There was no other way. It was out of the question that Walter should dispel Jahangir's doubts by hinting a very different motive for Nur Mahal's visit to Dilkusha. Come what might he had dissipated in her mind the mirage of a dynastic struggle in which he would partic.i.p.ate as her husband. The mere fact that he had so completely thrown in his lot with the Emperor would prove to her, if proof were needed, that the dream of those memorable days which followed their flight from Agra might never be renewed. What would she do? What manner of greeting would she give Jahangir? Who could tell? Once before, when expected to marry the Emperor, she reviled him. Not half an hour ago she said Jahangir must die before dawn. He was not dead, but very much alive, and more firmly seated on his throne than at any time since his accession. What would she say? Mowbray was on thorns as he walked with the Emperor and Roger to the house.

Fra Pietro unbolted the door at which they knocked. Roger, seeing the Countess moving forward, and evidently quite recovered from her faintness, was seized with a spasm of shyness.

"All is well, Matilda," he said, hanging back. "You had a boisterous journey, but you are in quiet waters now. I go to remove some marks of the jaunt."

He made to sheer off, but she ran after him, brushing the Emperor aside in her eagerness.

"Nay, my good Roger!" she cried. "Fra Pietro hath told me all. I closed my eyes, and my heart stopped beating when I witnessed that last array of dreadful men. And thou didst carry me in thy arms as if I were a child, bearing me hither in safety through a hostile army. Oh, Roger, how can I wait to thank thee!"

"Calm thyself, sweet Matilda," they heard him growl. "I'll have no kissing of hands, and I cannot kiss thy lips in my present condition.

Gad! I have more brains on my clothes than in my head. Well, if naught else will content thee, there!"

In the center of the room stood Nur Mahal, her normally lily-white face with its peachlike bloom wholly devoid of color, and her wondrous eyes gazing fixedly at the tall figure of the Emperor, who hesitated an instant when Mowbray motioned him to enter first. Walter's pulse galloped somewhat during that pause. He did not know then that while men were dying in hundreds around the gate and elsewhere, the Franciscan had won a wordy victory behind the locked doors. No sooner were the Countess's senses restored than Fra Pietro engaged the Persian Princess in a discourse which quickly revealed that here were well-matched dialecticians. Pride, keen intellect, consciousness of physical charm and mental power, were confronted by gentle insistence on the eternal verities which govern mankind, irrespective of race or climate.

Neither palliating nor excusing Jahangir's excesses, the friar did not hesitate to hold a mirror to the girl's own faults. If she had loved the prince why did she profess to hate the king? If the death of her husband so rankled in her memory that the Emperor, who was indirectly responsible for it, was not to be forgiven, why had she gone back to Agra, instead of pursuing her peaceful voyage to Burdwan? Ah, yes, he appreciated her belief that other eventualities might happen, but life was const.i.tuted of shattered hopes, and the one eternal, wholly satisfying ideal was to so order one's actions that when called to final account one could truly say: "This I did and thus I spoke because it seemed to me best for the happiness and well-being of my fellow-creatures."

To and fro flew the shuttlec.o.c.k of their argument, until Nur Mahal, astonished and not a little humiliated by the singular knowledge of her inmost feelings displayed by this mild-eyed man of low estate, paced the long room like a caged gazelle, and the Countess di Cabota, half distracted by the distant sounds of murderous conflict, nevertheless found time to wonder what Fra Pietro was saying which made the beautiful Persian so angry.

The sound of Mowbray's voice, the sight of Jahangir in his company unattended, drove the pa.s.sion from her face. Her red lips were slightly opened in mute inquiry, her fingers were entwined irresolutely, her whole att.i.tude, so heedless was she of the restraint that cloaks the secret thought, indicated a pa.s.sive desire to let chance carry her which way it willed.

But the glory of her loveliness was never more manifest than in this feminine mood, and Jahangir, a man of impulse, was drawn to her as steel to a magnet.

"You and I," said he, slowly, "have much to forget, but you alone have a great deal to forgive. Nevertheless, on a night when I have won my kingdom I may well be pardoned if I hope to win my queen."

With that, he unfastened the samite over-cloak he wore, and took from his neck a string of priceless pearls. Nur Mahal bent her proud head, and the Emperor, with a laugh of almost boyish glee, adjusted the shimmering ornament around her throat.

She said something in a low tone, and it was a long time before she looked up again. When her eyes first encountered Mowbray's they were bright with repressed tears.

Notwithstanding these tender pa.s.sages, and some amusingly one-sided episodes in the garden between Roger and the Countess, for the lady made him kneel down whilst she washed his face, there was little time for love-making. Jahangir, having joyously informed the nearest members of his entourage that Nur Mahal was to be treated as the Empress which she would be created next day in durbar, began to question Mowbray as to the events of the night. Walter's task was rendered more simple by the projected marriage of one whom he suspected to be the real instigator of the whole affair. He must perforce twist the narrative to show the prospective Sultana in the best light, and herein, as it happened, a casual reference to Dom Geronimo was helpful.