Kitabı oku: «The Adventures of Akbar», sayfa 4

CHAPTER VII
WINTER

The winter settled in early that year, and with the passes of the hills blocked by snow, the caravans of laden camels which, in addition to merchandise of all sorts, brought news from the world to the east and the world to the west of mountain-clipped Kandahâr, ceased to come into the big bazaar. And the cold kept most people at home, or shivering beside the glowing braziers set outside the shops. It was not the season for active work, and so Prince Askurry let it slip by without really making up his mind what he was to do with Baby Akbar. Meanwhile the child could live in the bastion of the palace, and play with his little cousins. Whether he was to be betrothed to Baby Amina or not could be decided in the spring; this was the time for rest and home comfort without fear of any disturbing, since none could cross the passes in winter.

Princess Sultanam, however, to whom in her seclusion winter and summer were much alike, grew fond of the little lad, and never ceased to urge on her husband the wisdom of so treating Prince Akbar, that should King Humâyon by good luck—and he had a knack of being lucky—find himself again with an army at his back, his hands would be tied from revenge on the Court at Kâbul.

Now, Askurry was no fool; he saw that, for the present at any rate, until Humâyon's fate was decided, it would be wiser to be kind; so he decided that when he held the New Year's assemblage he would present the little prince in due form to the chiefs and nobles.

Head-nurse was almost crazy with delight at the very idea. She and Foster-mother sent all their jewels to the goldsmith to be made up into suitable ornaments for Baby Akbar, and they ransacked the shops for odd scraps of brocade with which to make him the finest of fine state robes.

And on the eventful day they began the child's toilette early, pressing Roy the Râjput into service as tire-woman to hold the ointments, and scents, and what not, that they deemed necessary for the due dressing of a Prince.

So that it rather dashed their spirits when Foster-father came in with a sober face and the news that a man had come into the bazaar bringing bad tidings of the King and Queen. They had, he said, been lost in the snow; but whether this was true or not, who could tell?

"Then what is the use of worrying?" snapped Head-nurse, who was too much occupied in making her charge beautiful to think of other things. "Lo! Foster-father, evil is never lost on the road. It arrives sooner or later, so why watch for it at the door?"

"That is true," replied Foster-father, "but mark my words, all depends on good news. If that comes, the child is safe; if evil—then God help him!"

Roy, who, Baby Akbar being nearly dressed, was now holding the pot of lamp-black and oil with which Head-nurse, after the Indian custom, would put a finishing touch to her work by smearing a big black smut on the child's forehead, lest he should be too sweet and so attract an envious, evil eye, looked up at the words, his face full of light and remembrance.

"God does help true kingship," he said proudly. "Mother used to say so, and that is why she was never afraid—" He paused and the light in his face faded. "I—I don't remember any more," he added apologetically.

"Remembrance or no," snapped Head-nurse, "hold the pot straight, boy, or thou wilt spill it over the Mighty-in-Pomp, the Admired-of-the-World," etc.

But Foster-father looked at Old Faithful and laid his hand kindly on Roy's shoulder. "It matters not, Roy! It is there within thee, all the same. And 'twill come back some day, never fear. And I for one," he added aside to the old trooper, "should not wonder at much; for the lad's manners are ever above his present station."

Old Faithful shook his head wisely. "'Tis not the boy's manners, friend," he said, "but his breed. A man may compass manners for himself, but not that his father should have had them also."

By this time the black smear was on Baby Akbar's forehead, and despite the smudge, he looked a very fine little fellow indeed. So much so that quite a murmur of delighted admiration ran round the assemblage when Askurry appeared, leading him by the hand; for he had quickly learned to run about and was now quite steady on his legs.

"A chip of the old block," said an ancient mountain chief, who had known his grandfather Babar, and many others nodded assent. Then Prince Askurry began a set speech, little Akbar seated on his knee the while.

It was a very clever, crafty speech, that could be taken two ways, and Prince Askurry was so much interested in it, and making sure that he was neither too disloyal or too loyal to his unfortunate brother, the King, that he did not notice what was passing on his knee until a sudden lack of attention on the part of his audience made him follow their eyes, and look down at the child upon his lap.

And then?

Then he sat dumbfounded, his face flushing to a dull, dark red, for he saw in a moment what the thing that had happened would mean to those others—the audience before him—the men he had summoned to listen to his half-hearted words.

Yet it was a very simple little thing. Baby Akbar, tired, doubtless, of his uncle's speechifying, had found amusement in a slender gold chain which hung round his uncle's neck; had traced it to a secret pocket in his inner waistcoat, and so had drawn out from its hiding place a golden signet ring, set with an engraved emerald. A toy indeed! So after playing with it for a bit the child had slipped it onto his little forefinger, which he held up the better to admire his new-found treasure. So it came to pass that as Askurry's smooth, oily voice went on and on, those who listened could see a little image sitting on his knee.

A dignified, gracious-looking image with forefinger held up in the attitude of kingly command; and on that forefinger—what?

The Signet of the King!

The Ring of Empire!

It was unmistakable! Askurry must have found it in his fugitive brother's tent. He must have concealed it. Uncertain what part he meant to play in the end, he must have worn it on his person until the child—the true Heir-to-Empire–

The chiefs looked at each other furtively. There was a pause. Then suddenly an old, thin voice—the voice of the old mountain chief, who remembered Babar the brave—rose on the silence.

"God save the Heir-to-Empire!"

It gave the lead, and from every side rose the cry:

"God save the Heir-to-Empire!"

Prince Askurry's face fell. He had not meant to rouse loyalty, but he was quick and clever, so he saw that it had been roused, and that now was not the time to try and stifle it. So his frown turned to a smile as he caught the child to him and rose, holding him in his arms.

"The rogue, my lords," he said lightly, "has forestalled me. I meant to place the ring upon his finger myself before you all, in token that he does in truth represent our King, but praise be to Heaven! he has saved me the task. Long live the Heir-to-Empire!"

But the nobles as they passed out of the assembly, and the people who heard the tale outside, said it was a strange happening that the innocent child should so claim his right. And cruel brother Kumran's party laid their heads together once more, and swore it was time to end Prince Askurry's foolish hesitation. They must get at the child somehow.

But by this time, if Prince Askurry had not quite made up his mind how he should treat Baby Akbar, he had quite settled that no one else—least of all cruel brother Kumran—should have anything to do with the child. So the little prince was carefully watched and guarded, rather to Foster-father's and Old Faithful's relief. Indeed, as time went on they almost forgot to watch themselves, being accustomed to see the sentry walking up and down before the entry to the narrow stairs that led up to the three rooms in the old bastion which were given them as lodgings. They were large, comfortable rooms, and the inner one was used by Foster-mother, Head-nurse and Baby Akbar, the outer one by the two men and the two boys, while the middle one, a great wide hall of a place, they used as a living room. It was lighter than the others, since it had slits of windows—without glass, of course—high up in the walls, and though these let the cold as well as the winter sunshine into the room, there was a roaring great fireplace, which kept the farther end of the hall nice and warm. And here on very frosty nights the women folk would drag their beds and sleep, while during the snowy days they would spread quilts on the floor, and Baby Akbar would have high jinks with Tumbu and Down, who were his constant playmates. Then, when he was tired, Roy would cradle his young master in his arms and sing to him. Not lullabies, for little Akbar's mind kept pace with his body, and every month saw him more and more of a boy and less and less of a baby.

"Tell me how Râjah Rasâlu did this," or "Tell me how Râjah Rasâlu did that," he would say; and so Roy's boyish voice would go over the old story of endless adventures, which has delighted so many Indian children for so many generations.

So time passed quite merrily until one night, when something dreadful happened. So dreadful that it will really require another chapter to describe it. But it was one night when Roy had been telling the little prince how "Râjah Rasâlu's friends forsook him for fear." And as this is rather a nice story, it shall be told here.

"You know, great Kingly child," began Roy, "how Râjah Rasâlu was born and how Râjah Rasâlu set out into the world to seek for fortune, taking with him his dear horse, Baunwa-iraki, his parrot, Kilkila, who had lived with him since he was born, besides the Carpenter-lad and the Goldsmith-lad, who had sworn never to leave their young master. So he journeyed north to a lonely place, all set with sombre trees. And the night was dark, so he set a watch, and the goldsmith took the first, while the young prince slept by the Carpenter-lad, on a couch of clean, sweet leaves. And lest the heart of the prince should sink, they sang a cheering song:

 
"'Cradled till now on softest down,
Leaves are thy bed to-night;
Yet grieve not thou at fortune's frown,
Brave men heed not her slight.'
 

"And while they slept and the goldsmith watched, a snake slid out from the trees. 'Now, who are you?' quoth the Goldsmith-lad, 'who come to disturb his rest?' 'Lo! I have killed all living things that have ventured within ten miles of this my place of rest,' it hissed, 'and now I will slay you, too!' So they fought and fought, but the Goldsmith-lad he killed the snake in the end. Then he hid the body under his shield, lest the others might be afraid, and he roused from his rest the Carpenter-lad, to take his share of the watch, while he, in his turn, on the clean, sweet leaves lay down beside the prince. And while they slept, and the Carpenter watched, a dragon slid from the trees. 'Now, who are you?' quoth the Carpenter-lad, 'who come to disturb his rest?' 'Lo! I have killed all living things for twenty miles round this place; and I'll kill you, too,' it roared, 'and crack your bones to eat.' So they fought and fought and fought till he killed the dragon at last. Then he hid the body behind a bush lest the others should be afraid, and roused Rasâlu from out his sleep to take his share of the watch; while he in turn by the Goldsmith-lad lay down to take his rest.

"And while they slept and Rasâlu waked a THING slid out from the trees; an awful THING! No man could tell th' unspeakable horror of it. But Rasâlu smiled in its face of dread, and laughed in, its horrible eyes. 'Pray, who are you to disturb our rest, and why do you dare to come?' 'Lo! I have killed all living things for twenty times twenty miles, and I will kill you, upstart boy, and crack your bones to dust.'

"So they fought and fought and fought, and Rasâlu drew his bow, and the arrow fled like the wind and pierced the Awful Horror through. Then it fled to a cave close by, with Rasâlu at its heels. So they fought and fought and fought till the dawn showed clear in the sky, and the Awful Horror gave up with a groan and rolled on its side and died. Now, just as Rasâlu wiped his sword the sleepers awoke from their sleep. 'See here!' said the Goldsmith-lad with pride, 'what I killed in my lonely watch.' 'Pooh! only a snake!' said the Carpenter-lad; 'see the dragon I have killed.' But Rasâlu took them both by the hand and led them into the cave; but dead as it was, they shrieked with fear at the Awful Horror they saw. And they fell at Rasâlu's feet and groaned and moaned and prayed and wept. 'Let us go! Oh, hero, we are but men. We dare not follow you now. It is nothing to you; it is death to us to follow and be your friends.'

"Then tears came into Rasâlu's eyes, but he said no word of nay. 'Do as you will,' he said to them. 'I will not bid you stay.

 
"'Aloes linger long before they flower,
Gracious rain too soon is overpast;
Youth and strength are with us but an hour,
All glad life must end in death at last.
But king reigns king without consent of courtier,
Rulers may rule, though none heed their command;
Heaven-crowned heads, stoop not, but rise the haughtier,
Alone and friendless in a strangers' land.'
 

"So his friends forsook him and fled. But Rasâlu went on his way."

CHAPTER VIII
DOWN'S STRATAGEM

Now the terrible thing that happened was one which Foster-father might have expected, but for two things.

One was the sentry who walked up and down all night long below the high second-story windows of the central room. He would be bound to see any attempt to gain an entrance through them, even if they were wide enough to admit the entry of a grown man, which they were not.

The other was the fact that he, Old Faithful, Meroo and Roy all slept in the outer room, into which the only door opened, so that any intruder would have to force an entrance over their bodies; for they slept with drawn swords beside them.

So as the days passed on Foster-father's vigilance—though he knew that cruel brother Kumran's agents were on the lookout for any opportunity of kidnapping the Heir-to-Empire—slackened somewhat, especially when the afternoons drew in, the fire in the big hall was made up, the quilts put down and Baby Akbar, surrounded by his admiring circle, listened to Roy's stories or tumbled about with his playmates, Tumbu, the dog, and Down, the cat.

One day, however, Down did not appear until little Akbar was having his supper, and then she came in a great hurry out of a small archway by the big fireplace, which led to a sort of cupboard in the masonry, where charcoal had been kept, gobbled up a plate of bread and milk, and hurried in again as if she had to catch a train.

"She has had kittens," said Foster-mother; "I wonder if they are white or black."

"Black!" sniffed Head-nurse. "What else could they be in that hole? Have a care, woman! or the Heir-to-Empire will be blacking himself, too. The archway is large enough for him to creep in, and Heaven only knows whither it might lead."

"That is true," replied Foster-mother, alarmed, as she distracted the child's attention.

But in a day or two his quick ear caught the sound of a feeble mewing inside the arch, and, of course, he wanted to know what it was. So he was told that kittens had to be kept quiet and that Down would be very vexed if her kitten was disturbed; but that by-and-bye she would doubtless bring it out for him to see, and then, of course, he could play with it. Now, Baby Akbar was always a reasonable little fellow, so he waited patiently; though every night when he went to bed and Down came out for her supper, his little mouth would go down and he would hold up his little hands and twiddle them round and say mournfully:

"Kitty not 'weady. Kitty not 'weady."

Now, one night there was a great festival in the palace, and the Heir-to-Empire had to go and pay his respects, after the Indian manner on feast days, to his aunt and uncle. Then, when he returned, they sent him, after Indian wont, trays full of fruit and sugar-toffee made in the shape of animals, and a few pieces of muslin and stuffs to make new dresses for the party. In addition to this there was a trayful of supper, which came afterward, when daylight had gone, with the Princess Sultanum's best compliments. At least so said the man who brought it; but he did not wait to be questioned, and disappeared so soon as Meroo had taken the tray from him.

But it was full of the most delicious dainties, including a bowl of sweet milk made with almonds and honey and rice meal for Baby Akbar.

Head-nurse, however, would not let him eat it. She was always afraid of the little lad being poisoned, so Meroo always cooked with his own hands everything the child ate. Therefore they gave it to Tumbu instead; for, having been brought up by shepherds, he loved milk, and he licked his lips after it and was soon sound asleep by the fire.

The lamb stewed with pistachio nuts and full of saffron looked, however, so delicious that after Meroo had tasted it and pronounced it quite safe, since all knew that saffron would not go with real poison, they set to work and finished the platter.

They were all as jolly as could be afterward, though the heat of the fire and their heavy supper made them sleepy; so Head-nurse, declaring it was far too cold in the inner room, dragged her bed and Foster-mother's close to the fire, the others retired to the outer room, and before long they were all snoring away quite happily.

For if the supper had not truly been poisoned, it had been drugged. Drugged with sleep-bringing drugs.

So, as the firelight flickered over the room faintly, it showed Head-nurse's face and Foster-mother's face and even Tumbu's black muzzle in a dead sleep that was almost unconsciousness. And in the outer room Foster-father snored, and even Roy's keen, hawk-face lay like one dead. Only Baby Akbar tossed and turned in his comfortable nest between his two nurses.

Save for this, due to Head-nurse's precaution in not allowing the Heir-to-Empire sweet milk for supper, all was as cruel brother Kumran's agents had planned when they had sent the pretended messenger from the palace with the platter of delicacies. Even the sentry below was sleeping sound after his share of kid curry.

Thus, those who were on the roof waiting until the moon had set and they could without fear of discovery lower the young lad, who was to steal Baby Akbar, down to the window (through which, being slender, the thief could slip easily), felt that their task was almost done.

But they reckoned without a great white fluff which after a time showed itself at the entry to the charcoal bunker, yawning and stretching and blinking its eyes. Head-nurse had been quite wrong in saying Down's kitten must be black in that hole! Its mother, anyhow, was beautifully white, perhaps because Down was a sensible cat and had only chosen the charcoal bunker because she had found a lot of old straw and a blanket tucked away in its farther corner. Besides, as she only had one kitten, she could spend all her time in licking it and cleaning it with her rough, red tongue, after the manner of cats. Anyhow, there it lay, right out of reach of any one, a little bundle of white fluff, and Down was just beginning to feel that there were other things in the world besides kittens. For instance, was that scratching on the roof, think you, a mouse? If so—? She passed to the fire. It was warm and nice; just the very place for a kitten's first look at the world, and there were no troublesome people about; not but what she was anxious to show her kitten to Baby Akbar. But who knew if horrid Head-nurse might not try to catch it? But Head-nurse was asleep. Down whisked her tail, disappeared through the archway, and reappeared again gingerly, carrying the kitten in her mouth. It sprawled in the firelight and mewed piteously. And there was that scratching on the roof again … really, kittens were a bore when one wanted to mouse....

So far it is easy to follow Down's thoughts. What came next is more difficult. No one can say whether the cat had really any notion that danger to her young master was abroad, or whether she only wanted to show him her kitten, or whether she wanted it taken care of—for Persian cats, if they kill a rat at night, have often been known to jump on their master's bed and insist on his taking custody of their prize lest it should somehow come to life again if they left it alone—only this was certain, Baby Akbar woke with a rough, red tongue licking his nose, and there, on the quilt, was Down beside the fluffiest, darlingest little kitten that ever was!

He made a grab at it with his little fat hands. Whether this frightened its anxious mother or whether Down really had a purpose in view, who can say? Only this is sure: she was off the bed in a second, Miss Kitten in her mouth. A minute afterward Baby Akbar was off it also with a little crow of delight. But the drugged nurses did not stir; they were away in the Land of Dreams. And hark! what was that curious noise outside the window, as if something was slipping down the wall? Perhaps it was that that frightened Down once more; for just as Baby Akbar's hand reached out to lay hold of the kitten, which she had set down by the fire, Down snatched it up again and was off with it back to the charcoal bunker, with Baby Akbar after her, his face full of solemn resolve. He meant to play with that kitty.

And play with her he did. At least, after he disappeared down the archway by the fireplace he did not come out again. Only Down reappeared and seated herself at the entrance, her ears cocked, her eyes fixed on the window.

For something very funny had happened there, which, though the flicker of the fire had died down, she could see with her cat's eyes.

A lad had slipped in, carrying the end of a rope, to which was attached a network bag. And now, since it was dark, he was striking a light. A feeble little glimmer, but sufficient to show the two sleeping nurses and the comfy little nest of quilts between them. But it was empty!

The boy seemed puzzled, and went into the inner room, only to return without what he sought. Then he stole into the outer room, but came back softly with a puzzled look on his face. Then he began to peer about him on the floor, and in the corners, holding the feeble light in front of him. Whereupon Down, apparently to satisfy herself that her kitten really was safe in the corner of the charcoal bunker where she had left it, retreated for a moment, so that as the searcher came round he saw nothing but the low, round arch. The next he gave a stifled yell, for something white that was all claws leaped right in his face, over he went and out went his light.

"I look no more," he said, shivering as, after five minutes' hasty retreat, he stood on the roof among those who had sent him down. "Let some one else go; but I tell you the child is not there."

But one of the crafty, cruel men had sharp wits. "Could he have crept into the charcoal bunker?" he suggested, and the faces round him lit up. But the lad's remained sullen, as he wiped the blood from Down's scratches.

"Mayhap," he said. "But I go not near that cat again!"

So, as no one else was small enough to slip through the narrow slits of windows, the conspirators could only curse their bad luck.

Thus it came to pass that the hours passed by without further attempt at baby-theft, while Foster-father snored and Head-nurse dreamed the most heavenly dreams of wonderful court ceremonials, and all the others were wrapped in the profoundest slumbers.

But they all woke at last, and once more there was the most terrible hullabaloo until Foster-mother recollected the kitten in the charcoal bunker. Whereupon every one in turn flattened themselves on the floor and reached in, and Roy actually got his head and one shoulder in; but no one could feel anything or find out how big it was or anything about it. Whereupon the two women began mutual recriminations and the men stood helpless, when suddenly Down appeared with the kitten in her mouth, and Baby Akbar, who had evidently been comfortably asleep on the blanket amid the straw, came crawling after his new pet.

"So far so good!" said Foster-father, who, noticing a fallen piece of mortar at the window-sill, had been carefully examining certain signs and scratches both without and within, "but if I be not much mistaken, some one hath been through here this night. And that we were all drugged ye must know if the inside of your mouths be like mine! So we have to thank Heaven and the cat for an escape!"

And so they had, though it was a sore trial once more to the women to have nothing but guesswork to go upon.

"I wish I knew," murmured poor Foster-mother mournfully, as she watched Baby Akbar, and Down, and the kitten, and Tumbu, all playing together before the fire.

But once more Baby Akbar was silent, and Down told nobody—unless it was Tumbu. Perhaps he did know, because he allowed Down's kitten to play with his tail!