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"Did you not tell me that Nur Mahal inhabits that portion of the zenana situate over the Water Gate?"
"Yes; what if she does?"
"While Master Sainton was venting his ire I chanced to turn my eyes that way. A white scarf fluttered for an instant high above the gate. Ah!
there it is again! Take heed lest some of the others follow your glance!
You are not p.r.o.ne to rash vows, friend, yet I am much mistaken if there be not a woman in Agra who shall perplex you sorely ere many hours have pa.s.sed."
And, indeed, Walter did see a whirl of muslin tremble in the air like a tiny cloud from one of the many small windows which pierced the frowning battlements.
CHAPTER XVII
"Under which King, Bezonian? Speak, or die!"
_King Henry IV_, Part II, Act 5, Sc. 3.
When a woman's head governs her heart she is to be feared; and that is why Providence, meaning her to be loved, ordained that, for the most part, her heart should govern her head. In the rarer descriptions of the human clay a woman unites in herself romance and the critical faculty, as though the Master delighted in blending Aphrodite with Athene.
Nur Mahal, true daughter of the G.o.ds, was such a one. Gifted with the intelligence and cold intellect of an empire-ruler she seldom yielded to the divine femininity which was her birthright. It was an impulse of sheer emotion which led her to betray her joy by a signal when she distinguished Mowbray in the midst of the troop of horse. Not unnaturally, she interpreted the sudden halt caused by Roger's anxiety anent the Countess as arising from Mowbray's wish to let her know that he had seen the fluttering scarf and rightly guessed its owner. If so, his action was an indiscretion. Who could tell how many pairs of eyes were watching him from hidden chamber or open battlements?
The departure of Sainton in such furious haste puzzled her exceedingly, but she was rea.s.sured when Mowbray turned his horse's head again towards Dilkusha. She knew now that the brown-robed stranger who rode so near to him was not only the friend, spoken of by Jai Singh, for whom the Englishman had dared so greatly, but that he, too, had observed her token. So she ventured to thrust forth the gossamer muslin a second time, and she was sure that Mowbray looked towards her and bowed gracefully, even raising his hat to show that he was aware of her presence.
In Agra, during the Mogul dynasty, such was the perfection reached by the weaver's art, muslin was fas.h.i.+oned of a texture so delicate that a turban or girdle, if spread out, would sink gently, with surprising slowness, to the ground. Nur Mahal, though impoverished, still retained her wardrobe, and this scarf was one of the lightest and most beautiful in her possession. Nevertheless, a flaming torch thrust into an oil-soaked beacon could not have kindled a tocsin fire of more furious significance than those floating folds. Aware of her environment she, having hastily adjudged Mowbray guilty of imprudence, should have been prudent herself. But prudence is a negative quality seldom allied with the magnetic powers which sway men, and Nur Mahal was bold in either love or hate. Moreover, she despised her enemies.
So it came to pa.s.s that the Emperor pleaded fatigue when Mowbray and Fra Pietro rode to the palace that afternoon, and they returned to the Garden of Heart's Delight more perplexed than ever by Jahangir's inscrutable att.i.tude. Of Jai Singh they could glean no tidings. All the servants in the late Diwan's residence were newcomers and Mahomedans, to whom the old Rajput was unknown. His fellow-clansmen of the escort had no later intelligence of his movements than Walter himself, who, though restored to familiar surroundings, was nevertheless in the position of a traveler returned to a place whence the well-known landmarks have been effaced.
Fra Pietro, in his placid way, admired the beauty of the garden, the elegance of the building, the wealth of roses and flowering plants which adorned each lovely vista, and then settled down to read his breviary by the waning light.
"It is a salutary practise," said he quietly, "to turn one's thoughts heavenward when the world grows dark," and indeed, Walter, confused by a hundred conflicting issues, found himself regretting the lack of spirituality in his soul which rendered such solace unattainable in the present stress of events.
For never was man more mystified. Clemency, even from a Mogul ruler, was not altogether a vain thing to expect. But why had Jahangir's grace taken such form? If the Europeans were to be well received, why had the Emperor denied them admission to the fort under a trumpery excuse, after having expressed a wish to see them at once? Where was Jai Singh?
Evidently Nur Mahal, a.s.suming it was she who signalled from the tower, had definite news of their coming, and it was most unlikely that she could be so accurately informed save through the medium of her devoted adherent. What mad adventure was Roger engaged in that he was not come ere sunset, for he would reach Fateh Mohammed's camp about noon, and he would surely hasten the Countess's departure, if unopposed, to permit arrival at Dilkusha before night fell? Yet the shadows cast by the cypress trees were fast merging with the somber pall spreading over the land, and not a sound of jingling mule bells or clanking steel came to the anxious listener's ears.
Darkness fell with the phenomenal rapidity of the vast Indian plain. The sky was overcast. The winter rains were long due, and heavy clouds were ma.s.sed aloft ready to break when the first cold wind swept down from the Himalayas. But the wind, as Fra Pietro would have it, was only surpa.s.sed in fickleness by woman, and it chose now to linger in the icy solitudes of the awful hills rather than seek the pasture lands awaiting its caress. Hence, the atmosphere was oppressive, stirred only by languorous zephyrs from the southwest, and the silence of the garden was such that the uneasy perching of a bird or the rustle of a mongoose in the undergrowth were sounds of import, demanding watchful eyes and strained hearing.
Mowbray and the friar were lodged in that part of the building which overlooked the _baraduri_, or summer-house. As frail man, whether warrior or saint, must eat, the pair partook of a well served meal.
Other things being equal the repast would have provided a grateful change from the hard fare of the journey up-country. But anxiety is a poor sauce, and they ate rather because they must than because they chose. And now, even the Franciscan put aside for the hour his indifference to matters mundane.
"Our good Roger is belated, I fear," he said. "Unless he cometh soon I shall offer a prayer in his behalf to St. James, the special patron of all who travel by night."
"If the result be guaranteed, brother, pray earnestly, I beg you, and, should your list of heavenly advocates include one noted for his wise counsel, ask him to guide our steps aright when next we leave this bewitched abode. In my childhood I was told that the little people who dwell under the green knolls on the hillsides always lead those mortals who fall into their power to scenes of fairy beauty. Certes, this garden is planned for like sorcery. I first entered it a simple trader, but ever since that day my brains have been clouded and my feet meshed in hidden snares."
Walter spoke bitterly, else he would not have even hinted at his disbelief in the efficacy of the apostolic protection. There never was man of humbler spirit than Fra Pietro, yet he took up the cudgels in earnest when his companion seemed to discredit the son of Zebedee and Salome.
"Blame not the Garden of Eden because it held a snake," said he.
"Whether in garden or desert the Lord will listen to my pet.i.tion, and grant it the more readily, should it be for the good of my soul, if it be carried to the foot of the throne by a holy sponsor like St. James.
His mother, some commentators hold, was sister to the Blessed Virgin; he taught the gospel to each of the twelve tribes; and he was the first Christian bishop to undergo martyrdom. He is ever portrayed with the gourd, sh.e.l.l, staff, and cap of a traveler, and it is only reasonable to suppose that such a pillar of the Church should be in special favor in that eternal garden where he is receiving the reward of his earthly sufferings."
The friar's outburst, delivered with much fervor, aroused Mowbray to some sense of his involuntary error.
"I beseech your pardon, good Brother Peter," he cried. "Not for a moment would I dare to disparage St. James. Forget my heedless words. My faith, was it not one named after him who packed me neck and crop into such wanderings as have not been endured by many of my generation, unless it be those few countrymen of mine who crossed the Spanish Main with Hawkins and Grenville? a.s.suredly, it would ill become me to question the potency of a James, whether Saint or King, where travelers were concerned."
Perhaps he had phrased his apology better were he less preoccupied. The Franciscan, watching him, sighed and murmured:--
"Gratiam tuam quaesmus, Domine, mentibus nostris infunde!"
The hours pa.s.sed and naught happened, until Mowbray, hara.s.sed by evil forebodings, resolved that further inaction was not to be endured. He marshaled his Rajputs, of whom there were fourteen, and asked for three volunteers who would ride to Fateh Mohammed's camp and bring news. He would see to it that they were allowed to depart from Dilkusha, and thenceforth they were not to draw rein until they reached the camp, which they were to enter by such means as seemed best to them. If Sainton-sahib were there they must return with utmost speed, one or all, as soon as they had gleaned some explanation of the sahib's detention.
Each man was willing, so he selected three, and one other, whom he commissioned to search the bazaar and inquire in likely quarters for tidings of Jai Singh.
There was some difficulty at the gate, but Mowbray's determined air, no less than the truculent att.i.tude of his men, whose belief in him was unbounded, soon quelled the scruples of the doorkeeper, and the four clattered out into the night. It was now ten o'clock, and, in Walter's opinion, nothing short of force had kept Roger from joining him within the preceding five hours. He deemed it wise to guard the gate on his own account, so he selected the oldest Rajput, one Devi Pershad, to act as lieutenant, while he split up the remainder of his small force into three watches.
He gave strict orders that thenceforth, until daybreak, none should enter or leave the compound without his knowledge and sanction, and he fancied that the Musalman durwan, thus deposed from his duties, smiled maliciously when he heard the lordly stranger imposing his will on those who maintained the dwelling for Jahangir.
Instantly the man was put to the test. Ere he could banish the smile from his face, Mowbray grasped him by the neck, and Devi Pershad held a lantern close to his eyes while his master bared Sher Afghan's dagger.
"How now, dog!" Walter cried. "Wouldst thou dare to question my commands?"
The doorkeeper's knees yielded. Here was one who read his thoughts.
"Not so, protector of the poor," he gasped, "but many have come within the hour, and there may be others."
"Many, sayest thou? There are not twenty servants in the house all told," and he shook the fellow till his teeth rattled.
"I am a poor man, sahib--and I do as I am bid. Those who come with a sign--I admit," was the stuttering answer.
"What manner of sign?"
"Some tap once and cry _sufed-kira_ (death watch); others tap thrice and say _Jai_ (victory), and it was my _hukm_ to admit both without question."
If the trembling wretch's confession needed evidence it was fittingly supplied. From without came three slight knocks and a voice:--
"Within there, brother. The word is _Jai_!"
Mowbray released the durwan, sheathed his dagger and drew his sword. He motioned to the door.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Instantly the man was put to the test.]
"Open, and act as thou wouldst have done were I not here," he muttered.
He and Devi Pershad, with the Rajputs of the first guard, hastened into the dark interior of the lodge while the man unbound the gate. There entered a very harmless couple, a _bhisti_, carrying his empty water-bag of goatskin, and a veiled woman whose simple garb showed that she was of the same caste, in all probability his wife.
But why had such a pair used a pa.s.sword, and why were two different pa.s.swords in vogue at all that night? Here was a minor riddle of which a sword-point might find the key. Walter sprang forth and seized the water-carrier. The woman uttered a slight cry of alarm, but seemed to regain instant control of herself. The poor _bhisti_ was so taken aback by the sight of the gleaming blade with which the Englishman enforced his stern demand for information that he uttered not a word. His jaw fell and he gazed up at Walter in dumb fear.
Somehow, when the rays of the lantern revealed his features, Mowbray thought he knew the man. Suddenly, recollection came. This was the palace servant who warned him and Roger against Jahangir's malice on the day of the wild beast combats.
But, whatever form Mowbray's questions might have taken, all such speculations were driven from his brain, and he released the _bhisti_ in blank amazement, when a well-remembered voice murmured sweetly:--