A Prince of Dreamers Part 37

"Nay! Sir Chamberlain," replied Birbal coolly, "I am about to take it, and--and give it." He held out a paper as he spoke. "The matter is urgent, since as the Envoy comes with all the Insignia of Royalty, he must be presented before the Heir-Apparent. But such etiquettes are safe in the hands of a Chamberlain! For the rest, he and his retinue await reception at the gate."

"What is't?" asked Khodadad in an undertone as he saw Ibrahim's face change. But his own turned grayish green, as, over the shoulder he read the t.i.tular address:

"I, Payandar Tarkhan of the House of Sinde coming by order----"

"Impossible," he gasped. "This--this is some jest of my lord Birbal's.

Payandar is----"

"There be other Tarkhans so called besides the one who died in the wilderness," retorted Birbal slowly, "and this one comes as King--so he says. Read through the doc.u.ment, Mirza Sahib, and see if all is in order. If so, do the duty of Chamberlain; and be quick about it, for yonder go the royal _nakarahs_. The Hour of Audience has come.

Gentlemen! to our places. I will inform the Emperor."

A minute later, the court officials stood in a serried semicircle behind the King, and the green light, the central light of the seven, had divided into two and shone guarding either side of a narrow marble staircase which was disclosed leading upward to the dais. At the foot of this stood Mirza Ibrahim, reading aloud, in a voice which betrayed his agitation, the t.i.tular names and designations of the Amir of Sinde. His mind was busy with a thousand questionings. What did it all mean? And why had Khodadad been so disturbed? Surely their plans were secure? Surely the Prince had been told of the talisman? Surely this knowledge would breed confidence--and so--with aid--defiance? Every one was ready. That very night might see conspiracy successful at last, the Prince, at last, forced into taking his part.

"Let the Royalty of Sinde, as represented by him who wears the Insignia of Royalty be welcome to the Court of the Sun of the World."

The words were spoken by Abulfazl, as Prime Minister. His face showed a slight astonishment which was reflected even on Akbar's. He leant forward as if eager to see the unexpected visitor, and all eyes followed his toward the dim radiance of the distant crowd. Something there was in the mult.i.tude of faces, half seen though deep-shadowed, which thrilled many of the lookers. But the thrill pa.s.sed into something like an electric shock, as tearing the still night air with discordant clangour, an almost inconceivable clash and crash of copper kettledrums and bra.s.s cymbals seemed to crack the ears that heard it.

Instinctively almost every one present drew back from the sound, blinked, then opened eyes afresh upon the world of coloured lights and hidden imaginations. Even Akbar started, and Birbal, looking eagerly into his eyes, gave a quick sigh of relief.

So swiftly had the start come and gone, yet so real had been its effect upon every nerve, that people felt dazed, uncertain, waking as it were to the perception that a figure was standing on the crossway platform of marble above the rainbow cascade--standing almost alone, though backed by a confused crowding of retinue on either side the central waterway.

The only other figures really visible were two misshapen dwarfs, one in front, bearing a ta.s.selled lance, the other behind, bearing a ta.s.selled lance also. But both showed jet black from head to foot, and each carried, the front one on his breast, the one behind on his back a round, brilliant mirror. Or was it a brilliant light? Certain it is that as the dwarfs strutted forward, leading and following the central figure these round plaques shot out a dazzling brilliance, and for, an instant seemed to cloud all else.

The next thing that became clear was the vivid green of emeralds; such ropes of them, s.h.i.+ning like young green wheatfields, in the green radiance shed by the central light of green.

"The emeralds of Sinde, sure enough," said Man Singh half to himself, and settled down comfortably to look, as he sate heading the red ray of Rajputs. But there were others in those converging rays who stared and said doubtfully, "Sure, yonder are Birbal's daughter's two dwarfs that all know!" Until hushed by some neighbour's contemptuous denial, they also saw their mistake, and looked with believing eyes. There was one man, however, who, though he denied strenuously grew grayer and grayer as he watched the slight figure with the long black curls resting on its sloping shoulders, and the slight beard scarce covering the thin narrow cheeks. '"Tis Sufurdar for sure!" muttered Khodadad fighting against fear--"it is but the emeralds that bring the resemblance--that is all!--before G.o.d, that is all!"

So, the green light in which the little group was enveloped growing greener as the three figures approached the dais, they advanced, until at the foot of the stairs, the dwarfs stood one to each side, the one who had walked in front wheeling to show his mirror also to the watching eyes.

To that confused crowd at the end of the garden these two s.h.i.+ning spots glowed beneath the green lamps. That was all; and the familiar words of welcome given as Akbar motioned the representative of Sinde to the cus.h.i.+ons beside him took all the strangeness from the scene. It was the beginning of the marriage festival; other Princes had sent, or would send their representatives. Sinde, no doubt to curry favour with the Mogul, had sent its Royalty by the hand of an envoy; but the great event of the evening was yet to come. For that was the reception of the Bridegroom-Elect, the Heir-Apparent--the man who might come to his own any day, since Akbar was ever reckless of his own life. Had he not escaped by a miracle being killed at _chaugan_ but the other day?

So the whole a.s.sembly stirred as one man, when the Royal _nakarahs_ sounded once more, and Prince Salim followed by a right royal retinue showed, where the Envoy of Sinde had showed, on the marble platform above the rainbow cascade.

"Lo! Ummu!" whispered Auntie Rosebody, "we did the right thing. He looks the Archangel Gabriel. Let me go to bed in the dark, my day is full!"

And in truth the Prince had never looked better in his life. Perhaps the whole-heartedness of his plunge into Love's sea was the only reason why his hopes ran high; perhaps he knew of the talisman he carried, but carried it with no evil intention; perhaps again those hopes of his had gone further than mere Love, so that he saw himself master of the situation, able to give the Rajput girl whom he had never seen the go by, able to do in future what he chose, what he desired. But certain it is that every eye followed his youthful dignity with admiration, and more than one looked furtively from the son to the father, appraising both. In that father's mind, however, was no hint of jealousy, only unmixed joy.

As he raised his son from his obeisance and kissed him on both cheeks, it seemed to him as if, at long last, content had come to him. The questionings which had so hara.s.sed him of late seemed to have fled.

Here was an heir, indeed!

"How well thou lookest Shaikie!" he whispered affectionately in the young man's ear ere taking him by the hand and leading him forward so that they might be seen by all the populace.

A goodly pair indeed! The younger man, somehow--for this evening at any rate--with more personal charm about him; but the elder one even in his plain dress, his unadorned turban, a king every inch of him.

"Heralds! read out the t.i.tles of this my beloved son, Salim!"

Akbar's voice raised in command penetrated to the farthest corner of the garden and every ear strained to catch the honours that were to be showered on this Heir to Empire. Aunt Rosebody's face, flushed with anxiety grew crimson dark with sheer delight as she listened.

"Captain of Ten Thousand--praise be to Allah!" she commented breathlessly. "What! a Viceroy in the Northeast--now may I go to Paradise!--Master of Distinctions!--what! Sunshade and Fly whisk! Umm Kulsum! I go again to Mecca to give thanks--And the jewels--not _sir-a-pa_, head to foot!--not _sir-a-pa!_--Yes!--Now may they kill me--one can take two kicks from a milch cow! Unalienable--did I hear right--Ummu tell me! tell this poor old woman who--who--cannot believe--her ears."

"Unalienable, never to be neglected. Always to be considered by right, election, and consent Crown Prince." So far the Mother of Plumpness repeated in a trembling voice; then the two women fell on each other's necks and wept.

"Bring the well!" murmured Auntie Rosebody. "I'll drown myself."

And Akbar stood holding his heir by his right hand, full of a great triumph.

"Lo! I have given thee all, Shaikie" he said fondly, "art content?"

"Not all!" said a quiet voice beside him. "There is yet one honour withheld from this Peerless Prince, this Honourable Heir."

It was the Envoy from Sinde who as the representative of royalty stood on Akbar's left hand a step behind him.

Akbar flashed round on him haughtily. "What honour hath Sinde to suggest?"

"The honour of Brotherhood to the Sun of the World. The honour of the exchange of turbans!"

The converging rays of spectators suddenly seemed to quiver, as if some of their component parts stirred, but the Emperor stood still, his eyes upon the envoy's.

Then his own narrowed with quick thought. "Sinde is right," he said slowly, "there is no tie like brotherhood. It is the chain which links the whole world to One." He turned swiftly to his son withdrawing his hand from him and so for an instant standing apart, dissevered, independent.

The stir in the rays grew more evident, but his voice quieted it.

"Brother," it said, and its ringing tones filled the wide s.p.a.ces, "let us exchange the sign of brotherhood!"

His own simple turban with its heron's plume was in his hand.

For an instant Prince Salim hesitated; the next his more elaborate one with its hidden diamond was in his. It could not be otherwise.

"So!" smiled Akbar, giving himself up as he did always, to imagination, to sentiment, to dreams. "Take thou the inner place, Shaikie, next my heart--my arms are longer!"

Long enough any how to reach round Salim's less sinewy ones and place the tufted turban of Kings.h.i.+p on the young man's head, where being a trifle too large it slipped well down over the ears and forehead.

"Thou must grow to it, little brother," quoth Akbar in fond pleasure.

"As for me I must walk circ.u.mspectly lest my brotherhood fall!"

And in truth the Prince's turban showed all too much of the grizzled hair.

"Ummu! I will go back and say thanksgiving till dawn," faltered Auntie Rosebody behind the screen. "Truly what is to be, won't rub out. The Lord had it in His keeping, all the time, and we were wondering which side of the wall the cat would jump! So the King hath his own again, and Salim hath more grace than the scapegrace deserves. Truly you may toil and sweat. What Fate wills you'll get."

The proverb might have been quoted by many another in the a.s.sembly had they been able to realise at once the full meaning of the little incident. But a sort of blank amaze settled down even on those conspirators who grasped at once that the chance of immediate defiance was over. Mirza Ibrahim looked at Khodadad, Khodadad at Mirza Ibrahim, and their glances betrayed one and the same thought.

This was no accident. Someone had split on their secret. Who?

"Come, my brother!" said Akbar, taking his son's hand and advancing toward the marble steps. "Now that the conferring of t.i.tles is over, let us pa.s.s to amus.e.m.e.nt."

The court ushers rushed to their places, the royal _nakarahs_ sounded, and the cortege of the select few pa.s.sed downward amid a seething shout of content from that dim crowd at the end of the garden. But above that strange sound like a surging wave, which seems to sweep along any densely packed ma.s.s of men, rose another.

This had a rumble in it, a sharp hiss, then a deafening low, long continued roar.