CHAPTER X
THE NIGHT OF RECORD
So the summer days passed and winter set in once more. Though moresatisfied, Foster-father felt still that safety depended on KingHumayon's success or failure.
So, whenever one of the long files of camels tied together in a string,head-and-tail, showed on the hill road above Kandahar, he was off to thehalting-place outside the city to see what news it had collected in itsmarch from Hindustan; for caravans in those days were the postmen.
And sometimes he heard one thing, and sometimes another, but as often asnot he returned as he went, without any remedy but patience.
"Anyhow the child grows in stature and strength," Head-nurse would say,"and our present lodging is better than our last!"
Which was true; for the old house of three stories which they nowinhabited was full of little rooms leading one out of the other like arabbit-warren. And if there was no furniture in them, so much the betterfor the children's games of "I espy" and "Touch who Touch can."
For Bija and Mirak played such games with infinite zest. As Head-nursehad foretold, the coming of his little sister had been an immense gainto the Heir-to-Empire; not only in manners, but also in his outlook uponlife. For Princess Bakshee Bani Begum was a very determined smallperson, who did not in the least see why the elder sister of a boyshould give way to him in all things, simply because he wasHeir-to-Empire.
"I won't have it, Mirak," she would say with a stamp of her little foot;"you shall not break my doll's head just because you want to."
So Prince Akbar, who was full of sound common sense, began to think shehad reason on her side; and this was of great advantage to him, for withHead-nurse, and Foster-mother and the others, he stood a great chance ofbeing spoiled.
And after a time he became quite devoted to the prim little maid, who,for all her primness in general, could be as wild as a hawk on occasion.
And out of that arose an incident which, unfortunately, turned PrincessSultanum against the little lad and so endangered his safety. It cameabout in this way. Prince Askurry's son Yakoob was, as has been said,three years older than Akbar, a lanky, rather weedy lad-ling of nearlysix. Now Prince Askurry was himself a noted wrestler, and was determinedhis son should be one also. So he had the boy carefully taught, and seta good deal of store by the quickness of the little fellow in learningthe grips, and how to trip up an adversary. On high days and holidays,indeed, Prince Askurry and his wife used often to amuse themselves byseeing the discomfiture of other less experienced children who were setup to compete with the young wrestler. Baby Akbar had been one of these,and being so much younger, he had always gone down before Yakoob'sskill; but he had always taken his overthrow in good part, thoughHead-nurse had felt as if she could not keep her fingers off the victor.It was not fair, she would say afterwards, to match a baby of two with achild of six, and then she would try to hug the vanquishedHeir-to-Empire and cover him with kisses; but Akbar, always independent,resented this. "Akbar tumble _him_ down some day," he would sayphilosophically; and indeed there seemed every chance of it, for, merebaby as he was, there was more promise of future strength in his littlefinger than in Yakoob's whole body.
Now, as winter came on, the children were driven indoors for their play,and Old Faithful at their earnest request, rigged up a swing in a largeempty room in the palace, and here Princess Bija would be swung like theSeventy Maidens, until Prince Akbar wearied of swinging her; and knowingthat nothing would induce his elder sister to tumble down like theprincesses in the story, would say quite plaintively:
"Please, Bija, get down; I'm tired of being Rasalu," when the littlemaid would descend gracefully and they would play at something else.
But one day, just after the New Year, Prince Yakoob came to spend theday with his cousins, and the children fell to acting the adventures ofRajah Rasalu; Yakoob, as the guest, playing the hero's part.
They got through several of them quite successfully, Princess Bijamaking a spirited carpenter's lad and killing his dragon with greatvigour, while the Heir-to-Empire, disguising his deep baby voice in ahigh squeak, doubled the parts of the seventy-nine maidens and thecricket. So all went merry as a marriage bell until Rasalu had to orderthe giggling crew out of the swing.
Then, of course, Bija refused; whereupon Yakoob, a spoiled boy, castaside the tinsel-covered wooden sword, and whipped out from his belt atoy dagger his father had given him that morning. It was not very sharp,but very little cuts a taut rope, and one furious slash severed some ofthe strands, the weight of the two children did the rest, and there theywere both on the marble floor!
And unfortunately the "pearl of pearls," Rajah Rasalu's bride, did _not_fall on top. She fell underneath the Heir-to-Empire, and theHeir-to-Empire was heavy! So there was her poor little lip all cut andher pretty little nose all bleeding. Then _two_ Head-nurses rushed in,and _two_ Foster-mothers, and ever so many pairs of nursery attendants,each taking the part of their respective nurslings, and there was aterrible to-do, for, of course, one Head-nurse said it was the fault ofthe other Head-nurse, and so on. In fact peace did not return until theparty separated and the offender, Prince Yakoob, was being joggettedback to his mother by his excited attendants, while Princess Bija washaving her swollen nose soothed by cold water. She did not cry much, butshe was terribly indignant with every one, including her brother.
He couldn't have prevented his cousin from cutting the rope, of course,but he might have made his cousin's nose bleed also! If she hadn't beenotherwise occupied she could have done it herself; she was quite sureshe could; or at any rate have done something quite as disagreeable!
She looked very fierce as she spoke, while Akbar listened with grievedattention. In fact, what Bija would have done, had Head-nurse not hadher in her arms cossetting her, became quite a subject of conversationbetween the two children, Bija sitting demurely threading beads andinventing new methods of just punishment, and the Heir-to-Empire lollingon the floor pretending to sharpen his tinfoil sword, and interposingobjections such as, "But you couldn't do _that_, Bija, you're not_strong_ enough," or "_That_ wouldn't be fair, Bija, for he only hurtyou a little, you know." For Akbar was born with a sense of fair-playand justice which never forsook him, because he always gave _it_ fairplay.
So the idea of somehow getting the better of Yakoob became a fixed onein the little lad's mind until an opportunity for action came to him.
It was about a month afterwards, on the "Festival of Record"; that is tosay, the day when good Mohammedans pray for guidance during the comingyear, and believe that God's Angel, accompanied by the spirits of theirdead ancestors, appears on earth to judge the record of the past year,and write on the forehead of each man and woman and child what reward orpunishment is deserved in the next. In the evening, thousands of littlelamps are lit, so that there shall be no darkness anywhere, but allthings shall be made manifest, and when the little platters of sweetsand food are set out lest any of the spirits, who come to plead fortheir descendants, should feel hungry, it is a very solemn affair; butthe day is generally spent in amusement.
So Princess Sultanum arranged an entertainment, and, as usual, there wasto be a bout of wrestling between her son and some little companions,amongst them the Heir-to-Empire. Head-nurse was furious, of course. Theshow was invented, she declared, to disgrace the Mighty-in-Pomp, thePole-star of the Universe, etc., etc.
Akbar himself took it very complacently and allowed himself to beundressed and oiled all over, so as to make a grip very hard; for theseare the Indian customs. And a very sturdy specimen he looked as he stoodup and crossed his arms and then slapped himself with resounding slapsbefore crossing them again; also after Indian fashion, for so much hehad learned of wrestling.
Then the signal was given, and Yakoob, as was his wont, began, inimitation of grown-up wrestlers, to steal an advance on his adversary.
But Akbar would none of that. Whether, watching real wrestling, he hadnoticed the method of attack he employed, or whether Roy had taught him,or wheth
er he got it out of his own head, does not matter; but thelittle fellow rushed forward furiously and charging like a butting ram,caught his cousin full in the stomach, then making a snatch at his ankletripped him up. So there in a second was Yakoob on his back, and Akbar,breathless but triumphant, on top of him.
"Now _you've_ tumbled down," remarked the Heir-to-Empire suavely, as,astride his cousin's prostrate body, he paused for breath ere gettingup.
Of course, some people said it wasn't fair; but others admitted thatthough not the _polite_ style of wrestling, such a method was strictlywithin the rules. All, however, admired the big, bold, strong littleHeir-to-Empire; all but his aunt and uncle; and the former bidHead-nurse take away her young savage at once, while the latter's craftyface, uneasy before, settled into a scowl.
But Head-nurse could hardly contain her joy, even when Foster-fathershook his wise old head and said he would not have had it happen for allthe wealth of the world, for of late, if he were not much mistaken,things had been shaping ill for his young master, and that very morninga secret messenger had come in from Kabul. What it might portend whocould say; but it was bad fortune the child should lose favour at Courtto such slight purpose.
"Slight, indeed!" sniffed Head-nurse. "Is it not something to have shownthat woman that her brat cannot stand up before true Kingship?"
"I would it were so, woman," replied Foster-father, "but a child underthree with but two old men and two boys for protection cannot show muchfight."
Head-nurse tossed her head. "So we women are not to count--" she began;but Baby Akbar had been listening seriously and now put in with his deepchildish voice, and a wise little shake of the head:
"And there's Tumbu and Down, too; they can bite and scratch beautifullyfor me when they like."
Whereupon Foster-mother caught him up, and wept, and swore that Heavenmust and would protect such a heart's darling.
Perhaps it was this conversation which put the idea of getting help intothe children's heads, but after a time it was evident they had some planbetween them, for after watching the women light hundreds of littlelamps, and set out a quantity of tiny platters full of sweets, theystole off by themselves to an empty room which was almost dark and beganto whisper.
"I think it had better be grand-dad," said the Heir-to-Empire gravely,"'cos my father isn't dead yet, and they must be deaders, you know, ifthey are _really_ to help."
"And we'll take the little summer room at the very top of the house,Mirak, so's we'll be able to stop him on his way down, 'case any oneelse has got a platter for him," said Bija the practical. "Now, Mirak,I'll fetch the sweets if you'll get some lamps. They won't be missed,you know, if we take them betwixt and between."
After that there was much secret hurrying up and down stairs and secretgurglings of delight as the preparations advanced.
"Oh, Mirak! Won't it be lovely? He's sure to come in when he sees it!"said the little girl, clasping her hands. "And Old Faithful was sayingthat Grand-dad Babar was as good as twenty other men in a fight, so_then_ you'll be quite safe."
But Mirak's face was solemn. "If Grand-dad doesn't know it's for him hewon't come in, and he won't eat the sweets either. It's greedy to eatsweets as doesn't belong to you, and _he_ wasn't greedy. Old Faithfulsays he wasn't. He was a real King."
"Don't you think he might be greedy just to help you?" suggested Bijamournfully; but after thinking a little she clapped her hands. "I haveit, Mirak! If his name was on it that would do! I think I could write'Ba-ba.' It's only the two first letters, you see, and I know _them_;and you could prick yourself for some blood to write with, and I coulduse my little finger as a pen. It's very, very tiddly wee."
It was, indeed! and Mirak sat large-eyed in admiration of his sister'singenuity, while she, mistress of the situation, did this and that untileven she was satisfied. And really the little arched and domed cupolaset in Eastern fashion on the roof, looked quite pretty with the littleglittering lights in a square on the white marble floor, and the platterof sweets placed in the middle of the square, whereon in smeared redletters showed this:
BA BA]
"And now, Mirak!" chattered Bija, "we'll go down and go to bed like goodboys and girls, and then when the others are saying their prayers andgoing to sleep we can come up again and sleep here."
"Won't it be very cold, Bija?" asked Mirak, whose little nose was halffrost-bitten already, for a cold wind was blowing off the snow hills.
"We will bring quilts," said the little lady with a superior air.
So, about an hour afterwards, after the children had been put to bed andtheir elders had begun the serious work of watching and waiting anddozing through the night, two little figures, well wrapped up in quiltedcotton gowns and dragging quilted cotton blankets behind them, stole upthe stairs to the roof of the house.
"I'm going to ask God to let him come," said Baby Akbar solemnly. Sothey both touched the cold marble floor with their warm little foreheadsand said:
"Please Great God! Let our grand-dad Babar come and take care of us, andbe kind to us, and not let the Angel write nasty things on our foreheadsfor this next year!"
Then they cuddled themselves closely together in the blankets and weresoon fast asleep.
So fast asleep that even when, after the short hullaballoo whichfollowed on the discovery that they were not in their beds, they weretraced to the roof, they did not thoroughly wake up, but were carrieddown again without knowing much about it.
"Shall I blow out the lights?" asked Roy, as Head-nurse prepared todescend also.
_So they both touched the cold marble floor with theirwarm little foreheads._]
Head-nurse looked round to Foster-father for his opinion.
"No!" he said shortly, "leave them! The children have asked some one toeat those sweets. Let be! They may want all the help they can get."
So all the night long the little lamps twinkled and twinkled.
But when morning came there was not a sweet left!
"It must have been the rats," said Meroo, who, as cook, had gone up tosee what he could save. "I saw the tail of one disappearing."
But Foster-father said swiftly: "I would it were some other helper, forthe time has come for help. Prince Askurry hath sent to say we start forKabul and cruel brother Kumran at noon to-day!"