CHAPTER XVIII
THE GARDEN OF GAMES
And now, for the time at any rate, Prince Akbar's adventures were over,and all the little party prepared to enjoy themselves. Foster-father,taken out of his dungeon, soon recovered consciousness, and the news ofKing Humayon's victory and the Heir-to-Empire's safety, being the besttonic in the world, he was soon about again.
Head-nurse, at last absolutely restored to her proper position in Court,found, however, that her young charge had considerably outgrown thenursery. To begin with, his father, overjoyed at recovering his son,could not see too much of him, and took him about with him wherever hewent.
"Time enough for his education to begin when he is four," said Humayon,when Foster-father pointed out that the boy was old beyond his years andthat if he did not soon begin schooling it would be difficult for himby-and-bye.
"Let be--friend, let be!" continued the fond father; "let us have awhile to amuse ourselves, now the trouble is over! I tell you I havebeen in such straits these last four years that I have had no time toamuse myself. Now I mean to show Kabul that life isn't so bad afterall!"
So tall, handsome, good-natured, with a vivid love of colour and beautyand a light-heartedness almost beyond belief,--light-heartedness whichhad carried him through dangers that might have proved too much for oneless gay--Humayon set to work to lavish his money on the mostmagnificent entertainments that ever were seen.
So long as winter lasted these had to be held in the Bala Hissar, wherea sound of music and a ripple of laughter was to be heard day and night;but as spring began once more to carpet the barren hills with millionsof flowers, Humayon's amusements went further afield. One day he and hisCourt, a glittering cohort of merry men, flashing with diamonds, andprepared to enjoy everything, would ride out many miles to see the greatgroves of Judas trees flushed with their pink blossoms; ride out to finda magnificent camp awaiting them, a magnificent repast prepared, and allthe best singers and dancers in Kabul ready to amuse them. Then the nextday, mayhap, they would all go a-hawking, and at each and all of thesediversions Humayon's little son was part of his father's enjoyment, andso naturally, became more and more of a man every day.
He used to ride on Horse-chestnut, and Tumbu was always of the party,getting in consequence rather too fat, by reason of the rich food whichwas given him.
But despite all this fun and jollity little Prince Akbar was not quitesatisfied.
"You took my mother away with you to the hills," he would say to hisfather. "Why didn't you bring her back with you? I want to see her."
Then King Humayon would laugh--for he was always merry--and bid hislittle son be patient. His mother would come with the spring. At presentshe was in Persia, but so soon as the passes were open she would startfor Kabul. And then there would be fun! Whereupon little Prince Akbarwould smile a dignified smile, and say, _of course_ there would be fun!
Now out of this arose a plan which came into King Humayon's head, as somany other plans came, without very much thought; for he was full ofkindly, not over-wise fancies. And this one was that little Prince Akbarshould choose his own mother!
It would be rather a hard task for a child who had not seen her for twoyears and a half, and who was but a baby of less than eighteen monthsold when he had parted from her! But Humayon was convinced that _his_son would remember; and anyway, even if he did not, no harm would bedone and it would be very amusing. So orders were given for a hugeentertainment in the Arta Gardens just outside Kabul. They were the mostbeautiful gardens, not close cropped and orderly like English gardens,but with wide, bare, marble-paved walks and squares, big marble-steppedtanks full of waterlilies, all set in tangles of widespread roses andjasmine and gardenia. And here Humayon's fancy set up a Mystic Palace ofthree Houses: The House of Pleasure; The House of Fortune, and the Houseof Power. Never was such a beautiful Palace. By day it shone with thereflected light of thousands and thousands of looking-glasses, by nightit rose outlined in every detail by thousands and thousands of littlelamps. Every marble path was spread with priceless silken carpets, thevery fountains were scented with attar-of-rose. All the musicians anddancers and acrobats and jugglers of Kabul were commanded to be there,snow came from the higher hills to ice the drinks, and cooks worked dayand night to prepare the most wonderful dishes.
"That is what I call a King," remarked the Afghan sentry, whom Roy,going with his little master to see the preparations, found keepingguard at the gate. "None of your skinflints like Kumran. Aye!" hecontinued, seeing Roy's look of surprise and distaste, "I have done whatI said I would--fought for Kumran till there was no more fighting to bedone. And now, like His Gracious Majesty King Humayon, I am enjoyingmyself. I want no more! Ha! Ha!"
Little Prince Akbar, who was standing by, turned on him sharply. "Thouart a slave, fellow, and know nothing of Kingship. Roy and I do. In hiscountry Kings ride and shoot and play polo, and--and do things.Besides," he added, "I want my mother."
"Your Highness will have to choose her then, so I hear," began thesentry almost rudely, and Roy started to rebuke him, but Prince Akbarwas first.
"Of course I shall choose my own mother, slave. She is quite different,you know, from any one else in the world. Isn't she, Roy?"
The Rajput lad passed his hand over his forehead. "Mine was, Most Noble!I should know her again if I ever saw her, but I never shall."
"Say not that, boy," said the sentry, who, despite his roughness, had akind heart and was touched by the sorrow in Roy's voice. "I have an oldcomrade down Suryamer way and I will speak to him of thee and see whathe says; then who knows but----"
Little Akbar interrupted him gravely. "It is as God chooses. Roy alwayssays that. Don't you, Roy?"
"By my word!" said the sentry, saluting, "you are a proper pair ofKings."
There were to be three days festival. On the first, that of Pleasure,everybody was to be dressed in white, on the second day of Power allwere to be in scarlet, and on the third, the day of Fortune, the day onwhich little Prince Akbar was to choose his mother, every one was towear green. Head-nurse and Foster-mother spent all their time indevising wonderful new designs for their darling's dresses, and Humayonhimself added many little fanciful touches, for he had a most wonderfulimagination, and this festival, which was to welcome his wife to Kabuland give her back her little son, occupied all his thoughts.
The queen arrived on the first day, but, according to custom, in aclosed litter, and she went straight to the secluded balcony arrangedfor the royal ladies, whence she could see without being seen. So shehad the advantage of her little son, who, in a magnificent costume ofwhite and silver, looked such a darling that Queen Humeeda longed to hughim.
"Has my Amma-_jan_ come?" whispered the little Prince to his father, "isshe up there behind the lattice of roses?"
"Yea! she is there sure enough, little rogue," laughed Humayon. "So givea good look right through the flowers."
"No!" said little Akbar, "I've got to shut my eyes; then I can see herwith my other eyes."
But his father was too busy directing the festival to hear what he said.
So the first day passed on and everybody thought it was the very finestentertainment that ever was seen. But the second day surpassed it. Thecrowds, all in scarlet, filling the gardens, looked like bright rosesamid the green leaves, and the blare of golden trumpets, the scatteringof golden coins as _largesse_, the stately processions of soldiers madeit, indeed, a marvellous show of power; and this was increased by thearrival of ambassadors from the Shah of Persia, who had so much helpedKing Humayon. They brought magnificent presents and heartycongratulations on success. So, nothing was lacking; and at night, litup by red fires, the scene was one never to be forgotten. But with thedawn everything changed! A thousand servants set to work, and in oneshort half hour the garden showed green. Green carpets, green trees,green water falling from the fountains like liquid emeralds. Andby-and-bye came green crowds, every shade of green mixing and minglingin harmony. And inside the arched pavilion of t
he house of Good Fortunewere green rustlings of silk, green shimmerings of satin as threehundred ladies of the Court, all veiled with green veils, took theirseats in a semicircle. Three hundred ladies in green all dressed alike!Which was Queen Humeeda? _That_, it was the part of a child of four totell, a child who had not seen his mother for two and a half years!
The crowd outside, pale green, sage green, emerald green, leaf green,were hushed to silence, waiting; but from every thicket of rose andjasmine a chorus of singing birds, deftly concealed in cages behind theleaves, filled the air as Humayon and his little son advanced to taketheir places. The king was dressed in green also, a fine figure in royalrobes embroidered with a thousand allegorical designs. He took his seaton a golden throne.
And little Prince Akbar!
He was the one spot of colour! He was the flower of the whole garden!Dressed in rose satin of various shades, he looked indeed whatHead-nurse had called him fondly, thus adding to her string of titles,"The Rose of the World."
And now the great moment approaches! The little fellow takes his standfearlessly below his father; before him the semicircle of green veiledladies; a hundred in the first row, a hundred in the second row, ahundred in the third row.
But little Akbar's eyes as he stands there do not wander from row torow. To tell the truth, his eyes are not open at all! He has them fastclosed; for so, he knows, he can see his mother.
"Ladies! Unveil!" comes the king's voice. It sounds a little anxious.
"_Ladies! unveil!_"]
There is a rustling of silks and satins, a faint swishing of gauze andmuslins, and three hundred faces flash out, like flowers against leaves,from their green draperies.
Which is Queen Humeeda's?
For an instant the child stands silent, his lips trembling, his faceflushing. Then his eyes open and he sees something.
What is it?
Is one face less smiling than another?
Where is it? In the first row, or the second row, or the third row?
What matter? There is a glad cry of----
"Amma-_jan_! My Amma-_jan_. There you are!" And a little flying figurein rose-coloured satin has dashed across the floor to fling itself intothe arms of--Queen Humeeda.
Little Akbar has found his own darlingest mother, and there is not a dryeye in the whole assemblage.