CHAPTER XIX
BETWIXT CUP AND LIP
Now it may indeed seem that all our little Heir-to-Empire's troubleswere over; but there is still somewhat to tell of our young hero. Tobegin with, Queen Humeeda was a wise woman, and she saw that it was notgood for the little lad to be always at play. She knew that as a King'sson in the East, he would have small time after he was ten forschooling, and as he was now close on four that did not leave many yearsfor teaching.
So a tutor was found for him; but it is to be feared that he was by nomeans an industrious scholar. Indeed, we hear of such dreadful things asplaying truant, so that when a day was fixed for an examination bylearned men as to how the Heir-to-Empire was getting on with hisstudies, "at the master moment it was found that the scholar, havingattired himself for sport, had disappeared!" Then his first tutor wasdismissed because he encouraged his pupil in pigeon flying, and we readof his applying his thoughts more to dog-fancying and Arab horses thanto his books. Still he did learn one thing, and a good thing, too.
The day he was four years and four days old he was taught, as all littleMohammedans are taught, to understand _what_ he was, _what_ the worldabout him was, and to recognise that neither he himself, nor the worldhe lived in were the Beginning and the End of all things. It was astately ceremonial, not beautiful, and lavish, and expensive like theFestival of the Mystic Palace, but one which left its mark for always onthe mind of the child.
Despite his dislike to books as the only way of learning to be wise, henever forgot the day in the Great Mosque, when, before all hisrelations, he had to stand up dressed in his simple every day clothesand take the Holy Book from the hands of the high priest. And he neverforgot the high priest's words:
"Read in the Name of Him who hath made all things in Heaven and earth,and Who hath given men power to be wise."
"_Bismillah!_--_Irruhman-nirruheem!_" he had answered as in duty bound,which means, "Thanks be to Him who is merciful in this world andmerciful in the next world."
In this way young Prince Akbar learned that every man has power to bewise, and that the great mystery of birth and death is a mercifulmystery.
Thus the summer passed and in early autumn King Humayon, who had nowwasted nearly a whole year in amusement, found it necessary to quellrebellion in a neighbouring province.
So the governorship of Kabul was made over to a trusted noble of theCourt, one Shurruf Khan by name, who was made as it were Regent forlittle Prince Akbar, who was left with his attendants in regal state atthe palace in the Bala Hissar, while Queen Humeeda went back to India,taking Bija with her, on a visit to her mother's relations.
Roy, whose story had become known in the Court, was now made equerry tothe young prince, and very handsome he looked in his chain armour, withthe noonday sun all rayed and shiny in gold on his breast, in token thathe claimed to be a Sun-hero. As, indeed, seemed likely, since the Afghansentry's old Suryamer friend had a tale about a young Rajah who had beenkidnapped and, it was supposed, left in the desert to die. But whetherRoy was the young Rajah or not, who could tell? They might send thestory to Suryamer and see what befell. Meanwhile Roy was happy, andlittle Akbar and he became more and more like elder and younger brother.How much in after years the prince owed to the companionship of thisfriend of his childhood it is impossible to say. Perhaps it accounts forthe marvellous way in which the Great Emperor Akbar ruled his Hindoosubjects.
Humayon had expected to return in a month's time, but luck was againsthim. A King cannot waste a whole year in amusement and so let wicked menhave time to hatch plots without suffering for it. And Humayon didsuffer. He had to march and counter-march with winter coming on apace,until he was struck down by sudden illness. At first the news caused noalarm, for he was known to be strong and healthy; but there came a daywhen folk began to whisper that the King was said to be lyingunconscious, that death might come any moment.
The news stirred the whole city of Kabul to its depths. It had butlately passed into the hands of Humayon. There were not wanting many whopreferred Kumran, and Kumran was in exile waiting an opportunity.
And that came with the suddenness of a summer storm. One night the gatesof the town were closed by the Regent Shurruf Khan in Humayon's name;the next dawn saw the Iron Entry, after a brief scuffle, opened in thename of Kumran! There was a rush of armed men through the streets of thetown, a murder or two of loyal men in high authority. And then?
Up at the Bala Hissar, Foster-father roused from his sleep, went inhaste to the Regent, expecting to hear bugles, to find troops gatheringsfor defence; but the gates of the Fort were open!
Shurruf Khan was traitor! He had gone over to the enemy. Ere an hour wasover Kumran, scowling, walked up and down the royal apartments, a Kingonce more; but biting his lips and frowning over something that stoodbetween him and perfect revenge!
Foster-father, good old fool, was back in his dungeon in the well,where this time he would rot. The women, as a change, were walled up ina tiny room, where, bread and water being thrust in to them, they mighteat and live, or starve and die as they chose.
But the Heir-to-Empire? What of him? Ah! fool that he had been to makethat promise to a crafty old woman who had died in order to spite him.Kumran's anger rose fierce; he would have given anything to break hisoath; but he could not. He was not strong enough; even his wickednesswas not real.
But, short of death, the young heir should have no shelter. Kumran flunghim into a miserable cell close to the Iron Gate and thought no more ofhim. And now, but for faithful Roy, Akbar would indeed have been insorry plight. They had barely enough to eat, but Roy stinted himself,eating nothing but the hard half-burned crusts of the coarsehearth-cakes and excusing himself from even touching the miserable messof pease-porridge on the ground that he did not like it. So he grew thinand his brown deer-eyes had a startled look. Indeed, he hardly slept atall, but watched and dozed beside his little master all night long.
Yet he was always cheerful. Always ready with stories and songs. When hecould not remember any new-old ones, he took to inventing tales ofpeople who were always in dangers and difficulties, but who took nonotice of them, who went on their way trusting in the Truth.
"For! see you!" he would finish gravely,
"He who has Truth Need fear no ruth."
So, ever and always his hero came out of his trials scathless.
And, by degrees, this faith in final good grew deep into both the boys'hearts, and showed in their very faces.
"By my word!" said the Afghan sentry, whom chance one day sent to guardthem. "Ye be a precious pair of Kings!"
He could admire them, though he did not seem in the least ashamed ofhaving yet once more turned his coat; for he was again on Kumran's side.
How time passed none of the prisoners cared to count. But one day thesudden roar of a great gun told them that the city was once morebesieged. In truth, Humayon hearing, while still on his bed of sickness,the fatal news of Shurruf Khan's treachery, had strained every nerve,ill as he was, to come to the rescue of his little son. It wasmidwinter, the passes were blocked with snow, he and his troops had tomeet endless hardships; but at last they were before Kabul once more.Camped on the Arkaban hill, opposite the Iron Gate, the artillery werebrought into position, the first shot fired.
It would take too long to follow all the varied incidents of the siege.But one thing was constant. Night after night recruits from inside thetown managed to scale the walls and join King Humayon's forces. Theywere getting tired of Kumran, who, unable to satisfy his cruelty on thelittle Heir-to-Empire, vented it on all and sundry. And day by day asthe number of the besieged dwindled, bit after bit of the town fell intothe besiegers' hands, until at last only the Bala Hissar remained. Butthe Bala Hissar is a town in itself, and many a time has it withstood asiege successfully.
Now, however, it was near to the death. There could be no more talk orthought of escape. Kumran, ever half-hearted, tried it one night andfailed, losing many followers in the attempt.
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sp; After that his face hardened. He went about dreaming of revenge--revengeon Humayon, even revenge on Dearest-Lady, who had tied his hands.
"_Till I return!_"
No! Dead folks can never return to the worldly. Even their memory comesseldom, save to the pure in heart.
And one night he hit on a plan. The fort was almost at its last gasp.All day Sumbal Khan, Humayon's famous artillery general, had beenpounding away at the Iron Gate with deadly aim. A few more well-sentshots would leave the bastion crumbling, and then----
Then would come the assault through the breach, and Kumran knew he couldnot face it. His force was too small.
So about midnight the door of Akbar's prison room was opened and Kumranwith a few armed men stood within.
Roy, startled from a doze, was on his feet in a second.
"What want ye?" he challenged fiercely.
"Let the Hindoo fool alone," said Kumran to those who would have seizedon the Rajput lad. "All we want is the child. Take him, slaves, and bequick about it."
Ere the words were out of his mouth a stalwart man bent to lift thesleeping Heir-to-Empire. Roy's sword flashed the same second, but, heldback by sneering men, he was helpless.
"What want ye with him? I say, what want ye with him?" panted the poorlad as he struggled madly.
Kumran paused at the door to turn an icy cold look of cruelty upon him."What! Thou wouldst know? Then thou shalt have it, young idolater. Itmay cool thy hot blood. I will dress him in dust colour like the wallsof Kabul and hang him over the battlement at dawn as a mark for mybrother's artillery. Then we shall see the breach in my citadel made!Then we shall see my revenge--but it will not be of my making! Hisfather shall kill him."
So with a mirthless laugh he followed his men, who were bearing away theHeir-to-Empire, still but half awake.
Roy stood for one second like a stone, too horror stricken for fullbelief; but the echoing laugh convinced him; with a wild cry he rushedto the narrow window and shook fruitlessly at its iron bars like a wildanimal when it is newly caged. But they were immovable.
Yet something must be done--something--something----
The thought of dawn was too dreadful. The beautiful, calm, peacefulApril dawn, shadowy grey! Just light enough to see the outline of theBala Hissar, just light enough to begin upon the breach once more; buttoo dark to see what was in the line of fire.
Yes! Something must be done, and done swiftly. Not four hours leftbefore the eastern hills would begin to show dark against the coming ofday.