The Great Mogul Part 13

"If your wares comport with your manners," she said, "you will be welcome at the palace. We hold a bazaar there to-morrow, and novelties in merchandise are always acceptable on such occasions. Sher Afghan,"

she continued, "see that the strangers are properly admitted to the Hall of Private Audience at the first hour appointed for those who bring articles for sale."

The young n.o.bleman bowed, as did Mowbray and Sainton, though the latter knew but little of the high-flown Persian in which the Sultana spoke.

Nur Mahal, who appeared to be on terms of great familiarity with her august visitor, whispered something to Queen Mariam which made the good lady laugh. Obviously, the comment had reference to Roger, and that worthy blushed, for a woman's eyes could pierce his tough hide readily, there being no weapon to equal them known to mankind.

"She's a bonny la.s.s, yon," he murmured to Walter, "and she has uncommonly high spirits. I never kent afore why a man should make a fool of himself for a woman, but now that I have seen one who is half an angel I am beginning to have a dim notion of the madness which seizes some folk."

"There are others, but why only half an angel?" asked Mowbray with a smile, for the Queen had turned to address the Diwan.

"Because that is all we have seen. The hidden half is the devil in her.

Mark me, Walter, there will be heads cracked in plenty before that fancy wench stops plaguing mankind."

Courtesy was urging Sher Afghan to give some directions to the wanderers he had so greatly befriended, but inclination, always a willing steed, dragged him to the side of Nur Mahal.

"I came to ask what you needed most for the bazaar," he said anxiously.

"Naught that you can bestow," was the curt reply.

"Sweet one, your words chill my heart. 'Tis but a week since your father--"

She stamped a foot imperiously and clenched her hands.

"I am not one of those to be dealt with as others choose," she cried, though modulating her voice lest it should reach the Queen's ears. "Why do you pester me? Your tall sheepskin cap affrights me. Take it and your ungainly presence to far-off Burdwan. I mean to abide in Agra."

He bent low before her.

"A blow from the hand of my beloved is sweet as a grape from the hand of another," he said, conscious, perhaps, of the manifest injustice of the attack on his personal appearance. Physically, he was a worthy mate even for such a G.o.ddess, and he had already won great renown in India by his prowess in the field and his skill in all manly exercises.

"Gladly would I bestow on you a whole bunch of such grapes," she said, turning to follow the Sultana and her father. But a laughing shout from the interior of the house caused all eyes to seek its explanation.

"Well met, mother! Have you come, like me, to wring another lakh out of the Diwan?"

A young man, tall and well built and of pleasing aspect, notable for his broad chest and long arms, and attired in sumptuous garments, entered the garden. His words would have revealed his ident.i.ty to Walter and Sainton had they not met him, two years earlier, at Surat. This was Prince Jahangir, the heir apparent.

His complexion was a ruddy nut brown, his eyes, if somewhat closely set, were strangely keen and piercing, and it was a peculiar and noticeable fact that he wore small gold earrings, in token of bondage to the great saint Sheikh Salem, to whose intercession, it was said, he owed his birth.

Jahangir did not trouble to conceal his emotions. His joyous glance, evoked more by the sight of Nur Mahal, it is to be feared, than by the unexpected presence of the Sultana, changed instantly to a scowl when he saw Sher Afghan. Moreover, he discovered the presence of the Englishmen, and he affected a tone of surprised displeasure.

"How now, Diwan!" he demanded. "Do you admit strangers to the privacy of your zenana?"

"These are merchants from Ahmedabad. The Queen has commanded them to show their wares at the palace," was the courteous reply of the aged Prime Minister.

Jahangir smiled contemptuously. The foreigners in no wise disturbed him.

He knew quite well that his insult had reached the one man for whom it was intended. Sher Afghan's pale face grew dark with anger.

"Oh, it is matterless," said the Prince, flippantly, and he addressed Nur Mahal with a ready smile that utterly banished the anger from his expressive features.

"Fair lady," he said, "I have brought you a present. I know your fondness for all that is rare and beautiful. See if my gift will earn your approval."

He clapped his hands, and a servant came, carrying a small gilded perch to which clung two snow-white pigeons, each fastened to the crossbar by a short silver chain.

Nur Mahal uttered a cry of pleasure. She ran to meet the man with arms outstretched.

"They are quite tame," said the gratified Prince. "After a little while they will come at your call and perch on your wrist."

She took the birds and caressed them softly. Suddenly, yielding to impulse, she unfastened a chain, and the pigeon, finding itself at liberty, darted up into the air and flew around in rapid circles, crying loudly to its mate the while.

"How did that happen?" demanded Jahangir.

"Thus," she answered, freeing the second bird.

"But they are unused to the garden as yet. You have lost them."

"Sooner that than take away their freedom. My heart weeps for all who are destined to captivity."

"Then you weep for me, as I am truly your captive."

"Ah, my bondage would be pleasant, and, like the birds, you could fly away when you chose."

At that instant one of the pigeons dropped with angelic flutterings, and poised itself on the perch which the girl still held.

The other, timidly daring, followed its mate's example, but settled on the same side.

"See!" cried Jahangir excitedly. "The choice is made. They come back to their fetters!"

"Your Highness will observe that there are two to dispute the vacant place," interposed Sher Afghan.

The icy distinctness of his words showed that the significance of the little comedy played by Nur Mahal had not escaped him. The girl pouted.

Jahangir wheeled about fiercely. A quarrel was imminent, but Queen Mariam stopped it.

"Sher Afghan," she said, "you, who are a soldier, should not take much interest in this idle playing with doves. As I return soon to the palace, go with the strangers and let them exhibit their wares there after the midday meal. That will better suit my convenience than the customary hour to-morrow."

Bowing silently, the Persian motioned to Mowbray and Sainton to follow him. He spoke no word, but a tumult raged within, and, at the gate, when a servant was slow in opening it, he felled the man with a blow.

Instantly regretting the deed he gave the fellow a gold mohur, but his face was tense and his eyes blazed as he mounted his horse and rode silently with the two Englishmen through the midst of the gay retinue which had escorted Prince Jahangir from the palace. Guessing with fair accuracy the hidden meaning of the scene just enacted, Mowbray did not intrude on the sorrowful thoughts of his Persian friend.

"We are in luck's way, Roger," he said quietly. "We have escaped the Diwan and won the door of the Queen's apartments. If the good lady be as ready to pay as she is to buy, this bazaar to-morrow should ease us of all our goods."

"In which event we shall turn our faces westward?" asked Sainton.

"a.s.suredly. We must settle with Edwards, else I would take the river to Calcutta."

"Ecod! From the manner in which you gazed at that hoity-toity la.s.s in yellow silk I thought you were minded to dally in Agra."

For some subtle reason the remark nettled Mowbray.

"We have already met two who are willing to come to blows about her,"

said he, tartly, "but I fail to see why you should hold me capable of the folly of making a third."