The Adventures of Akbar

by Flora Annie Webster Steel

  CHAPTER XVI

  CRUEL BROTHER KUMRAN

  If Dearest-Lady was in truth a gaoler, she was a very kind one, and herprison the pleasantest prison in the world. It would take too long totell how happily the next four months passed, not only for the twochildren, but for Roy and Foster-father, Head-nurse and Foster-mother.Even misshapen Meroo, in the kitchen, felt the better for helping tocook the Khanzada Khanum's dinner. For that was one of Dearest-Lady'svirtues, she always made people feel contented, and as if they weredoing the right thing. So even Prince Kumran, when he returned to Kabul,though he frowned at the big, bold, frank-faced boy who claimed to bethe Heir-to-an-Empire which his own fingers itched to have, did not feelinclined to interfere with his aunt. The truth being that, like the restof the family, he loved and trusted her beyond measure; perhaps morethan did any of his brothers, since she had brought him up as a child.And she, in her turn, though she knew his faults, though she not onlybewailed them, but resented them, at times most fiercely, could notforget that he had been her nursling, could not forget, above all, thathe was her dear brother Babar's son.

  Thus all went smoothly in the Bala Hissar, where young Prince Akbar,now close on three years old, looked and talked and acted like one ofsix. This same strength of his was always getting him into scrapes withpeople who did not believe he was so young, or, knowing him to be soyoung, did not believe him to be so strong!

  He played a similar trick to the one he had played on cousin Yakoob atKandahar on his big cousin Ibrahim, Prince Kumran's son. It was about afine kettledrum all tasselled in royal fashion, with gold and silver,that Ibrahim's father had given him. Being a selfish boy, he would notallow Akbar to touch it; whereupon the Heir-to-Empire, after a brieftussle, carried off the kettledrum and beat it loudly through thepalace!

  Kumran hearing of this was very angry, for the beating of a kettledrumis a sign of Empire.

  "Keep that young fighting cock of thine in better order, madam," he saidto his aunt, "or I shall have to find him a sterner gaoler."

  Whereupon she flashed out and told him fairly that short of killing thechild, and for that crime even _he_ was not prepared, there was no wayof preventing the Heir-to-Empire from being what he was, a born king.That was her way of quelling Kumran. By boldly setting aside the thoughtof murder as impossible, she hoped to make it so; but she was not sure,and after this she kept Mirak and Bija under control.

  It was not much good, however, when just as autumn was coming on newsarrived from Kandahar that Humayon had at last succeeded in taking thecity, and, disappointed in not finding his son in the palace, waspreparing to march on Kabul.

  Then the worst side of Prince Kumran showed itself at once. Like alldeceitful people, he was a coward at heart, and cowardice made him thinkof immediate revenge upon his victorious brother. Of what use would eventwo victories be to him if the Heir-to-Empire was beyond recall?

  So Kumran's charming polished manner vanished in an instant, and oneday, without any warning, little Mirak, playing in the garden, waskidnapped by two stalwart Abyssinian slaves and carried off, howlinghorribly and fighting with his fists, to the palace where Kumran's wifelived. Tumbu, who was with him at the time, made a gallant show ofresistance, and actually bit one of the kidnapper's calves to the bone;but when he found himself confronted with a whole regiment of armed menwho ran out to their assistance, he gave up the hopeless fight, and flewoff to tell Roy what had happened. And Roy, missing his little master,fled to tell Dearest-Lady. Her face paled, but she did not hesitate.

  "My litter! page!" she cried, and drawing her white veil closer roundher, she went straight to the audience hall, where Kumran was receivinghis nobles; her great age, her great nobility, giving her a right, evenas a woman, to appear amongst them.

  All eyes turned to her tall, upright, slim figure, every ear thrilled tothe tones of her clear voice.

  "By what right," she asked, "has Kumran, the nephew I have nurtured,stolen from my care the son of his elder brother, the Heir to thatEmpire which Babar the Brave gave, dying, into the hands of Humayon, hiseldest son? I say there can be no right; and if it be wrong then willGod's curse light on the man who undoes his father's work. Lo! he isworse than parricide, for he would kill that for which his father gavehis life."

  Now this appeal was a very strong one; for the story of how Babar theBrave gave up his own life to save that of his darling son, Humayon, isone of the most touching tales in Indian history, and none of Babar'simmediate family could even think of it without strong emotion. So itwas Kumran's turn to grow pale.

  "August lady," he replied, evading her question, "this is a matter ofpolicy with which women have naught to do. King Humayon hath takenKandahar, he hath imprisoned and degraded his brother Askurry, and forthis, I, Kumran, challenge him!"

  "And wherefore?" asked Dearest-Lady boldly. "Did not Askurry deserve it?Nay! did he not deserve death? Did he not steal the King-of-Empire? Didhe not defy the king? Did he not send the Heir-to-Empire away, insteadof returning him to his father's keeping? I tell you, nephew Kumran,that your father, Babar the Brave, Babar the Kindly, Babar the Generous,Babar the Just, whom all men loved for his mercy, would have given_death_ for such faults--and given it rightly. And will you, like afool, court death also?" She looked round the assembly to see many asullen, suspicious face, and understood that danger lay close at hand.So her resolution was taken in a moment. "See you!" she went on,"nothing has been done yet to make forgiveness impossible. Well!I--Khanzada Khanum,--old as I am, will go forth to meet King Humayon andplead thy cause. I will ask what boon you wish, and I promise it shallbe yours. Humayon will give much in exchange for his son, and none haveever denied me anything. Shall it be so?" Then seeing hesitation she putin a crafty word: "There will be time afterwards for--anything----"

  Kumran looked round his nobles, then into his own heart. What he sawthere was such a tissue of lies and deceit that he could find no cleardecision; so, as usual, he temporised. "It is worth a trial," hemurmured. "I might ask for much."

  "Ask for all and everything," said Dearest-Lady, who felt she had gainedher point; "I make but one condition. The child must remain unharmeduntil I return."

  Again Kumran hesitated. Again he looked in his own heart. Again he foundno clear cause for decision there; so he said doubtfully:

  "Until you return?"

  "Nay! swear it," came the high, insistent voice. "Say before them all,'By the memory of my dear father no harm shall come to the child ere youreturn.'"

  Half unwillingly Kumran repeated the words and Dearest-Lady gave a sighof relief. She had gained her point. But now that she had to face theconsequences of her offer to go forth and meet Humayon her heart sankwithin her; for she was very old and not over strong. The journey waslong; winter was coming on fast. Still it had to be done, and at once.For Kumran's promise of safety to the Heir-to-Empire was only _duringher absence_, and who knew whether his craft might not claim freedom todo as he chose ere she started!

  So she made her arrangements for that very evening, and she had much todo. To begin with she must see the Heir-to-Empire the very last thing,and make certain that he was well cared for. Then she had to arrange forthe safety and comfort of Head-nurse, Foster-mother and little Bija, forit was unlikely they would be allowed to be with the little Prince. Hemust, however, have some one with him to whom the child was accustomed,and Roy, being still quite a lad, might not be considered dangerous.Then his gift of story-telling might make the ladies in the women'sapartments more inclined to have him. Anyhow she must try her best tosecure his stopping with his young master, and to this end she orderedhim some fine clothes and gave him a finely bedizened lute; for since hecame to Kabul they had found out that he could play the _vina_beautifully.

  Thus just before sunsetting, leaving poor Head-nurse and Foster-motherin floods of tears, while poor little Bija was sobbing her very heartout, and good dog Tumbu was slowly wagging his tail as his eyes askedsorrowfully if he might not come, too, she started on her journey, goingro
und by the Chief Palace on her way.

  Now, Dearest-Lady's visits were considered to be an honour, so she hadno difficulty in gaining admittance. And once inside the women'sapartments she simply turned to the first attendant and said curtly thatshe had come to see the Heir-to-Empire and say farewell to him;therefore he must either be brought to her or she must go to him.Boldness succeeded, as it always does, and she was shown into a roomwhere she found little Prince Akbar playing contentedly with Down thecat, who was running about after a ball like a young kitten. She stoppedwhen she saw Dearest-Lady, and giving an apologetic _miaow_, as whoshould say, "I was obliged to amuse him somehow," settled herself downon the rug and began as usual to purr. Of course Mirak forgot all abouther in his joy at seeing Dearest-Lady and Roy, and it was some timebefore the former could ask the attendant how the cat had managed to getthere.

  "Highness," said the woman, "it is impossible to keep cats out if theywant to come in. She appeared at the window three times, and three timesI put her downstairs. Then I gave in. It is no use quarrelling withcats."

  Meanwhile notice of Her Highness Dearest-Lady's arrival had reachedKumran's wife and she hastened to little Akbar's prison room. But oncemore Dearest-Lady was bold and took the first word.

  "I came to bid the boy farewell, content to trust him to thy kind care,my niece," she said; "and also to leave with him this Rajput singer, whohas the art of amusing the child--and other folk also. Roy! sing us oneof thy tales, that the Princess may hear thee."

  And Roy, knowing his part, sang as he had never sung before. "I willsing of how the palm squirrels helped the Great Ram to find his wife,Sita the Peerless, whom the wicked Giant Ravana had carried off. We singit to the squirrels when we feed them in our country. Perhaps HerHighness does not know what a palm squirrel is. It is tiny, tiny, nobigger than a rat, but it has a bushy tail and four dark stripes likefinger marks down its goldy-coloured back. And it never does anythingbut play, is never anything but happy; and this is why":

  Then he smote the strings of the _vina_ till they thrilled again, andbegan, his high voice warbling and carolling like a summer bird.

  "Pretty! Pretty! Pretty! are you there, my sweet, In your leafy seat, where the branches meet? Wasting all the sunny hours Pulling down the mango flowers With your dainty feet.

  "Pretty, prettiest thing yawning as you lie Watching with glad eye, busy life go by. Not the tiniest sense of duty In your careless days, my beauty, 'Neath the cloudless sky.

  "Happiest, merriest ways, Knowing no gainsays, so the story says, Since the Great Ram loved and blessed you, With his care-worn hand caressed you, In the olden days.

  "Then, when he was seeking Sita, peerless maid, By his foes dismayed, Ram, her lover, bade All the beasts and birds and fishes Leave their play to do his wishes, Fight to give him aid.

  "And the golden squirrel sprang at his behest, Nestled to his breast, first to join the quest. But Great Ram's grave eyes grew tender, Smiled upon the warrior slender, Braver than the rest!

  "'Nay! thou art too pretty! fearless little heart, Thou should'st have no part in Strife's bitter art; Live to show man, worn and weary, One blythe soul for ever cheery, Free from sorrow's smart.'

  "Laid his kind hand softly on its golden hair, So palm squirrels bear, where Ram's fingers were, Four dark shadows on them, showing Gladdest life must lose its glowing From the touch of care.

  "So the squirrels' birthright is to want for naught, Have no grief or thought, know not 'must' or 'ought.' Yet upon their gold there lingers Shades of care, that Great Ram's fingers For their blessing wrought."

  "_Wah! Wah!_" cried the Queen, delighted. "He can stop if he likes."

  Ten minutes after Roy had finished his song Dearest-Lady's litter pausedfor a moment on a high-perched corner of the road towards Kandahar, togive her a last look of the fair city of Kabul. Her bright old face wasbright still, undimmed by care. She was old and frail, she was going awearisome, trying journey; yet, for the present, she knew that she hadsaved the Heir-to-Empire's life. That at any rate was secure until shereturned--and she might never return! The thought made her smile."Forward, slaves!" she cried cheerfully, and Kabul, the city she lovedso well, was left behind without one regret.

  And she was right. She had saved the Heir-to-Empire's life; for at thatvery minute the door of little Prince Akbar's room opened wide, and Roystarting up found himself face to face with cruel Uncle Kumran followedby two men with drawn swords. And, alas for Roy! he had no sword todraw, for Old Faithful's sabre did not fit the disguise of a Rajputbard. Despite that, he stepped forward boldly, though his heart beat tosuffocation. For Kumran's face was cruel indeed.

  Still, for one second, the latter's attention was distracted. He hadwanted no witnesses to what he meant to do.

  "How camest thou hither, slave?" he asked fiercely.

  And Roy gave him back the simple truth, no more, no less; but it wassufficient.

  "Her Highness Khanzada Khanum brought me hither to be with theHeir-to-Empire ere she left at sunset."

  Kumran started back. "Left? Hath she left already?" he asked, his facepaling. So he stood for a moment irresolute, the words of his own oathpealing through his brain, "By the memory of my father I promise." Thatwas not one which any son of Babar's was ever likely to break. "Sheathyour swords, fools!" he said at last bitterly; "they are not needed. Iam not the first man who has been outwitted by a woman."