AT COURT
Of course, the messenger never returned from King Humâyon with the
token; but Foster-father was a good-natured man and did not boast of his
wisdom to Head-nurse, who, however, remained wonderfully meek and silent
until at the end of a fortnight's marching they saw, against the blue of
the distant valley, the white domes of the town of Kandahâr with the
citadel rising above them. Then, with the chance of a court before her
once more, she began chattering of ceremonials and titles and
etiquettes.
"Praise be!" she shrilled in her high voice. "No more jiggettings and
joggettings on camel back. I shall be on my own feet once more, and it
shall not be my fault if His just dues are not given to the
Great-in-Pomp----" etc., etc.
Foster-mother interrupted the string of titles. "So that they harm not
the child," she said, clasping her charge tight. She was always thinking
of his safety, always alarmed for danger; but he, young Turk that he
was, struggled from her arms and pointed to the hills they were leaving
behind them.
"Dadda, Amma 'way 'way mountains," he repeated once more; then added
cheerfully, "Akka 'way, too."
"It is a prophecy!" said Old Faithful, overhearing the remark. "Sure
his grand-dad Baber--on whom be peace--had the gift, and this babe may
have inherited it."
"May have," echoed Head-nurse indignantly. "He has inherited it, and has
much of his own besides. Mark my words! if this child live--which Heaven
grant--he will be the King of Kings! Not two summers old and he talks as
one of three."
"Aye!" assented Foster-mother, "but he does not walk yet."
Head-nurse sniffed. "Thou are a foolish soul, woman! Sure either the
feet or the tongue must come first, and for my part I prefer the tongue.
Any babe can walk!"
And Foster-mother was silent; it was true one could not have everything.
Their last camp was pitched just outside the city of Kandahâr, so that
Prince Askurry could make a regular triumphal entry the next morning and
let everybody see with their own eyes that he had come back victorious,
holding Baby Akbar as prisoner and hostage.
But this did not suit Head-nurse at all. She had no notion that her
Heir-to-Empire should be stared at as a captive; so, though she started
from camp humbly as ever on the baggage camel, no sooner had they passed
through the arched gate of the city with Prince Askurry well ahead of
them in the narrow streets, than out she whipped the Royal Umbrella
which she had patched up with an old scarlet silk petticoat, and there
was Baby Akbar under its shadow; and, having--young as he was--been
taught to salute to a crowd, he began waving his little fat hand with
much dignity, until the people who had come out to gape whispered among
themselves and said:
"He looks every inch a king's son."
"And that is what he is," said a bold voice in the crowd; but though
folk turned to see who spoke, there was no sign of the speaker. For
loyal men had to hide their loyalty in those days. Still the populace
were pleased with the little Prince's bearing, and many a hand was
raised to welcome him.
Before they reached the frowning palace, indeed, where Prince Askurry
kept a right royal court as Governor of Kandahâr, Head-nurse's mind was
full of the things she intended to insist upon for the honour and
dignity of her small charge. Meanwhile she had to obey the order to take
him at once into Princess Sultanam's apartments. Now Princess Sultanam
was Prince Askurry's wife, and she had a boy of her own who was about
three years older than Baby Akbar, and a little daughter who had just
been born about a month before. So, as she lay among cushions at the
farther end of the long room, with Prince Askurry, who had hurried to
see his wife on his return, beside her, she looked suspiciously at the
child which Head-nurse put down on the Persian carpet as soon as she
came into the room; since though others might carry him to the upstarts
at the farther end, _she_ was not going to do so, when _they_ were
clearly bound to come humbly to the Heir-to-Empire and prostrate
themselves before him!
So there stood Baby Akbar, fair and square, steadying himself by
Head-nurse's petticoats, but for all that looking bold and big and
brave.
Now Princess Sultanam was a kindly foolish woman at heart, much given to
impulses, and the sight of the upstanding little boy made her think
instantly what a fine man he would make, and that brought another
thought which made her sit up delightedly and clap her hands.
"I have it, my lord!" she exclaimed, turning to Prince Askurry. "It is a
grand idea! We will betroth our little Amina to this young master. That
will settle everything and they will be the handsomest couple in the
country!"
Now, strange as this may sound to my readers, Prince Askurry, who was
accustomed to the Indian habit of settling that quite little boys and
girls should marry each other when they grew up, could not help at once
seeing that his wife's suggestion was not such a bad one. It would help
him to keep a hold over the little Heir-to-Empire. If King Humâyon
returned it would make him more inclined to forgive, and if he did not,
why! it would prevent cruel brother Kumran from stepping in and getting
all, since as father-in-law to the young king he, Askurry, would be
Regent.
Still, taken aback, he hummed and hawed.
"It would be a long time to wait until they are old enough to marry," he
began.
"Long!" interrupted the lively Princess gaily. "All the longer for
merriment and festivities. Thy daughter, my lord, is already beautiful,
and I'll wager the boy will be a grown man ere we have time to turn
round. So that is settled. Therefore come hither, oh nephew! Jallaluddin
Mahomed Akbar, since that is thy long name, and kiss thy cousin
Amina--Nurse! bring my sweeting hither. Now then, woman," she continued
sharply, addressing Head-nurse, who stood petrified with astonishment
and anger at the very idea of such scant ceremony. "If the boy cannot
walk, carry him!"
Head-nurse could scarcely speak. To be called "Woman" by an upstart--for
Prince Askurry had married Princess Sultanam for her beauty--was too
much!
"The Feet-of-the-Most-Condescending-of-Majesties," she began pompously,
"have not yet conferred happiness on the earth by treading it underfoot,
neither----"
Here she broke off hurriedly, for at that very instant, as if in denial
of her words, Baby Akbar gave a little crow of assent, let go her
petticoats, and with outspread balancing arms, and legs very wide apart,
launched himself boldly for his very first steps!
"_Bismillah!_" (Well done!) shrieked Foster-mother in delight.
"_Bismillah! Bismillah!_" echoed every one in the room, while all eyes
full of smiles were on the stalwart young toddler as he lurched forward,
his face one broad grin.
Princess Sultanam clapped her hands again. "Thy turban, my lord!" she
cried in a flutter of amusement. "Thy turban, quick; as his father is
not here 'tis thy place to prevent him falling of himself--thy
turban--quick! quick!"
Prince Askurry, full of laughter, pulled off the soft turban he wore--it
was all wound round and round to fit the head like a cap--and in
obedience to the Indian custom, which always prevents a child from
falling of itself in its first attempt at walking, flung it full at the
little lad. It caught him between his outspread balancing arms and over
he went on to the thick pile carpet.
Foster-mother was beside him in a second, eager to snatch him up and
cover him with kisses; but Baby Akbar wriggled himself from her hold. He
had set himself a task and he meant to do it.
"Go way!" he said with determination. "Tumbu down. Get up again."
So, calmly reaching round for the turban which lay beside him, which he
evidently thought had tumbled down too, he clapped it on his head with
both hands, rose to his feet and recommenced his forward lurch; a yard
or two of the fringed turban, which had become unrolled, trailing behind
him like a royal robe.
It was a quainter little figure than before, but nobody laughed now.
They looked at each other, then at the child staggering along under the
Prince's plumed turban, then at Prince Askurry himself standing
bareheaded before his nephew.
It was an ill omen. And yet as Head-nurse said proudly when they got
back to the rooms that had been given them in a frowning bastion of the
palace, Baby Akbar had once more scored off his uncle.
Indeed, she was so cock-a-hoop about it that she stickled for this, and
she stickled for that until the attendants, who were at first inclined
to be civil, began to look askance, and Foster-father had to bid her
hold her tongue.
"Wise folk leave steel traps alone," he said; "fiddling with them lets
off the spring. Then--pouf!"
He shook his head significantly.
"Steel traps?" echoed Head-nurse sniffily, "who is talking of steel
traps?"
"I am, woman!" replied Foster-father sternly. "I tell you this Kandahâr
is as a steel trap ready to snap on us at any moment."
Head-nurse was silent, even though he also had ventured to call her
"woman"; but she was beginning to learn that nine times out of ten
Foster-father was right.