DEAREST-LADY
For two whole days the little party was too weary even to attempt a
move. They had some provisions with them, and Tumbu, as good as his
word, brought in more and more marmots; for being unaccustomed to dogs,
they were easily caught.
The death of Old Faithful weighed upon the spirits of all, and for the
first twelve hours or so the Heir-to-Empire was inconsolable for the
loss of his beloved cat; for Foster-father had found it impossible to
carry Down farther, and she had remained behind in the snow, protesting
piteously. It was a terrible grief, and the child had almost wept
himself sick, when, to every one's surprise and delight, Mistress Down
was seen walking sedately across the flowers, her bushy tail carried
very high, not one hair of her silky white coat awry. She took no notice
of anybody, but passed to the fire, sat down beside it with stiff
dignity, curled her tail round her paws, yawned and then began to purr
gently. It was as if nothing had happened. And she certainly was not
hungry, for she turned up her dainty nose at Tumbu's marmot bones.
"Cats," said Head-nurse, who had just awakened from a long sleep of many
hours, "are not to be counted as other beasts. Having nine lives, they
could afford to lose one; but they never do. They always fall on their
feet. It is the way of the world; the more you have the more you get.
Still, I am glad she has returned; and I wish there were a chance of
others turning up also," she added with a sigh.
The Heir-to-Empire looked up gravely. "But Faithful can't come back, you
know. He went to help Grand-dad to help us."
"Hark to the innocent," cried Foster-mother, half in smiles, half in
tears, "but it is true. If ever poor mortals were watched over by saints
in Paradise, we were; and for my part if ever I get to Kâbul, my duty
shall be paid to the tomb of Firdoos Gita Makâni--on whom be peace."
"Amen!" added her husband devoutly; "but for the memory of that good man
we should not be here now."
It was on the third day that leaving Meroo in charge for a few hours
Foster-father and Roy set off to explore. They were fortunate in finding
some shepherds' huts within a walking distance for even footsore women,
and returned ere nightfall with a skin bag of fresh milk.
Early next morning, therefore, they all set off, Roy girding on dead
Faithful's sword from the sledge that was wanted no more, and from that
moment feeling himself indeed bodyguard to the Heir-to-Empire.
Once they had reached safety from starvation in the shepherds' huts, a
great desire for rest came upon them all; and for three whole days they
did nothing but eat, and sleep, and rejoice in the early spring
sunshine, and the early spring flowers. For the late snap of extreme
cold had passed and every green thing was hurrying to be ahead of its
neighbour. Bija made endless cowslip balls out of the beautiful
rose-pink primulas, while Roy and Mirak, following the shepherds' boys,
came back with their hands full of young rhubarb shoots and green fern
croziers, which they ate like asparagus. But this sort of thing could
not last long, since they were close to the caravan route from Kandahâr
to Kâbul; and sure enough, no sooner had the snow on the uplands melted
than travellers began to pass through.
Thus news that the little party had escaped death soon filtered from
mouth to mouth, till it reached the Captain of the Escort, and ere long
Foster-father found himself and those in his care once more
semi-prisoners on their way to cruel brother Kumran; all the more cruel,
doubtless, because King Humâyon had already begun the siege of Kandahâr,
believing his little son to be still within its walls.
Now Kumran was a far cleverer fellow than his brother Askurry; but there
was in him a love of deceit for deceit's sake, which spoiled all his
cleverness, for it made him uncertain what he would do in the end. This
indeed is always the case with deceitful people. They know that what
they say and do is _not_ straightforward and true, and so they are like
sailors without a compass. They have no fixed pole by which to steer.
And, in addition, Kumran liked to be considered clever; so he was always
outwardly very courteous, very polite, very charming; but what he was
within none could say for long.
Thus Foster-father's heart sank within him, when in the distance, down
the rocky ravine through which the Kâbul River dashes, and along which
the caravan road took its high-perched way, he saw the battlemented wall
of the city, cresting the low hills on which the town was built. It was
a fully fortified town through which the river ran, and at its extreme
end, commanding the wider plain below, stood the citadel called the Bala
Hissar or High Fort. To reach this the travellers had to cross the iron
bridge and wend their way through the narrow bazaars.
Such wonderful bazaars as they were, too! Crowded with tiny dark arched
shops, like caverns, full to the brim with Persian silk carpets, furs
from the north, turquoises and all kinds of precious stones from
out-of-the-way places with unpronounceable names. And there were such a
quantity of cats! Grey Persian cats and white ones, and tabbies and
black cats who sat on the balconies and stared at Down as she lay on
Horse-chestnut's broad, wavy back. For the Captain of the Escort had
found out what an excellent creature the old pony was, and had brought
it along with him.
The High Fort was a huge place with great gardens within its battlements
and several separate palaces. Here, to Foster-father's unbounded
delight, they found that Prince Kumran was himself away, having gone out
with a small body of men to the Kandahâr frontier, where King Humâyon's
arrival had aroused loyalty. But what was still more cheering was the
news that he had left orders for the Heir-to-Empire and his sister to be
handed over on arrival to the charge of Dearest-Lady! Foster-father
could hardly believe his ears; for Dearest-Lady (as she was always
called by all her family, by all her nephews and nieces, by all her
grand nephews and nieces, and cousins, and every one who was lucky
enough to belong to her) was simply--Well! what was she not? Wise, and
gentle, and good, and clever--all this and more. She was the sort of
Dearest-Lady who lived so long in the hearts of those who knew her,
that, years after she was dead they would say, if there was any
difficult point to be settled--"We wonder what Dearest-Lady would have
said?"
She was old, of course, for she was Babar the Brave's elder sister; the
sister to whom he had been devoted, who had always been to him also "his
Dearest-One." Now, when you come to think of it, boys and girls, that
is a nice sort of fame to have--to remain for--let me see how many
hundred years?--nearly four--Dearest-Lady, or Dearest-Gentleman to all
the world.
This Dearest-Lady was, of course, the Heir-to-Empire's grand-aunt, and
the mere sound of her name was enough to calm Foster-father's fears.
Even Head-nurse, though she sniffed a little and said she had heard tell
that the Khânzâda Khânum was a trifle careless of ceremonials, was
satisfied. There was no doubt that she was the Highest-Born-in-the-Land.
As for little Prince Akbar himself, he only opened his big, grave eyes
widely when the tall white figure clasped him closely in its arms and
kissed his hair softly.
"So like his grandfather," she murmured, "so like! so like!--the very
hands, the very feet--so strong, so shapely." And both in turn felt the
touch of the soft old lips. "And thou, too, small maiden," she continued
kindly, "welcome to one who has never yet let it be said in her hearing
that God made women weaker than man! Thou shalt learn here to be proud
thou wast born a girl. And you also, Nurse! Bring cooling sherbets,
slaves, while she tells me all that has happened."
Then she sat and listened while Head-nurse told the tale of what had
happened, and her faded, gay, old face flashed and sparkled and grew
grave by turns.
"But where is Tumbu?" she interrupted, "and where is Down? Bring them
hither, slaves! Lo! I love all animals, as my dear brother did!"
And she laughed over their doings, and wept over Old Faithful's death,
while Bija and Mirak sat cuddled up close beside her, listening also and
enjoying the tale of their own adventures as if they had happened to
other children!
"Surely," she said softly when Head-nurse ended, "my dearest brother--on
whom be peace--must have protected them! Lo! Mirak! and Bija--for I
shall call you naught else since they are sweet kindly names, better
than fine sounding titles--this very afternoon ye shall come with me to
the garden he loved, and where his earthly form lies at rest, and lay
flowers on his grave for thanks. Since he loved flowers as he loved
everything."
So that evening, about an hour before sunset time, they were all carried
in litters to the Garden of the New Year, about a mile beyond the city.
It was a most peaceful, lovely spot, right up on the hillside with a
splendid view from it of valley and mountain and river. A fresh bubbling
spring ran through it, and beneath the Judas trees, whose leafless
branches were flushed with pink blossoms, stretched great carpets of
spring flowers.
"Pluck him yonder tulips, Mirak," said Dearest-Lady with a smile. "He
loved to count their kinds and those--as he wrote--are 'yellow, double,
and scented like a rose'!"
And the boy who was to grow to be a greater man even than his
grandfather, though he could scarcely be a more lovable one, plucked a
posy of the tulips and laid them on the plain marble slab which bore
nothing but the words, "Heaven is the eternal home of the Emperor
Babar." And when Bija, with many a little feminine ceremonial, had
deposited her nosegay of sweet violets, and Head-nurse and Foster-mother
had offered up their respects, they all went and sat down on a grassy
spot, and Dearest-Lady, who was always full of youthful curiosities
concerning all things, began to question Roy, who as a mere lad had been
allowed to come with them, as to what he could remember of the time
before he was picked up in the desert.
"Hold my hand, child, and think," she said at last, "mayhap it may come
to thee then. The touch of kinship has power, and if I do not mistake
me, there is that in thy blood that is in mine--royalty!"
So she clasped Roy's slim long-fingered hand and held it tight, and the
boy's face changed, his eyes grew startled, he shivered slightly.
"Yea!" he said, "now I do remember. Mother was like you, and she told me
I had the mark of Kingship strong enough, for all the rebels might
say--" As he spoke, he drew down his loose garments, and there upon the
clear olive of his breast, just above the heart, showed a small dark
stain.
Dearest-Lady bent close to look at it. "What is't?" she asked.
"Mother said it was the sign of uttermost truth, and that we all had
it," he replied, speaking dreamily.
"But who were we?" persisted Dearest-Lady, her kind eyes on the lad's.
Just at that moment, however, Tumbu, who had, of course, accompanied
them, burst out with a series of shrill, short barks, and Roy was on his
feet in a second, his hand on Old Faithful's sword, lest any newcomer
might bring danger to his little master. But as it turned out Tumbu was
only excited by a water-rat! All the same the interruption prevented
Dearest-Lady's question from being answered, for the spell was broken.
"Yea! thou wilt be true to the very uttermost, of that I am sure," said
Dearest-Lady, half pleased, half amused at the young Râjput's quick leap
to arms, "and so long as I have charge of the Heir-to-Empire thou shalt
be his esquire. So go call the litter-men, boy, it is time we returned.
I must remember I am gaoler as well as grand-aunt."