The palace of the Maharajah at Lalpore was not exactly built of
gold and silver; but if it had been, Sonny Sahib could hardly have
thought it a finer place. It had a wall all round it, even on the
side where the river ran, and inside the wall were courts and
gardens with fountains and roses in them, divided by other walls,
and pillared verandahs, where little green lizards ran about in the
sun, and a great many stables, where the Maharajah's horses pawed
and champed to be let out and ridden. The palace itself was a
whole story higher than the stables, and consisted of a wilderness
of little halls with grated windows. It smelt rather too strong of
attar of roses in there--the Maharajah was fond of attar of roses--but
the decorations on the whitewashed walls, in red and yellow,
were very wonderful indeed. The courtyards and the verandahs were
full of people, soldiers, syces, merchants with their packs,
sweetmeat sellers, barbers; only the gardens were empty. Sonny
Sahib thought that if he lived in the palace he would stay always
in the gardens, watching the red-spotted fish in the fountains, and
gathering the roses; but the people who did live there seemed to
prefer smoking long bubbling pipes in company, or disputing over
their bargains, or sleeping by the hour in the shade of the
courtyard walls. There were no women anywhere; but if Sonny Sahib
had possessed the ears or the eyes of the country, he might have
heard many swishings and patterings and whisperings behind
curtained doors, and have seen many fingers on the curtains' edge
and eyes at the barred windows as he went by.
This was the palace, and the palace was the crown of Lalpore, which
was built on the top of a hill, and could lock itself in behind
walls ten feet thick all round, if an enemy came that way.
The Maharajah was to receive them in one of the pillared verandahs,
one that looked out over the river, where there was a single great
ivory chair, with a red satin cushion, and a large piece of carpet
in front of it, and nothing else. It was the only chair in the
palace, probably the only chair in all the Maharajah's State of
Chita, and as Sonny Sahib had never seen a chair before he found it
very interesting. He and Tooni inspected it from a respectful
distance, and then withdrew to the very farthest corner of the
verandah to wait for the Maharajah. A long time they waited, and
yet Tooni would not sit down. What might not the Maharajah do if
he came and found them disrespectfully seated in his audience hall!
Patiently she stood, first on one foot and then on the other, with
her lips all puckered up and her eyes on the floor, thinking of
things that would be polite enough to say to a Maharajah. They
were so troublesome to think of, that she could not attend to what
Sonny Sahib said at all, even when he asked her for the sixth time
how you made a peacock with blue glass eyes, like the one on each
arm of His Highness's chair. Sonny Sahib grew quite tired of
watching the mud-turtle that was paddling about in a pool of the
shallow river among the yellow sands down below, and of counting
the camels that were wading across it, carrying their packs and
their masters; and yet the Maharajah did not come.
'Tooni,' he said presently, 'without doubt I must sit down,' and
down he sat plumply, with his back against the wall, and his two
small legs, in their very best striped cotton trousers, stretched
out in front of him.
As a matter of fact the Maharajah was asleep, and had forgotten all
about Sonny Sahib in the hall of audience. It was Moti[4] who
reminded him, whispering in his ear until he awoke. Moti was the
little Maharajah, and that was his pet name. Moti was privileged
to remind his father of things.
[4] A pearl.
So Moti and the Maharajah went down to the audience hall together,
and there they found Sonny Sahib asleep too, which was not
wonderful, considering that the Maharajah had kept him waiting two
hours and a quarter. Perhaps this occurred to His Highness, and
prevented him from being angry. At all events, as Sonny Sahib
scrambled to his feet in response to a terrified tug from Tooni, he
did not look very angry.
Sonny Sahib saw a little lean old man, with soft sunken black eyes,
and a face like a withered potato. He wore a crimson velvet
smoking-cap upon his head, and was buttoned up to the chin in a
long tight coat of blue and yellow brocade. Above the collar and
below the sleeves of the coat showed the neck and cuffs of an
English linen shirt, which were crumpled and not particularly
clean. The cuffs were so big that the Maharajah's thin little
brown fingers were almost lost in them. The blue and yellow
brocaded coat was buttoned up with emeralds, but the Maharajah
shuffled along in a pair of old carpet slippers, which to Sonny
Sahib were the most remarkable features of his attire. So much
occupied, indeed, was Sonny Sahib in looking at the Maharajah's
slippers, that he quite forgot to make his salaam. As for Tooni,
she was lying flat at their Highnesses' feet, talking indistinctly
into the marble floor.
The little Highness was much pleasanter to look at than his father.
He had large dark eyes and soft light-brown cheeks, and he was all
dressed in pink satin, with a little jewelled cap, and his long
black hair tied up in a hard knot at the back of his neck. The
little Highness looked at Sonny Sahib curiously, and then tugged at
his father's sleeve.
'Let him come with me now, immediately,' said the little Maharajah;
'he has a face of gold.'
The Maharajah sat down, not in his chair--he did not greatly like
sitting in his chair--but on the carpet.
'Whence do you come?' said he to Tooni.
'Protector of the poor, from Rubbulgurh.'
'Where your Highness sent to for us,' added Sonny Sahib. 'Tooni,
why do you pinch me?'
His Highness looked disconcerted for a moment. As a matter of fact
he had known all that Tooni or Sonny Sahib could tell him about
themselves for three years, but he considered it more dignified to
appear as if he knew nothing.
'This is a child of the mlechas,' said the Maharajah, which was not
a very polite way of saying that he was English.
'Protector of the poor, yes.'
'Account to me for him. How old is he?'
'Seven years, great King.'
'And two months, Tooni-ji. Your Highness, may I sit down?'
'As old as the Folly.'[5]
[5] Native term for the Mutiny.
'He came of the Folly, Hazur. His mother died by the sepoys in
Cawnpore, his father--also,' said Tooni, for she feared to be
blamed for not having found Sonny Sahib's father. As she told the
story once again to the Maharajah, adding many things that Sonny
Sahib had never heard before, he became so much interested that he
stood on one foot for five minutes at a time, and quite forgot to
ask His Highness again if he might sit down.
The Maharajah heard her to the end without a word or a change of
expression. When she had finished, 'My soldiers were not there,'
he said thoughtfully, and with a shade of regret, which was not, I
fear, at the thought of any good they might have done. Then he
seemed to reflect, while Tooni stood before him with her hands
joined together at the finger-tips and her head bowed.
'Then, without permission, you brought this child of outcasts into
my State,' said he at last. 'That was an offence.'
Tooni struck her forehead with her hand.
'Your Highness is my father and my mother!' she sobbed, 'I could
not leave it to the jackals.'
'You are a wretched Mussulman, the daughter of cow-killers, and you
may have known no better--'
'Your Highness!' remarked Sonny Sahib, with respectful indignation,
'Adam had two sons, one was buried and one was burned--'
'Choop!' said the Maharajah crossly. You might almost guess that
'Choop' meant 'Be quiet!'
'But it was an offence,' he continued.
'Protector of the poor, I meant no harm.'
'That is true talk. And you shall receive no harm. But you must
leave the boy with me. I want him to play games with my son, to
amuse my son. For thirty days my son has asked this of me, and ten
days ago his mother died--so he must have it.'
Tooni salaamed humbly. 'If the boy finds favour in Your Highness's
eyes it is very good,' she said simply, and turned to go.
'Stop,' said the Maharajah. 'I will do justice in this matter. I
desire the boy, but I have brought his price. Where is it, Moti-ji?'
The little Maharajah laughed with delight, and drew from behind him
a jingling bag.
'It is one hundred and fifty rupees,' said the Maharajah. 'Give it
to the woman, Moti.' And the child held it out to her.
Tooni looked at the bag, and then at Sonny Sahib, salaamed and
hesitated. It was a provision for the rest of her life, as lives
go in Rajputana.
'Is it not enough!' asked the Maharajah irritably, while the little
prince's face fell.
'Your Highness,' stammered Tooni, 'it is great riches--may roses be
to your mouth! But I have a desire--rather than the money--'
'What is your desire?' cried the little prince. 'Say it. In a
breath my father will allow it. I want the gold-faced one to come
and play.'
The Maharajah nodded, and this time Tooni lay down at the feet of
the little prince.
'It is,' said she, 'that--I am a widow and old--that I also may
live in the farthest corner within the courtyard walls, with the
boy.'
The Maharajah slipped the bag quickly into the pocket of his blue
and yellow coat.
'It is a strange preference,' he said, 'but the Mussulmans have no
minds. It may be.'
Tooni kissed his feet, and Sonny Sahib nodded approval at him.
Somehow, Sonny Sahib never could be taught good Rajput manners.
'The boy is well grown,' said the Maharajah, turning upon his heel.
'What is his name?'
'Protector of the poor,' answered Tooni, quivering with delight,
'his name is Sonny Sahib.'
Perhaps nobody has told you why the English are called Sahibs in
India. It is because they rule there.
The Maharajah's face went all into a pucker of angry wrinkles, and
his eyes shone like little coals.
'What talk is that?' he said angrily. 'His great-grandfather was a
monkey! There is only one master here. Pig's daughter, his name
is Sunni!'
Tooni did not dare to say a word, and even the little prince was
silent.
'Look you,' said the old man to Sonny Sahib. 'Follow my son, the
Maharajah, into the courtyard, and there do his pleasure. Do you
understand? FOLLOW him!'