Soon after she had been betrothed to Shere Afkun, the lovely Tartar was
seen by Prince Selim, afterwards well known as the Emperor Jehangire,
who became so desperately enamoured of her, that imagining there could
be no obstacle to her union with a prince of the blood, he applied to
his father Akbar, for his consent to espouse the beautiful daughter of
the high treasurer, Chaja Aiass.
The Emperor sternly refused his consent; at the same time upbraiding
his son with seeking to degrade himself by a mean alliance. Prince
Selim was abashed; and, to his mortification, the accomplished Tartar
shortly after became the wife of Shere Afkun.
Selim was from that moment the implacable foe of his successful rival.
He could not bear to hear the hated name mentioned in his presence,
and, with cowardly vindictiveness, determined upon his destruction. He
kept these feelings a secret from his father, who esteemed the Turkoman
too highly to approve of the prince’s hostility towards him, and had,
moreover, expressed his satisfaction at the latter’s marriage with
Mher-ul-Nissa. Selim, however, secretly fomented jealousies among the
Omrahs against the popular as well as imperial favourite. These were
easily excited; for there will never be found wanting persons ready to
traduce those to whom they are conscious of being inferior in moral
excellence; and especially in courts where ambition is the ruling
passion, nothing can be less difficult than to provoke the envy of
men whose sole aim is aggrandisement, and who are therefore naturally
disposed to think ill of any who happen to contravene those aims, or
to cross the path of their ambition. The prince, therefore, had little
difficulty in accomplishing his purpose. He secretly disseminated
calumnies to the injury of Shere Afkun, who in disgust retired from
court into Bengal, where he obtained from the governor the vicegerency
of Burdwan, a considerable district in that province.
Here he lived undisturbed until the death of Akbar, which caused the
sincere regret of the whole nation, who in mourning the decease of
their Emperor deplored the loss of a great and a good man. When Prince
Selim became sovereign, his passion for the daughter of Aiass revived
in full force. The restraint being removed under which the smothered
flame had been so long and so painfully suppressed, it burst forth with
increased fierceness. He was now absolute; and being determined to
possess the object of his disappointed love, he made advances towards
a reconciliation with Shere Afkun; but the brave Turkoman for a time
resisted all his importunities, perceiving their object, and resolving
to part neither with his wife nor with his honour, as he could not
resign the one without relinquishing the other. His strength was
prodigious, and his bravery equal to his strength; his integrity was
unimpeached, his reputation high, and he was alike feared and respected
by all classes. Upon every occasion where danger was imminent, he was
foremost to encounter it; while his desperate valour was the theme of
many a romance and of many a song. His bodily vigour was so great,
that he had slain a lion single handed; from which circumstance he
obtained the cognomen of Shere Afkun, or the Lion-slayer, his original
name being Asta Jillo. He was, however, no less esteemed for his
virtues than for his bravery; and Mher-ul-Nissa fully appreciated
his rare endowments. She was proud of his reputation. To her the
Emperor’s feelings were no secret; but she avoided his presence, in
obedience to the wishes of her husband, who was not altogether without
his suspicions that the hostility which the new sovereign manifested
towards him was solely on her account. He continued, therefore, in the
province of Bengal, without visiting the imperial capital.
Not long, however, after Jehangire had ascended the throne of the
Moguls, Shere Afkun was invited to court, whither, after repeated
solicitations, he repaired, trusting to his own high reputation for
security against any tyrannical exercise of the sovereign power. Upon
his arrival he was much caressed by the Emperor, in order to lull
suspicion. Open and generous himself, he suspected no treachery in
others. He left his wife at Burdwan, not willing to expose her to the
chance of attention from the sovereign, that might keep alive former
predilections, and renew his royal rival’s criminal hostility.
The young Emperor’s court was splendid in the extreme. He was fond
of state; but hunting being his passion, a day was appointed for the
chase. All the chief nobles of the empire attended, hoping to have
an opportunity of exhibiting before their royal master their skill
and prowess in a pursuit at all times extremely dangerous in eastern
countries. A vast train, swelling to the number of an army, issued from
the gates of Lahore. The cavalcade was prodigious. Upwards of five
hundred elephants, upon which rode the Emperor and his court, led the
van towards a jungle where the quarry was expected to be roused. The
howdah of the royal elephant was covered by a silken canopy, and its
whole caparison profusely ornamented with precious metals. Thousands
of spears glittered in the sun, the rays of which were reflected in
streams of glowing light from those various arms borne by this motley
cavalcade. The neighing of steeds was mingled with the busy hum of men
who thronged to the scene of exciting enjoyment.
Shere Afkun accompanied the court on horseback, armed only with the
sword with which he had slain a lion--having by that act immortalised
his name in the annals of his country. His royal master showed him a
very marked respect, occasionally consulting him respecting the chase;
thus aggravating the jealousy of the nobles, already sufficiently
fierce against him. He received the Emperor’s courtesies with a cold
but modest respect, not entirely forgetting former unkindness, though
without suspicion of future injury.
The royal party at length entered the jungle, where the forest haunts
of the lion and tiger were shortly explored. The hunters soon enclosed
a mighty beast of the latter species, of which Jehangire being
apprized, immediately proceeded to the spot. He began to entertain a
hope that the period so long desired was arrived when he should have an
opportunity of exposing the life of his former rival in an encounter
from which the latter would have little chance of escaping. Seeing the
tiger at a short distance, surrounded by hunters, lashing the ground
with its tail and giving other tokens of savage hostility, the despot
demanded of those around him, who would venture to attack the ferocious
beast?
All stood silent and confounded. They had not expected such a proposal:
nor did they appear to entertain any wish to expose their lives in a
conflict in which more danger than glory would be reaped.
As none of them advanced, and the Emperor began to knit his brows
and show symptoms of displeasure, Shere Afkun already entertained a
hope that the enterprise would devolve upon him; but, to his extreme
mortification, three Omrahs stepped forward and offered to encounter
the forest tyrant. Jehangire cast upon the bold Turkoman a glance of
such unequivocal expression that his pride kindled, and he longed to
show how little backward he was to engage the brindled foe; but as
three nobles had first challenged the encounter, he could not set aside
their prior claim to a distinction which they insisted upon striving
for.
Upon receiving the approbation of their royal master, they severally
prepared for the encounter, dismounting from their elephants, and
arming themselves with sword, spear, and shield. Shere Afkun, fearing
that he was likely to be rivalled, and that his fame would be tarnished
by inferior men undertaking a conflict which by his silence he might be
supposed to have declined, advanced, and presenting himself before the
sovereign, said firmly: “To attack an unarmed creature with weapons is
neither fair nor manly; it is taking an advantage of an animal which
cannot plead against such injustice but by a fierce retaliation. Such
is not in accordance with the character of the truly brave. All manual
contests should be undertaken upon equal terms. The Deity has given
limbs and sinews to man as well as to tigers, and has imparted reason
to the former in order to countervail the deficiency of strength. Let
the nobles of your imperial majesty then lay aside their arms and
attack the enemy with those only with which the Deity has provided
them. If they shrink from such an encounter, I am prepared to undertake
it.”
Jehangire rewarded the speaker with a smile of gracious approbation;
but his Omrahs, one and all, declined such a perilous contest,
insisting upon the madness of the enterprise. To the Emperor’s infinite
surprise and delight, the bold Turkoman instantly cast aside his sword
and shield, and prepared to engage the tiger unarmed.
The circle of hunters, which had surrounded the forest tyrant, opened
to admit the champion. The ferocious beast with which he was to engage
lay at the root of a tree, snarling hideously as its enemy approached,
erecting the fur upon its tail and back, passing its tongue every now
and then over the terrific fangs with which its jaws were armed, but
seeming ill disposed to commence the contest. Shere Afkun was stripped
to his trousers, and his fine muscular frame, a model for an Indian
Apollo, exhibited its noble proportions as he advanced cautiously but
firmly towards his foe. The tiger lay upon its belly without attempting
to stir, nevertheless giving evident tokens of a determination to
retaliate if attacked. The ponderous paws projected from beneath its
chest; and upon these it occasionally rested its head, until roused
by the approach of its adversary. Every eye was fixed upon the scene;
every heart throbbed with the strongest emotion of anxiety. The
sovereign alone sat upon his elephant, apparently calm and undisturbed;
but the deep flush upon his cheek showed that he took no ordinary
interest in the approaching encounter. He did not utter a word as he
saw the man whom he considered doomed to inevitable destruction march
resolutely up to the prostrate tiger and strike it in the ribs with
his foot. The animal, now excited to ferocious resistance, instantly
sprang upon its legs, but crept backward with its face to the enemy and
its belly to the ground. Shere Afkun advanced as it retreated, keeping
his eyes fixed upon those of the enraged beast. At length the latter
suddenly turned, and bounded forward; but was stopped by the spears
of the hunters, who still encircled it at a distance, all armed to
prevent its escape. Finding its purpose foiled, it again turned, and
being beyond the influence of the Turkoman’s eye, prepared to make its
perilous spring.
Shere Afkun now retreated in his turn, and, pausing near a tree,
awaited the approach of his enemy. It instantly bounded onward,
sweeping its tail above the ground with an uncertain motion, but
without uttering a sound. The brave champion, who from experience was
well acquainted with the habits of those animals which are the terror
of the jungles and their immediate neighbourhood, well knew that the
creature was about to spring. Placing his right foot forward, and
planting his left firmly against the projecting root of the tree, he
calmly awaited the menaced peril. The tiger crouched, and uttered
a short sharp growl, projected its body forward with a celerity
and force which nothing could have resisted; but the wary Turkoman
leaped aside as the living projectile was about to fall upon him, and
turning quickly, seized his baffled foe by the tail; then swinging it
round with a strength and dexterity that astonished every beholder,
brought its head in such violent contact with the tree, that for
several seconds it was completely stunned. After a while, however,
it recovered, but lay still and panting, not at all relishing, as it
seemed, a renewal of the conflict. As the victory was not yet decided,
Shere Afkun again approached the prostrate beast in order to rouse it
to resistance. He kicked it several times, but it only growled, lashed
its tail, showed its fangs--remaining perfectly passive under these
acts of aggression.
The hero, tired of this indecisive mode of warfare, seized it again
by the tail, and, swinging it round as he had already done, brought
its head once more in stunning contact with the tree. The blow, though
severe, did not produce the same effect as before; for the enraged
animal, suddenly rising to the full height of its stature, turned on
its aggressor with a savage roar, and seized him by the fleshy part of
the thigh behind. As his trousers were loose the tiger was somewhat
deceived, and therefore, fortunately, did not take so large a mouthful
as it no doubt would have done had the limb been entirely naked. Shere
Afkun instantly grasped it by the windpipe, and, squeezing it with
all his might, soon obliged the creature to quit its hold; but with a
violent twist it freed itself from the strong grip of its adversary,
and instantly renewed the encounter.
The struggle now became indeed terrific, and the anxiety of the
spectators increased in proportion. Jehangire could no longer control
the feeling by which he was overborne. His parted lips, between which
the tongue protruded with a quivering nervousness of motion, his
eyelids so raised as to discover the entire orb of his eager, restless
eyes, the tremulous aspect of his whole frame,--showed the extent of
his interest in the issue of this unnatural strife.
By this time the tiger had again rallied, and having raised itself upon
its hind-legs, struck both its fore-paws upon the Turkoman’s breast,
tearing the flesh from the bone. Shere Afkun fell under the weight of
this deadly assault; but, still undismayed, after a desperate effort he
contrived to roll over upon his panting foe, now nearly exhausted from
its exertions and by the severe blows it had received, and, forcing
his hand between its extended jaws, griped it so firmly by the root of
the tongue, that in a few seconds it lay strangled beneath his grasp.
He then rose streaming with blood, pointed to his dead enemy, made a
salaam to the Emperor, and quitted the field grievously lacerated.
The Emperor was astounded at the issue. The champion was borne home
in a palankeen, and for several weeks his life was despaired of. To
the surprise of Jehangire, Shere Afkun eventually recovered, though he
carried the marks of the tiger’s claws to his grave. The royal rival
was nevertheless determined not to forego his purpose of destroying
this remarkable man, though he feared to do it openly. Meanwhile the
hero went abroad, everywhere unattended, utterly unsuspicious of a
design against his life. He was not conscious of having offended a
human creature, and therefore did not suppose that any man living could
desire his death. He lived in retirement; but whenever he appeared
at court, which he occasionally did, he was always treated by the
sovereign with marked respect and great apparent cordiality. This,
however, was only to mask the most sanguinary intentions, which were no
secret to many of the nobles, who, in common with their master, desired
the destruction of a brave man because he was a hated rival.
Private orders had been given to the driver of a large elephant to
waylay the Turkoman and tread him to death. The opportunity did not
immediately occur, as the victim went abroad at uncertain periods; and
though his movements were watched, it was found a difficult matter
to come upon him at a favourable moment. One day, however, as he was
returning from the public baths through a narrow street, observing
an elephant approaching, he ordered his palankeen-bearers to turn
aside and permit it to pass. As the huge animal came near, he at once
perceived that there was no room for it to pass without crushing the
palankeen, and thus endangering the lives of himself and attendants.
The elephant still came onward. Shere Afkun called to the mahoot to
stop, but his order was disregarded. The phlegmatic Hindoo, sitting
upon its neck apparently in a state of half consciousness, took no heed
of the peril of the party before him. The Omrah, seeing that it was
impossible to avoid the approaching danger except by making a timely
retreat, ordered his bearers to turn and carry him back to the baths;
but they, terrified at the evident hazard to which they were exposed,
threw down the palankeen and fled, leaving their master to settle the
question of priority of right to a passage on the Emperor’s highway.
The hero, undismayed by the formidable aspect of the jeopardy by which
he was menaced, sprang instantly from the ground, drew his sword,
and, before the elephant could accomplish its fatal purpose, severed
its trunk close to the root. The gigantic animal immediately dropped
and expired. The mahoot leaped from its neck as it was in the act of
falling, and escaped.
Shere Afkun, suspecting that in urging the elephant upon him the fellow
had been actuated by that personal feeling which so generally exists
between Hindoo and Mahomedan, forebore to pursue him, thinking the mean
passions of a hireling too contemptible to rouse his indignation; he
therefore allowed the offender to escape unmolested, and coolly wiping
the blade of his sword, returned it to the scabbard.
Jehangire witnessed the whole scene. He had placed himself at a small
lattice that overlooked the street. He was perfectly amazed, but
disappointment and vexation banished from his bosom the better feelings
of nature. Shere Afkun waited upon him and communicated what had
passed: the Emperor extolled his bravery with warmth, and thus escaped
his suspicion.