NOURMAHAL,
An Oriental Romance.
BY MICHAEL J. QUIN,
AUTHOR OF “A STEAM VOYAGE DOWN THE DANUBE,”
“A VISIT TO SPAIN,” ETC.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1838.
PRINTED BY STEWART AND MURRAY,
OLD BAILEY.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. 1
CHAPTER II. 16
CHAPTER III. 36
CHAPTER IV. 48
CHAPTER V. 60
CHAPTER VI. 73
CHAPTER VII. 86
CHAPTER VIII. 100
CHAPTER IX. 114
CHAPTER X. 130
CHAPTER XI. 142
CHAPTER XII. 155
CHAPTER XIII. 167
CHAPTER XIV. 180
CHAPTER XV. 196
CHAPTER XVI. 211
CHAPTER XVII. 225
CHAPTER XVIII. 238
CHAPTER XIX. 251
CHAPTER XX. 266
CHAPTER XXI. 283
ADVERTISEMENT.
The reader is to suppose that the following romance is related by a
story-teller of Cashmere. Itinerant reciters of prose and poetical
fictions are still, as is well known to travellers, as common in the
East as they were in the days of Homer.
CHAPTER I.
Too much wisdom is folly: for time will produce events
of which thou canst have no idea; and _he_ to whom thou
gavest no commission, will bring thee unexpected news.
TARAFA.
In no part of our oriental world are there to be found bolder or more
picturesque mountain ranges, or a greater variety of climate, fruits,
flowers, and animals, than in that tract of country which lies beyond
the grand chain of the Himalas. Although the snow and the cloud seldom
disappear, which prevent their stupendous peaks from being seen in all
their naked majesty, nevertheless the wanderer looks with delight upon
their numerous declivities and valleys, clothed in green herbage,
interspersed with villages, and animated by herds and flocks, which
abundantly reward the cares of their pastoral population. Sometimes
standing upon an abrupt ridge, after having ascended through a wild
accumulation of rocks, he beholds, spreading at his feet, a dell
irrigated by streams that fall from the surrounding heights with a
pleasing murmur, and occupied by cottages near which the amaranth, the
convolvulus, the primrose and the hyacinth, blend their charms in gay
luxuriance. Passing through the hospitable valley, he clambers higher
up the mountain, and treads through copses, the haunt of the wild goat,
red and white deer, and a peculiar species of fox remarkable for it
fleetness. The copse leads to the forest, tenanted by that elegant
bird the bee-eater, whose brown back and yellow neck form so striking
a contrast with the bright emerald of his breast and wings; by the
flamingo, that sometimes lightens in the firmament like a meteor; the
ring-dove, the starling, the nightingale, and above all the ouzell,
whose body has stolen the blush of the rose, while its proud head seems
to have been just dipped in the azure of the skies.
More than a thousand years have passed since the volcano and the
earthquake filled that region with terror; but the traces of their
fearful visitation appear to be of yesterday. Enormous bulks of rocks,
rent asunder, present abysses through which the torrent rolls unseen,
but not unheard, as innumerable caverns multiply its voice of thunder,
while it contends against the fallen masses that momentarily resist its
course. And yet it is delicious to contemplate the borders of those
unfathomable channels, overhung by thickets of barberries and jasmines,
and myriads of flowering shrubs, which send forth a spicy fragrance,
and decorate the gloomy horror beneath with festoons of the most
exquisite beauty.
On the edge of one of those dangerous ravines, in the district of
Arjun, Kazim Ayas found himself expecting the return of his falcon,
that had plunged into it after a quail. He had brought out the bird
rather as a companion than for the purpose of sport, to which he was
not much addicted. He had but recently returned to his native village
among the mountains of Arjun, from the city of Samarcand, where he
had obtained his education, at the celebrated college founded by the
munificence of Ulug Beg. The poems of Nizami were much more delightful
to his ear than the sound of the hunter’s horn, especially those which
paint in such fascinating colours the loves of Leili and Mejnun. For
him, also, the moral compositions of Jami possessed peculiar charms.
The elegance of language and versification, the sublimity of thought,
the strain of religious and philosophical mysticism which characterise
the effusions of that bard, often held the soul of Kazim bound in
the spell of enchantment. Nor did he fail to render himself familiar
with almost every branch of science, and with the historians who have
related the fortunes of all the great empires.
As the sun was fast descending beneath a canopy of gold and purple
clouds, Kazim expected anxiously the re-appearance of the hawk, which
he would not have lost for a hundred-fold its weight in diamonds;
it was the first gift he had received from Mangeli, the idol of his
soul from infancy, to whom he had been already for three happy years
united. Holding by the branch of a willow which hung down low into
the ravine, he ventured to descend over broken rocks, whence, by the
aid of gigantic ferns depending from the sides of the fissure, he
lowered himself safely to a considerable distance from the summit.
Through the dim twilight, he perceived the hawk struggling with its
prey, among some fragments in the midst of the raging flood below. He
called it repeatedly by its well-known name; but the noble bird, bent
on victory, would not surrender the advantage it had already gained. In
the contest, both the combatants fell into the torrent, which bore them
away in an instant from his sight.
Kazim resolved to dare every danger rather than lose the falcon. Guided
by the sound of the torrent, he trod his way through the fissure, until
it closed above his head, excluding altogether the light of day. Though
exposed every moment to the risk of falling over precipices, made
slippery by the perpetual dropping of water from the masses overhead,
nevertheless he penetrated through the dark hollows of the mountain,
until his steps were checked by what he afterwards discovered to be a
lake, in whose ample bosom the roar of the waters, which had almost
stunned his ear, was subdued to silence.
Again and again he called to the falcon, shouting as loudly as
his voice would permit, but he was only replied to by a thousand
vibrations, which bore the name along the waters, until at length it
died away in the distant labyrinths of the cavern. While pausing in
wonder at the effect his exertions produced, he descried afar in the
heart of the mountain, several sparkles of fire, followed by a flame,
that, after flickering for a moment, disappeared. His first impulse
was to retrace his steps without delay; but, before he could withdraw
his gaze from the spot where the mystic light was kindled, it again
came like a star, dimly seen through a cloud, and shooting forth rays
all round it. Gradually it grew larger and more brilliant, until Kazim
felt that it was approaching rapidly towards the place where he stood.
Presently, the outline of a boat was visible, and then dark forms cast
their shadows on the water; slight undulations, shining at quick and
regular intervals at each side of the vessel, betrayed the speed with
which the oars were plied, and created so much alarm in the mind of
Kazim, that he sought concealment behind a projecting rock; whence,
however, he could watch the progress of the bark.
As the vessel came nearer, Kazim perceived that one of the group, who
wore a Mogul cap embroidered with gold thread, appeared to be treated
by his companions with some degree of distinction. To him they looked
for directions as to the course which they were now to pursue, having
already arrived in the middle of the lake. Without uttering a word,
the chieftain took a torch in his hand, and pointing towards the rock
behind which Kazim had sought refuge, desired the boat to be steered in
that direction.
“Whom have we here?” exclaimed the leader, as he stepped out of the
boat, flashing the light of the torch full in Kazim’s face. “A friend,
or a foe?”
“How, when, why came you here?” asked five or six angry voices at once,
rendered fiercer by as many sabres, which threatened the stranger with
instant destruction.
Kazim explained, as soon as they would permit him to speak, though in a
voice agitated by the feelings which this strange scene awakened, that
he had undesignedly entered the cavern in search of his falcon.
“A falcon!” they shouted in a tone of derision;--“a spy--off with his
head--he comes from the foes of Suleiman--away with him into the lake!”
While the chieftain was scrutinising the countenance of Kazim by the
light of the torch, the falcon descended on his hand; its beauteous
eyes sparkling with joy for having once more found its favourite
resting-place.
“His words are true,” said the chieftain, “for here is the hawk; and a
noble bird it is: whence came you? to what tribe do you belong?”
“The Uzbecks.”
“We are friends; we have partaken of their salt; they have raised the
war-cry with us; our arrows have flown together over the battlefield.”
While saying these words, the chieftain, without further ceremony,
led the way by the road which had conducted Kazim to the lake, when
suddenly turning into a dark passage, he entered a spacious cave, on
the floor of which several coats of mail, spears, bows and quivers
were thrown in confusion. Taking up a saddle-drum which lay amongst
them, he struck it thrice with the back of his hand: the floor of the
cave immediately awoke to life; numbers of men who had been sleeping,
wrapped in their cloaks, rose upon their feet at the signal, and
crowding sound their chieftain, anxiously inquired, “What news?”
“Good news, my friends: the rebels will soon be in our power. The day
after to-morrow we shall proceed on the march, and in the meantime,
look to the boat for an abundant supply of provisions.”
A hundred torches of pine-wood were forthwith lighted, and planted
at intervals all round the cavern: some of the men kindled fires,
while others proceeded to the boat, and returned laden with deer,
hares, partridges, pheasants, sheep, loaves of wheaten bread, and a
considerable quantity of wine, and of humiz, the spirit distilled from
mares’ milk, in leathern bags and bottles. The latter were reserved
for the march, and the expected encounter; but the bags were placed
on a shelving rock, and being formed of the skins of lambs prepared
for the purpose, the liquid was drawn out through the tail, which was
tied up, or let down, as occasion required. Most of those who had been
sleeping in the cave, paid preliminary visits to the bags, by way of
recompence for the privations which they had for some time endured.
Meanwhile, expert hands were occupied in dissecting, with sabres and
knives, the venison and mutton, of which large slices were suspended on
spikes of wood. These being stuck in the ground, round the fires, were
turned repeatedly, until the meat was roasted. Some hares, pheasants,
and partridges were cooked in a similar manner; and while the cavern
was thus filled with savory odours, which would have given edge to the
appetite even of the epicure, various groups sat down on the floor in
circles: salt was served to each man in the hollow of one hand, and
in the other was placed bread, and a portion of the fragrant viands
smoking from the fire. Bags of wine and humiz went round from circle to
circle in due succession.
Kazim, whom the chieftain had directed to sit down near himself, felt
not at all disinclined to imitate the example of his new friends.
The venison of the red-deer he found as delicious as if it had been
prepared by the hand of Mangeli. The wine, which was from Kabul,
cheered his soul. By and by, as the hunger of the different groups was
sated, and their hearts opened by the generous nectar, conversation
became loud and general. Here a Tartar was seen on his legs with a
spear in his hand, boasting to those who were near him of the skill he
had exercised in shaping the bone with which it was pointed, and in
carving that part of it, which he grasped in his hand, when rushing
on the foe. There a circle of listeners gathered round a veteran, who
related incidents of the battles in which he had been engaged, not
forgetting to exhibit scars on his breast and forehead, in verification
of his story; while others were more sedately engaged in conjecturing
the plans of their chieftain, whom they called Suleiman, and to whose
fortunes they appeared to be enthusiastically attached.
From all that he could observe and hear, Kazim collected that the
whole party had come from some distance, with a view to surprise three
formidable princes, who were now, or were very soon expected to be, in
that part of Arjun. While he was anxiously watching the movements of
the various groups around him, he found that he had himself become an
object of much attention to a noble looking person who was seated on
the other side of Suleiman, and frequently conversed with the chief in
an under tone. But Kazim felt no uneasiness for his own fate. He had
now taken salt with the strangers, whoever they were; they owed him
protection, so long as he remained faithful to them; and there was a
dignity in the manner of the commander, which appeared to entitle him
at once to confidence and submission.
“My friend, Baba Seirami, thinks that he must have seen you somewhere
before,” said Suleiman.
“Possibly, at Samarcand.”
“It must have been at Samarcand,” said Seirami. “If I mistake not, I
was present at one of the public disputations held in the college of
Ulug Beg, at which you took away the principal prize.”
Kazim modestly replied, that it was a great addition to the honours he
had obtained on that occasion, to find that they were remembered by a
personage, to whom he would have been otherwise unknown.
“Your name, I think, is Ayas?”
“Kazim Ayas.”
“It is a good name; you inherit it from one of the most ancient
families at this side of the Himalas. I presume you reside in this
neighbourhood?” added Seirami.
“Not far hence, in a small hut on the borders of the Ilamish.”
“What!” exclaimed Suleiman, “a scholar, and content to die without a
name on the banks of the Ilamish? Be of us, henceforth. I shall open to
you the paths of glory.”
“I fear that you would find me but an incumbrance. I have never learned
even to bend the bow.”
The entrance of a Tartar courier with letters, which he placed in the
hands of Seirami, here interrupted the conversation. The latter, rising
from the floor, proceeded with Suleiman to a recess in the cavern,
where they glanced hastily over the letters. The chieftain immediately
called around him his principal officers; and while they remained in
consultation, Seirami, returning to Kazim, inquired at much length into
the usual habits of his life, and the circumstances in which he was
placed since he had quitted Samarcand.
“My biography since that period,” replied Kazim, “may be briefly told.
Before I left home, all my dreams and hopes of happiness hovered around
one dear image. A shepherdess, whom I used to meet in my daily rambles
among the hills, Mangeli, the daughter of Gulbeg, was the star of my
existence. Upon my return from the university, I found her still the
same. My heart, equally unchanged, knew no peace but in her presence.”
“An Ayas, and married to a shepherd’s daughter!”
“You would not express so much surprise, if you had known her
gentleness, her purity of soul, her tenderness for me, her beauty,”
said Kazim, deeply blushing; for he felt that the rank of his family
was too well-known to Seirami.
“You must keep secret, even from her, all that you have seen or heard
in this cave. Your life, your fortunes, depend upon your strict
observance of this injunction. You may render us important services, if
we can depend upon your firmness on this occasion.”
“The kindness which I have already experienced at your hands, commands
my gratitude. Be assured of my fidelity.”
“These letters inform us, that to-morrow a troop of Mogul horsemen,
commanded by the Khan Mirtas, will cross the Ilamish. His object is to
effect a junction with our force; and as we must move to-night to the
place where the greater number of our soldiers are encamped, it will be
your business to meet the Khan, and conduct him thither.”
Kazim received his commission with a degree of pride, which he had not
known for some time. Seirami, then producing a map, described to him
the spot where it was of the utmost importance that the Khan should
join Suleiman. Kazim said, that he was perfectly familiar with the
country, and he should feel no difficulty in accomplishing the service
required of him. He was then, by Seirami’s direction, conducted to the
boat, and rapidly rowed across the lake, to a passage by which its
superfluous waters were discharged. In a short time the light of the
stars, glowing in the firmament, enabled him to assure the rowers that
they need give themselves no farther trouble, as he knew that he was
upon one of the tributaries of the Ilamish.