Zyna sat beside her father, trimming the lamp as it needed, wondering
much at Fazil's strange absence, and occasionally taking up one of
the papers with which her father had been occupied, and reading it
vacantly. Zyna could read, which was unusual in girls of her age and
class: and, originally of a studious character, she had learned enough
Persian with her brother from their old teacher, a superannuated
secretary, to be of use both to her father and brother; more especially
to her father in his confidential correspondence. Apparently she
found nothing to interest her very much, for she laid down letter
after letter after reading the superscription, and looked out through
the lattice impatiently, as it were, for the coming dawn. The bright
morning star now appeared above the tops of the trees, and a glow
overspread the whole east--the false dawn; which, while it as yet gave
no definite form to the surrounding objects, yet relieved the extreme
darkness of the night. As Zyna sat, she fancied she heard a sound of
voices at the gate, but it died away. It could not be her brother;
he would have been admitted at once. Again, as she listened, and the
silence seemed painful, the murmur was renewed, and she started up.
"It is he--Fazil is come!" she cried eagerly to her father, awaking
him. "O, father, go to meet him; would I could go myself!"
Afzool Khan listened from the window, and Zyna could see that the
expression of his face increased in gladness, and the revulsion in her
own heart caused agitation which she could not restrain.
"He is not come," said her father; "it may be some messenger. God grant
there may be no evil tidings! Be calm, my child; I will go below and
ascertain, and will return or send word about him!"
Hurrying down to the gate, he found the sentinel in altercation with
the lad we have before mentioned. It was evident that the boy had been
there some time, and the sentinel, being informed that his young lord
was safe, had no idea of wakening any one before the usual hour of
morning prayer. As Afzool Khan approached the gate alone, he heard the
lad's earnest prayer for aid answered by a dogged refusal.
"Begone!" said the man through the wicket; "thy tale may be true
enough, and the Sahib Zadah[8] may be where he is; but, look you, the
great Khan Sahib is fast asleep, and cannot be awakened. Everybody is
asleep; there is no woman here to send to him in the zenana. Begone
therefore, or lay down at the gate. When morning prayer is over, thou
shalt have speech of the Khan. Till it is broad daylight, I draw no
bolt. If thou wilt not go, at least sit quiet, for there are gentleman
in the guard-room here who might treat thee roughly if disturbed in
their sleep."
The boy was turning away sadly, when the voice of Afzool Khan was heard
calling from the inner court, as he unfastened the door leading to the
larger one.
"Whose is that voice?--who speaks without?--why is he not admitted?" he
asked.
"My lord," replied the man on duty, "the Sahib Zadah is not here, but
there is a boy who says he knows of him."
"Was it well, Yousuf, to turn him away?" asked Afzool Khan. "Suppose my
son had had need of us."
"Nay; but my lord slept, and the Sahib Zadah was safe. Bulwunt Rao only
is wounded--and there were no women to send--and I did but tell him to
wait," stammered the man.
"No matter--where is the boy? Open the wicket," said Afzool Khan
impatiently.
"He does not consider who may be behind it," said the soldier, as he
unfastened the ponderous iron bars and unlocked the padlock of the
wickets, "and that this may be but a device to attack the gate. But he
will always be headstrong."
"I am here, Khódawund," said the lad, from without, and squeezing
himself through the opening between the wicket-door and the chain which
fastened it. "Behold I am now before you, valiant sir," he said to the
sentinel, "whom you took to be a thief; but I would have speech of the
noble Afzool Khan himself, if it be possible to have him aroused."
"I am he," returned the old Khan, stepping forward. "Speak on, if what
there is to be told may be said before these men;" for several had now
arisen, saluted their master, and were standing by him.
The boy touched the old Khan's feet reverently. "Fear not, noble sir,"
he said hastily, "for the Sahib Zadah is safe. He met with no hurt,
though he was in danger."
"Ul-humd-ul-illa!--Praise be to God," broke from the old man fervently,
and was heartily re-echoed by all around; for men were arriving every
moment from the different portions of the court, and crowding round to
hear the news. "Ul-humd-ul-illa! O holy Geesoo Duraz!"[9] he continued,
looking up, "I vow fatehas to thy tomb, and a new covering shall it
have of the costliest cloth-of-gold. But go on, boy, and fear not. Is
there aught for my private ear?"
"Nothing, my lord--nothing. There was a fray, and Meah Sahib's
attendant or friend was badly wounded. I want a palankeen for him; that
is all."
"And my son--why did he not come with thee? And who art thou?" asked
the Khan.
"They call me Ashruf, and I am the son of Peer Mahomed Duffadar, and
Meah Sahib could not come, because," added the lad, dropping his head,
"he was my father's prisoner--and----"
"By the Prophet, but this is too much!" exclaimed the fiery old Khan.
"Who art thou, knave, that dares to say the son of Afzool Khan is a
prisoner to any one?"
"May I be your sacrifice, O Khan," returned the boy, nothing daunted,
though the Khan's angry speech was re-echoed by all gathered around
him. "May I be your sacrifice, there is no harm meant to your noble
son, whom we all know and honour. He it was who in my hearing declared
that, in order to save my father, he would attend the Kótwal's court;
for it was but yesterday that the Kótwal swore he would have the
right hand of the first brawler taken, cut off, and hung up in the
chowke,[10] and that he would degrade the first officer who failed to
apprehend those concerned in any riot. Be not angry, therefore, noble
sir, for my father explained all this, and your son goes of his own
freewill. My father could not help it, you know, my lord," added the
boy, apologetically, "for a man had been wounded, and there was blood
on your son's sword."
"Ay! Jehándar Beg is likely to be a man of his word, too," said the
Khan to those about him, "and force will do no good. But it were as
well that my son should be attended, I think. What say you, gentlemen?
So be ready some twenty of you, and call up the spearmen; the palankeen
and bearers, too, for Bulwunt Rao. We could ill spare him, poor fellow,
from among us."
"Nothing could have happened if Meah had taken some of us with him,"
cried several of the men at once. "We all wanted to go," added Raheem
Khan, "but he bade us mind our own business, and took Bulwunt Rao with
him; and see what has come of ganja smoking."
"And Meah might have been wounded or killed," added several.
"My friends, there was need to do it," answered Afzool Khan; "a secret
service for the King cannot have too few witnesses. As to his life,
or mine, or that of any of you, do we not eat the salt of the King,
and should our lives be grudged? Peace, then, and hasten to get ready:
the morn is fast breaking, and by daylight we should be in the saddle.
Keep the boy; he must accompany us." So saying, he turned back into
the private court in order to seek his daughter, who had followed him.
Goolab had been beforehand with her, and had communicated the news in
her own way, with many marvellous additions, while the Khan was giving
his orders to the men. Now, therefore, on hearing her father's brief
confirmation of Fazil's safety, all past anxiety was at once forgotten,
and, with glistening eyes and a thankful heart, she clung to him as
they entered the small court of the zenana apartments together.
By this time, too, Zyna's second mother, who as yet has been barely
mentioned, had been aroused from her sleep by the prevailing bustle;
and as she habitually indulged in long rests, and disliked early
hours most particularly, she met the Khan and Zyna in a mood of very
querulous character, which arose partly from having been robbed of
a large portion of sleep, and partly from having heard Goolab's
exaggerated report of Fazil's danger. Now, the good lady had not even
known of his going out, nor, as her lord had requested not to be
disturbed, of the manner in which the weary night had passed.
"Blessed be the holy saints that he is safe!" was the exclamation of
Zyna, as she threw herself upon the lady's neck; "there will be no
delay now, and my father will bring him to us. O mother, are you not
thankful?"
"It was well done of thee, Khan," cried the lady ironically,
disengaging herself from Zyna, and not heeding her words, "to send that
poor boy out in such a night as the last has been. Such thunder and
lightning! Naked, too, I hear--to run the chance of cold and wounds.
Ugh! and thou sayest thou hast a father's love for him? Toba! toba! I
swear to thee, had he been my son, he should never stir out without my
permission. I would take care of that. He should not go hence, Khan
Sahib, until I knew that the planets were propitious--a thing--Alla
defend us!--that some people care as little about as--as ... and then
to think what a tempting of destiny it was to send the boy from home
without asking or caring for the positions of the stars, or finding
out whether there was not an adverse planet in a threatening house. As
it is, we hear that Fazil is wounded--that is, he might have been; and
that Bulwunt Rao has had his head cut off--that is, nearly, for he has
a horrible cut in his neck, and his head is hanging all on one side;
and," she continued, wiping her eyes with the end of her scarf, and in
a whimpering tone, "all this comes of not asking me. What am I in the
house but less than a dog? O Khan----"
"Peace, Lurlee!" returned Afzool Khan tartly. "What cross words are
these so early in the morning? Enough for thee that the boy is safe,
and that we have subject for thankfulness in his escape from danger,
and not of sorrow. Peace! is it thus Alla should see thee after His
mercy? Fazil will be here presently, and will tell thee perhaps as much
as I know."
"Ay, perhaps!" retorted Lurlee. "I, who am less than a cat in the
house, and as gentle as a sheep, am thus treated! O Khan! shame upon
thee that I know everything only when it is stale, and comes to me
through the bazar! Are not all your goings and comings hidden from me?
and now I hear you and Zyna sat up all night together; and I was told
you were not to be interrupted, and had to eat my dinner by myself, and
to get to sleep as best I might. O Khan! am I less than nobody? I who
am of the family of----"
"Thou wouldst only have been anxious and fretful, Lurlee," returned the
Khan soothingly. "The planets would have troubled thee. We meant only
well in not telling thee. It was an urgent matter, and we could not
wait for the astrologer to read the tables for us, or tell us what star
was in the ascendant. Go, see after some breakfast, or whatever can be
got for Fazil; we may be detained, and I'll warrant he is hungry enough
already. We cannot wait for lucky hours sometimes, but must take what
Alla sends us."
"I will not go, Khan. I will not be put off with empty words," she
cried, angrily; "and if you do not choose to read the stars, what
does it signify? are not the consequences of your error on your own
head? When was it that the stars were aught in your eyes? Have I
not read you many a warning, which, had it been heeded, would have
saved much trouble--much! When Fazil went forth to battle, did I not
warn you not to let him depart? and did he not come home wounded and
senseless? And when I told you one day, when one of the horses died,
that something bad must befall us because of the evil aspect of the
stars, I was only laughed at. Is this true or false? And yesterday,
if I had but been asked beforehand, could I not have told all that
was going to happen? Behold!" and the lady drew from her bodice a
table regularly constructed to aid her astrological predictions and
researches--"behold! were not Saturn and the Moon in conjunction? Is
not that bad enough? and cannot you see that is the reason why Bulwunt
Rao, poor fellow, has had his head cut off?"
"Peace, Lurlee!" again cried the Khan, to whom his wife's astrological
wisdom had long proved a serious annoyance. "If all the planets in
the sky had come together for good or evil, Fazil must have gone last
night, for it was an errand of life or death. Now all is safely over,
go and prepare some sheernee for distribution, and be thankful for what
is, rather than anxious about the stars----"
"Toba, toba!" exclaimed the lady, interrupting him; "for shame, for
shame! O Khan, to blaspheme the stars! May your sin be forgiven!"
"Nay, mother, but he did not blaspheme," urged the gentle voice of
Zyna. "He did but mean that Fazil was safe everywhere; for thou
knowest, dear mother, that he is in the hands of Alla, and that the
blessed Alla is above all."
"He is not above the stars," retorted the lady angrily,
and over-anxious to establish the truth of her favourite
superstition--"that is, He--I mean--He is above them; but then----"
"Ah, Lurlee; better leave them alone," cried the Khan, laughing. "Art
thou not sinking deep into the mire of thine own conceit, lady? Well,
thou art welcome to them if they will teach thee not to be wilful, and
not to do thine own desire, which is ever ill controlled and variable;
and as to their being higher than Him who made them--why, I have no
more to say."
"I said no such thing," retorted the lady doggedly; "but it is ever
thus. Take care, Khan, of wilful disregard of warnings."
"Another time, perhaps, wife. Now we cannot delay, for the Kótwal has
got hold of Fazil, and that is worse than an adverse conjunction of
planets. But fear not," he added, seeing that the countenance of Zyna
betrayed alarm; "a word from me, and he will be released."
"If he is not, I will go to my cousin the Wuzeer's wife, and beg for
him," replied Lurlee.
"Ay, in spite of the stars? Well, well, beebee, I hope it will not be
needed," said the Khan cheerily. "We are not yet come down to asking
favours of our cousins' wives. No, Lurlee; keep thine interest for
another time, and see to it that thy cousin doth not require thine aid
ere thou hast to ask hers."
"Impossible, Khan!" cried the lady sharply. "Thou art pleased this
morning to underrate my poor self and my relations. It is well, O
Afzool Khan!" (she meant to be very impressive when she called him by
name)--"it is well--I say it is very well, that you speak thus. See to
it that thou, too, want no aid from them."
"I do not need them, Lurlee," replied the Khan. "As to their aid to
me--nay, be not angry--I have not much hope of it; and for the rest, if
I am right in what I think, there is evil impending over the Wuzeer's
house, which all the stars will not tell thee of, nor him either. May
the saints avert it! If it be true, thou shalt know of it ere many
hours be past, and we will try to aid him; but at present let there be
peace between us. By-and-by thou wilt say to Fazil, It was well done,
though our news may not please thee. Go, girl, bring me my sword," he
continued to Zyna. "Bring a shawl too, for the morning air is chilly."
Zyna was glad to escape, for, in truth, bickerings such as we have
noted were too frequent in the house to be very tolerable, and
sometimes one side, sometimes the other, was in fault; most frequently
perhaps, the lady, who, having had no children of her own to care for,
and having in her youth been instructed in Persian, had turned to
divinity and astrology with great zeal. In the latter she had indeed
great faith, and professed herself able, as no doubt she was willing,
to direct all affairs of the house, as also of the state, by planetary
influences. Thus, no event could happen without its being, to her
perception, plainly written in the book of destiny, which the light of
the planets rendered easy reading; and if a dish happened to break, or
a cow or bullock died, or a horse had to be purchased or exchanged,
or any household rejoicing made, or trouble endured, all were found
to have connection with the planets, or to be the consequences of the
lucky or unlucky days and hours of which her life was composed.
Lurlee Khánum being a scholar, was also an object of envy to many of
her female friends, and was consulted by them upon various turns of
their fortunes; and in regard to lucky colours for dress, lucky moments
for putting on new clothes, settling matches and marriage days, the
weaning of children, putting them into new beds, cutting their hair
or nails, and the like domestic matters, she was an unquestionable
authority. She, according to the rules laid down in her book, had
written several charms, and given them to her friends, which, together
with the virtues of certain herbs and medicines, had been the cause
of relief to babies when cutting their teeth, and when they cried
at night, or had bad dreams, or infantine ailments; and had been
efficacious also in averting evil spirits, evil eyes, and the envious
wishes of others.
For these accomplishments--especially her skill in astrology,
which was believed to be very wonderful, indeed almost a special
revelation--Lurlee Khánum was held in vast respect by all classes in
her quarter of the city; and her opinions and interpretations of the
stars were decidedly preferred to those of Meer Anwur Ali, the old
Moolla of the public mosque nigh at hand; and a considerable feud
existed between them in consequence. For the Moolla considered her
as an interloper, and as one by no means instructed or qualified to
have converse with what she professed, whether astrology or medicine;
and had been known to say, irreverently no doubt, that more people
died of Lurlee Khánum's medicines than the angel of death knew what
to do with. In short, Lurlee Khánum, the second wife of Afzool Khan,
was a much more popular person than the first had been; who, being a
foreigner, and absorbed in her husband and children, cared little about
her neighbours; whereas her successor was in most respects the exact
reverse.
Lurlee Beebee had once been handsome. She was of somewhat dark
complexion, but had very large lustrous eyes, with a prominent
nose, and had not escaped marks by smallpox, though they were not
disfiguring. When the Khan married her, her figure was perfect; but she
had lately, much to her mortification, increased in size; and though
she took many infallible receipts to prevent fat, it would accumulate.
For many years she had had hope of children, and had made vows to all
the shrines in Beejapoor, had sent gifts to those at Allund, Gulburgah,
and Gôgi, and had vowed to make vast distributions of money, and to
do other charitable acts, if her prayers were granted. Now she began
to fear she had no chance, which had vexed her not a little, and had
combined, with other troubles, to give a sour, grim expression to her
countenance, which rarely left it.
There were times, however, when she was bright and pleasant; for,
really kind at heart, few had greater powers of pleasing than Lurlee
Khánum; but as her husband became more and more occupied with public
affairs, estrangement had begun, and was progressing. There was one
fear which had beset Lurlee for many years--that her lord, seeing she
had no children, would marry again; and the idea of a sister-wife
was very intolerable: this, however, had passed away. The Khan was
advancing in years, his children were growing up, and she had no fear
of another usurping what affection remained, or interfering with her
household management.
To the Khan's children Lurlee was fondly attached; indeed, they were
now the principal links between her lord and herself. Their mother
had died when they were of tender age; and, after Lurlee's hopes of
children ceased, she took more kindly to them than before, and had done
her duty by them. Nor did their father interfere with that deference
to her judgment in matters concerning them, of which she had better
knowledge; but her increasing faith in her own infallibility had begun
to distress both, as they could not help estimating at its proper value
the superstition upon which the majority of her acts and opinions were
founded once for all.
Such was Lurlee Khánum, the only lady in the harem of Afzool Khan.
Other nobles of his rank would have married as often as the law
allowed, without reproach; but the old Khan's affections had seemingly
died with Zyna's mother; and the excitement of war, of political
events, and provincial government, together with the management of
his fine estate of Afzoolpoor, had apparently filled his mind to the
exclusion of other subjects.
In a few moments Zyna had returned, bearing the weapon, which her
father took from her; and having entered the garden with her, they
performed their ablutions in the mosque before mentioned, and went
through the usual forms of the early prayer. The Khan then returned to
the zenana, where Lurlee Khánum met him.
"I have put up some food in the palankeen," she said; "see that Fazil
eats it. I would all this were safely over," she added, after a pause.
"Thou art not angry with me, Khan--with your Lurlee? do not go forth
angry with me, my lord."
"No, no! not angry, dear one," returned the Khan, much moved and
softened. "I am not angry, but impatient; forgive me, Lurlee. Alla keep
you till I return: and you too, my child! Fear not; I will bring him
safely to both of you."
The Khan's horse awaited him in the outer court, and with it a strong
troop of his best horsemen, with a company of spearmen, whose combined
force seemed enough to have rescued Fazil, had there been need. Afzool
Khan was greeted heartily by all, and as he cast his eye over the
group of steady and oft-tried retainers, he felt that confidence which
results from habitual companionship with others, and that no danger
could reach Fazil which they could not share or overcome. The greeting
was as heartily returned as given; and the gates being thrown open
after a few questions to his son's messenger, and preceded by him and
the band of spearmen who ran before his horse, Afzool Khan and his
retainers pushed forward at a rapid pace.
It was now broad daylight, and the freshness of the morning, and its
clear bright atmosphere, rendered every object more beautiful than it
had been before the rain. Every stately mosque and minaret, palace and
mausoleum, with their bright gilded spires, caught the fast-increasing
light, and stood out boldly against the clear eastern sky; while the
rich foliage of the trees, unmoved by any wind as yet, hung in heavy
masses, and seemed refreshed by the moisture they still retained.
As they passed the various gardens, the rich fragrance of tuberose,
lime, and orange flowers loaded the air almost to excess; while the
very ground gave forth that refreshing earthy scent which, in India,
after rain, mingles so peculiarly and yet so gratefully with every
other perfume. Few persons were yet abroad; and with the exception of
an occasional devout Mahomedan proceeding to early morning prayer at
the mosque--a young rake, with a small band of sword-and-bucklermen,
returning from the night's questionable companionship--a few humble
carriers of fruit and vegetables coming from villages without the
walls to the morning market, with here and there small companies
of travellers starting on their daily journey,--all was silent and
deserted; and the heavy tramp of the horsemen, as they proceeded at a
rapid pace, sounded strange and suspicious at that unusual hour.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] The respectful title of a son--literally, "lord's son."
[9] _Huzrut Syud Geesoo Duraz_--"Prince of the Long Locks"--the name of
a celebrated Mahomedan saint, whose tomb at Gulburgah is esteemed the
most holy, as the saint is the greatest favourite of all, perhaps, in
the Dekhan.
[10] Market-place.