"It is finished, my lord," said the Syud, looking up, after an
examination of the papers which had appeared interminable, and as
he spoke, the cry of the Muezzin of the Royal Mosque arose in the
invitation to morning prayer, sonorous and musical, "Alla hu Akbur!
Alla hu Akbur!" "It is finished," he continued, "and it is the will
of Alla that morning prayer should come with the last words. Come, my
lord, let us do this service, and ask a blessing on our deliberation.
Come to the terrace in the fresh morning air."
We need not follow them. As they returned and seated themselves again
by the oriel window, the first blush of dawn was stealing over the
sky, paling the stars, and the gentle breeze of morning rustled softly
among the leaves of the gardens below. The ceremony he had performed,
the ablution, and the air of the terrace outside to which they had
adjourned, had refreshed the King after this weary night.
"Speak, Syud," he said, as they resumed their seats. "What is it to be?"
"I need not, my lord," replied the Syud. "What Alla hath put into thy
heart I now see in thine eyes, and so be it! Ameen! ameen! ameen! It is
his destiny. He is not fit to live; let him die, perjured and faithless
as he is. My lord, he had sworn on the holy book to me to be true. He
had touched my feet and my neck as witness to his oath. Yet see, since
then, nay, within a few weeks, this letter--worst of all--was written.
But O, my prince! there must be no mistake. Even at the last, let not
the blood of a guiltless man be on our heads."
The Syud's resolution had wavered for a moment, but was rallied by the
secretary as the King shook his head, but did not reply.
"Meer Sahib," he said, "we have had the same doubts, my lord and I.
Considering how we obtained the letters, can there be uncertainty?"
"God forbid!" replied the Syud--"God forbid! it is enough. I see in
this revelation the hand of the All-wise, and we, his creatures, should
not resist His destinies and His justice. We cannot do so even if we
wished," and he bowed his head reverently over his beads. "Hark! what
is that?"
"Ulla dilâyâ to léonga! Ulla dilâyâ to léonga! (If God give I will
take! If God give I will take)" was suddenly shouted in an outer court
of the palace by a powerful voice, and interrupted the priest for a
moment.
"Listen!" he continued, grasping the Meerza's arm. "What is that cry,
so strange, and so early?"
"It is but one of the city beggars," said the King, looking across to
his secretary with a peculiar glance of intelligence, "who perhaps has
not slept off his night's potions. One of thine own disciples, perhaps,
Huzrut."
"I will go and listen," said the secretary, rising; and he proceeded to
the terrace where the morning prayer had been performed.
"Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!" arose in clear deep tones, now unchecked by
the heavy quilted curtain of the royal chamber. It was a common form of
cry of fakeers or other beggars; but there was something in the rough
tone of the voice which seemed to strike familiarly upon the Meerza's
ear.
"Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!"
The last cry was followed by a remonstrance from the soldiers below,
who, belonging to the guard of the private apartments, had evidently
stopped the intruder.
"Gently, O Syn," cried one; "what dost thou here so early? Do not bawl
so loud, friend, else they will be awakened up yonder, and thou wilt be
whipped and put in the stocks. Come and sit here, and rest thyself if
thou wilt."
"Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!" was the only reply.
"Nay, but thou canst not enter here, Syn. This is the private court of
the Hareem, and thou must be silent," continued the soldier.
"Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!"
"The fellow is mad or drunk. Here, Jemadar," cried another voice; "what
is to be done with this Fakeer?"
"Who can this be?" thought the Meerza. "This is no common cry. I must
see the worthy Syud out, and get speech of the crier."
"Ulla dilâyâ----"
The Fakeer's cry was broken off abruptly, and there was a noise as
if of a scuffle below. Could it be any one in the Wuzeer's interest,
seeking for information, or perhaps with deadly intent. "Ho there!"
cried the secretary; "what noise is that so early, disturbing the King?"
"Some drunken Fakeer, my lord," returned one of the guards, looking up,
"who has intruded, God knows how."
"Keep him, and I will come down presently," answered the Meerza, not
waiting for the reply, but re-entering the chamber.
"Some Fakeer, my lord," he continued to the King, but answering his
look of intelligence, "whom I have ordered to be confined till the
Darogah of the palace can deal with him for his insolence."
"If he be one of my men come after me," said the Syud, "he shall be
punished. And now, my lord, have I permission to depart? Delay not in
this matter; and may God give you a safe deliverance from a traitor!"
"You may go, Meer Sahib," said the King; "and we thank you for this
visit; but shall need you at noon."
"Your servant will be present without fail," returned the Syud, humbly.
"Would that his power were equal to his devotion in the King's service!"
"Return directly," said the King, in a whisper, to his secretary, as
the holy man waddled slowly to the door. "I know who it is; bring him
hither at once. Hast thou forgotten the Jogi of the temple?"
"Hither? that fearful man!"
"Yes, and at once--any excuse--say he does exorcism--anything."
The secretary hesitated.
"At once," continued the King, positively, "and without fail. I feared
him not then, when I was in his power and helpless, neither do I now.
Go, take this with thee," and he slipped his signet ring into the
Meerza's hand.
"I will have him searched at any rate," thought the Meerza, as he
descended the narrow stair. "Take care, Meer Sahib, the light is
uncertain. Ah, here we are. Who is that, Abdulla, that was crying out?"
he said to a eunuch, who, with others, kept guard at the foot of the
stairs.
"I know not, my lord. He is some drunken Fakeer, no doubt; and they
have tied him up, I hear."
"He may be wanted above," whispered the Meerza. "Let him follow
me, and without notice or hindrance. Some exorcism is needed--you
understand--within----"
The man stared, and only bowed assent over his crossed arms. "Who dared
question royal secrets?"
"Coming, Meer Sahib; I only looked for my shoes," cried the Meerza to
his companion, who had advanced a few paces.
Hearing the secretary's voice, several persons emerged from the
guard-room, holding the Fakeer tightly. His face was distinctly seen in
the morning light, and there could be no mistake.
"He is not one of my children," said the Syud, blandly, looking at the
man, and seating himself in his palankeen, which had been brought up;
"some drunken brawler, no doubt, who deserves a whipping. Send him to
the Kótwal, my sons. I am departing, Meerza Sahib."
"Khôda Hafiz! (God be with you!)" returned the secretary. "At noon, you
remember!"
"Of course, Meerza Sahib, the royal commands are on my head and eyes.
Go on, my sons," and the bearers shuffled along at their usual pace.
"Shookr Oolla! (thank God!)" ejaculated the secretary, who had doubts
of the priest, as he had of most others. "Who art thou, fellow?" he
added to the prisoner.
"Bid them loose me," said Pahar Singh, for it was he, "and I will tell
thee. Hast thou forgotten so quickly?"
"My lord," said one of the soldiers, "let us turn him out into the
town."
"How he got in here," added another, "no one knows; yet he is not
drunk, and he has done no harm beyond bawling and struggling. He has
the strength of a fiend."
"Loose him, my friends; he is an exorcist, and there has been some
trouble within," replied the secretary. "I must take him into the
presence. He has no arms? Behold the royal seal."
"I have the amulet which shall restore health to the sick," growled the
pretended Fakeer; "it is sorely needed, and time presses. The planetary
conjunction is passing."
"Come, Syn; I will lead thee in," said the secretary, taking his hand.
"He has no weapons--we searched him well; but he will answer no
questions," said several men, speaking together.
"Ah, my friends," replied the secretary, gravely, "those who cast out
evil spirits are not to be questioned. Come, Syn, follow me."
The men shrugged their shoulders incredulously. What could it mean?
To all except the Meerza the entry of such a character to the private
apartments at any hour would have been impossible--but now, and under
the King's seal? How had he entered the citadel? The guard at the gate
had not seen him pass; and this mystery, with the fact of his having
been expected, furnished plentiful cause of speculation to those who
had seized him.