"My lord, my prince," whispered the officer of the royal guard,
stepping behind the rail in an agitated manner, "be careful of
yourself; there is disturbance without; we will close round you;
come away. The Wuzeer--the Wuzeer is--is--dead--killed, they say--at
the outer gate as he entered. Withdraw with us--quick," said the man
excitedly; "the news is spreading fast."
"Who hath done this?" cried the King, starting to his feet, and seizing
his sword and shield, which, according to custom, lay before him. "The
Wuzeer is dead, they say. Is there aught to fear? I move not, Afzool
Khan, come what may. If I am to die, let it be here, on my father's
judgment-seat. Will ye bear me company?"
"To death, to death!" exclaimed Afzool Khan. "Who dare harm you? Ho!
Alla-ool-Moolks, Bhylmees, Dâgtorays, all true men present,--rally
round the King," shouted the Khan. "Deen, deen!" and his familiar
battle-cry, "Futteh-i-Nubbee!" (Victory to the Prophet) rang high above
the hoarse murmur which had arisen among the assembly. Now, however,
those mentioned by the Khan sprang to their feet by scores, and their
example was followed by hundreds. "Deen, Deen!" was shouted with
increased enthusiasm.
"Here is one who brings particulars," said the Secretary, as an officer
was led in, who prostrated himself before the King.
"My lord, the Wuzeer is dead," said the man, sobbing bitterly. "They
murdered him at the gate. Those who did it went off across the plain,
but they were men who had ridden with him. I was upon the bastion over
the gate with a few others, and we saw them come rapidly along the
road from Allapoor. I knew my lord's piebald horse, and his elephant
was following at a little distance. We watched him till he was near
the gate; there were only a few of us. There was no one present but a
sentinel and one or two others, and a Kullunder Fakeer had spread his
carpet just within the walls, and was crying, 'Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!'
as passengers threw their cowrees to him. We were descending the steps
to present our nuzzurs, when several of the men behind dragged the
Wuzeer from his horse, and others on foot, who had been running with
him, killed him with a hundred wounds ere he could cry out. What could
we do, my lord? Ere we could mount the bastion again the whole had
dispersed. We fired on them, but it was no use."
"And what became of the Fakeer?" asked the King, looking towards the
Secretary.
"My prince, he stayed with the body, and shut the eyes," replied the
man. "Then, as the Wuzeer's elephant arrived, he told the driver to
take up the dead, and we saw him go towards the mosque, crying, as
before, 'Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!' Hark!" he continued, "there he is."
"Ulla dilâyâ to léonga! Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!" The cry came nearer and
nearer, never changing or faltering in its cadence or time--heard above
all other noises and confusion within and without--"Ulla dilâyâ to
léonga!"--up the steps, along the great corridor, into the hall, where
every one made way before the brawny form and excited looks of the
crier--who paused not, nor yet looked right or left, till he reached
the dais. Afzool Khan and Fazil would have stopped him, but he strode
on.
"Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!" he cried, looking at the King without saluting
him. "Khan Mahomed is dead, from a hundred wounds. As I closed his eyes
I saw this on the ground; it had fallen from him, so I have brought
it;" and flinging a case, containing papers, to the King, he turned
away without salutation; shouting the old, cry with his right arm
bare, and stretched high above his head, he strode out of the hall,
continuing it as he passed out of the building through the attendants
and troops, and so away.
"Among these papers," said the Secretary, whispering to the King, "are
many which, if now disclosed, might make men desperate; they are better
kept secret."
"I am weary of them all," cried the King impatiently; "look at the
judgment of God; we should own it reverently."
"Zoolm! Zoolm!" (injustice!) cried a knot of men who had collected at
one side of the hall, and had risen from their seats. "Is murder to be
done, and pass unchallenged?" Their tone was fierce and defiant, and
boded no good.
"Peace, O friends!" cried Afzool Khan, stretching out his hands to
them. "Is this a time for strife? who can say by whose hands he died?
Yet better dead, than for this guilt to be proved before all, by these
witnesses--his own hand and seals. O friends, brothers in the faith!
there is the throne we have to defend, and we should count it holy
martyrdom to die before it. We are ready; will ye be tardy?"
"Deen, Deen! listen to Afzool Khan! Futteh-i-Nubbee!" (Victory to the
Prophet) the Khan's battle-cry, was shouted with deafening clamour.
"Death to the unbelievers!"
"Silence, friends!" cried the Peer, as there was a short cessation
of the shouting; "listen to me. One traitor is dead, but are we less
than men that we permit Sivaji Bhóslay, his accomplice, to defile our
beards? Deen, Deen! cry to God for victory. Deen, Deen!" he continued,
rising and raising his voice to a shrill scream, as he stretched out
his arms, "the Prophet hears us, and Ali, and the holy martyrs, and so
will ye be martyrs and enjoy paradise if ye die."
Again, again his cry was raised, the fanatical cry of Islam, which no
Moslem can hear without emotion; and grave men hitherto unmoved, roused
with the rest to frantic enthusiasm by the holy man's words, threw
themselves on each other's necks and wept aloud.
"And now, friends," continued the King, when he could be heard,
"let him who would punish Sivaji Bhóslay for a thousand crimes and
treacheries, take up the gage I place here. In the name of God and
the Prophet, let who will take it, I accept him;" and so saying he
motioned to an attendant, who, bringing forward a salver covered with
a brocaded cloth, set it down on the edge of the dais before the King,
and uncovered it.
On the salver lay a single birra of Pân, covered with gold leaf, one of
those which, on the conclusion of the ceremony, would be distributed by
thousands. Who would take it up?
"Are ye laggards, my friends, in pursuit of honour? I thought yonder
gage would be a mark for men to strive for; are ye laggards, O
faithful?" cried the Peer.
The mass--for every one had risen to his feet--swayed to and fro with
emotion, but no one advanced; and out of it issued the hoarse ominous
murmur that had several times arisen, and which, in the absence of any
decisive action, caused involuntary apprehension.
At this moment Afzool Khan stepped boldly forward, and taking up the
gage, pressed it to his forehead, eyes, and lips, then, saluting the
King, held it high above his head for all to see.
"My prince, it is mine," he said, "if it be permitted, and if these my
friends will join me."
"Ye have heard," said the King, turning to the assembly, "I accept him."
It was the crowning point of the ceremony, and the people, no longer
withheld by court etiquette, swayed forward to the foot of the dais
with tumultuous shouts of joy. Those without only knew that war had
been proclaimed, and their cries mingled hoarsely with the rest.
"It is well this should cease, my lord," said the Secretary. "Men's
hearts are hot, and enough hath been done to-day."
"Good," replied the King, "let the criers proclaim the Burkhast; and
that there will be preaching in the Jumma Mosque daily, at noon, till
the army advances."
"Be that my care," said the Peer, "and their hearts shall be kept hot,
I promise you."
It was done. Attendants went round with trays of Pân, reserving Utr and
other sweet essences for those privileged to receive them. The King
sat to the last, and the great Hall was gradually emptied, save of the
royal guards,--Afzool Khan and his son,--Alla ool Moolk, and other
nobles, who had been desired to remain. The Kótwal's fate was yet in
suspense.
"Bring forward Jehándar Beg," cried the King to the officer of the
guard; and the prisoner was again conducted to the front of the dais,
around which the nobles were now grouped. He saw no hope in those
stern, pitiless faces.
"See what that case of papers contains, Meerza Sahib," said the King;
"there should be no mistake in this matter."
"There is no need," said the Kótwal, sullenly, to the King. "If you had
died to-day, those who brought me here would ere now have been headless
corpses. I will answer no more questions. Do with me as you will;
except in prayer, my lips open no more."
"Take him away to death," said the King. "A kingdom that never punishes
is too weak to exist."
Jehándar Beg was led away through the private cloisters. His head had
fallen upon his bosom; but those who saw it never forgot the fire which
seemed to flash from his large eyes, and the scowl of deadly hate which
he cast upon all around him as he walked firmly on.
"We may now separate," said the King. "Forgive me, O friends, who have
as yet known me only as a boy playing about your knees, if I have acted
weakly in this first rough lesson of life. O noble Khan, there are
those who await you with tears of joy. What can I say for this service
you have done? This sword is known to you; wear it for the sake of Adil
Khan. And do thou, Fazil Khan, take these, the first marks of honour
thou hast won; but, Inshalla! not the last;" and removing the costly
jewel from his turban, and a heavy necklace of pearls from his neck, he
invested the young man with them with his own hands.
"I have but one boon to ask, my prince," said Fazil; "it is for my
friend, the Wuzeer's son. I will answer for him with my life, that he
was as true as I am. May I console him?"
"Take this to him," said the King, removing a gold ring from his wrist;
"tell him that from Adil Shah he need fear nothing."
"Altogether," said our friend the Lalla, who had accompanied the Khan
and Fazil, "these Dekhanies have some method in their rudeness; but,
after all, they are mad,--quite mad. Such ebullitions of temper could
not have been allowed in the Padshah's court. Mobaruk, mobaruk bâd,
Khan Sahib," he cried, heartily yet respectfully, to Afzool Khan and
Fazil, as they were passing out and receiving the warm greetings of
their friends,--and of all, high and low, who could reach them,--"let
your poor servant be honoured by his congratulation being accepted."
"Ah, friend, art thou there?" replied the Khan. "Well, thou must be
seen to; come to my house and we will arrange something for thee."
"May it please my lord to make me news-writer to his army," cried the
Lalla, joining his hands. "My style, Inshalla!--is----"
"Well," said Afzool Khan, interrupting him good-humouredly. "Son, wilt
thou have him?"
"I agree, father," said Fazil, smiling, "if he will serve under one who
may, after all, be only a Gosai."
"I am my lord's slave to death. I am but a poor Khayet, but I can be of
use to a discerning patron," returned the Lalla.
"Come, son," said the Khan, "let us see whether Kowas Khan be returned.
The King's message should be delivered ere we proceed home. Methinks he
and all his people would be safer with us for a few days, until men's
minds are calmer."
We will not follow the Khan on his benevolent errand; nor can we detail
how much mustard and coriander seed were burned with frankincense
before them to avert evil when they reached home: nor yet how often
Goolab, and the other women-servants, and even the lady Lurlee herself,
cracked their knuckles over them, till they would crack no more. One
thing, however, was certain: the worthy lady was more than ever assured
that she had read the planets aright, and, if she had not done so, a
great evil would have befallen the family.