"Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?"
_Marlowe_, "Hero and Leander."
Of all the perils encountered by Walter Mowbray since he left his home
in Wensleydale, there was none so impalpable, and therefore none so
mortal, as the daily companionship of Nur Mahal. She used no wiles,
practised no arts--her subtle mesmerism was the unseen power of the
lodestone. At first, there never was woman more retiring. Mowbray and
Sainton were seldom absent from her side; nevertheless, she spoke only
when the exigencies of the journey demanded a few simple words. The
horror of Sher Afghan's death seemed to weigh on her heart, and her
natural vivacity was almost wholly eclipsed. Yet her face would kindle
with a rare smile when acknowledging some trivial act, and the fragrance
of her presence might be likened to the scent of roses in a garden by
night. It was there, ravishing the very air, whilst its source remained
invisible. Though she rode fast during many a weary hour, and bore
without a murmur hardships under which her more robust waiting women
sank, one by one, until five out of eight were perforce left to
recuperate in various small towns passed on the way, she never lost that
wondrous sense of delightful femininity which constituted her chief
attraction and her most dangerous allurement.
In guiding, counselling, controlling, her intellect was crystal ice, but
let any man render her a service, let him help her to dismount or bring
her a cup of water, and, with the touch of her hand, the flash of her
deep violet eyes, she thrilled him to the core. It was natural that
Walter should be her attendant cavalier on many such occasions, a fact
greatly to be regretted in the interests of Nellie Roe, whose saucy blue
eyes and golden locks were too far away to deaden completely the effect
of Nur Mahal's bewitching personality. And, truth to tell, England had a
somewhat shadowy aspect in those days. After three years of sojourn in
the East, here were Mowbray and his faithful companion no better off
than when they rode along the North Road into London one fair summer's
afternoon to seek their fortunes. Then they had their swords, some
equipment, and a few crowns in their pockets. Their case was even worse
in this semi-barbarous land, for their worldly goods were not enhanced,
while they themselves were fugitives from the spleen of a vengeful
tyrant!
Not even Roger was proof against the magic of Nur Mahal's smile. At
the close of the third march, when their leg-weary horses were unable
to reach the hamlet of Mainpura, the intended goal of the night,
they camped under a tope of trees, lit fires, and proceeded to make
themselves as comfortable as circumstances permitted until the dawn. Nur
Mahal, having taken leave of them with her accustomed grace, rested in
a small tent which was carried by a pack animal. Mowbray and Sainton sat
on saddles piled near a fire, and Roger showed the trend of his thoughts
by asking:--
"Is it in your mind, Walter, to tarry long in Burdwan after we have
brought my lady thither?"
"How can I answer? We are but a degree removed from beggars. If she
gives us the wherewithal to journey speedily to Calcutta, why should we
remain at Burdwan?"
"You parry one question with another. I may be much mistaken, yet I
doubt if my lady sought our escort for the sake of the journey."
Mowbray, who was striving to burnish a rusted bit, looked sharply at his
big comrade, whose broad red face, propped on his hands, was clearly
revealed by the dancing flames.
"Out with it, Roger," he cried. "Thou hast not been so chary of thy
words for many a year."
"Well, to be plain," said the other, "I think yon bonny head is
well dowered wi' brains. Here is a land where wit, wedded to a good
sword, can win its way. Were you and she married--nay, jump not in
that fashion, like a trout on a hook, else I may deem the fly well
thrown--were you and she married, I say, she is just a likely sort
of quean to carve out a kingdom for herself. Here you have Mahmouds,
Rajputs, Hindustanis, Bengalis, and the Lord knows what hotch-potch of
warring folk, each at variance with the other, and all united against
a galling yoke such as may fairly be expected from Jahangir! Why, man,
were you lord of Burdwan and husband of Nur Mahal, you might run through
India like a red hot cinder through a tub of butter."
Mowbray breathed hard on the steel in his hands.
"Roger," he said, "had you not eaten half a kid an hour gone I would
have dosed you for a fever."
"Aye, aye, make a jibe of it, but there's many a true word spoken in
jest. If King Cophetua could woo a beggar-maid, the devil seize me if it
be not more likely that the beauty tucked up under yonder canvas should
make pace with a fine swaggering blade like thyself."
"Thou art too modest, Roger. If she wants a hammer wherewith to beat out
an empire, where could she find a mallet to equal thee? And is it not
reasonable to suppose, if such were her intent, she would have furthered
the aims of our poor friend, Sher Afghan? He was of her own people, and
would soon find a backing."
"It seems that any man will suit her needs save the one she fancies,"
said Roger drily, and, to Mowbray's exceeding relief, he pursued the
matter no further.
Yet the notion throve on certain doubts which it must have found
imbedded in Walter's own mind, and, next day, with memories of Nellie
Roe very tender in his heart, now that all chance of wedding her was
lost in gloom, he avoided Nur Mahal as thoroughly as politeness would
admit. She gave no sign of discontent, but suffered him to go his new
gait in silence. Once, indeed, when he made to help her onto her Arab
horse, she sprang to the saddle ere he could approach, and, at night,
when she parted from him and Roger with a few pleasant words, a fold of
her veil screened her face.
It were idle to pretend that Mowbray was in his usual happy vein during
this part of the journey, and when, at the next evening's halt, Nur
Mahal signified that after Sainton and he had eaten she would be glad of
some conversation with them, he was, if not elated, certainly much more
cheerful.
She received them with smiling gravity, and bade them be seated on
stools which her servants had procured in the village where their little
camp was pitched. She herself reclined on a number of furs which served
as a couch when she slept. They noticed that her dress, which, by some
marvel, was white and fresh, was devoid of ornament. Indian widows wear
purple, but the exigencies of the hour might well excuse this neglect of
custom, and, for that matter, Nur Mahal was not one to pay any heed to
such ordinances.
"I have fancied," she said, addressing Roger, "that you are not wholly
satisfied with this present journey, Sainton-sahib."
Now, Roger was so taken aback by this side stroke that he blurted out:--
"In the name of your excellent prophet, Princess, why do you charge this
to me?"
She flashed her star-like eyes on Mowbray.
"Perhaps I am mistaken. Is it you, Mowbray-sahib, who would gladly be
quit of my poor company?"
The attack on Roger had prepared him, as, indeed, Nur Mahal may have
meant that it should.
"Your Highness," he said, "has some good motive in stating a belief
which would otherwise be incredible. What is it?"
She sighed, and answered not for a moment. Maybe she wished Walter had
been more confused and, by consequence, more lover-like. But, when she
spoke, her sweet voice was well controlled. The affair was of slight
import from all the index that her manner gave.
"A woman's mind is oft like a smooth lake," she said. "It mirrors that
which it sees, but a little puff of wind will distort the image into
some quaint conceit. Let that pass. My object in seeking your presence
has naught to do with idle thoughts. To-morrow, an hour after sunrise,
we reach that point on the road whence one track leads to the Ganges,
and to Calcutta, and the other to Burdwan. It will, I do not doubt, be
better for you to make your way to the river, and leave me and my
wretched fortunes to the hazard which the future has in store. I am
greatly beholden to you for all that you have done in the past, and it
grieves me sorely that this journey, taken so unexpectedly, leaves me so
short of money that I can only offer you a sum which is barely
sufficient for the expenses of the voyage down the Ganges. But I have in
my possession a goodly store of jewels, and in Calcutta, or in your own
country, there are merchants who will buy them at a fair price. Take
them, and be not angered with me, for I would not have you go away
thinking that my acquaintance had brought you naught but ill luck."
From beneath a fold of her _sari_ she produced a small cedar wood box
which she offered to Walter. He sprang to his feet, with face aflame.
"I may be only a poor merchant, Princess," he cried, "but I have yet to
learn from your own lips what word or deed of mine leads you to believe
that I would rob a woman of her diamonds."
"Ohe," she wailed, with a very pleasing pout, "how have I offended your
lordship, and who talks of robbery where a free gift is intended? Tell
me, you whom they call Hathi-sahib, see you aught amiss in taking the
only valuable articles I can presently bestow?"
"Please God!" said Roger, "we shall set you and your gems safe within
the walls of Burdwan ere we turn our faces towards Calcutta, and that is
all my friend Walter meant by his outburst."
Her eyes fell until the long lashes swept the peach bloom of her cheeks,
for the physical difficulties of the journey, instead of exhausting her,
had added to her beauty by tinting with rose the lily white of her
complexion.
"Is that so?" she murmured, and Walter, who knew that she questioned
him, said instantly:--
"No other thought entered our minds."
"It is well. I shall retain my trinkets a little while longer, it
seems."
She laughed quietly, with a note of girlish happiness in her mirth that
he had not caught since the day of their first meeting in the Garden of
Heart's Delight.
"Now that you have repaired my imagined loss," she said, "will you not
be seated again, and tell me something of your country. I have heard
that women there differ greatly from us in India. Are they very pretty?
Do they grow tall, like Sainton-sahib?"
Here was a topic from which their talk might branch in any direction.
Soon Walter was telling her of his mother, of life in London and the
North, while a chance reference to his father led up to the story of Dom
Geronimo's crime, and the implacable hatred he bore towards even the son
of his victim.
Nur Mahal followed the references to the Jesuit with close interest.
When Mowbray would have passed to some other subject she interrupted
him, and clapped her hands as a signal to one of her women, whom she
bade summon Jai Singh, the Rajput chief of her guard.
"What was the story you heard on the road as we returned to Agra?" she
asked when the rissalder stood before her. "It dealt with certain
Christian priests who dwell in that city, and with others at Hughli, if
I mistake not."
"A dervish, who sought some grain, maharani, told us that Jahangir was
privately minded to seize all the black robes because they encouraged
the Portuguese traders to greater boldness. He ever counseled the great
Akbar to that effect, but the Emperor, his father, was too tolerant
towards the Feringhis to listen to him. Now, said the dervish, Jahangir
would make all the men good Mahomedans and send their young women to
the zenana."
"You hear," she said, as Jai Singh saluted and disappeared. "Jahangir is
opposed to strangers, and it is quite probable he harbors some such
project, which he has discoursed with the _moullahs_, being anxious to
win their favor."
"But the crow was standing by his side when we went to the palace," put
in Roger.
"That may well be. If this man spoke evil against you, Jahangir would
listen, though his own purpose remained unchanged. I had this in my mind
when you spoke of going to Calcutta."
"When you spoke of sending us thither to-morrow, you mean," cried
Walter.
"I should have warned you," she replied, but her hearers saw another
purpose behind her words, because anything in the shape of a disturbance
on the Hughli rendered it very necessary that they should tarry at
Burdwan and avoid the river route until the trouble was ended.
Again, a sense of distrust welled up in Mowbray's breast, but Nur
Mahal's soft voice allayed it.
"It must not be forgotten," she said, "that affairs at Agra may cause
the King to forego the folly he contemplates. Khusrow, his brother, has
many adherents, and if Jahangir, as I am told is true, devotes his
waking hours to wine and dissolute companions, he shall not long retain
the throne his father built so solidly."
Both men recalled Sher Afghan's words. How strange it was that his
wife, who had not quitted the walls of Dilkusha during the few hours of
her recent tenancy, should be so well informed as to events in the
palace.
Walter laughed.
"If I could not see your face and hear your voice," he cried, "'twere
easy to believe it was the Diwan, and not his incomparable daughter, who
spoke with such wisdom."
"Incomparable! It is an idle word. Who is incomparable? Not I. Assuredly
there is a maid beyond the sea whose attractions far outweigh mine in
your estimation, Mowbray-sahib. Nay, seek not for some adroit phrase to
flatter and mislead. Men tell me I am beautiful, but there never yet was
rose in a garden which the next south wind did not help to destroy while
fanning its budding rival into greater charm."
She spoke with a vehemence that caused Roger, who followed her poetic
Persian simile with difficulty, to believe that Walter had said
something to vex her.
"What ails thy tongue to-night, lad?" he cried in English. "It is not
wont to rasp so harshly on such fair substance."
"You disturb my comrade," said Mowbray, glancing covertly into the
girl's eyes. "He thinks I have offended you."
She flung a quick glance at Sainton, and laughed. Some pleasant quip was
on her lips, but, in that instant, the hoof-beats of horses, hard
ridden, came to their ears. In the present state of the fugitives, the
sound was ominous. At once the men were on their feet. Mowbray bade Nur
Mahal retire to her tent, an order which she was slow to obey, and then
betook himself to the disposal of his small force, lest, perchance, the
distant galloping signaled the approach of pursuers. The night was dark
but clear, the only light being that of the stars, and it was strange
indeed that any party of horse should ride with such speed over a broken
road.
It was essential that the nature of the cavalcade should be ascertained
before it was permitted to come too close. Flight was not to be thought
of, owing to the condition of the horses. If the newcomers were the
Emperor's minions the only way to avoid capture was to show a bold front
and strike first.
Rissalder Jai Singh was ordered to mount and ride forward with two
sowars to bring the party to a halt. If they were strangers, of
peaceable intent, he would courteously request them to pass, after
explaining the necessity of the precautions taken. Were they the King's
men, he was to demand a parley with their leader, failing which, he and
his companions must turn and ride at top speed towards the village,
giving the defending force, stationed under a clump of trees on both
sides of the road, an opportunity to ambush the enemy on both flanks.
It was a hasty scheme, evolved so hurriedly that Jai Singh cantered off
while as yet the invisible horsemen were quarter of a mile away. Mowbray
and Sainton, adjusting their sword-belts, stood on the road between
their men and listened for the first sounds which should indicate the
reception given to the rissalder.
Suddenly Roger said: "Lest harm should befall Nur Mahal, is it not
better that you should take a couple of horses and lead her to some
point removed from the track? Then, if this force overwhelms us, you
have a chance of escape, whereas the presence of one sword more or less
will make slight difference to the odds."
"Did I think you meant what you have said, you and I should quarrel,"
retorted Walter.
"Sooner would my right hand quarrel with the left. Yet my counsel is
good. Whilst one of us lives she is not wholly bereft, and you are the
lad of her choosing. I' faith, if she showed me such preference, I'd
take a similar offer from thee."
"You are not wont to anticipate disaster, Roger, nor yet to frame such
clumsy excuse."
"I have never before been so mixed up with a woman. Argue not, Walter,
but away with her. I'll strike more freely if I ken you are safe. It is
good generalship, too. She is the treasure they seek, and she should not
be left to the hazard of a rough-and-tumble in the dark."
"Then let her ride alone if she be so minded. We have fought side by
side too often, Roger, that we should be separated now."
Sainton's huge hand reached out in the gloom and gripped his comrade's
shoulder.
"Gad, Walter," he growled, "thou art tough oak. Least said is soonest
mended, but the notion jumbles in my thick head that Nur Mahal will
surely be a quean, and that thou art fated to help in her crowning.
Hark! What now?"
They heard Jai Singh's loud challenge, followed by the confused halting
of a large body of horse. The clang of arms and the champing of bits
came to them plainly. The distance was too great to distinguish voices
at an ordinary pitch, but it was reasonable to suppose that Jai Singh
was conversing with some one in authority.
They were not kept long in suspense. A few horsemen advanced slowly, Jai
Singh at their head.
"Sahiba!" he called, when close at hand, "there is one here who would
converse with your Lordships in privacy."
Although the fealty of a Rajput to his salt can never be doubted, there
was a chance that Jai Singh might have been deluded into an exhibition
of false confidence. Walter, therefore, ordered his little force to
march close behind Roger and himself, but when he saw that Jai Singh and
the two sowars were accompanied by only one man he knew that his
suspicions were not well founded.
The stranger was the Chief Eunuch of Jahangir's court, and the mere
presence of such a functionary betrayed the object of the pursuit.
He dismounted and salaamed deeply.
"Praised be the name of Allah that this undertaking nears its close!" he
cried, his queer, cracked voice rising and falling in irregular
falsetto. "Seldom have men and never has a woman ridden so fast and far
during so many days. Had not those whom you left on the way assured me
that you were truly before me, I had returned to Agra long since, though
my head might have paid the forfeit of a fruitless errand."
The Chief Eunuch, important official though he was, commanded little
respect from other men. Even the manner of Jai Singh's announcement of
his presence betrayed the contempt with which creatures of his type were
held. So Walter said, sternly enough:--
"The length of the journey might well serve to condense thy speech. Hast
thou brought some message from the Emperor? If so, out with it."
"Honored one, I am charged to escort the Princess Nur Mahal back to
Agra, where, sayeth my Lord, the King, she can dwell in peace and
content in her father's house."
"What sayeth the capon?" demanded Roger, who caught the peremptory tone
of the man's words and was minded to clout him, for such a menial is apt
to become unconsciously insolent when he carries his master's commands.
Mowbray's restraining hand warned Roger not to interfere.
"Is that all?" he said with ominous calm.
"No, protector of the poor. The Emperor Jahangir sends his compliments
to you and to the Hathi-sahib. He says that if you return with the
Princess you shall be received with all honor, paid in full, and
forwarded, at his proper charge, to Ajmere on the road to Bombay."
"And if we refuse the King's offer?"
"Why should you refuse, sahib? My Lord, the King, is wroth that any
should dare act as did that foolish man, Kutub-ud-din. All those who
took part in the attack on Sher Afghan have been impaled alive on the
road leading from Dilkusha to the bridge of boats. I and my companions
rode between their writhing bodies as we quitted Agra."
"It were foolish to distrust so just a monarch, yet what say you if we
choose rather to proceed to Burdwan?"
The Chief Eunuch suddenly became very humble.
"I am only an envoy," he said. "Behind, there are two hundred soldiers,
mounted on the best horses in the King's stables and commanded by a
valiant officer. Behind them, there is the might of the Empire. I pray
you believe that my Lord, Jahangir, means to do well by you."
There is an Indian story of a crocodile inviting a lamb to inspect his
beautiful teeth as he lay with his mouth open, but the messenger's fair
words placed Walter in a quandary. Obviously, he must consult Nur Mahal
ere he returned the answer which was ready enough on his lips, for he
thought that the two hundred, however valiant their officer, would never
dare to attack half the number of stalwart Rajputs trained by Sher
Afghan, especially when they knew that they must also encounter the
terrible Man-Elephant. As for the King's armies, Burdwan was a far cry.
[Illustration: "If we go to Burdwan are you content to abide there?"]
"Bide you here, Roger," he muttered shortly. "Keep things as they are
until I return. I go to seek Nur Mahal."
A cloaked woman, who had passed silently between the line of soldiers on
the road, and who heard each word of the dialogue, evidently guessed
what Walter said, though he used English to Sainton. She darted forward
now and clasped his arm. Even before she spoke he knew who it was, for
the mere touch of her fingers thrilled him.
"I am here!" she whispered. "Let us draw apart. I have that to say which
is best said now. One of us two must answer that man, and we gain naught
by delay."
By the roadside grew a field of millet, the sparse crop of some poor
ryot in the village who cared little for kings or courts. He would grin
with amaze if told that his small holding formed the council-chamber in
which was settled the affairs of a nation. Yet it was so in very truth,
for Nur Mahal led Mowbray into the midst of the standing crop until they
were out of earshot of the others.
Then she turned towards him, and there was a rapture in her face which
was bewildering, though the way in which she still clung to his arm
caused the warm blood to tingle in his veins.
"Tell me," she murmured softly; "if we go to Burdwan, are you content to
abide there?"