CHAPTER III.
“Welcome,” said the venerable man, “to the abode of the free! You interpreted the symbols as I had anticipated, and your liberty is secured. The Emperor is dead, and the Vizier seeks to place you upon the throne as legitimate heir of the empire. You must repair instantly to the capital, and the crown will be placed upon your head.”
“May not this be a device,” asked the prince musingly, “to seduce me into the power of new enemies? Is not Shah Jehan in arms? What forces can I oppose to so powerful a rival?”
“The kingdom is divided. Your uncle Sheriar, at the Sultana’s instigation, claims the succession, and is prepared to substantiatehis claims by force of arms; but the Vizier is determined to place the sceptre in your grasp; and backed by the imperial army under the conduct of such a leader, no one can be in a condition to dispute your lawful inheritance with any chance of success. Your father’s rebellion is forgotten, and the people shout your name with enthusiasm.”
“But how,” inquired the prince, with a keen glance at the venerable minister of the Prophet,—“how have all these facts reached this lone retreat?”
“My son,” replied the old man solemnly, “this lone retreat is celebrated from one extremity of Hindostan to the other, and princes visit the cavern of the fakeer. I am consulted by the wisest legislators, as well as by the ignorant vagrant whose only abode is the forest jungle, and his bed the dry turf. I am respected, but I am also feared. My friendship has been won in your behalf: do not despise it, for my enmity can reach you even upon the throne, though surrounded by armies and directed by the wisest counsellors.”
“Well, father, it is certain that I cannot be in a worse position than I was, confined in the dark bowels of yonder mountain. Liberty is a cheap purchase almost at any price. Your good-will assures me I can scarcely fail of success, supported by the alliance and directed by the counsels of so holy a man. But suppose the garrison should seek me in this retreat; am I secure from their search?”
“They have too much respect for the old man of the valley to desecrate the sanctuary which he has rendered sacred by an occupation of more than fifty years. But even should they be so bold as to forget what is due to the character of one whose life has been devoted to God, their efforts to recapture you will not avail:—there is succour at hand.”
“Who is advancing to my rescue?”
“One, my son, little accustomed to mount the war-horse: but when the heart once rouses the spirit to action, the meek dove becomes an eagle in all things—save in a thirst for blood.”
By this time the sound of voices was heard in various directionsround the fakeer’s abode. The wood grew so thickly in the valley, that in many parts it was impossible to penetrate; and the fakeer’s retreat was in the most inaccessible part of the jungle. There was, however, a narrow path leading to it from the plain, which happened to be known to one of the garrison, who undertook to conduct his comrades to the spot. Not anticipating any interruption in their search after the fugitive, a very small party had undertaken the pursuit.
The prince was alarmed as the voices approached, but his venerable companion endeavoured to assure him.
“Young man,” said he, “this is not a moment for idle fears. Remember that the success of human endeavour is permitted only where it answers the wise ends of Him who is the source of all wisdom. I have heard that you once escaped the tiger’s deadly spring: but know, that He who could pluck thee from the jaws of the tiger can likewise rescue thee from the arm of man. Bear this, moreover, in mind, that the prince who has no confidence in God cannot be fit to reign; for no man can rule an empire wisely except God be with him.”
The party in search of the prince had now surrounded the cavern in which he lay concealed.
“Father,” said one of the soldiers, who seemed to be their leader, “our prisoner has escaped, and we must seek for him in your burrow. He would, no doubt, prefer being buried alive here, with such holy company, to occupying a more spacious abode higher up the hill, without any merrier companions than his own thoughts.”
“Soldier!” said the fakeer, rising from his underground dwelling, and standing before the party with an aspect of stern indignation, “search where you list: profane the sanctuary of the Prophet’s vicegerent by your unhallowed intrusion, and be the consequences upon your own head.”
“My head for the consequences!” said the man, and leaped down into the subterraneous abode of sanctity.
At this moment the fakeer stepped behind a tree—struck rapidly upon a gong three blows, which resounded through the valleyThe soldier now hailed his companions from below, announcing to them that he had found their prisoner. The party consisted of ten men, nine of whom had by this time surrounded the entrance of the cavern to assist their comrade in securing the captive: they had, however, no sooner done this, than each man fell to the earth transfixed with an arrow. A party of twenty Bheels, rushing from their ambush, instantly despatched and stripped the wounded soldiers.
“Now,” said the fakeer, addressing the prince, who had ascended from his place of sanctuary, “you see how little cause there was for distrust. Those who have been instrumental to your escape had calculated the probabilities of a recapture too nicely not to provide against such a contingency. You must follow your rescuers, who will conduct you to a place of security.”
“But shall I not leave you in jeopardy? Will it not be surmised that you have been privy to my escape, and will not my enemies wreak their vengeance upon you?”
“Should they do their worst, they can only cut off the ragged remnant of an existence now well nigh spun to its last thread. Let them do what they list—I fear them not. I have fulfilled the purposes of my vocation, and am ready to enter upon the consummation of my destiny. Still, while I live, the benefits of my experience are at your command.”
The prince now quitted the spot with the old man’s blessing, and followed the Bheels into the thickest of the jungle. These half-savage mountaineers threaded the thicket with surprising facility, clearing the way before their royal charge, and treating him with a rude courtesy which showed that they were less barbarians by nature than by circumstance. They were almost entirely naked, having only a narrow strip of cloth round the loins, and another round the head, meant to represent a turban, or rather a skull-cap. They were armed with bows and arrows of the rudest construction, but which they used with a skill perfectly amazing. During their progress through the forest, several of them took occasion to display their dexterity before the royalstranger. A partridge rose from some long grass in an open vista in the wood, and, while on the wing, was transfixed with an arrow by one of the Bheels. A pigeon was killed in a similar manner. A hare fell a victim to the dexterity of a third archer.
After travelling about six hours, they reached a rude village, nearly on the summit of a hill, in the gorge of a deep glen. The prince was here shown into the best habitation the village afforded; which was a small hovel thatched with dried plantain-leaves, the walls consisting of thin bamboos interlaced with jungle-grass, the floor of mud being overlaid with a compost of cow-dung and straw. A coarse rug was spread in one corner, and this constituted the whole furniture of the apartment.
The soldier who had sprung into the fakeer’s cave, and thus escaped the arrows of the Bheels, they took prisoner, and made him accompany them to the village. On their arrival, a consultation being held, they determined to put him to death. He was accordingly hung with his own turban upon the branch of a tree; and while struggling in the agonies of strangulation, six arrows were discharged at him. His body was afterwards cut down, stripped, and thrown into a well.
Dismal as the hovel was into which the prince was obliged to creep, the consciousness of freedom imparted to it an air of comfort which he had never yet enjoyed so sensibly even in his father’s palace. Before evening closed in, a bustle was heard in the village, which was almost immediately followed by a palankeen and two hackeries,[39]accompanied by about twenty attendants. Such a circumstance having probably never before occurred in a village of poor Bheels, excited a considerable sensation among the inhabitants; some of whom, however, were evidently so little overcome by surprise, as to render it more than probable that the arrival had not been altogether unexpected. The prince could not help feeling surprise when the fact was announced to him; and on quitting the hut, in which he had flung himself upon therug, in order to snatch a brief repose after the fatigues of his journey, his astonishment was only surpassed by his delight at meeting in the stranger, whose arrival had just been announced to him, the daughter of Sultan Shariar, who, immediately upon the death of Jehangire, had set up his claim to the imperial throne.
An attachment had long subsisted between the daughter of Shariar and the heir of Chusero, his eldest brother, who had been murdered by Shah Jehan, third son of the deceased monarch Jehangire. This attachment was originally encouraged by the parents; but Sultan Shariar had lately withheld his approbation upon the most futile pleas, his motives becoming sufficiently evident upon the death of his father, the late Emperor, whom he sought to succeed as sovereign of the Moguls. Prince Dawir Buxsh, son of Chusero, and consequently the lawful successor of his grandfather, had been imprisoned through the intrigues of his uncle, Shariar, who had persuaded the credulous Emperor that the young prince was engaged in a conspiracy against his life. When Jehangire died, Shariar immediately resolved to assert his title to the sovereignty of the Mogul empire. His daughter, whose affection for her cousin had not abated, in spite of her parent’s hostility, effected the escape of Dawir Buxsh, through the intervention of the fakeer, who hired a body of Bheels, whom he placed in ambush near his underground dwelling, and accomplished the prince’s retreat, as has been already described. The princess had for some days taken up her abode in the neighbourhood, and had been apprised about noon of the success of those measures she had employed for the prince’s release. Upon receiving this information, she immediately set out for the village, where she arrived about the close of day.
The prince was overjoyed at so unexpected a meeting; he could scarcely control the excess of his rapture. Blessings seemed so to accumulate upon him, that he already began to fancy he had swallowed the last bitter in the draught of life, which had been sweetened by a medicament that had either expelled or spiritualized the minutest dross, and that there now remained nothing but a residuum of joy. He recollected the rebukes ofthe holy man to whom he was so signally indebted for his release from an odious bondage, and readily persuaded himself that there was something prophetic in his solemn homily.
“Welcome,” said he, “sweet lady,” as he handed the princess from her palankeen: “this is, indeed, an unexpected but welcome meeting. To what am I indebted for so signal a gratification?”
“To a woman’s affection, prince, which, like the lightning of Heaven, overcomes all obstacles; and, though it sometimes blasts that on which it falls, is nevertheless a light and a glory: love throws a beam of gladness over the dark lines of human destiny, as lightning gilds the storm.”
“The comparison is somewhat ominous. I would rather feel the warm glow of a woman’s love than the bright shaft which flies before the thunder. It has a deadly gleam, when one knows that death may be in its flash. The fires of true love harm not. But welcome, lady, to the retreat of a poor fugitive, whose only abode is the wretched hovel of the mountain robber.”
“You will make but a short sojourn here among these rude though friendly mountaineers. To-morrow you may expect to meet friends ready to place you upon that throne which you were born to honour. I have had a hard struggle between filial love and the obligations of a plighted affection, but the latter have prevailed. As your affianced bride, I quitted my father’s roof to join you, when I saw he would deprive you of your lawful inheritance. The Vizier has armed in your cause, and the imperial army under his command is now encamped in the neighbourhood of Lahore, where he is expecting you to join him, having been apprised of the measures to be adopted for your escape. My father’s army is on its march towards the capital, and when the adverse forces meet, the struggle will no doubt be desperate.”
The prince resigned his hut to the princess, who ordered in her palankeen, within which she determined to pass the night. Meanwhile, Dawir Buxsh was conducted to another hut, much less clean and commodious than that he had quitted, as a Bheel family had vacated it in order to accommodate him. The attendants of the princess were dispersed about the village, most ofthem spreading their rugs under trees, satisfied with that sort of accommodation which, though no hardship in eastern climes, would be considered among the severest in countries where excess of refinement has almost given a new interpretation to privation.
FOOTNOTES:[39]A hackery is a covered carriage, drawn by bullocks.
[39]A hackery is a covered carriage, drawn by bullocks.
[39]A hackery is a covered carriage, drawn by bullocks.