The Mahomedan Nimrod.
CHAPTER I.
Mujahid, the son of Mahomed Shah, sovereign of the Deccan, was remarkable for his courage and amazing strength of body. He was tall of stature, prodigiously muscular, yet, in dignity of demeanour and general majesty of aspect, surpassed all the princes of his race. In valour and fortitude he stood without a rival. Such was his strength of constitution, that he was affected by change neither of climate nor of atmosphere: whether the season were wet or dry, hot or cold, healthy or sickly, it was alike to him. He spoke the Toorky language fluently, which he acquired from his favourite companions, who were for the most part either Toorks or Persians. He was fond of archery from his infancy, and all his conversation tended to military subjects. His whole soul was absorbed by deeds of arms, or of hazard in some shape. When a boy, he was the terror of his youthful associates. Whoever offended him was sure to feel the weight of his resentment, and such was his known determination, that they were afraid to unite against him, lest his single arm should prove sufficient to break their confederacy and punish them all; for he was repelled by no sense of danger from resenting injury. Still he was a beneficent youth, and beloved by them generally. There was nothing he would not do for them, so long as they did not wantonly thwart his projects, which were sometimes of a nature to be discouraged; but even when he engaged in any mischievous adventure, it was more from exuberance ofanimal spirits, and that love of enterprise which he could not suppress, than from depravity of heart.
One day calling his companions together, he proposed that they should go and hunt the tiger in some distant forest, where that animal was reported to abound. But a difficulty arose: many of them had no horses, and it was necessary that they should be supplied in order to accomplish the wishes of their young prince. What was to be done?
“We must go,” said he, “at any rate, and you shall be supplied with necessaries.”
“But how,” asked one, “are we to get them without money?”
“While there is a rupee in my father’s treasury, as I live you shall not go without horses. We will hunt the tiger at all hazards.”
None of his comrades could imagine how Mujahid intended to introduce himself into his father’s treasury, which was protected by a strong door, secured by three huge bolts. These appeared much more than sufficient to baffle the efforts of a youth of fourteen, for that was precisely the age of Mujahid at this period. But he laughed at the idea of impediments to any enterprise dear to his heart; and, calling together the youths by whom he was generally attended, he desired they would accompany him to the treasury. It was guarded by a sentinel; but the prince, pretending to send him upon a message of some importance, promised to take his place until he should return.
No sooner had the soldier quitted his post, than Mujahid, rushing against the door which contained his father’s treasure, shook it from the hinges, and opened a way to the means of procuring horses for his contemplated excursion. Taking several bags of gold, he divided the money among his youthful followers. They immediately repaired to a mart, and supplied themselves with steeds, and other necessaries for the chase.
When the sentinel returned he found his post abandoned, and that he had been duped by the young prince. Knowing the penalty of having quitted his charge, he immediately left the spot and fled beyond the reach of danger. The treasurer, discoveringthe door broken down, and no sentinel on the spot was amazed; but he had no difficulty in tracing the act to the king’s son. The habits of Mujahid were too well known for suspicion to be diverted from him; and, when taxed by the treasurer with the theft, he did not deny it.
The sovereign, enraged at the vicious propensity of his son, sent his spice-bearer, Moobarik, to summon the prince before him. Upon entering his father’s presence, perceiving by the king’s manner that he had been made acquainted with the robbery of his treasury, Mujahid, when asked if he knew why he had been summoned, remained silent. “What could induce you,” said the sovereign, “to commit such a trespass against the laws, and such an act of violence against the authority of your father? What do you deserve?”
Mujahid still continued silent, feeling justification impossible.
“Boy,” said the father, sternly, “it is necessary that such a violation of the common laws of honesty as you have so wantonly committed should be punished with due severity, in order that my people may see I do not palliate or overlook the delinquencies of my son. What expectations can you hope to excite of your honour and justice when raised to this throne, of which you are the rightful heir, if you indulge thus in the vulgarest of all vulgar crimes? Such tendencies are unbecoming a prince, and must be subdued.”
The king now ordered Mujahid to be stripped, and taking a whip, scourged him severely with his own hand until the shoulders of the youthful offender were covered with blood. The prince was then ordered to be imprisoned in the palace.
This galled him much more severely than the stripes he had received; they were only the infliction of a moment; but the restraints of imprisonment were vexatious to his haughty spirit. He was mortified, too, that his projected expedition had been frustrated, attributing his punishment to the officiousness of Moobarik, against whom from this time he harboured a deep and implacable enmity.
His mother visited him in his confinement, and he complained to her with great bitterness of Moobarik.
“Nay, my son,” said the queen, “the servant was not in fault; he only did his duty. He did not acquaint your father with your act of youthful indiscretion, it was the treasurer.”
“But if the spice-bearer had informed me that the affair at the treasury had been discovered, I could have evaded my father’s wrath, made you my intercessor, and thus have escaped the visitation of his anger.”
“That will subside, my son. I can still be your intercessor.”
“But the punishment has been inflicted,—my back still bears the marks of stripes; and, though these may be effaced from my skin, they will never be obliterated from my memory. Those are wrongs, mother, which can neither be forgotten nor forgiven.”
“Would you harbour a spirit of revenge against your father?”
“No; but against the man who has caused that father to visit me with bodily chastisement my hatred will be inextinguishable.”
“Nay, this is the working of unsubdued passion,—the feeling will abate. Your cool judgment may convince you that Moobarik has not been in fault, and you will be pacified.”
Mujahid made no reply; but the lowering of his brow sufficiently indicated the deep-settled hostility that had already stirred the slumbering passions of his soul,—the fiercest and least tractable.
At the mother’s intercession, after a week’s confinement, the prince was set at liberty; and, at her especial request, he forebore to exhibit any marks of enmity against the spice-bearer; but he wore a mask upon his countenance that disguised the rage working at his heart. He summoned his youthful playfellows around him, and seemed occupied by the amusements common to his age; but, with the eye of a lynx, he only watched for an opportunity to signalize his revenge upon the man who had aroused his hatred. This he sought to accomplish without involving himself in an act of legal criminality. The son of Moobarik was one of his comrades, and to him he showed marks of unusual attention, in order to blind him to the one dark purpose with which his own young heart was teeming.
It happened that a discussion took place one day among theboys with whom the prince associated, upon the respective merits of different wrestlers who had distinguished themselves in the arena upon occasions when public sports had been exhibited before the king. In the course of the conversation the son of Moobarik mentioned his father to be so strong and skilful in the manly exercise of wrestling, that he had several times thrown some celebrated players.
“Ay,” said Mujahid; “I should like to have a trial of skill with that sturdy father of yours. Do you think he would fear to encounter the strength of a boy of fourteen?”
“Nay,” said Musaood Chan, with a good-natured laugh, “the king’s spice-bearer could have no objection, I should fancy, in proving his strength to the king’s son.”
“It will be an unequal game—youth against manhood; yet I think I could make the spice-bearer turn his eyes to the sun without measuring my own length beside him.”
This freak of the prince excited the merriment of his juvenile friends; they expected to see their daring companion somewhat roughly handled in the grasp of Moobarik, who was generally reported a person of great strength; having been raised by the sovereign to his present dignity on account of his feats in arms.
Mujahid threw himself in the spice-bearer’s way, and after offering a courteous greeting, said, with a jocular air,
“Your son tells me you have so sinewy an arm that few champions in the wrestling-ground would be able to stand against you, if you were to condescend to encounter them in a trial of strength and skill.”
“My son says indeed true. I have on more than one occasion thrown the strongest men in the king’s army, and my arm has yet lost none of its vigour.”
“Are you willing to put it to the test?”
“I can find no worthy rival among my equals, and I should scarcely degrade my nobility by entering the arena against the hirelings of the king’s pleasures.”
“You need not fear to find a competitor of your own rank;for I am willing to try my powers and skill against yours, if you do not doubt your chances of victory.”
“I can have no objection to a friendly contest with my master’s son; but he must not be vexed if he should happen to be some what roughly handled, for wrestling is no lady’s game.”
“I am prepared for what may ensue. Though but a boy, you must remember that I broke open the door of my father’s treasury; you will not, therefore, have a mere boy’s strength to try.”
On the following day it was agreed that the prince and the spice-bearer should wrestle before the king. The preliminaries were settled, the spectators assembled, and the competitors entered the hall of the palace, which was strewed with sand in order to break the force of their falls. Both the champions appeared naked to the waist. The tall, muscular frame of Moobarik contrasted singularly with the round smooth limbs of his youthful adversary, who was exceedingly robust, and the size of his sinews hidden under a round surface of healthy flesh. At the first onset, Moobarik grasped his antagonist by the shoulders, raised him in the air, and was about to cast him on the floor, when the prince adroitly passed his leg behind the spice-bearer’s knee, and threw him on his back in an instant, falling upon him with considerable force. The spectators were astonished; but there being a dispute as to the fairness of the fall, both parties consented to another struggle. This was not much longer than the last. After a little shifting to make good his intended grasp, Mujahid seized his opponent suddenly by the waistband of his short trousers, and, raising him in his arms, flung him on the ground with such force that he lay senseless. He had pitched upon his head; and, upon examination it was found that his neck was broken.