Chapter XIII

Now morning breathed: the scented air was mild,
Each meadow blossomed, and each valley smiled;
On every shrub the pearly dew-drops hung,
On every branch a feathered warbler sung;
The cheerful spring her flowery chaplets wove,
And incense-breathing gales perfumed the grove.

INDIAN TALE.

Kazim remained no longer at Kabul than was absolutely necessary to repair the disasters of the journey over the desert, and to provide for that which he had still to perform across the mountains to Lahore. Having sold his stock of horses to considerable advantage, reserving a pair of the tamest for himself and Mangeli, he took an affectionate leave of his Ferghanese friends, and set out for India. Mangeli, by this time, had become an excellent traveller. Wrapping her infant in a large shawl, which was passed over her right shoulder, and tied firmly round her waist, she either nursed the babe, or hushed it to sleep, without alighting from the beautiful animal on which she was mounted. The heat of noon-tide compelled them, indeed, frequently to shelter themselves beneath the spreading plane-trees, or in the recesses of such rocks as afforded at once the convenience of a friendly shade and a crystal spring. But the genial atmosphere of the mountains enabled them, in general, to make long journeys from day to day through the passes and roads, of which Kazim had received abundant information at Kabul.

Their first resting-place was at the village of Istalif, where Kazim thought that if he had not been already engaged in pursuit of a higher destiny, he should have been well contented to spend the remainder of his life. He was charmed by its situation on the brow of a hill overlooking a valley, rich in every fruit and flower of that genial climate. In the middle of the valley he drank of the fountain of the “Three Friends,” so called from the different species of trees planted round the spring by three holy men, who thus celebrated the friendship which they entertained for each other, and which they renewed by meeting at the fountain for many a year, though they had to travel from remote points of Thibet, Hindostan, and Persia. On one side, palm-trees formed an umbrageous grove, in which a thousand pilgrims might easily find coolness and repose. On another was a group of spreading oaks, the only specimens of the kind to be met with through a vast tract of that country; and on the third, the flowering Arghwan put forth its red and yellow blossoms, impregnating the air with a delicious odour. “Ah!” said one of the natives to Kazim, who was admiring the beauty of the landscape, “when the Arghwan is in full flower, there is not a spot in all the world to be compared to the valley of Istalif!” And when Kazim, after entwining in Mangeli’s hair a rose-scented tulip, beheld her resting in the shade, answering by her rapturous smiles those by which her infant already began to recognise its mother, he was disposed to think that the villager scarcely exaggerated the attractions of that happy valley.

The toils of their journey were easily borne, so long as the travellers remained within the district of Kabul, where the mountains are so many mounds, with rich vales and wide level plains expanding between them, on which hamlets are usually found dispersed in the most picturesque irregularity. If Kazim were at any time doubtful of the way which he was pursuing, he was seldom long without being able to make inquiry at a cottage, or from hunters who crossed his course in pursuit of the red deer and the wild ass, or from fowlers in quest of the game that abounds all along the banks of the river Baran, the principal pass up the Hindukush. On entering this grand defile, he was astonished at the size and number of the birds that rushed thither from all quarters. He observed that, during the night especially, the larger game kept constantly flying low over the running water, as its brightness afforded them a sense of security from the beasts of prey, which they would have encountered had they remained stationary on the banks. Here also he beheld vast flights of the begla heron, whose feathers supply the plumes which the Turkish and Persian warriors wear on their caps or in their turbans on state occasions.

After quitting the Baran, Kazim and Mangeli found themselves emerging on a new world, in which the grasses, the trees, the wild animals and birds, as well as the manners of the people, seemed to be altogether different from any thing of the kind they had ever observed before. They now rarely met with running streams, and had to make their way frequently over the dry channels of former rivers. But Kazim soon discovered, that whenever he was in want of water for himself and his horses, he had only to turn up a part of the bed, when the cavity was filled immediately with a limpid spring. After pursuing their way for some days among the higher ridges of the mountains, which were still covered partially with snow, the travellers arrived at the edge of an immense sheet of water, that seemed, at the extreme distance, to mingle with the sky. The remote mountains, at either side, appeared completely inverted in the water, while those nearer at hand looked in the majestic mirror as if they were suspended between earth and heaven. They afterwards learned that this was the celebrated lake of Abistadeh, in which are collected all the waters that descend from the neighbouring mountains, on the melting of the snows. As they gazed with wonder upon the vast expanse before them, they beheld from time to time between the water and the azure canopy above, a ruddy blush, which, had it not been noon, might have been taken for the Aurora, stretching across the horizon, occasionally flashing and disappearing like the lightning playing over the mountain-tops. As the cloud came nearer, it resolved itself into an innumerable flock of flamingoes, whose red feathers sometimes glittered in the sun, and sometimes were hid again as they waved their wings, or soared in their flight towards Cashmere.

While Kazim and Mangeli were still admiring the scenery that was spread before them, a young man called out, from the mouth of a cave at which he stood, inquiring whether it was their intention to cross the lake. Kazim replied, that he had missed the road to Jellalabad, and asked if he could regain it by embarking on the lake? The ferryman replied in the affirmative; and unmooring his raft, composed of timber supported on reeds, which had been hitherto concealed behind a small promontory, he assured the travellers that they might expect, under his guidance, a perfectly safe passage both for themselves and their horses.

The raft being directed into the current, which flowed through the middle of the lake, was speedily borne along to the opposite shore, when Kazim, having rewarded the ferryman for his trouble, proceeded to the town he had mentioned. Hence they floated in a similar manner down the river to Peshawer; and crossing the Indus at Attok, entered the kingdom of Lahore. A few days’ journey conducted the travellers at length within view of the city of that name, whose lofty towers and domes, shining in the distance, and surrounded by buildings extending over an immense space, realised all the visions that had long haunted Kazim’s fancy, when he attempted to picture in his mind the grandeur of the capital in which the renowned Acbar then held his imperial court.

But although he had now arrived at the very gates of the paradise, so long the object of his thoughts and his dreams, Kazim ventured not to express to Mangeli the feeling, bordering on despair, that succeeded the momentary exultation with which he viewed the accomplishment of his journey. His heart sunk within him, as he beheld the numerous groups of peasantry, who were on their way to the capital with the varied produce of their fields, rice, indigo, opium, poultry, and a thousand other articles; or returning from the bazaars, with the money or the manufactures which they had received in exchange. “These people,” he thought to himself, with a sense of deep sadness, as he heard them discoursing over their affairs, “have their friends at Lahore, to whom they repair when they go thither--they have their own cottages not far off; but we enter the vast capital, without knowing a single individual of the countless population which it contains--without possessing the means of judging where we are to find a home--without kindred--without the hope even of beholding a solitary countenance we had ever seen before!”

These reflections became still more painful, when, on entering the city, Kazim looked at the apparently endless rows of houses, shops and bazaars, all strange to his eye, containing not a creature who expected his arrival, or sympathised in his fortunes. Of the multitude of foreign faces that thronged the streets, in all directions, to whom was he to look for that patronage, without which he might eventually perish? It was true that the liberality of his Ferghanese friends had supplied him with the present means of support; but when those means were exhausted, as they soon must be, in order to provide for the wants of an increasing family, whither could he fly for assistance? He had staked his fortunes upon a single cast of the dice; but whether he lost or won, was a question still undecided.

The travellers, happy to escape from the tumult of the streets, which frightened Mangeli excessively, rode into the yard of the first caravanserai that could afford them accommodation. Here they remained for some days, until Kazim discovered a small house in the suburbs, which he was enabled to hire at a moderate expence. With Mangeli’s experience and assistance, their humble residence was speedily supplied with the few articles of furniture which their wants required. This done, Kazim had no further occupation for his time than wandering through the streets of Lahore, and exploring the temples and other public buildings, with which the capital abounded.

One day, as he was standing in the courtyard of the palace amongst a crowd of spectators, gazing at a troop of cavalry, which were going through some evolutions in presence of their commander, a group of officers, with heron plumes waving in their caps, and golden cuirasses on their breasts, rode rapidly into the square, and stopping before the entrance into the palace formed a circle, as if waiting to escort some person of distinction, whom they expected from the palace.

In a few minutes a noble-looking figure, descending the steps of the portico, entered the circle, and mounting a caparisoned steed, which an attendant held there by the rein, rode away, followed by the officers, in the direction of the gate of Agra. The individual thus splendidly escorted, was himself dressed in plain attire, an ordinary turban, and a frock of coarse cloth, as if he were bound on a long journey. He passed close to Kazim, who could hardly take his eyes off that pale but intelligent face, from the moment he beheld it.

“Who can that person be?” asked Kazim, addressing one of those who, like himself, were lounging in the square. His question was answered by another:--

“What! live you in Lahore, and not know that he, of whom you speak, is the prime minister, Abul Fazeel?”

“Impossible!” said Kazim; “I have certainly seen him before, but when or where, I cannot at this moment recollect.”

“Whether you have seen him or not, that is Abul Fazeel, and no other,” added the lounger, turning upon his heel from a stranger who could be worth no further notice, seeing that he did not know even the face of the prime minister.

A company of drummers, who came from the interior of the palace, then taking their stations at the foot of the portico, gave the signal, by a treble peal, of the approach of the emperor; upon which the square was immediately ordered to be cleared. Kazim, whose curiosity was excited to the highest degree, to behold the hero of whom he had heard so much at Samarcand, lingered behind the crowd as long as he could. But the troopers forced them out through the gates, striking the people, who all seemed as curious as Kazim himself, with the handles of their spears. Kazim received a severe blow on his head, which almost stunned him, as the gates were closed in his face.

This was no very favourable omen, he thought, as he walked disheartened homeward, for one who had come hither in pursuit of public employment. There were, however, other occupations to which he hoped he might apply himself with advantage. The schools of Lahore were probably not all supplied with masters of poetry or rhetoric. He might tender them his services as a lecturer in either of those branches of education, or in mathematics, in which he was equally skilful. But while he resolved these projects in his mind, he could not dismiss from his memory the countenance of the minister. It seemed to his thought sometimes, when he questioned himself upon this point, as if he must have lived in some former world, where Fazeel had been of his most intimate and esteemed acquaintance. So perfectly familiar to him were the lines of that fine forehead, and the expression of those penetrating eyes, that he had no doubt whatever of having seen them before, and that, too, under circumstances which had left behind them feelings of the most favourable description. But he vexed his memory in vain to find out in it any traces of the prime minister of Acbar; for although he had often heard of the name of Abul Fazeel, it was certain that, so far as he knew, he had never had the good fortune of meeting elsewhere with an individual so superior to himself in every respect.