Chapter VIII

King, do not grieve, but like a valiant chief,
Pluck from thy heart all terror of thine enemies,
And only deem of thy propitious fortune,
Or who shall foremost plunge into the fight.

Hindoo Drama.

A short but profound sleep having relieved Jehangire from the effects of his copious libations, he proceeded to witness the concluding performances of the Bengalese, which were appointed to take place at midnight. The ladies of the harem, and the whole court, were in attendance in their usual places. The night was intensely dark, uncheered by the twinkling even of a solitary star. Three of the Bauzigurs made their appearance, all wrapped in white sheets, from beneath which they produced mirrors that at first cast upon the sky a luminous reflection, bright as the lustre of the sun itself. Travellers, who, at the distance of ten days’ journey from the camp, beheld that light, were deterred from pursuing their way, fearful that some convulsion had taken place in nature, by which the order of things had been reversed, and that the sun was thenceforth to take the place of the moon.

The illuminated space in the heavens soon exhibited to the eye an incredible number of towns and villages, thickly peopled, and apparently in the enjoyment of peace, and of riches of every description. Horsemen and infantry presently were seen emerging from the confines of darkness, and marching towards the principal town. The gates of the town opened, and a female of consummate beauty, clothed in armour, with a helmet of matchless splendor on her head, mounted in a wooden tower on an elephant, her bow and quiver by her side, and a burnished lance in her hand, came forth, followed by a numerous train of elephants, and warriors on foot and on horseback. The adverse forces met, rushing upon each other with savage ardour. The shock was tremendous, thousands lay dead on either side. The invaders fled back in confusion to their encampment. Some time was spent in burning the dead on either side, amidst the solemn sounds of trumpets, which were heard wailing for the heroes that had perished.

The queen, as soon as the obsequies were over, re-assembled her troops, and pointing to the camp of the enemy, called upon them to follow her forthwith, and to attack it. The leaders declined the enterprize, and returned to weep over the ashes of their companions. The enemy, refreshed, came forth to renew the combat. The queen prepared to meet him, but with difficulty prevailed on her troops to advance. The conflict was renewed with great slaughter. The forces of the heroine rapidly diminished, many falling on the field, more basely deserting her standard, and diving into the night. She received an arrow in the eye, which she instantly extricated. Another arrow passed through her neck. Dimness swam before her eyes, and she began to nod from side to side in her tower. The driver of her elephant, faithful to his mistress, urged the noble animal forward, who, conscious of her situation, seemed resolved, by his indomitable wrath, to avenge her injuries. Whithersover he turned, the impassioned creature trampled down numbers of the foe.

The spirit of the queen, which had almost departed from her, now returned. She cheered the elephant in his victorious progress, until his steps were at length arrested by a net of chains, from which he could not disentangle himself. She called upon her driver to end her life with his dagger. He refusing, she snatched the weapon from his girdle, and plunging it into her bosom, expired. The conquerors marched on to the town, of which, after brave resistance from the garrison, they took possession. Loads of timber, and straw, and oil were collected in a large house, into which the garrison were driven; the house was then set fire to; the conflagration was awful; the groans of the victims were so agonizing, that the emperor drew his scymitar, and hurrying forth from his seat, as if to rescue the unfortunate sufferers, was met in the crowd of courtiers by an assassin, who struck a knife up to the hilt into his side.

A faint cry escaped from Jehangire, but such was the confusion of the moment that nobody seemed to understand what had happened. Flambeaus were brought. The emperor was found bleeding on the ground, the knife still remaining in his side. Auzeem, and a body of the omrahs, immediately bore him into his pavilion, while Bochari, taking with him the guard of eunuchs, ran to the gate of the screen walls, by which the imperial tents were surrounded. Cries of treason resounded on all sides. Suspicion instantly fell upon the Bengalese, who were placed under arrest. In a few moments the guards of the imperial quarters brought in a man, whom they found climbing over the screens, and unable to give any excuse for his conduct. The prisoner turned out to be one of the attendants of the Bauzigurs. The suspicions against them were thus turned into certainty, and if the councils of Bochari had been followed, the seven, and their three followers, would have been sacrificed on the spot.

Auzeem however interposed, and as the night was now far advanced, it was resolved that the further investigation into this atrocious deed should be postponed until the following morning. In the mean-time orders were issued to suspend the march of the army.

With the returning day, poured into the camp a thousand rumours of the assassination of the emperor, some representing that he had fallen a victim to the intrigues of Bochari, who aimed at the throne for himself; some setting forth that the crime was perpetrated by the Bengalese, at the instigation of Chusero, while others hinted that under the influence of too much wine, Jehangire had made an attempt on his own life. The state physicians pronounced the wound not dangerous, and promised that the sovereign would be convalescent in a few days, his weakness at the moment arising from the loss of much blood. This intelligence diffused satisfaction amongst the troops, and prevented the tendency to tumult which had already manifested itself.

The Bengalese, and their attendants, having been brought before the officers of justice, in the tent dedicated to public business, were examined separately as to their knowledge of the prisoner, whose efforts to make his escape had necessarily pointed him out as the principal criminal. Their testimony, given apart from each other, perfectly agreed in the statement, that the alleged assassin, and his two companions, had overtaken them on their road to the northern provinces; communicated to them a message, with which they said they had been charged by the emperor, to command the attendance of the Bauzigurs in the camp; and that, in obedience to that supposed order it was they had sought, and, as they believed, obtained admission to the imperial presence, which, otherwise, at such a moment, they should not have thought of soliciting, not imagining, that a great sovereign actually engaged in preparations for the field, would have had disposition or leisure for such amusements as their humble skill might afford.

The fugitive prisoner was next examined. His first statement was, that being naturally of a timid disposition, when he learned that the emperor was assassinated, he knew not but that the next victim might be himself, he being a stranger in the camp, and that he, therefore, sought safety in flight. Being questioned about his comrades, he represented them as poor men, who were anxious to better their fortunes; and that, he being in a similar condition, they had offered their services to the Bauzigurs, to whom they suggested the probable benefits of a visit to the imperial camp. Upon being put to the torture, he admitted that they had fabricated the message to which the Bauzigurs alluded. His comrades, having been separately interrogated, disagreed with him and with each other, in so many particulars, and gave their evidence in a manner so pregnant with suspicion, that they were also put on the rack. The whole truth at length came out, by the confession of the youngest of the three, who declared that they had been employed as emissaries by the insurgents, to explore the camp, and to ascertain the probable movements of the imperial troops. With a view, however, to save his own life, he alleged that the assassination of Jehangire formed the chief object of their mission, if any opportunity should be presented to them for accomplishing it, and he said that upon that point they had received their instructions from Chusero himself.

Upon the conclusion of the investigation, the Bauzigurs were unanimously acquitted of all participation in the crime; but as the contrary belief still actuated the great bulk of the troops, Auzeem caused them to be escorted, the following night by a body of the household guards, beyond the precincts of the camp. The three emissaries were condemned to death. They were each stripped naked, and then clothed in asses’ skins, in which they were led through the camp, exposed to the derision of the multitude. The shouts that rang the air, as they passed through the different divisions of the military assemblage, acted like balm on the wound of the imperial invalid, who, whatever may have been the errors of his heart or his head, acknowledged, at all times, that it was his greatest delight to know and to feel that he was beloved by his people.

As soon as this ceremony was performed, the criminals were sewed up in skins, which had been previously distended as much as possible, after having been saturated in water. They were then placed on a sand-bank, exposed to the hottest rays of the sun, and, by the gradual shrinking of the hides, their frames were so compressed, that the agonies they endured were dreadful. To prolong their punishment, water was now and then sprinkled on the hides, which were again exposed to the sun. They thus lingered in excruciating agonies for three days, and when at last the soundless masses proclaimed that they were no longer the abode of life, they were kicked through the whole assembled army into the river Sursoom, near which the camp was pitched.

Upon the convalescence of the emperor, the camp was broken up, and the troops proceeded towards the Sutledge, where the enemy were reported to have been posted in great force. Jehangire, when mounted once more on Indragui, resolved on shewing no mercy to a son, who, as the late occurrence had taught him to believe, was so lost to all sense of filial recollections, as to meditate the murder of a parent.

In order to escape from the dust of the high road, Jehangire, and a few of the officers of his staff, took the bye-paths which led through shady groves and cultivated fields. Perceiving a man coming towards them, the emperor, who was anxiously watching for some omen of success, demanded his name. The stranger replied, that his name was “Mûrad-Khaujah,” signifying the “auspicious.”

“Heaven be praised!” exclaimed the emperor, “my desire shall be obtained.”

A little farther on they met another man, driving before him an ass loaded with fire-wood, and having a burthen of brambles on his own back. He was also called upon to disclose his name, when he declared it to be “Dowlet-Khaujah.”

Jehangire was in raptures. “Our fortunes would be complete,” said he, “if we should now meet with a third person, bearing the same name.”

Great, therefore, was his surprise and satisfaction, when observing a little boy in a field, who was tending a cow grazing, he caused a similar inquiry to be made. He received for answer, that the boy called himself “Saadet-Khaujah.”

In order to perpetuate the memory of these happy prognostications, Jehangire directed that from that moment all the affairs of his government should be classed under three heads, to be called “Eymaun-o-Thalâtha,” or the “Three Signs.”

After crossing one of the main branches of the Gogur river, the emperor learned that there lived in the neighbourhood a recluse, on whose head fell from the skies every Friday evening throughout the year, a shower of gold coin. Determined to ascertain the truth of this report, he proceeded to visit the dervish, whom he found seated on the ground before the entrance to a cavern, surrounded by four hundred of his disciples, clothed in skins. The hermit offered to the emperor no token whatever of respect, although the latter made to him the customary salaam, in the most humble manner, and did every thing in his power to entice him into conversation.

At last, after nearly half-an-hour’s uninterrupted silence, the dervish said,--“I serve that king who sustains rambling about the earth, many such kings as thou art.” Here another long pause ensued. The emperor prayed that the hermit would instruct him in his duties. Again awaking from an apparent lethargy, the dervish sternly said,--“Strive for the repose of God’s creatures, committed to thy care. In the agents whom thou mayest employ in the different provinces of thy empire, be it thy study to discover and reject such as are tyrannical and rapacious. Pursue and punish the secret perpetrators of murders. Such men you shall find at Serhind, and elsewhere. Whilst thou hast power, exercise it discreetly. Cherish the grey beard and the dervish. Scoff not at the aged man, weighed down by the hand of affliction. Kindle not the flame which consumes the broken-hearted. Be not at one time a trifler--at another grave. Art thou full? Give not words to the wind. Be not evil-minded, lest thy words be evil. Be not slanderous, if thou wouldst avoid a name of reproach. Let thy treatment of thy eldest son be merciful, for he is misled.”

To these words, pregnant with sage admonition, and confirmatory of the omens which had already favoured the progress of the emperor, he listened with equal admiration and delight. The evening, (it happened fortunately to be the evening of Friday,) closing in, tapers were lighted, and the venerable recluse proceeded to the performance of his devotions, bending his body, at intervals, eight times to the earth. Immediately afterwards, five of the eldest of his disciples stood before him in an erect posture, while he raised his hands towards heaven. He had scarcely commenced this act of adoration, when, all at once, a shower of golden ashrefies fell on his head from the sky, which, when collected, amounted in value to a thousand gold rupees. These coins the hermit divided into two equal parts, one of which he presented to the emperor, the other he shared amongst his disciples. Jehangire, desirous of testifying his respect for a recluse of so much sanctity, offered to endow his cloister with the revenue of the neighbouring villages, producing annually about fifty thousand gold rupees, for the subsistence of the devout men who attended upon him. “Apply your money,” said the saint, “to the support of those whose reliance is upon human charity. I need it not.”

When the emperor returned to the army, and the news of his visit to the dervish had spread abroad, it was communicated to him that the son of Khann-e-Douraun had dared to turn his conduct on the occasion into ridicule. “How childish!” said he, “in the emperor, to be magic-blinded by this canting dervish.” Such language as this could not be overlooked. Jehangire therefore commanded that one side of his head and face should be flayed, and in that state he was led through the army, proclamation being made, at the same time, that such was the punishment which awaited those who applied disrespectful language to their sovereign. It further appeared that this young man, on a previous visit to the same dervish, had demeaned himself very contemptuously, and that the hermit told him he should not go so far as to take his head, his youth and rashness being beneath his notice; “but,” said he, “I shall have thee flayed.” Thus were the words of the holy man fulfilled to the letter.