Chapter X: (continued)

The worse the ill that fate on noble souls
Inflicts, the more their firmness; and they arm
Their spirits with adamant to meet the blow.

HINDOO PLAY.

As the escort pursued their journey from day to day, they were occasionally joined by stragglers from the main body of the army, who seemed full of some extraordinary intelligence, which they communicated in whispers, and with many shrugs of the shoulder to the officers. The frequent occurrence of those communications, and the mysterious manner in which the officers appeared to converse about them, amongst themselves, attracted the observation, and renewed the alarm of Zeinedeen. He more than once distinctly overhead the words “high treason” connected with Kazim’s name. Nourmahal’s name also was often mentioned. He saw, moreover, that after the officers received this intelligence, whatever it was, they became more rigid in enforcing discipline amongst the escort.

During the halts of the first day, Mangeli often inquired whether they were yet in sight of the imperial guards, who would be easily distinguishable by their begla plumes from the other regiments of the army. But nothing of the kind was observable. Upon the route, by which she was travelling, few objects were to be seen moving, except the soldiers by whom her palanquin were attended. She counted the hours with the most harassing anxiety, as they passed one after another, without realizing the expectation she had been led to entertain, that they would speedily overtake the imperial suite, and be under the protection of her husband. At every halt she grew more and more impatient. Her foreboding fears were shared by Nourmahal, who, after the first outbursts of grief, with which her heart had been overladen, applied all the energies she could command to control her apprehensions, and to wear upon her countenance, for the encouragement and consolation of her agonised mother, some degree of calmness.

After the difficult descents of Pees-Punchal, and the Bember were passed, the travellers had still many wearisome days before them, until they embarked on the Jumna. Nothing was yet heard of the emperor, or the chancellor, beyond vague reports, that they were not with the army, which took the road to Lahore, but that they might be expected shortly to arrive at Agra. Mangeli, as well as Nourmahal, appeared to feel considerable relief on entering the vessel which was to convey them down the river. They had suffered much fatigue from the heavy, and, at the same time, rapid movements of the elephants, and from their close confinement within the palanquins. They had now a cabin assigned to their own use, to which, on their request, Zeinedeen was permitted unreserved access. His presence lent them fortitude, even when his conversation failed to beguile them of the fears, by which they continued to be affected concerning Kazim.

The lofty minarets, and domes of the capital, at length announced the termination of their journey. They naturally expected to be conveyed by water to the marble steps, which led from the shore of the Jumna to the chancellor’s palace; but the officer, under whose care they had been placed, stated that he had no orders to that effect. His instructions, he said, which he was bound rigidly to obey, mentioned particular apartments in one of the castles of the citadel, which were prepared for their accommodation, until the arrival of the chancellor. Zeinedeen did not conceal his surprise at this arrangement. Still he had no advice to offer, but continued patience and resignation to the will of Providence, who would doubtless sooner or later put a period to their disappointments.

The astonishment of the good hermit, and the sense of alarm which continued to prey upon the spirits of the mother and daughter, were far from being mitigated, when upon being handed over by the commander of the escort to the governor of the citadel, to whom at the same time the former delivered a letter under the imperial seal, the wearied travellers were conducted to a quarter of the citadel, which appeared to be the residence of the lowest menials attached to the service of the imperial palace. The chamber, into which they were first shown, was lighted only by a small narrow window near the ceiling. Even that solitary window had a strong iron bar running down the middle, which not only added to the dimness of the apartment, but explained to them at once their real situation.

“Are we then prisoners?” asked Nourmahal, turning to the governor, after she had rapidly surveyed the chamber.

“My office has often been a painful one,” he replied, “but never more so than at this moment. The orders which I have received from the emperor----”

“From the emperor?”

“From the emperor.”

“Impossible!” exclaimed Nourmahal.

“The seal and the signature leave no room for doubt upon that point. Here is the imperial warrant, which I am bound at the peril of my head to put into execution.”

“Oh! it must be some mistake. Jehangire would never think of assigning to Nourmahal such an apartment as this,--it must be some cruel imposition.”

Zeinedeen asked permission to look at the document, which he immediately returned to the governor, observing that there seemed to be no reason to doubt its authenticity.

“You see here, however,” added the governor, “the worst of your apartments. There are others connected with it, which are much more spacious and cheerful, and overlook the river; but they will not be prepared for your use until to-morrow, as I was not apprised, until the very moment of your arrival, that personages of so much distinction were to be lodged in this wing of the citadel.”

“Every new circumstance of this business appears more inexplicable than the one by which it is preceded,” said Zeinedeen. “Do you know if the emperor be yet arrived?”

“His majesty is not yet arrived,” answered the governor, “but he is expected early to-morrow morning.”

“That, at all events, is something,” said Nourmahal, pressing her mother to her bosom. “The enigma will soon be solved--the suspense--dearest and best of mothers,” she added, fervidly kissing her pallid cheeks--“in which we must spend the night, will be of no great duration. The high chancellor, sir, is he with the emperor?”

“So the last couriers say.”

“You hear that, mother? _He_ is safe at all events. He will, indeed, be surprised to find us in this prison. You, of course, know, sir, that this is the consort, and I am the daughter of Kazim Ayas.”

“I should have known that, even had your names not been set forth in the warrant.”

It afforded Zeinedeen some relief to observe that Nourmahal’s natural fortitude of mind had not abandoned her on this trying occasion; that, on the contrary, it seemed growing upon her with each new difficulty, which this sudden reverse of her fortunes presented to her view. He most anxiously aided her in the exertions she made to infuse her own courage into the bosom of her mother; but the mind of Mangeli was cast in a different mould. She was altogether an instrument played upon by the affections. “Were but Kazim with me,” she repeated a thousand times, “I could endure any thing. But separate from him I am nothing. I know not what to do or to say. I have no sense of any thing going on around me. I feel that my child is here,” she added, pausing, and looking steadfastly into Nourmahal’s eyes. “Oh, thanks to Alla!--Yes, my beloved child! born to me in the desert, with no covering to protect thee save the coiled serpent,--no pillow to sustain thee, save the burning sand,--no food to nurture thee in this dried up bosom,--the howling blast for thy lullaby,--and for thy nurse, the horrid vulture! Oh, God, be again and again adored! We were then guarded by Thy merciful hand!”

“And will be guarded still by Him, mother! Be comforted, to-morrow, to-morrow must end our woes.”

The governor, who was himself a parent, could not witness this scene without a degree of emotion, which he in vain endeavoured to repress. Drawing Zeinedeen aside, he told him in a low voice, interrupted by pangs which choked his utterance, that he would see if, by any exertion he could make, the other rooms belonging to that suite could be placed at their disposal before night. Warmly pressing the hermit’s arm, as a token of the interest which he felt in their behalf, he quitted the chamber, locking the door after him as gently as possible, to prevent them from hearing that most dismal of all sounds, the shooting of the bolt that announces the loss of liberty.

The only article of furniture which Zeinedeen could discover in the prison where they now stood, was a low divan close to the bare wall, constructed of wood, and a thin ragged cushion. The floor appeared to be composed of hard clay. Drawing Nourmahal and her mother towards the divan, he persuaded them to rest there for a while, and await the result of the efforts of the governor, who, he had no doubt, was disposed to render them all the service in his power.

During the journey from Cashmere to Agra, the hermit collected from several members of the escort, with whom he conversed whenever the halts permitted him to do so, various particulars concerning the sanguinary scenes which had been perpetrated at the fortress of Kebeer. These particulars he now took an opportunity of detailing to Mangeli and Nourmahal, hoping that if they could give their attention to the relation of woes much more grievous than their own, they might be gradually prepared for the privations to which he clearly foresaw they were now doomed for some time. The death of Kanun particularly affected her mistress. The circumstances with which it was attended, were calculated to touch her heart. She was much attached to that girl, whom, though originally placed in attendance upon her as a slave, she considered in the light of a sister. Far from entertaining any impulse of jealousy, on hearing of the passion which Kanun had secretly cherished for Afkun, she only wondered that she had not herself observed it at an earlier period. Many little circumstances now occurred to her recollection, which confirmed all Zeinedeen had heard upon that subject; and it was even some consolation to her to know, that in his last moments the subah was not wholly abandoned to the merciless outlaws by whose hands he fell. It was some balm to her troubled spirit to think, that the attendant whom she best loved, clung to her suffering consort on that occasion, and rendered him the last services which he was capable of receiving.

For the many other innocent victims of that dreadful night, Nourmahal expressed deep regret. She called to mind, and mentioned to her mother, the various traits of amiability by which they were distinguished, and the brilliant talents they occasionally displayed, which required nothing more than education to render them perfect.

But these details speedily led to the conclusion, that the annals of Hindostan had furnished no instance of treachery more disgraceful to its authors, than that by which the fortress was gained to the emperor. Zeinedeen expressed his entire conviction, that Jehangire could have known nothing of the nature of the presents, which were conveyed within the walls in the fatal palanquins. Rumour universally ascribed the contrivance of that iniquitous scheme to the mind of Bochari, to which every base device, every species of crime, was known to be familiar.

“It is impossible, therefore, to doubt,” said Nourmahal, “that it is to the Persian we are to attribute the position in which we are now placed. It clearly entered into his designs to involve the whole of us in destruction on that terrible night. The deed once consummated, it could not be recalled; and by the power which he unhappily possesses, he would have easily put an end to all inquiries about us. But Alla having, through your instrumentality, Zeinedeen, protected us from the machinations of that murderous scene, he durst not venture to attack us again through the same kind of warfare. No doubt he now seeks to accomplish his purpose by some other means.”

“Bochari is, indeed, to be dreaded,” observed the hermit. “But there is an eye above us all, from which nothing can be concealed--an arm which, sooner or later, is sure to overtake and strike down the murderer. The Persian will, probably, fabricate some charge--indeed it is currently reported, that he has already prepared an accusation of high-treason against the chancellor.”

“Oh! that he would dare to charge my husband with treason to the state,” exclaimed Mangeli, with an unwonted degree of energy. “Oh! that the Persian would venture on such an accusation as that! There is not a child in Hindostan, who does not know Kazim’s true attachment to the emperor, and to the people under his sceptre! The day of that trial would be the last that Bochari ever would see. No troops could protect him from the indignation of the inhabitants of Agra, from the first omrah down to the lowest slave!”

“It is publicly said, that the emperor himself is nothing more or less than a captive in the hands of Bochari,” added Zeinedeen. “On leaving the camp his majesty rode unarmed by the side of the Persian, and surrounded by a troop of Orcha rajaputs.”

“Orcha rajaputs?” asked Mangeli.

“So I am informed.”

“Those are the assassins, by whose hands Abul Fazeel, our beloved friend, perished, when on his way to the Deccan,” added Mangeli.

Nourmahal had not heard before of the death of Fazeel. The name arrested her attention, for she had heard it recently pronounced in a tone she was not likely to forget. She inquired minutely into all the particulars of that transaction, which her mother related as far as she knew them.

The governor at length re-appeared, followed by slaves with lights, his beaming countenance indicating the pleasure which he said he felt in having succeeded, in obtaining better accommodation for them than those which that miserable chamber afforded. Proceeding to a door, opposite to the one by which he entered, he opened it, and conducted Nourmahal and her mother to a spacious apartment plainly carpeted, but furnished with divans, cushions, and mattresses, sufficient for their use. This room communicated with another, which, he added, would also be at their service, and overlooked the Jumna, as they would perceive when the day-light should return. A frugal supper was then placed before them, of which, however, they were none of them in spirits to partake.

It was arranged, that Zeinedeen should avail himself of the hospitable offer made by the governor of a suitable residence during the time he might feel disposed to remain in Agra. The party then separated for the night--Mangeli and Nourmahal consigning themselves to mattresses, placed close to each other, little solicitous, however, of repose, which they had no wish to enjoy, until they should be assured of the return and the safety of the chancellor.