Chapter XVII

Boast not of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what the
day to come may bring forth.

PROVERBS.

“Your highness,” answered the merchant, “may easily see what has brought me hither. Look on that table.”

“Ha! the phials. True; I--I had forgotten. Will these be sufficient?”

“There is enough in one to destroy an army.”

“Is it of that powerful compound essence you described to me?”

“It is,” answered the wretched man, trembling the while so much, that his words were scarcely audible.

“You have not yet distributed any portion of it in the vases?”

“Not yet. I have just come hither for the purpose.”

“Stay awhile. I am not sure yet whether I shall adhere to my original purpose. These rajaputs, they have served me well in that tumult. They rescued my own life from peril. But for them the house in which my friends were assembled, would have been levelled to the ground. But again, can I depend upon them at the moment I am proclaimed? Have you heard aught else of that chieftain of theirs, Mohabet, whom you said they talked of elevating to the throne instead of me?”

“No more than I have already told your highness. What they said amongst themselves, as I overheard them in their discourse, was, that they did not see why they should not have an emperor of their own blood.”

“Of course, they reviled the Persian--the upstart--the son of the portrait-painter,--did they not?”

“They said a great many things, which I dare not repeat to your highness.”

“Caitiff! tell me all; or, by the Heavens, you die!”

“They did use the words you have mentioned.”

“Villains! they shall soon be with Fazeel. Open the phials.”

The unfortunate slave, already wasted to a mere skeleton, could scarcely collect from his trembling muscles, sufficient strength to uncork the phials.

“And yet, if Mohabet could be secured; for, on whom am I to depend, if these rajaputs fail me? My confederates among the omrahs are, after all, but few. The slightest turn of fortune against me would sever the bond between us. True--I have bought over a large party amongst the people, by giving them largesses, and by promising to divide amongst them the mines of Golconda. Could I be but secure of their fidelity! Yes--open the phials. Let me see--it is not a liquid.”

“It is a composition to be spread by this brush at the bottom of the vases into which the wine is to be poured.”

“Bring hither the vases.”

“By this time,” said Bochari, throwing himself on the divan, while his demon-like agent was employed in collecting the vases from the tables--“By this time, the fate of the emperor, and of his two choice ministers, is sealed. That was a splendid combination--Auzeem--the wisest of men, as he believed himself to be, whom I so long succeeded in cajoling; Kazim, whom I dreaded even more than the emperor; and, above all, Nourmahal, who, if she lived, would have overthrown me by the mere exhibition of her presence in the palace before the people,--all cut off by one masterly movement! It was a grand act in this swelling drama. All collected in one focus, by my management. Auzeem, my prime agent, and at a moment too, when he, perhaps--for he is a consummate dissembler--conceived that he was forwarding his own plans for the restoration of power to Jehangire! It was excellent. Little did they expect, when this morning’s sun rose, that they should be sleeping to-night in the bed of the Jumna! Such was the account you received, also; was it not?”

“Did your highness speak?”

“Why, man, you tremble as if you were looking on an evil genius. What is the matter?”

“Has your highness seen nothing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Methought I saw shadows moving near you.”

“Ha! ha! ha! The shadows of the emperor, I suppose, and of his faithful ministers.”

“Alas! if the report be true, they are in a cold and lowly sepulchre.”

“If true, sayest thou? Doubt it not.”

“There they are again; they stare upon me through the portal. Oh, mercy!--mercy!”

The emperor had been attracted to the bronze gate, where Auzeem and Kazim could not help remaining to witness the issue of this scene of treachery and guilt. The light flashing on their countenances as the merchant passed near them, struck his soul, already steeped in crime, with terror. They instantly drew back; and, prepared by a simultaneous impulse, if the gate were opened, to rush at once upon the usurper, and slay him on the spot. But the merchant’s terror took a different turn.

“No!--of the emperor’s blood, these hands are guiltless. It is Fazeel--see--see--and his brave companions--the victims of my cursed act. Oh! kill me a thousand times--but look not at me thus!” exclaimed the wretch, falling on his knees, and clasping together his withered hands.

Bochari rose from his couch, looking almost as pale as his companion.

“This is a madness that has come over you! Come--come.”

“That is he--that is he--the real murderer. Not me--he it was who did it all--I was but a machine in his hands.”

“Another word of this, vile slave! and this knife shall be buried in your heart.”

“Heart? Oh! you will find neither heart nor blood here. Here is my naked breast; relieve me of life--I ask nothing more.”

Bochari paused, while he contemplated, with horror, the convulsed features of his accomplice. The knife fell from his hand on the marble floor. Affrighted by the sound of his own weapon, he started back. The torch, still held between the trembling hands of the merchant, glared upon the countenances of the two murderers. They looked as if they had already met in those regions upon which Hope is never to dawn!

The emperor and his companions, now fully aware of the dangers which they had just escaped, looked forward with just alarm to those which they had still to encounter. Matters had arrived at such a crisis, with respect to Bochari, that there appeared to be no crime which he was not ready to perpetrate; no hazard which he was not resolved to court, in defence of his usurpation. Lavish as he had been in his presents to the Orcha rajaputs, and faithful as they had hitherto been to his cause, nevertheless, it seemed that as the hour approached, which was to put their allegiance to the most important test, he trembled for their sincerity. He was to be proclaimed emperor of Hindostan, as soon as the sun should appear above the horizon. But how long should he retain the throne, which was to depend for its security upon such venal support? They had already divided amongst themselves the provinces of the empire. Should they proceed to take possession of them, what was to become of his crown?

The people! Could he look to them for assistance? He had sent his emissaries amongst them to canvass for their voices--to purchase them--and he had received promises of extensive aid. But the great danger he had to apprehend was that arising from the ambition of Mohabet, a proud and fierce Orcha chieftain, whom some of his followers seemed resolved to set up in opposition to the Persian. It would be a disgrace; they said, to their ancient blood, and to the rank which they had formerly held in the empire--a rank which they had now a favourable prospect of recovering--to prostrate themselves before a foreigner of mean birth, who possessed no title whatever to the throne except his sword. Without them, that sword would be of little value. Counting upon the facility with which they had hitherto maintained him in possession of supreme authority, they began to feel that they were themselves the real masters of the empire, and that the throne was a prize which it was in their discretion to bestow upon any person whom they thought fit to elevate to the imperial mantle.

Bochari was fully aware of the notions which the rajaputs entertained upon this subject. He felt all the insecurity of his position, and scarcely knew what measures he could take to improve it. The destruction of the whole band, by means of the deadly composition which his unhappy agent had prepared, suggested itself to his mind as an alternative, in case he should find the populace in his favour. But if the latter failed him, then he had no resource to fly to except the rajaputs. Agitated by the doubtful prospects in which he was involved, he had invited all the Orcha chieftains, and as many of their followers as the large bath could hold, to a banquet, at which they were to swear allegiance to him, after his proclamation the following morning. He had instructed the merchant to diffuse over the interior of the wine-vases the solution contained in the phials; and yet, at the moment when that operation was to have been carried into effect, he entered the bath, in order to prevent it. Again he wavered in his purpose--again resumed it.

The thought occurred more than once to Auzeem, that while the two demons--for such they might be truly called--were holding their atrocious council, it would have been a most just retribution, if, after placing his companions in safety, he should hasten to the sluices, and suffer the Jumna to avenge the cause of the empire. But the idea, that the destruction of Bochari at that moment, would only lead, very probably, to the proclamation of Mohabet, instead of the Persian, taught him the prudence of delay.

Meantime the morning was rapidly advancing. Bochari, still doubtful as to the course he should take, beheld his prime instrument before him, in the last agonies of death. The wretched man had never known what it was to possess a peaceful mind, since the period when, seduced by a large reward, he had made the weapons of Fazeel’s escort powerless in their hands. Before that time, he had given his time and his thoughts chiefly to chemical experiments, in which he displayed uncommon perseverance, and a wonderful acquaintance with the secrets of nature. But, in following up his labours, he reduced himself to the lowest degree of poverty. To redeem his fortunes, he accepted the infamous mission confided to him by Bochari; but the price for which he bartered his soul, was soon exhausted, and then he had nothing to depend upon, save the precarious bounty of his patron. In return, he was compelled to refuse no task, however criminal it might be, which that hard master imposed. Tranquil sleep he never knew again. Horror filled his mind, and attenuated his frame to such a degree, that he looked the very picture of the evil one. His residence was a secret chamber in the tower occupied by the Persian; and there, through the lonely night, he pursued experiments dictated by his tyrant, with a view to discover the compounds most capable of extinguishing life in the shortest possible space of time. He was right in stating, that of the phials which he had placed on the table in the banquet-room, the quantity contained in one alone would have been enough to cause the destruction of an army. The slightest portion of it, lodged in the bottom of a large vase, would be sufficient to poison all the wine it could contain.

But there was now little time for deliberation--the day dimly dawned through the dome-lights of the bath. The wretched merchant, overcome by the terrors with which his soul had been appalled, and reduced to the last extremity of impotence by misery and disease, gave up his wearied spirit on the floor. There was no other creature in existence, to whom Bochari dared to intrust the secret of his infernal design. He had not the time to accomplish it himself, for the sounds of shoutings were already echoing through the air. To execute the work partially, would only expose him to discovery, and to certain revenge. There were upwards of five hundred vases on the tables. When he beheld their number, and looked on the breathless thing, upon whose agency he had depended, a pang of despair shot through his frame, which, like a flash of the anger-lightning of Heaven, opened before him the dreadful volume that contained the record of his crimes.

“Oh! those shouts,” he exclaimed, “are they for, or against me? Methinks, I hear them utter the cursed name of Mohabet. Hush! What is to be done? This body--how am I to dispose of it? Bochari! do they say? These phials--if found here, will betray all. Let me hide them in my girdle. My ataghan!--what has become of it? Aye, here it is. It may yet serve me to good purpose, when all other weapons fail. I must wrap this horrid burthen in my cloak,--true, it is not very heavy--and bear it on my back to his chamber! Courage--they come. Bochari? Yes--it is--in every voice--Bochari--Bochari! The diadem of India is mine. The people are with me. The artillery confirms the tale. Oh! glorious sounds. Roll on--I come. They call for Bochari--the emperor! Now let the Orchas call me the foreigner--upstart--if they dare!”

Saying these words, he took up his knife, and stowing the phials in his girdle, and covering the lifeless body with his cloak, he placed it on his back. He then retraced his way by the marble steps, and disappeared.