II. THE BOY MINSTREL
The lamps had been lit, and some refreshments which had been prepared for the honoured guest had been partaken. The attendant had left, and Prithwi Raj and Norendra Nath were alone in the tent, the boy Jamshid waiting outside.
Prithwi Raj had spent a pleasant evening, and was cordial and merry over a cup of sherbet. He no longer required to be urged to recite his effusions, one after another. A poet's modesty soon wears out before an admiring listener.
"Why, my friend, Norendra Nath, thou art a better judge of our Rajput poetry than any Rajput that I have known. Thou admirest the very lines which our friend the Emperor admires so much. May be, thou hast heard some of my verses in Raja Man Singh's camp in Bengal, and thou knowest true poetry when thou hearest it."
"Little time had Raja Man Singh to listen even to thy verses, Prince," said Norendra Nath, laughing. "The Afghans made us sing quite a different song."
"Maybe, then, that poetry comes natural to thee. I have heard that the East is the land of poetry and of love. Is that so, my young friend, and has thy young and ardent bosom tasted the joys of the one as of the other?"
The Prince was growing merrier and inquisitive as the sherbet disappeared and a fresh cup was placed before him. Norendra vainly tried to evade his glistening, inquiring eyes.
"Nay, that innocent, sad look of thine will not pass, my friend. Maybe I have heard something of the successes of the handsome Bengal Chief in love as well as in war."
"Rumour talks wildly, Prince Prithwi Raj, for little success in love can I boast of. It is not on friendless strangers, but on chivalrous Princes, that the beauties of Agra love to bestow their favours."
"But chivalrous Princes have not the same chance, Norendra, as a handsome young stranger who finds his way inside the palace walls."
"Thou forgettest, Prince, that I was taken inside the Amber Guest House unconscious, and I lay there in a bed of illness. Thou hast been luckier, and if rumour speaks truly, the dark-eyed Kanchanis of the royal Court have sometimes cast smiling glances on the royal Troubadour of Bikanir."
"Perhaps yes, perhaps no," replied the Prince, not a little flattered, "but that is no answer to my inquiry. There are slave girls in Agra fairer than the fairest Kanchanis, and rumour also speaks of one of the prettiest of them who lost her heart when nursing a young handsome soldier. Ha! has that shot told? for I see thee start."
"I know of none, Prince, whose heart I sought or won. A stranger enters the palace at some risk, and glad was I to escape to humbler quarters as soon as I was cured."
"But the temptations of the palace are worth the risk, are they not? May be my young friend knows something of the dark-eyed slaves who attend on Queens and Begums."
"Small chances are there of meeting dark-eyed slaves, Prince, in a bed of sickness."
"Except perhaps a young nurse sometimes, eh? They say one of the prettiest of them is missing in the palace, and Queen Jodh Bai will have to wait long before she finds her fair slave again."
"Methinks," replied Noren, with a forced smile, which scarcely concealed his alarm, "the great Queen may ask her friend, the gay Prince of Bikanir, to account for some of her missing slaves."
"Maybe, or may not be," replied the Prince, no less gratified by the praise of his amours than by the praise of his poetry, "but thou escapest not me by thy evasions. What about a young Tartar girl with the eyes of a houri and the figure of a tall cypress? Have I caught thee now, thou deep villain? Well mayest thou wince."
"I cry for mercy, Prince. But surely a stranger in Agra can scarcely be held accountable for every maiden of the palace, Tartar or Rajput, Persian or Hindustani, who may choose to stray beyond the walls."
"Little mercy doth he need who can carry off a damsel on his steed, riding forty miles on a dark night, even from the gates of Agra. Hast heard aught of that love-romance, my friend?"
A weird sound—a shriek or muffled laughter—was heard from outside the tent.
"What sound is that? Ho! Jamshid, Jamshid."
Jamshid came into the tent and bowed to his master.
"Didst hear any sound or voice? Didst see any one loitering outside the tent?"
"I have seen none, Master."
"Be on the watch then, and see that none comes near the tent. Tell Norendra Nath's guard to be watchful, for we are discussing secret affairs and will have no interruption."
Jamshid bowed and withdrew.
The interruption was fortunate for Norendra, as it had given him time to collect his thoughts, and he answered with composure.
"Thou hast heard the truth, Prince, and that I will not deny. But the Tartar slave in the palace was like an eagle in a barred cage, and pined for freedom rather than for love. She had broken the palace rules and wounded the chief eunuch, and her life was in danger. I helped her to escape as I would free a poor bird that I saw struggling in the net. And the great Queen Jodh Bai, who has many slaves, will pardon an act of kindness, mistaken if it be."
"The great Queen Jodh Bai hath granted her pardon already, and her commands reached me a few days ago. She bids me say to the erring slave, if I can find her, that she grants her freedom, for she was unhappy in bondage and longed for her Tartar home. But methinks, friend, the erring slave hath found a more congenial home than the bleak mountains of Tartary."
"Maybe, or may not be, Prince, if I may use thy own happy words."
"True, true, thou art free to keep thy secrets, as I can keep mine. But it is somewhat hard that I should pine in a lonely tent while my friend hath a ministering houri to cheer and console him. Thinkest thou not that, on a fine evening like this, and over this genial cup which thou hast provided, some sweet Tartar songs from a fair singer might be grateful to a banished and disconsolate poet?"
"All that is mine, Prince, is thine. But if thou speakest of the Tartar girl Jelekha, trust me she was not made for dance or song, even in the court of royalty. Her soul has visions and high aspirations though she is but a slave. And on the night of her escape she disappeared, even like one of the tribe of the Ginii, whom, I sometimes believe, she invoked by her strange spells and charms."
A loud peal of laughter spoke the incredulity of the Prince.
"Some of the spells and charms, methinks, were cast on one of flesh and blood, and to some purpose. A vanished fairy may pay angel visits, may she not? A soldier, riding forty miles in a dark night with a pretty maiden on his bosom, doth not let her disappear in mid-air, doth he?"
"I have told thee what I know, Prince, believe what thou likest," said Noren, a little piqued.
"To think," rejoined the Prince, shaking with laughter, "that thou, a stranger from Bengal, shouldst win the prettiest girl of Agra, while we pour forth our sighs in vain."
"I implore thee, Prince, to credit me, thy suspicions are unfounded. That girl, I believe, is true as the steel she wears."
"To think," went on the Prince, scarcely listening to Norendra's protestations, "that the fairy of the Tartar mountains should obey the spell of the Eastern Chief, while the poet of Rajasthan may invoke her with all the power of his verses in vain. Ha! what sound is that?"
Once more a strange sound, a low wail or a rippling laughter, broke the silence of the night. Both sprung on their feet.
"'Tis a warning, happy lover," said the still smiling Prince, "that I have stood too long between thee and thy mountain fairy. Voices in the air bid me depart, for it is midnight, and fairies often wait on their magicians at this hour."
Confused and angry, Noren replied with some heat, though still with the courtesy due to so honoured a guest.
"We are encamped in a strange land and a strange place, Prince, and I know not what beings of earth or air surround and watch us, but one word I would add before we part, if thou wouldst permit. I care not what suspicions may be formed against me, for I am a soldier and but a poor sinner. But that girl, Jelekha, nursed me in my illness and helped me in peril and danger, and I will not permit her name to be lightly pronounced. By Heaven, I believe her to be true, and thou, noble and chivalrous Prince, wilt offer me an insult if thou breathest a suspicion on her who saved my life."
There was a tone of earnestness in Noren's voice which could not be mistaken, and Prithwi Raj had the feelings and the natural nobility of his race.
"Pardon me, Norendra Nath," he said, "if I have given thee pain, and believe me I meant no offence. We soldiers talk lightly of such affairs, but I wished not to wound thy cherished feelings. Keep thy secret, and here is the hand of a Rajput who has always been true to his friends."
Noren grasped the hand cordially and spoke softly:
"Forgive me if I spoke a little warmly, but that Moslem girl, whom I shall perhaps never see again, was a friend to me when I was friendless, and a nurse to me when I was at death's door, and I shall never think of her but with gratitude. No other feeling do I cherish for her; the time is gone, Prince, when the love of woman could chain me."
"Thou speakest sadly, Norendra, for so young a soldier. But it is growing late, nor would I again try to probe thy secret. We part to-night and perhaps may never meet again, for I go to Bikanir and thou goest to Bengal. Accept the friendship of an honest Rajput who will ever think of thee with respect and esteem."
Norendra accompanied his distinguished guest to the door of Prithwi Raj's tent, and then returned to his own in silence. Jamshid carried a light to show him his way back.
"Thou art a gifted boy, Jamshid, and hast played better to-night than I ever heard thee play before during these weeks that we have been in Rajasthan. Take this coin and be thou successful in the profession thou hast chosen."
"I am but a strolling minstrel and live on alms. But I accepted no wages from my Rajput Master whose verses I loved to hear, and I will accept none from you, so please you, Master."
"Thou must be strangely enamoured of verses, child, if the love of song is thy wages. Come, then, into my tent, wonderful boy, and play to me again for a while, unless the Prince wants thee. I will repay thee with the songs of my own land, which thou hast not yet heard."
"The Prince will not want me again, for I go not to Bikanir with him. And sleep will not come to me to-night if Master sings the songs of his own land."