Chapter IX · The Weighing of the Emperor.

What a bustle was there in the thronged bazar as Siddha, in the morning, wandered through the busy rows of shops, on which were spread out in rich abundance everything that could tempt the eye and purse. And what a strange and wonderful mingling of various peoples and races, the different representatives of which jostled against and crossed each other’s paths without betraying any surprise, so well accustomed were they to the sight. Here the natives of the land, Hindus of more or less pale complexions, their servants of various bronzed shades; there, too, the proud ruling races—Persians, Arabs, and Tatars, Armenians and Jews from the west, and also sons of the Celestial Kingdom, with their long tails and wide flowered robes; and there men who especially struck Siddha, as he had never before seen their like, men most strangely clad, with pointed, broad-brimmed hats decorated with feathers, short doublets, wide velvet trousers, and high boots, and with long, straight swords hanging from coloured shoulder-belts. They were in company of the spiritual Fathers, one of whom but a short time since, had been admitted to the presence of the Emperor.

Among all this throng many had come to make their own purchases, others only to wander and contemplatingly watch the bustling crowd. Numbers of women, of many nations and classes, were also to be seen, some in the costume of the people, simple, but graceful and pleasing; others in coloured and gaudy Persian attire, and some closely veiled, according to the strict Muhammadan law, and showing nothing human excepting a pair of red-slippered feet, and a pair of dark eyes that glittered through round holes in the upper veil that enveloped everything. Some were busied with household purchases, others with the acquisition of useful knick-knacks.

Just as Siddha was about to inquire from some of the passers-by who the strange men were, he saw his friend and benefactor Faizi approach, and addressed his question to him.

“They are Franks,” was the answer, “called Portuguese; they come from far-away countries in the West, for the sake of commerce; and those with them have come to try and convert us to what they say is the only religion which can save souls.”

“And those two,” asked Siddha, “coming from the other side? do they belong to them? They wear nearly the same clothing, but their companions appear to me fairer, and how red their beards are!”

As the two Englishmen passed by, Siddha looked at them with a curiosity which, though perhaps natural, at first seeing such strangers, yet was far from courteous; but Siddha felt—although he had heard nothing of these people—very little respect for them, and even Faizi seemed to consider them hardly worthy of a glance.

“Cursed proud Moors!” muttered one of these sons of Albion in his own tongue as he passed. Had these men, the haughty Indians and half-despised English, been able to cast one single look into the future, and could the former have guessed that the descendants of the latter would one day rule over their people and country, they would certainly have observed them with more attention. With still closer interest would they have gazed, if anyone had told them that these strangers sprang from the same race, and stood nearer to Siddha than many of his friends whose origin was from the Semitic race.

“The visits of all these strangers,” said Faizi, “do us no harm; on the contrary they give fresh impulse to our trade and various industries; and from them also we have many good painters and other artists. Then we have learnt much from them respecting their own countries. Still they must not attempt to play the master here, which appears to be rather according to their tastes.”

“Then surely we should show them the door,” said Siddha.

“That would soon happen, I can assure you. But now for another subject. Have you tried my bay that we spoke of the other day?”

“Indeed I have,” answered Siddha, “and with the greatest pleasure; it is a magnificent animal.” And he broke out with praises of Faizi’s horse.

“You are pleased with him, then?” he answered. “I will send him to your stables; you can keep him if you will; and in the coming campaign he will be of use to you. Your grey is a beautiful horse and well broke, but scarcely strong enough; and the bay is uncommonly so. I ride him but seldom, for I must confess I have become rather lazy and prefer a quieter animal.”

“But,” said Siddha, overcome at such goodness, “this is indeed a costly present, which I have not deserved. Your bay is a splendid thoroughbred Arab, such as I have never before ridden.”

“I quite agree with you; and to follow the two last are often hard enough,” answered Siddha, with a sigh, knowing far more of the difficulties of which he spoke than the other suspected.

“But now tell me,” said Faizi, “how it comes that you are here; I thought that you, with your men, were already on your way to join the camp.”

“We had started,” said Siddha, “but received counter-orders on the road. We are to remain some days longer at Agra, to my great pleasure, as it gives me the opportunity of being present at the great festival of to-day, which celebrates the Emperor’s birthday, of which I have heard so much.”

That there was another reason for rejoicing at a longer delay in Agra, Siddha did not think it necessary to add.

“That reminds me,” said Faizi, “it is time to go to the palace before the durbar. The Emperor receives, as you know, the foreign ambassadors to-day. Come with me, and you can take your place among the officers of your rank.”

With deep respect Aquaviva received the imperial gift, though one might question whether in truth he was much pleased, and if he did not see in it some allusion to the meeting of the preceding evening; which was the more probable as the Emperor was always informed beforehand what presents were to be made him, that the return might be appropriate. But whatever the Padre thought, it was not difficult to guess what impression this affair made on the orthodox Brahmans. There was a frown on almost every forehead in their ranks, and Abdul Kadir could scarcely restrain his indignation. They could not read the meaning of the return present, and how by it Akbar wished to show that he took no part with the Christians. All they saw was the special honour shown to a Christian. Abú-l Fazl, who understood it better, nevertheless shook his head, vexed at the needless defiance and insult to the Muhammadans offered by the (in other respects) humane and wise Akbar; still he confessed that they almost deserved it for their unmanly conduct of the previous evening.

After the ceremonial of the reception of presents was over, the Mughal was for some time occupied with giving audiences and appointments; among others our Siddha was called to him.

“Siddha Rama,” he said, “with good reason we are content with you, and, to prove it, we name you from to-day Mansabdar over a thousand; show yourself always worthy of our trust and favour.”

A deep colour mounted to Siddha’s face, as silently, according to the usage, he bent his head before the Emperor, in token of his gratitude for this fresh favour. He worthy of Akbar’s confidence! Could there be one in the army that deserved it less? Yet the Emperor had need of his interest and assistance in Kashmir, so that it was not generosity and kindness alone which led to this promotion. Akbar only saw in the confusion of the young warrior an easily explained and praiseworthy modesty at finding himself so openly laden with favours, and nodded to him kindly as he signed to him that he might withdraw.

It was now almost time that the people’s feast should begin, and for it was destined a field not far from the town. Towards it was now streaming from all the streets and along all the roads a brilliantly coloured throng, some on foot, some riding either on horses or richly caparisoned elephants; some, too, were on camels laden with eatables and refreshments of all kinds for the many that cared to take part in the rejoicings. Mingling in the merry crowd were Siddha and his friend Parviz, whom he had met on leaving the palace, and who had heartily congratulated him on his new command.

“And you,” said Siddha, “how go your affairs?”

On a little height was erected a large and strong pair of scales, large enough easily to hold a man. One scale was heaped with gold, silver, and precious stones, while the other stood empty, high in the air. On this the Emperor now took his place, in sight of hundreds and thousands of his subjects, who crowded round from all sides; and the other scale was added to or taken from until it exactly balanced the illustrious person of the Great Mughal, who well held his own against the precious metal. It was a pity that other things could not be laid in the scale, such as duty, honour, faith, and enthusiasm for all that is good and beautiful; then surely Akbar would not have been found wanting in the balance. When the weighing was over he stept calmly from the scales, and the gold and silver were distributed amongst the crowd. Towards the end the Emperor mixed among those around him, throwing among the bystanders small golden objects in the form of flowers and fruits, addressing here and there kind and friendly words—confirming many afresh in their conviction that in Akbar the people had not only a great and powerful, but also a benevolent ruler, to whose heart the well-being of his subjects was dearer than his own greatness.

“What can possess the people?” said Parviz to his friend. “It is said they do this prompted by religious fervour; but if so, why do they choose a day of public rejoicing and festivity to exhibit themselves? It is not a pleasant sight, but I cannot understand how it is they appear so at their ease, and so free from pain.”

“Perhaps I can explain it to you,” said Siddha. “You know that such tortures as we are now looking at are considered by our fanatics as meritorious actions, by which heaven may be gained; and those that gaze upon these martyrs, and give them money, participate in the merit; and the more superstitious the people are, so much the greater are the gains. But the secret of their art is not known with certainty, although I believe there are grounds for suspecting how it is done. If I am not deceived, they are always accompanied by women, although they are never seen with them, and these for about half a day before an exhibition pinch them between the shoulder-blades until the spot is without feeling, and the hook can be inserted without causing them any pain.”

“A wonderful kind of pleasantry,” remarked Parviz.

“Yes, and a wretched one, too. Whatever support it receives from superstition, by respectable Brahmans it is only looked upon with contempt. But did you not say there were to be elephant and wild beast fights?”

“Certainly, and by yonder flag I see they are about to begin; let us make our way there and find a place.”

This was not difficult, for their rank gave them instant admission to the space railed off, and provided with seats, where the combats were to take place. In the midst the Emperor was seated surrounded by his courtiers. They had not waited long when from the opposite sides the fighting elephants entered the arena, each covered with a splendid cloth, and mounted by a brightly dressed mahout. Very little preparation was necessary. No sooner did the gigantic animals approach each other, than, rising on their hind legs with a snort, they seized each other with their trunks, each endeavouring to stab his foe with his long tusks, while their riders, now clinging by their knees behind the creatures’ ears, and now holding by their hands to the girth of the cloth, still kept their places. For some time the fight continued with uncertain fortune; now one elephant was driven backwards, and now the other. At last one was overthrown. His mahout leaping nimbly to the ground alighted on his feet, and the rider of the victor struck his hook into the constantly kept open wound behind the ears, and forced him to draw back without injuring his fallen foe. The Emperor applauded loudly, his example being followed by the courtiers and spectators, and then they slowly left the tribunes.

“Akbar seems to have a great liking for these combats,” said Siddha to his friend, as they continued their walk.

“Yes,” was the answer; “Akbar likes everything that displays courage and dexterity, whether in man or beast. As you know, he is of unusual strength himself, and unsurpassed by any in the use of arms; and his personal courage in war and hunting is of that description that one might call recklessness. He seems to seek danger instead of avoiding it, and his generals and hunting comrades have at times enough to do with him when his blood is up. You must have heard of his adventures; certainly some are exaggerated, but you can trust to Faizi, who has been present at many, and who will tell you about them some day.”

Thus talking they wandered on, and at last having seen all they wished, turned towards the city. Suddenly Siddha stood still, struck with astonishment: his eye had accidentally fallen on the hauda of a magnificently caparisoned elephant, and the lady he there saw, with one or two others leaning back on the silken cushions, could be no other than Rezia! Her thin veil fastened with diamonds had been pushed on one side, there could be no mistake, and there by her side was the well-known servant. But what was she doing here, she who lived in solitude, carefully hidden from all eyes—just at this moment, too, when she believed that Siddha had marched with the army! Could she have deceived him? could she be other than she had told him?

As calmly and indifferently as was possible, he asked his companion, pointing to Rezia, who had not seen him among the foot passengers—“Do you know that lady?”