Swords From the Desert (41 page)

"Nay," she smiled at him, "is it not the pleasure of my lord to cross the river at sunrise? And the hours of sleep are few."

"The ata khanate need not move until the cool of the evening," murmured Jahangir, "and I will sleep late. Have I not given command to hold no dawn audience?"

She had slipped to the carpet below him, and her arm rested across his fat knee that quivered a little when he breathed. Who can make clear with words what his eyes have seen? I saw that Nur-Mahal had draped herself in white, the folds of the linen hiding her shoulders and hips. Her eyes were of great size and almost as dark as the hair that was drawn back tight from her white forehead. One thing at a time I noticed, but always this. She wore no veil.

Eh, my pulse beat fast and strong. Unveiled, she had come into Iny presence, paying no heed to me. Though the Moguls made no great point of screening their women, still the favorite wife, the Light of the Palace, would not have revealed herself to one who would go from her presence and boast of it. Beyond doubt she did not mean for me to leave the pavilion.

"True, my conqueror," she said lightly. "So was the command wisely given. With the rebellious Rajputs drawing ever closer to our lines, one thing must be done swiftly. Surely we must put the river between us and their array."

"They advance?"

"With the last light Payanda Mirza beheld a band of two hundred horsed and in the brush trails."

Jahangir frowned, twisting his cup in his fingers. Nur-Mahal took it from him and laid it aside, as a trusted servant might remove some object in the way of his master. She spoke of the movements of Mahabat Khan with authority and clearness, without pleading or complaining.

Indeed I had heard that she herself directed the movements of the mansabdars, who were the officers of the Mogul. Until now I had not believed.

"When we are across the Bihat we can deal with the unfortunate ones who have raised their standard against us," she went on, watching the face of Jahangir from beneath heavy lashes. "Shah'lam hath brought thee a score of hunting leopards," she smiled, "and an elephant trained to fighting. They await thee, across the river."

No word she uttered concerning Mahabat Khan, but she had made the Mogul restless and uncertain. Until she entered the chamber he had spoken with authority, suspicious and hesitant, but open in mind. Now he waited upon her words, irritable and impatient, but confiding in her.

"Perhaps the Rajputs are merely making their way to some chieftain's hold, in the cool of the night," Nur-Mahal murmured, "or they may be coming to give their allegiance to us."

Jahangir grunted and breathed heavily.

"Asaf Khan," she laughed as if a little amused, "hath discovered a new hakim for thee, 0 lord of my heart. An Arab, who pretends to be well versed in bloodletting, who gave to my brother four pearls of size and good color. Three will Asaf Khan give over to thee. But this Arab hakim hath no mind to give thee more than a dagger such as that by thy hand."

Jahangir glanced at the yama-dhara and, angrily, at me. He rolled over on his haunches, like a badgered bear.

"A physician?" he muttered.

"Who tended one of the Rajput chieftains, the Rao of Malwa, Man Singh, during a fever and had a great reward from him."

Eh, Nur-Mahal chattered on, like a child with news to tell, and I wondered. I wondered how she had learned this, until I remembered the Persian hakim who had been a spy and had been beaten and cast off by the Rajput chieftain. No doubt he had sold his story well!

And now I knew that the coming of Nur-Mahal had not been by chance. There had been women who listened behind the screen, and had hastened to her as swiftly as limbs could take them.

She pressed against Jahangir's knee, to brush her fingers across his forehead, whispering softly. His eyes closed and opened without purpose. Verily of the twain, she was the one to command and he to question and scold-a woman's part. She had ordered the moving of the lashgar when she heard of the small party of Rajputs, or, more likely, she had used this as an excuse.

And now she beguiled and soothed the sick man into forgetfulness, until he reached out for his wine cup and his hand fell by chance on my scimitar.

In that instant a change came over him. His eyes cleared, and his lips tightened. He sat upright, like a man with a purpose.

"Go, Ibn Athir," he said clearly. "But tell Mahabat Khan he must come alone, and across the Bihat to me."

Nur-Mahal seemed to pay no attention, though Jahangir watched her. But when I advanced again to take my sword, she signed for one of the guards to bear it from the chamber.

Having permission to depart, I made the triple salaam of leavetaking and rose, from the last bending in the entrance.

At the instant I stood erect, the hangings were let fall before my eyes, shutting out sight of Jahangir and the Light of the Palace. And then all sight was reft from me. A heavy cloth was cast over my head from behind, and something closed around my throat, gripping tight through the cloth.

Who may escape his fate? I groped with my hands for the girdles of my assailants, seeking weapons, and feeling nothing. The noose about my throat put an end to breathing and by it I was dragged over carpets, until a red fire blazed up within my eyeballs and all strength left me.

Then the cloth and the noose were withdrawn, and in time I knew that I was bound at the wrists and knees, in darkness.

My head pained me and my throat ached. An hour might have passed before a torch appeared suddenly in the rift of a curtain and I rolled over, to stare up into the dark eyes of Nur-Mahal and the faces of a dozen armed men.

"Think, Ibn Athir," she cried, placing her slippered foot upon my throat under the chin and pressing down, so that pain anew shot through me, "think of this! It is unwise to meddle with strange affairs, and thy reward shall be to be carried upon the road in the carts of Asaf Khan, who will cover thee well with the fresh skin of an ox, sewn all about thee. Think-the sun is strong and great with heat, and an ox hide dries faster than any other."

Then, her foot still upon my throat, she bade her followers search me. They found nothing but the three pearls that were to have bribed Asaf Khan.

Chapter VI The Fate of Ind

Until dawn I heard movement all around me. Horses trotted by in the distance, ox drivers muttered and swore, and carts creaked under heavy loads. Near my head the sounds were of bare feet moving about.

In all this time the eyes of Nur-Mahal were in my mind, the lustrous eyes of a proud and beautiful woman. She alone must have had me bound, keeping it secret from the sick and besotted man who lay upon pillows and played with a jeweled cup. She had set me aside from her path as I might have flicked a scorpion with my staff.

And Mahabat Khan-for what reason did she seek his ruin? Had he offended her, or had he grown too powerful? No doubt her spies had beheld him on the road, and he had been taken and beaten by officers of the Mogul, who said the command had come from Jahangir.

So I reflected, and in time the light came. The stout mansabdar appeared at my side with two swordsmen.

"Pleasant by thy prayers," he grinned, bidding the men cut the bonds from my ankles. "The cart waits and the hide is ready."

We went forth through the corridors of the great pavilion. At this hour the sun did not yet shine full into the valley, and a light mist hung over the river, casting its veil amid the clumps of cypresses and the high plain trees. I had come forth on a carpet of red damask that stretched from the pavilion entrance down to the mist.

The khanate had been removed, and I saw throngs of servants vanishing into the mists with their loads.

Overhead the blue of the sky became clearer, and the veil of mist thinned slowly. The mansabdar stood waiting for his horse to be brought and watching the last of the elephants go down toward the bridge of boats.

I also was watching the outline of the bridge take shape, wondering whether it were better to try to run from my guards and throw myself into the river. Few men were about-the tail ends of followers. The lashgar with its guns and armed bands had all crossed over.

At last I could see the gray-blue bed of the river, over the steep clay bank. And I saw a horseman trotting through the high grass toward us. The sun shone full into our eyes and the rider was within a spear's length before I knew him.

It was Mahabat Khan. Behind him rode a score, and after these still other Rajputs galloped across the trampled fields.

The officer beside me shaded his eyes and peered up, his teeth striking together sharply.

"Ohai! This is indeed presumption! Mahabat Khan, wait and I will go in and announce thee."

"Nay Salim Bai, I will go in before thee, this time."

The dark eyes of the khan met the startled gaze of the officer, and Salim Bai drew back several paces. The twenty who escorted the Pathan clattered up and some reined their steeds before the officer of the Mogul. Still others surrounded the great pavilion swiftly.

Servants came forth from the entrances and stared in wonder. The two men who had been watching me sheathed their weapons and went away. In all perhaps two hundred Rajputs had come to the ata khanate with drawn swords and dark faces.

And Mahabat Khan lost no least moment of opportunity. Eh, he was a leader, above all, a man fit to lead cavalry in a raid. Paying no attention to the bewildered servants or the irresolute Salim Bai, he summoned twoscore of his riders who carried bundles upon their cruppers. These he loosed like a flight of pigeons down the slope toward the river, galloping recklessly through the tail of miserable camp followers, until they dipped down the steep clay bank and smote the few guards who had been left at this end of the bridge of boats.

My blood warmed at the sight. The Mogul's men knew not what to expect, but they drew their weapons when the hard riding Rajputs were within a few paces of them. Some of the guards tried to mount their horses; some tried to form across the first planks of the bridge.

In a moment the Rajputs had broken them, knocking men and beasts into the swift current of the river and clearing the end of the bridge. Then they dismounted and fell to work with axes, cutting through the bottoms of the boats, cutting the lashings that held them together. From the bundles they had carried they took dried rushes and flax and kindled fire in this, starting a blaze in many of the boats that were swinging out into the current now. More than half of the bridge was destroyed in this way.

And, mounted proudly upon my black Tatar charger that scamp, Jami, reined up to me, tugging his own pony behind.

"Ohai sahib," he laughed, "they have trussed thee like a goat that is to be slain. I have ridden many leagues since the first light."

But he slid down by the stirrup that dangled far below his bare foot and cut the cords that held my wrists at my back. He used a half-moon dab ger of a poor sort that he must have picked up in the disordered camp or begged from a servant. And he boasted without truth that the horses had carried him far, for the charger's coat was smooth, his limbs dry.

"The praise to the Compassionate!" I cried, stretching forth my arms.

Mahabat Khan glanced at me swiftly and nodded; then, seeing the boats burning out upon the river and all the armed forces of the lashgar save a retinue of young warriors waiting to escort the women of Jahangir on the far side of the river, he spoke to the chieftains near him and reined toward the imperial pavilion.

Nay, he did not dismount. Whipping out his light saber, he slashed down the entrance hanging and bent his head, urging his horse into the corridor between the tapestries. Several followed him in this manner and Jami quivered with excitement.

"Let us go in, my master," he whispered. "There will be a tumult, and-"

He meant there would be spoil for the taking. Without a weapon I followed, and the Rajputs made way for me with courteous greeting since they knew me for the man who had befriended the Rao. The horse of Mahabat Khan stood before the entrance of the audience chamber, pawing at the red damask underfoot.

Mahabat Khan himself paced forward slowly, and made a salaam, but without touching the carpet with his hand. Sitting among the disordered pillows, blinking in the sunlight, Jahangir the Mogul, without attendants and without armed men, faced him silently.

Mahabat Khan advanced to the feet of the Mogul and stretched forth his arms, holding high his head.

"I have come," he cried in a clear voice, "because the enmity of Asaf Khan hath sought my death."

In the court of the Mogul it was forbidden to pronounce this word, and Jahangir's dull eyes blazed with anger.

"If I am guilty of any wrong," went on the Pathan grimly, "I ask only to be put to death in thy presence; if I am blameless, it shall be known to thee."

At first Jahangir had trembled, his heavy hands moving across his weak knees. Verily, he had been roused from sleep a moment before, and he had seen me standing among the Rajputs at the chamber entrance. Perhaps he thought I had summoned Mahabat Khan out of the night, but surely he knew at once that he was a captive. The fleeing servants, the chieftains with bared swords, told him this.

So he sat upright, like a sick lion, barely showing his teeth, and striving to gather his wits together.

"Did I not send for thee?" he asked in his deep voice. "The sight of thee rejoices my heart, for with thee beside me I am safe from harm. Sit!"

Mahabat Khan hesitated for the space of a breath. The Rajput princes beside me murmured, fingering their sword hilts. They hated Jahangir, yet served him, as their fathers had served Akbar, his father. Their blood was up, and at that moment they would have rushed in upon the bloated and cruel Mogul, the alien who was master of Ind. By a stroke of the sword they would have made an end of him.

The Pathan, who was still faithful to the Mogul, seated himself at the edge of the carpet. Jahangir cried for his servants to bring wine, but no one came. Alone, with drug-dulled brain, he looked from one to the other, as if waking from a long sleep-he who had had men flayed alive and the skin torn from them for a whim.