k.u.mran looked round his n.o.bles, then into his own heart. What he saw there was such a tissue of lies and deceit that he could find no clear decision; so, as usual, he temporised. "It is worth a trial," he murmured. "I might ask for much."

"Ask for all and everything," said Dearest-Lady, who felt she had gained her point; "I make but one condition. The child must remain unharmed until I return."

Again k.u.mran hesitated. Again he looked in his own heart. Again he found no clear cause for decision there; so he said doubtfully:

"Until you return?"

"Nay! swear it," came the high, insistent voice. "Say before them all, 'By the memory of my dear father no harm shall come to the child ere you return.'"

Half unwillingly k.u.mran repeated the words and Dearest-Lady gave a sigh of relief. She had gained her point. But now that she had to face the consequences of her offer to go forth and meet Humayon her heart sank within her; for she was very old and not over strong. The journey was long; winter was coming on fast. Still it had to be done, and at once.

For k.u.mran's promise of safety to the Heir-to-Empire was only _during her absence_, and who knew whether his craft might not claim freedom to do as he chose ere she started!

So she made her arrangements for that very evening, and she had much to do. To begin with she must see the Heir-to-Empire the very last thing, and make certain that he was well cared for. Then she had to arrange for the safety and comfort of Head-nurse, Foster-mother and little Bija, for it was unlikely they would be allowed to be with the little Prince. He must, however, have some one with him to whom the child was accustomed, and Roy, being still quite a lad, might not be considered dangerous.

Then his gift of story-telling might make the ladies in the women's apartments more inclined to have him. Anyhow she must try her best to secure his stopping with his young master, and to this end she ordered him some fine clothes and gave him a finely bedizened lute; for since he came to Kabul they had found out that he could play the _vina_ beautifully.

Thus just before sunsetting, leaving poor Head-nurse and Foster-mother in floods of tears, while poor little Bija was sobbing her very heart out, and good dog Tumbu was slowly wagging his tail as his eyes asked sorrowfully if he might not come, too, she started on her journey, going round by the Chief Palace on her way.

Now, Dearest-Lady's visits were considered to be an honour, so she had no difficulty in gaining admittance. And once inside the women's apartments she simply turned to the first attendant and said curtly that she had come to see the Heir-to-Empire and say farewell to him; therefore he must either be brought to her or she must go to him.

Boldness succeeded, as it always does, and she was shown into a room where she found little Prince Akbar playing contentedly with Down the cat, who was running about after a ball like a young kitten. She stopped when she saw Dearest-Lady, and giving an apologetic _miaow_, as who should say, "I was obliged to amuse him somehow," settled herself down on the rug and began as usual to purr. Of course Mirak forgot all about her in his joy at seeing Dearest-Lady and Roy, and it was some time before the former could ask the attendant how the cat had managed to get there.

"Highness," said the woman, "it is impossible to keep cats out if they want to come in. She appeared at the window three times, and three times I put her downstairs. Then I gave in. It is no use quarrelling with cats."

Meanwhile notice of Her Highness Dearest-Lady's arrival had reached k.u.mran's wife and she hastened to little Akbar's prison room. But once more Dearest-Lady was bold and took the first word.

"I came to bid the boy farewell, content to trust him to thy kind care, my niece," she said; "and also to leave with him this Rajput singer, who has the art of amusing the child--and other folk also. Roy! sing us one of thy tales, that the Princess may hear thee."

And Roy, knowing his part, sang as he had never sung before. "I will sing of how the palm squirrels helped the Great Ram to find his wife, Sita the Peerless, whom the wicked Giant Ravana had carried off. We sing it to the squirrels when we feed them in our country. Perhaps Her Highness does not know what a palm squirrel is. It is tiny, tiny, no bigger than a rat, but it has a bushy tail and four dark stripes like finger marks down its goldy-coloured back. And it never does anything but play, is never anything but happy; and this is why":

Then he smote the strings of the _vina_ till they thrilled again, and began, his high voice warbling and carolling like a summer bird.

"Pretty! Pretty! Pretty! are you there, my sweet, In your leafy seat, where the branches meet?

Wasting all the sunny hours Pulling down the mango flowers With your dainty feet.

"Pretty, prettiest thing yawning as you lie Watching with glad eye, busy life go by.

Not the tiniest sense of duty In your careless days, my beauty, 'Neath the cloudless sky.

"Happiest, merriest ways, Knowing no gainsays, so the story says, Since the Great Ram loved and blessed you, With his care-worn hand caressed you, In the olden days.

"Then, when he was seeking Sita, peerless maid, By his foes dismayed, Ram, her lover, bade All the beasts and birds and fishes Leave their play to do his wishes, Fight to give him aid.

"And the golden squirrel sprang at his behest, Nestled to his breast, first to join the quest.

But Great Ram's grave eyes grew tender, Smiled upon the warrior slender, Braver than the rest!

"'Nay! thou art too pretty! fearless little heart, Thou should'st have no part in Strife's bitter art; Live to show man, worn and weary, One blythe soul for ever cheery, Free from sorrow's smart.'

"Laid his kind hand softly on its golden hair, So palm squirrels bear, where Ram's fingers were, Four dark shadows on them, showing Gladdest life must lose its glowing From the touch of care.

"So the squirrels' birthright is to want for naught, Have no grief or thought, know not 'must' or 'ought.'

Yet upon their gold there lingers Shades of care, that Great Ram's fingers For their blessing wrought."

"_Wah! Wah!_" cried the Queen, delighted. "He can stop if he likes."

Ten minutes after Roy had finished his song Dearest-Lady's litter paused for a moment on a high-perched corner of the road towards Kandahar, to give her a last look of the fair city of Kabul. Her bright old face was bright still, undimmed by care. She was old and frail, she was going a wearisome, trying journey; yet, for the present, she knew that she had saved the Heir-to-Empire's life. That at any rate was secure until she returned--and she might never return! The thought made her smile.

"Forward, slaves!" she cried cheerfully, and Kabul, the city she loved so well, was left behind without one regret.

And she was right. She had saved the Heir-to-Empire's life; for at that very minute the door of little Prince Akbar's room opened wide, and Roy starting up found himself face to face with cruel Uncle k.u.mran followed by two men with drawn swords. And, alas for Roy! he had no sword to draw, for Old Faithful's sabre did not fit the disguise of a Rajput bard. Despite that, he stepped forward boldly, though his heart beat to suffocation. For k.u.mran's face was cruel indeed.

Still, for one second, the latter's attention was distracted. He had wanted no witnesses to what he meant to do.

"How camest thou hither, slave?" he asked fiercely.

And Roy gave him back the simple truth, no more, no less; but it was sufficient.

"Her Highness Khanzada Khanum brought me hither to be with the Heir-to-Empire ere she left at sunset."

k.u.mran started back. "Left? Hath she left already?" he asked, his face paling. So he stood for a moment irresolute, the words of his own oath pealing through his brain, "By the memory of my father I promise." That was not one which any son of Babar's was ever likely to break. "Sheath your swords, fools!" he said at last bitterly; "they are not needed. I am not the first man who has been outwitted by a woman."

CHAPTER XVII

IMPRISONMENT

But if k.u.mran was let and hindered by his oath from actually killing the Heir-to-Empire in cold blood, or, in lesser degree, from treating him so harshly that he might die, he did not feel so bound towards the others; and being cruel by nature, he set to work upon them at once.

Foster-father he sent to the State prison, which was down a well in the big courtyard. There were two of these prison-wells, in which the water was reached by a flight of steep steps, and where dark, underground cells opened on to the deep silent pool. They were terribly damp, but here poor Foster-father had to drag out long, miserable days, cut off even from news of the others. Until one day, just when the sentry was eating his mid-day meal, he heard a violent barking, and by swinging himself up by the bars of the tiny shaft of the well he could just get a glimpse of Tumbu on the steps. Why had he come? Perhaps he had been sent; if so he would come again at the same time. All that night Foster-father lay awake, feverishly wondering what Tumbu had meant, and all the next morning, having no means of telling the time, he waited and waited anxiously, until, just as he was beginning to give up hope, the familiar bark echoed down the well, and there was good old Tumbu on the steps! So he must have been sent by some one; and therefore some one must be alive and desire him to know the fact.

In truth, both his wife, Foster-mother, and Head-nurse had been racking their brains how to find out where either the Heir-to-Empire or Foster-father were imprisoned until little Bija had said, "Tell Tumbu to seek for them. If you show him Mirak's cap and say, 'Go seek,' he will go."

And so he did; but it was a long, long time before he found out where Mirak had hidden himself, for he had gone to the big palace in a litter, and so had left no trace. Then little Bija came to the rescue once more.

"You say, Foster-mother, that you feel sure that Down must have gone away to keep Mirak company. Now she _can't_ be prisoned, 'cos cats won't be caught unless they want to be caught, and she doesn't want to be, _of course_. So she must be going about, so why don't you tell Tumbu to seek for Down; then we should find where Mirak was."

"But we haven't got anything of Down's to show him," argued Foster-mother. And that was a puzzler.

At last Head-nurse said, "I believe all cats have the same smell, else why do all dogs go after all cats? At any rate, it would be worth trying."

So they got a fine, large, handsome white cat in the bazaar, and said to Tumbu, "Go seek!" And then there was the most awful scrimmage that ever was seen. Tumbu was after the cat in a second, and the cat jumped for protection on Head-nurse, and Head-nurse howled, while Tumbu deafened everybody by yowls; for the cat had caught him on the nose!

Peace was not restored till p.u.s.s.y had made her escape back to the bazaar through the window.

"That was not a success," sighed poor Head-nurse as she put herself tidy; but after all it was not such a failure, since, either from putting two and two together, or by mere chance, Tumbu appeared the very next day barking and frolicking after his usual fashion when he wanted them to go out, and then led them straight to a lonely corner of the palace garden, whence, looking upwards, they could plainly see Down seated on a narrow window sill. And the next moment, hearing the familiar bark, who should pop his head out of the window but Roy!

"All's well," he whispered rapidly seeing them below him; then withdrew his head swiftly. For he had determined never by anything or in any way to risk being sent away from the little Heir-to-Empire.

But the others were more than satisfied with the whisper.

"Now," said little Bija, who was beginning to manage her nurses, "Tumbu must find Foster-father and tell _him_." And this, we have seen, he did.