Chapter XVII

The love of a being, composed, like thyself, of water and clay,
destroy thy patience and peace of mind; it excites thee, in thy
waking hours, with minute beauties, and engages thee in thy sleep,
with vain imaginations. With such zeal dost thou lay thy head on
her foot, that the universe, in comparison of her, vanishes into
nothing before thee. Not a breath dost thou utter to any one else;
for, with her, thou hast no room for any other. Thou declarest,
that her abode is in thine eye; or, when thou closest it, in thy
heart. Thou hast no fear of censure from any man; thou hast no
power to be at rest for a moment. If she demand thy soul, it runs
instantly to thy lip.

BUSTAN, Book 3.

Acbar could not have selected an officer, in every respect, more competent to the duties which the state of Cashmere at that period demanded from its governor, than Shere Afkun. His pre-eminent personal prowess, his mild demeanour, his attention to the wants of his troops, his prudence in undertaking enterprises, and his valour in carrying them into execution, rendered him one of the most popular chieftains in the empire. When in the camp, there was no distinction observable between his diet and that of the meanest soldier in his army. There was a slight love of show evinced in his dress; but even that frailty endeared him the more to his men, as it tended to set off to advantage the fine figure by which he was distinguished.

None of the instructions of the prime minister, Fazeel, were more acceptable to him than those by which he was directed to provide the most energetic measures for the administration of justice, throughout every department of his government; and at the same time, for relieving the distresses of those families who had remained faithful to the emperor, but whose possessions had been laid waste by the insurgents. Afkun extended the new regulations to all those whom he found afflicted by the events of the civil war, to whatever party they belonged. He preferred conciliation to persecution; and while with one hand he held the sabre, and carried fire and destruction into the quarters of the obstinate foes of Acbar, in the other he bore the laws with which he was entrusted, offering pardon and protection to those who were disposed to return to the paths of submission and order.

The well-known character of the governor preceded him to Cashmere, where his arrival acted like a charm upon the different parties, who were engaged in contending for the supremacy. Most of the higher noblemen of the province speedily rallied round his standard, and enabled him to march with an imposing force against the rebels, who were still in arms. The reports that reached the emperor from other sources, detailed the difficulties against which Afkun had to make way, as much more serious than he admitted them to be in any of his despatches. Several engagements had taken place in the course of a few months, which were treated by the governor as mere skirmishes; but it appeared, in point of fact, that not only had they required incessant vigilance, superior skill, and indefatigable activity on his part, but that to his single arm alone, unquailing under the pressure of alarming vicissitudes in the field, and sometimes of defections, at critical moments, on the part of those who had promised assistance both in men and provisions, the complete re-conquest of the province was to be attributed.

The emperor, though now somewhat advanced in years, attended with peculiar exultation to the triumphant progress of his arms in Cashmere. No person could have better appreciated than himself, the arrangements devised and executed by Afkun, for the security of the tranquil districts, and for the subjugation of those whose fidelity wavered, even for a moment. The name of the chieftain was never mentioned in his presence, without calling forth a high eulogy upon the mode in which he performed every part of the duties entrusted to his care. The deeds of the Turcomanian were the perpetual theme of the courtiers, who, in this instance at least, were sincere in the praises which they bestowed. He was the hero of the day; his proceedings were the subject of many a tale and ballad, accompanied with rude portraits of the warrior, which bore, perhaps, as much resemblance to his features, as they did to those of Baber, or Timur, or any other leader who had ever obtained renown in Hindostan.

The fame of Afkun, of course, reached the ears of Mher-Ul-Nissa, whom the gossip of the palace, as well as the gratitude of the people of the capital, had already assigned to the Turcomanian, as the most acceptable reward he could receive, for the important services which he had rendered to the empire. Her beauty was scarcely less celebrated than his valour. Her charms could scarcely, indeed, have been exaggerated; but poetry had full scope for the exercise of its licence, as Mher-Ul-Nissa was seldom seen abroad, unless when with her mother she attended the principal mosque at the conclusion of the Ramazan, or the other great festivals of the year.

Among the attendants of Mher-Ul-Nissa, was a pale Circassian girl, named Kanun, descended from a family which had once held princely rank in her own country. There was a peculiar gentleness in the manners of this slave, which gained for her the sympathy and confidence of her young mistress. She was tall for her age; her features, though regular, were marked rather by an interesting expression, than by decided beauty; she was a skilful embroiderer, played the tambourine and dulcimer to perfection, and had a memory abundantly stored with tales, with which she frequently amused her mistress, as well as the whole circle of her companions, while they sat at work in the chamber assigned them for that purpose.

It was remarked by her fellow slaves, that for some time after the departure of Afkun from the capital, Kanun looked paler than ever, and that her memory, usually so perfect, had failed to supply her with the succession of stories which she had been previously accustomed to relate for their entertainment, especially of those that were relieved occasionally by scenes of drollery, with which she used often to make them laugh by the hour, until they would entreat her to desist. For some reason or other, she seemed lately to have forgotten every kind of narrative, that did not bear on the actions of brave warriors, and she felt the greatest delight in repeating the ballads which had been circulated through Agra, in praise of the governor of Cashmere.

Sometimes Kanun sat with Mher-Ul-Nissa, beneath her favourite plane-tree, in the garden; and while both were engaged in embroidery, she would relate to her mistress, with a minuteness of detail that lost nothing in her hands, the most recent reports which had arrived from Cashmere. Whatever was authentic in those communications, Mher-Ul-Nissa had, of course, already heard from her father, who perceived, with unaffected pleasure, that she listened with more and more earnestness, every day, to the tidings which he brought of his young friend’s glorious career. But nothing surprised or amazed the intelligent mind of the mistress, more than the marvellous additions, which the slave either invented herself, or related from the information of others, concerning almost every transaction, even the most trifling, in which the Turcomanian chief had any share. His very appearance in the field of battle filled the enemy with terror; he slew thousands with his own sabre, as he plunged into the midst of their ranks; arrows and javelins showered upon him by the foe, instead of injuring him, formed an iron canopy over his head, protecting him from every danger. There was a virtue in his touch, which cured the wounded; the genii bestowed upon him elephant-loads of gold, which he distributed amongst the poor, and above all, he was the idol of the women, wherever he went. Kanun positively assured her mistress, that the governor had already a harem more numerous than either the emperor or the prince Selim, and that the most beautiful of the sex in the royal establishments, was deformity itself, when compared to the houris, whom Mahomet had already sent to reward the valour of Afkun.

“Why all this to me, Kanun?” exclaimed Mher-Ul-Nissa, displeased with the girl for touching so freely on this latter topic.

“Ah! it is too true! Alas! I fear he will never come to Agra again;--never more shall we see his fine manly form, and his waving plumes, among these groves!”

“So, so! you remember him then! I was not aware you had ever beheld him.”

“That tower, which you see peeping above the palace, commands almost every part of the garden.”

“And so, whenever Afkun came hither with my father, you watched all their movements.”

“That tower is a favourite place with us all. We have views from it over a great part of the capital, and the surrounding country. Therefore, if Afkun happened to be here, you know we could not help seeing him.”

“Were your companions as great admirers of him as you seem to have been?”

“Ah! who that had once beheld that noble Turcomanian, could have done otherwise than adore him?”

“What a deep drawn sigh was there! Why surely, Kanun, you are not in love with the viceroy of Cashmere?”

“I know not----but this I am sure of; had I been Mher-Ul-Nissa, I should certainly not have refused him that lily of the valley!”

“What do you mean?” asked the mistress, blushing deeply, on finding that there had been eyes in the tower, from which her last interview with the chieftain had not been concealed.

“Why, I mean that I should not only have given him the lily, but the whole bouquet of the prince into the bargain. Only compare them for a moment together.--Afkun young, handsome, brave, wise, with a heart entirely devoted to you. I do believe he would have kissed the very ground on which you walked. Then think of the prince,--the heir of the empire it is true--but with a harem full of wives--not one of whom he loves--wandering about the streets, often in the disguise of a common beggar, with a set of low companions, whom he leads into all sorts of disgraceful practices, drinking with them wine by night and day. No, no! there is no comparison between two such persons! Afkun is indeed a man. Selim is nothing better than a ----.”

“Hush! for Allah’s sake! You must be mad, Kanun, to speak in this manner before me of the future emperor of Hindostan.”

Kanun, who observed the half smile with which this reproof was conveyed, was proceeding to relate one of the newest pieces of scandal which had been circulated about the prince, when she started suddenly on her feet, as if she had been bitten by a snake. “It is divine! What an exquisite lutanist! And there is a guitar, too, and a dulcimer! I thought I myself performed on that instrument moderately well; but after hearing that last shake I shall never touch it again!”

“The music must be somewhere near us, Kanun!”

“It is here, among the cedars.”

“Ah! I see; it is a little stratagem of my father, to provide what he well knows is to me the most fascinating of all amusements!”

“Both the air and words are new.”

While Mher-Ul-Nissa and her attendant were listening with equally pleased attention, the musicians gradually, but respectfully, approached the plane-tree, still continuing a ballad descriptive of the feelings of a young warrior, who was obliged, by the dictates of duty, to separate himself from his mistress at the moment that she had plighted to him her faith. The soldier fought his way to glory; and the composition, apparently the production of no ordinary hand, concluded with the incidents of a combat, in which he fell beneath the superior power of his enemy. This was followed by another poem, set to music, of a most pathetic character, in which the unhappy maid, who had followed her hero to the wars, was portrayed wandering over the field of battle, until she found him of whom she was in search, but now cold upon the bare ground, with no covering save the canopy of heaven. The agonies of the lover were then told with such effect, both in the verse and the music, that Mher-Ul-Nissa, moved even to tears, unable to restrain her apprehensions, desired Kanun to ask the minstrels whether this ballad were no more than the invention of a poet, or whether indeed it related in any manner to Afkun.

The Circassian girl heard not the command given her: all her attention was devoted to the lutanist, who, though he at first touched the instrument with inimitable grace, seemed for some time to have lost his powers of execution, and to employ all his faculties in observing the change that took place in the countenance of Mher-Ul-Nissa. There was something, too, in the appearance of the musician, which reminded Kanun so strongly of Afkun himself, that she watched his looks and movements with the same intense curiosity which he betrayed in following those of her mistress.

“Alas, Kanun!” exclaimed Mher-Ul-Nissa, resting her hand for support on the shoulder of her attendant, “should this be the true history of Afkun!”

“He would be the happiest of men, even in death,” added the lutanist, falling on one knee before her; “for he would then be wept as he now is by Mher-Ul-Nissa. These tears repay me for every danger,--for what was still more afflicting to me, the long season of fearful doubts which I have spent since my departure from Agra.”

Kanun was all rapture on account of the return of the chieftain. She ran off to her companions to be the first to communicate the joyful intelligence; leaving her mistress in the care of her lover, and altogether forgetting whether, at such a moment, her services might not have been much more necessary under the plane-tree than in the embroidery chamber. The clamour which they all set up, drew the attention of Mangeli, who was engaged in hearing her husband reading a letter from Afkun, announcing his immediate return to Agra. Though not prepared for his appearance so speedily, and that too in the disguise of a lutanist, it need hardly be added, that on once more beholding their young friend, covered as he was now with fresh glories, and manifestly accepted as the future spouse of their beloved daughter, their delight was at least as sincere, though not quite so enthusiastically expressed, as that of the Circassian maid herself.