Chapter II

Oh! that I were a shepherd boy,
Upon some green hill side;
Fair flocks and herds my only joy,
A pipe my only pride!
Then far from war and thee I’d stray
In search of peace alone,
Courting the shade the live-long day,
Unknowing and unknown.

The birds that with sweet rapture greet
The morn, my mates would be;
And ocean murmuring at my feet,
Would lend its minstrelsy
To soothe the anguish of this breast,
That once lived on thy smile,
Nor feared, while in its sunshine blest,
’Twas meant but to beguile!

But no,--I ne’er shall thee accuse,
Thy heart no falsehood stains:
’Twas Fancy gave thy cheek those hues,
That held my soul in chains.
Forget thy vow--the heaven I felt,
Believing thou wert mine;
And think the valley where we knelt,
A visionary shrine!

STORY-TELLER OF CASHMERE.

The drawbridge being passed by the whole party, was, on the instant, raised by the warders of the castle, one of whom stated to Afkun, in a low voice, that not only the van-guards, but the imperial troops, had been just seen from the watch-tower, descending the mountains, and approaching rapidly towards the capital.

“Oh! thanks to Allah!” exclaimed Nourmahal, who over-heard the communication.

The warder looked no less astonished than the subah, who controlled his feelings, however, until having alighted, he assisted his consort to dismount, and conducted her to her chamber.

“What am I to understand, Nourmahal, from these words you have just uttered?”

“That I am transported with the hope of soon again beholding my beloved parents!”

Afkun had not seen Nourmahal betray so much emotion, since the morning she quitted Agra. He could not comprehend it. It came upon him as if a thunder-cloud broke upon his head.

“Yes, Afkun--my parents--your friends--they are, or will speedily be with the army. Zeinedeen has informed me so; and may Allah grant that my father’s presence, his unfailing wisdom, his just influence with both the contending parties, may bring these dire contests to a peaceable issue!”

“I was not prepared for this. The high chancellor, Kazim;--he, indeed, whom I have never ceased to love--he, Nourmahal, who placed this hand in mine--if any power on earth can subdue the malice of Bochari--can extinguish that torch which has set the empire in conflagration--it must be Kazim.”

“Wonder then no longer, Afkun, at my feelings of joy.”

“I share them with you; nothing could happen which would afford me much greater happiness than to receive within our gates those two beloved sources of your existence, by you scarcely more beloved than by me.”

Nourmahal, in the flush of happiness that lightened in her countenance, thanked her husband with one of those heavenly smiles, for which, were it his to bestow, he would have given the empire of the world.

“Oh! cherished one,” he exclaimed, folding his arm round her waist, and looking in fixed rapture upon her glowing cheek--“Oh! Nourmahal--should it be Kazim’s fortune, by his sage counsels to terminate this war, consistently with the just rights of the prince, and the interests of the empire--say that we shall retire from these turmoils of lofty station, and take up our abode in some solitude, where we shall thenceforth live only for each other! Promise me but this--and for myself I shall demand no other terms.”

“My hand is yours, Afkun. You know who it was that surrendered it to your care. Never--I truly believe--never was a wife more beloved than I have been--than I am!--beloved much--far beyond my deserts”----

“That, Nourmahal, were impossible.”

“You have often--too often,” she added, turning away her eyes, “felt the insensibility with which I have met your affection--that affection ever to me the same--ever generous--ever ardent. Forgive, Afkun, these tears--they rush from all the fountains of my soul”----

“They are natural--sacred. The hope of seeing again, and soon, those whom we both so truly love”----

“Would that that were the only cause!”

“You feel no alarm for the safety of the high chancellor?”

“None--no--no. Oh, these unbidden witnesses!--they will reveal all!” exclaimed Nourmahal, endeavouring to check the tears that flooded her cheek.

Afkun trembled, fearful that some dreadful disclosure was coming. He led Nourmahal to the divan; sitting by her, he took her hand in his, and repeatedly kissing it, besought her to be comforted.

“Alas! speak not thus to me--no kind word passes your lips that is not a barbed arrow to my soul.”

“I have no suspicions, Nourmahal, of your honour--but if”----

“Say it at once--if you thought me false to you”----

“Ah, if that calamity be mine, Afkun has no further occupation in this world!”

“You would plunge your knife here?”

“Allah be my witness that I would freely pour out all my blood for you--be your guilt what it may!”

“Had you tendered me the poisoned bowl, I could now drain it to the dregs!”

“Oh! why did I not perish at Lahore? Why on the battle-field was there no sepulchre for me?”

“It is I--it is I--that should not have seen this day!”

“It is gone--the light of my heart--for ever! A hope--I will confess it--was growing there that when these contentions were over, I should abandon all pursuits of glory, and fly to some mountain home, where, dedicated entirely to thee, Nourmahal, by thee solely cherished in return, we should yield all our remaining days to the repose of well-tried affection. That vision which has cheered me through many a weary hour--which nerved my arm, and fired my soul in moments of desperate engagement--which even forbade me to remember the marks of indifference from thee that sometimes forced themselves on my attention--that enchanting vision is no more. Oh, Allah!” exclaimed the subah, rising and wringing his hands together in frantic grief--“Oh, spirit of justice!--of benevolence, for such thou must be, who rulest the world--what have I done to deserve this terrible penalty at thy hands? Nourmahal faithless to me?”----

“Understand all my guilt--but not more. Your rights as my consort--my honour as your wedded wife--remain, and ever shall remain to the last moment of my life inviolate.”

Afkun heard this declaration, made in the emphatic and dignified tone of innocence, with a manifest sense of joy. A gleam of light flashed from his livid face.

“Repeat those words--they bring back the ebbing current to my heart.”

“The daughter of the house of Ayas--I will add, the wife of Shere Afkun--knows too well the respect she owes to her family, to her honoured lord, to herself, to incur any guilt that would degrade her in her own, or in their esteem.”

“Spoken like an Ayas. Oh Heaven, I thank thee that I have lived to hear these words, happen what may! What then is there, Nourmahal, which I cannot endure--cannot forgive?”

“That which I dare not disclose to thee now, Afkun. Leave me. I am in agony.”

“Ah, the fatal truth is now before me! I read it in those tears.--The sultan!”----

“I am, indeed, betrayed. You now know that which I have long endeavoured to conceal--the fate against which I have struggled, but which my woman’s strength has not been sufficient to subdue. It is written in the books of Heaven against me.”

The warrior of a hundred fields--the slayer of the lion and the tiger--he who by his single arm rescued a besieged town from a host of invaders--and tore up the mound that turned a river from its course--fell breathless as the still-born babe beneath the withering sound of these words.

Nourmahal shrieked in alarm, fearful that the noble spirit had departed. Kanun was instantly with her. Beholding the subah fallen on the floor,--Nourmahal on her knees,--her cheeks pale,--her hands endeavouring to open his, which were still clasped,--her lips uttering incoherent cries,--the trembling maid knew not for a moment what to do. Instinctively hastening to her own room, she returned with vases of spikenard and vinegar, which she poured upon Afkun’s temples, rubbing them with all her force. Then kindling frankincense, she held it to the channels of his breath, while some of her companions, whom she called to her assistance, bore away Nourmahal to her bed-chamber. The affectionate Circassian, baring the feet of the subah, directed others to anoint them in hot oil, while she continued, until her strength was exhausted by her often-renewed exertions, to increase the nearly subsided pulse of life which she still felt in his veins. It grew stronger by degrees. The lips trembled and received again the colour of health. The eye-lids opened, and the spirit within them looked out, apparently in search of an object no longer to be seen.

“She is gone!” said Afkun, with a sob of anguish that seemed to rend his bosom; “she is gone from me. We meet no more here!”

Kanun, kneeling down by her master, gently raised his head, and prevailed upon him to taste a little sherbet. The pressure of his hand upon her burning forehead told her how much he thanked her for her services. He held her still near him. Her hair being dishevelled by her exertions, he kindly parted it, and gazed for a moment on those eyes all beaming upon him with confessions, which fell like drops of evening upon the parched flower.

“There is, at all events,” he said, in a melancholy voice, “one being who loves Afkun. Be it thine, Kanun, to preserve the urn in which my ashes shall soon be enclosed. I desire for it no other monument than this faithful lap, in which my head is now laid. Open the sepulchre sometimes,--speak to me, and let a tear witness that you love your master. Be faithful to me while you live; it will be some consolation to my afflicted spirit. And when your hour is come, let them deposit your remains with mine.”

The subah, rising gently, extricated himself from the arms of the weeping girl, who, lost to every recollection save that of her love so long suppressed, so unexpectedly recognised beyond the highest hope she had ever allowed herself to cherish, continued on the carpet as if she feared to lose the position in which she had the double happiness of restoring her lord to life, and of receiving from him permission to cherish, even beyond the grave, the only idol of her soul. It was a bequest which she would not have exchanged for a sceptre. Love never before obtained such a reward. She was inspired with the presentiment that she might be summoned, before many hours elapsed, to perform the office assigned to her, an office fraught with pangs of unutterable grief, but of grief made sacred to her by affection,--of grief dearer to her than any joy,--of grief destined, sooner or later, to seal upon them both the same tomb,--their bridal bed,--the nuptial bower, where they were never to separate!

Afkun ascended the watch-tower of the citadel, and plainly observed drawn scymitars and spear-heads flashing in the sun, through clouds of dust, in the direction of the pass through which masses of cavalry could alone enter Cashmere. Their appearance was not necessary to confirm the dark forebodings with which his mind was filled, although his reason was convinced that, in a military point of view, his position was impregnable.

Accompanied by the prince, he walked several times round the ramparts, examined the guns planted on them, sounded the fidelity of the men who formed the garrison, inspected the fountains, the stores of rice, corn, and ammunition, took into his own possession the keys of the inner gate, between which and the port-cullis, now firmly secured, the chains of the draw-bridge were coiled up. He felt satisfied that he was prepared for a blockade, not of months, but of years, if the enemy thought fit to persevere so long; as to any other species of hostility, he gave it not a moment’s reflection.

Nothing which had occurred would, however, prevent him from sending a messenger to the emperor, with letters for Kazim Ayas and Mangeli, inviting them to the castle, and proposing a truce during the period they might have permission to remain there. Having informed Nourmahal of his intention upon this point, and letters from both, addressed to the high chancellor, under cover to Jehangire, having been placed in the hands of an officer, the latter, escorted by twenty spearmen, with their shields upon their backs, set out for the encampment of the imperial army.