Chapter VI

Within his halls are heard the songs of joy,
The clash of cymbals, and the thrilling notes
Of harps, and drums, and merry feet are seen
Winding the Labyrinthine dance. But hark!
What sounds are those that echo in the air?
Are they the wailings of the infant storm?
Or come they from the regions of the dead?

HINDOO DRAMA.

Afkun hastened across the bridge, to receive the man whom he esteemed above all the other objects now left to him to love upon earth. Profound and various were the emotions with which they met on both sides. By political principle, enemies--by connexion, father and son, and as much attached to each other as if the same blood circulated in their veins,--they embraced in silence--a silence more affecting than any language could be under the circumstances. For Zeinedeen, however, as Kazim’s friend, the subah found the pleasant words of hospitality, and for Mangeli, whose palanquin he attended into the hall, those expressions of affection, which, for the moment, superseded all other thoughts.

The four palanquins, which immediately followed that of Kazim, contained his suite and the female attendants of his consort. The remaining twenty, which were closely latticed, appeared to be heavily stored with presents, over which superb Indian shawls were spread. As there was not time for disburthening the latter, the servants of the castle being all busily engaged in preparing for the festivities of the evening, the vehicles were arranged in the hall, side by side.

Kanun was in attendance, to conduct the agitated parents to the chamber where they were to see their child. As they approached it, the door of the apartment was opened. “My mother!--my father!” exclaimed that well-known voice, as Nourmahal came forth to meet them--pressing an arm round the neck of each--kissing them again and again--her eyes filled with tears--tears of that sacred joy, in which a grief still more sacred had its share.

Upon the part of the parents there was the same mysterious double emotion. The time that had elapsed since the marriage of Nourmahal appeared to have been but a day. It brought with it the conviction, however, that she whom they so deeply loved had been absent from the home of her infancy, and with that thought came the anticipation of the period when death would produce between them a separation still more enduring. Maternal and filial love summoned together, at once, these recollections of the past, these fears of the future. It was not until they again became somewhat more accustomed to the presence and voices of each other, that the feeling of delight, in thus meeting once more, charmed away their apprehensions.

Seated between the two beloved fountains of her life, Nourmahal gave herself up to all the luxury of rapture. Now looking at one dear countenance, now on the other, she examined with affectionate curiosity the changes wrought in each since last she beheld them. She was herself the subject of similar vigilance, especially from the eye of Mangeli, who had already noticed in that forehead, once so open and so innocent, variations of expression approaching to traces of care, if not of anxiety, which she had never discerned there before. It was too soon yet to inquire farther into the cause of these external changes. As their visit was to extend to several days, ample opportunities would occur for every explanation which was necessary to soothe the solicitude of a mother.

The sounds of many musical instruments from the harem, reminded Nourmahal of the commencement of the festivities, which had been prepared in honour of the subah’s guests. Having attended her parents to the apartments assigned to their use, she proceeded, with Kanun’s assistance, to arrange her toilet for the evening. No art of the Circassian could, however, succeed in restoring to the cheek of her mistress its wonted lustre. The first emotions caused by the occurrences of the evening having subsided, she dreaded the idea of again meeting Afkun--of meeting him too in the presence of those who would necessarily notice her manner towards him with peculiar anxiety. Nevertheless, the effort was to be made; and Nourmahal felt that when her resolution was put to the test, she could at all times call to her aid the powers of a mind of no common order.

It was some relief to her feelings, that when she went into the ball-room with her mother, her rapid glance around could nowhere discern the subah. He was still detained in the dining-hall, where, in addition to the Prince and Kazim, several omrahs, and the principal officers of the garrison, were engaged in consultation upon the propositions which had been made by the emperor. Meantime masqued figures, arrayed in every variety of fanciful costume, some as veteran dames, whose business it was to go from harem to harem to arrange love affairs--some as gipsies, who had the power to predict fortunes--some as pilgrims, on their way to Mecca--some as story-tellers and reciters of poetry--some as poor ballad-singers, lame and querulous, with a patch on one eye, indicative of recent battle--some as doctresses, skilled in those most baffling of all maladies, the diseases of the heart--some as holy dervishes, full of all sorts of sanctified admonitions for inexperienced maidens--some as slaves, just arrived from Mingrelia, and offering to sell themselves to the highest bidder--were moving about in all directions.

In one place an auction was going on, at which the auctioneer was most eloquent in describing the charms of his own wife, whom he wished to sell, as it was his intention to retire altogether from matrimonial life. He had vowed, he said, to write a theological work in forty volumes; he found study inconsistent with wedded occupations, his wife complaining, very naturally, that he devoted more of his time to books than he did to her; they therefore both agreed to part upon the most amicable terms. He spoke of her eyes as rivals to the evening star, displayed her ringlets as stolen from the head of a sleeping goddess, and her face as the model of female beauty. The lady was closely covered all the time, by way of consulting her modesty, which would have blushed at such eulogies. Prices ran high. A hundred rupees soon swelled to five hundred--then to a thousand--two--three--four thousand. A sonorous voice having cried out ten thousand, the bargain was at once struck, the lady was unveiled, when she turned out to be an old beldame, with a face furrowed by wrinkles, a solitary eye, and a pile of black hair, stolen, indeed, as the auctioneer said, from some quarter or another. The buyer appealed to all that were present against the fraud practised upon him; but they unanimously decided the bargain to be irrevocable, and he was compelled to take his purchase home, amidst the laughter of the assembly.

In another quarter actors were engaged in the performance of a drama, the interest of which turned upon a dispute between two gossipping dames, as to which of them was entitled to the higher reward for bringing about a recent marriage. One alleged, that she was the first to mention the gentleman to the lady--the other, that she was the first to mention the lady to the gentleman. One swore, that in one day she took seven messages from the gentleman to the lady--against which her rival produced an account of seven-and-twenty refusals from the lady to the gentleman, all despatched in one morning, and which would have been fatal to the union but for her clever management. This claim to superior skill threw her antagonist into a rage, during which she enumerated all the marriages she had ever made--the difficulties which she overcame in reconciling young maidens to ancient bachelors, and cadets without fortune to opulent old widows, not always of the most comely appearance.

The controversy seemed likely to have no end, except in an appeal to blows, when the bride herself came forward and stated that the reward for priority belonged to neither of the belligerents, for that a third agent had commenced the affair before either of them knew any thing about it. The bridegroom confirmed this statement, to which, however, the parties declined giving any credit, unless the said agent was produced. To this the bride consented, and going out, said she would send the woman to them. In a few moments a wizen-faced little creature, wrapped in a cloak, and supported on crutches, made her appearance, whom the bridegroom acknowledged to be the first who gave him intelligence of the attractions of the maiden who had since become his wife, whereupon the two rivals both set to scolding her in the most furious manner, and knocking her crutches from under her, reviled her as an impostor. In the affray, the cloak was not spared, which they tore off her shoulders, when, to their amazement and horror, the object of their wrath turned out to be the bride herself, who, all blushing, confessed that she had assumed that disguise to win the hand of one towards whom her heart impelled her the first day she beheld him in the streets through her lattice.

Mangeli and Nourmahal could not help being amused by these scenes of merriment, which were sustained with all the spirit of mirth, doubly zested by a long privation of similar enjoyments. The prince and the omrahs now made their appearance, followed by the officers of the garrison; the intelligence that the emperor’s propositions had been accepted, was speedily diffused, and this circumstance, added to the gay costume of the officers and their hearty participation in the entertainments, contributed to heighten the animation of the scene.

Two closely masqued figures, whom Nourmahal suspected to be her father and the subah remained at the lower end of the saloon in deep conversation. She felt no wish to interrupt it, and affected to busy herself, though her feelings were far from being at ease, in describing to her mother the qualities of the different inmates of the harem, as they came in succession to kiss the hem of her garments.

Zeinedeen, who had no occasion for disguise, passed through the saloons to observe, for a moment, a spectacle so new to him. His curiosity, however, having been soon satisfied, and the heat and glaring light of a thousand lamps having affected him with a sense of giddiness, he withdrew from this scene of merriment, and endeavoured to make his way to the ramparts, in order to recover his usual composure. Being unacquainted with the interior of the castle, he found himself involved in a labyrinth of chambers appropriated to different purposes, until he at length arrived in the spacious hall, where the palanquins that had arrived with Kazim were arranged. It struck him, as he entered this apartment, which was quite open to the air in front, and illuminated almost throughout its whole extent by the moon, then riding in full glory through the blue firmament, that he heard some rustling among the palanquins, which were rather more remote than the others from the light.

He stopped a moment, when he was still more startled by perceiving the shadow of a head moving along the wall; he called out, hoping that it was a sentinel who might shew him the way to the ramparts. But he received no answer, the head disappearing the moment his call was uttered.

Zeinedeen’s suspicions being roused, he retraced his steps a little as softly as possible, and then stopping, he listened with all the attention he could command in the first moment of his alarm. He felt that he was near a number of persons, whose breathing discomposed the stillness that ought to have prevailed, if the palanquins, round which the curtains were still closed, had been all occupied only by the presents sent to Nourmahal.

Seized by an irresistible presentiment, that some treachery was meditated; and impelled, also, by the distrust which he always felt with respect to Bochari, he returned to the ball-room, and addressing himself to Kazim, entreated that he, and Mangeli, and Nourmahal, would withdraw, one by one, from the saloon, and repair to the apartments of the latter, without a moment’s delay, for that danger was at hand. He would follow them thither as soon as possible.

The hermit then looked about anxiously in search of the subah, whom he found in earnest conversation with Chusero. They had both noticed two or three strange faces in the ball-room, which, upon being pointed out to Kazim, he declared to be new also to him. The unbidden guests thus observed, had entered the saloon separately; but were evidently, from their side glances at one another, present for some common purpose. They mingled in the dance; but their movements were so awkward, and their manners so rude, that the fair damsels, whose hands they presumed to touch, instinctively recoiled from their advances.

Zeinedeen asked the subah whether any person had examined the palanquins containing the chancellor’s presents? Afkun answered that he did not know. The hermit then mentioned to him his suspicions--suspicions which were by no means diminished when Chusero remarked, that the three strangers were no longer to be seen in the ball-room.

This was no time for deliberation. Afkun resolved at once to proceed to the hall, where the palanquins were placed; but, as he opened the door of a gallery leading in that direction, a dark mass of armed men hurrying along the gallery, rushed towards the saloon, at the same time pouring on all before them a deadly discharge of musquetry. Afkun fell, pierced by several balls, one of which passed through his heart. He never breathed again. The prince was wounded in the thigh, and fell also. But there was a cry amongst the assassins, “Take care of the prince!” He was borne away upon the shoulders of a gigantic ruffian. The hermit, who happened to be immediately behind Afkun when the door was opened, escaped unhurt.

Being unarmed, he had no chance of offering any resistance. Hastening to one of the windows of the saloon, which was open, as they all were in consequence of the heat of the weather, he leaped down into the court-yard, fortunately lighting on a pile of brambly wood collected for firing.

Though astounded for a moment by the shock, he soon came to himself, and hastened towards Nourmahal’s apartments, where, notwithstanding his admonitions, he scarcely ventured to hope that he should find her and her parents in safety.

Several of the women were slain by the first discharge of musquetry. Some of the omrahs and officers of the garrison, who, as usual, wore ataghans in their cinctures, having laid aside their pistols that they might join the more easily in the dance, attacked their assailants with all the fury of desperation. But the musquetry soon overpowered them. The successive vollies which were repeated with fiendish deliberation, strewed the floor with groups of dead and dying, who fell over each other shrieking.

The cries of the defenceless females were appalling. Some appeared at the windows, their garments on fire, stretching out their arms, and rending the air with shouts for assistance from the garrison. But their cries were shortly silenced. Lifted sabres hewed them down without mercy. Torrents of blood ran along the boards that so lately resounded to the merry step of the dancer. The echoes of rejoicing song, and harp, and dulcimer, were overtaken in their career by screams of agony which were heard in every direction.