A Prince of Dreamers

wearer, ye who know

ter only, can the l

a'a

he King

court-usher echoed over the cro

w the rose-red palaces of Fatehpur Sikri, the City of Victory, rising from the rose-set gard

on a low, marble, cushion-covered

n the transverse lines of thought upon his forehead. For the rest, his handsome aquiline face with its dreamy

e listening,

t the white robes of her fellow musicians. The face of one of these, fine, careworn, stood out clear-cut as a cameo against the glowing col

ain, because

in, because s

Halo from the

s Shadow at th

re one, the

s alone in

ng! Akbar the

eath, and flings

eath, and brings

ves del

he King

er brought instant obedience. The singer was silent, the crowd remained expectant, while the

izon of India, which from this rocky red ridge whereon he had built his City of Victor

al and Temporal! Aye, he thought, he was all that so far as the Shadow went. But in the Light? What of the

his path tumultuously, as the waters of the Red Sea swept

Sacred Personality duly shaded; and then he paused to look thoughtfully into a pool that was fretted into ceaseless rippling laughter by the fine misty spray which was all that fell back from the clear, strong, skyward

hem the fun of the fair commenced; bursts of laughter, a hum of high-pitched voices, the tinkling of wire-stringed fiddle

us, dreamers who dr

ow sunshine of an April a

marriage. The speaker was in the prime of life, and the damascened armour seen beneath a flimsy white muslin overcoat seemed to match his proud arrogance of bearing. The courtier to whom he spoke was of a very different mould; small, slender, dark, wi

ive efforts after cohesion in his court of mixed Hindus and Mahommedans. "You Rajp?t soldiers are too swift even for Akbar's dreams! With Bengal pacified, Guzerat

olitical marriage of the Heir-Apparent, Prince Sal?m to Man Singh's co

hand on his sword

-bearded Mahommedan preachers--"may howl about heretics if they choose, but we Rajp?ts know not how to take this mixed marriage eith

glances toward his master, another of h

soldier, whether aught avails to check the feeblest worm Fate sends to cross

ward a burly, broad-faced, clean-shaven man whose expression of soun

er than his olive skin, were on Akbar with all the affection of a mother who glories

head--rode down that cactus lane at Sarsa when the spear points were thick as the thorns!--nor when at Ahmedabad he sounded the reveil

gn. Yet none knows the Most Excellent's reckless bravery better than I. But 'tis to his dream he fears death, Man Singh,--his dream of personal empire that is bound up with this thirst-stricken t

broke in the Rajp?t ang

replied Shaikh Abulfa

passed on. "'Tis God gives us our sons; not we who make them. Mayha

with Lalla, his son, ever in the Prince's pocket. Such th

oice polished to the keenest acerbity--"can he not find a better

historian Budaoni, who, as opponent-in-chief of all reforms, still wore a

essly. "I will leave the remark as a Shiah[3] si

ide the King, and, as Birbal had already

"the deputation from

y; then the despotic finger raised itself, and

ircle of the courtie

as pleasure, fling myself into the breach?" said an overdressed noble with a handsome evil-looking face as he bowed ornat

penitence also," replied their leader, the Makhd?m-ul'-mulk.

tanding apart, "the generalissimo said true. He

true. No lover was more absorbed by his mistress than h

y unfaithful, distrustful of each other because of unconfessed jealousy--there came to them close at hand throbbing throug

s, dreamers who drea

oman now?" And he strode back to where on the outskirts of th

ers, angrily. "When will men learn that fair words f

alluding to Birbal's own minstrel birth. Abulfazl wh

ts-laureate, being disappointed of a worthy colleague fr

cowling, with a murmured "May God roast him!"

sons was standing before Birbal. One the woman who had sung, the other the rebeck player whose fine carewor

extraordinarily handsome, and her dark eyes, full of

hampion," she said in a low rapid v

a half-disdainful

ght of succession. Birbal does nothing so--so unnecessary! Akbar has no need of your pedigrees to-da

its excessive pallor; in that he looked as if he had been dead for days. For the rest he was clean shaven to his very scalp, and wore no headdress; nor much of dress below

ng grass. No! it was like leaves--like the rose leaves in a garden, and those faintly red specks were the ros

roses is thy

lose the secret!

loses not what

ir and tma's voice to come from beyond someth

the flower not nurture the fruit?" she cha

e great World-Wisdom which poets s

ruth!" Then with a light laugh he turned to Abulfazl.

! What! a woman to claim a Charan's[5] place--to give her body to the sword?--her

woman for nine long months--none can escape from the dark life

ersisted Man

kbar is not of the common herd. Go then, good mad soul, and sing thy pedigrees, and y

d also, keeping his eye

arite, Excellence.

agdarite! Stay"--here the old man half-hidden by his drum essayed to follow--"whom have we her

, old face hid itself completely in a salaam behind t

rtuous Lord Chamberlain, Mirza

mosphere of musk--scowled fiercely. For Satanstown, as ultimate exile of all the bad characters of the city

ng from his laugh, "and drum from a distance, lest thou be utte

of fire, were fixed on the unconscious figure so close beside her, and, under the slow circling of her lissome forefinger the little drum held in h

Deena's drum, and the thin thread of the rebeck, light yet insisten

gh and clear, rose on

and

the

ings who

eir p

he w

i

rl

UN-

reamt he

he

is p

he w

i

rl

S SON

e dreamin

he

is p

he w

i

rl

REAM WAS

reamt he

he

is p

he w

i

rl

ice into troubled triplets, and the King's slack

of the Kings

heir

and man

dream is

t ca

boom like distant thunder amongst hills. Deena's drum t

K

reamt he

he w

i

ld-

ly as Akbar turned with a fro

from the very dust of

e to the drea

und. "Who art thou, woman?" he asked suddenly; then as suddenly dropped the hands he held, and said coldly: "Give her gold for her

; she stood before him abashed by the quick tie that seemed to have

e Most-Gracious waits? What shall it be? Gold, fal-lals

on him li

here her recognition of opportunity swept trivialities before it, she drew herself u

before you came! And little Heera--son of his old age, begot for you, died ere his baby tongue had ceased to trip in challenging the world--for you! Lo! I have kissed the words to steadiness upon his childish lips when father grew impatient! Why was I not the son? Hid in this dustlike body lies the s

aim indeed! A claim foreign to the whole conservative fabric of Eastern society--w

was deep in that problem of Sex which was one of

as womanhood is in the man--do I not know the latter to my cost? So take thy gift. Thou art the King's

Englishmen attend me in the Diwani-Khas. Abul! your arm; I would speak with you about this queen--this woman who has stretched her hand out over the seas to meet mine." He gave a quick joyous laugh and stretc

as with a waving of plumes, a blinding glitter of gold and jew

Singh who awaited him impatientl

ained drumming softly; a fitting accompaniment to the murmurs which

muttered the Makhd?m-ul'-mulk

uspicioned of having drowned more than one young wife on t

an's making money withal; though the King's virtue steals many a penny out of my pocket. I t

y goes nevertheless. T?dar Mull as Finance Minister is for ever

sand women within the palace walls at whom he n

here will be a pension now for tma Devi, King's Charan, unless Mirza Ibrah?m pre

ing the lead of Khodadad Khan, who hath the qui

," replied Khodadad of the sinister f

eaves me my quail[6] curry and my saffron pillau, it is welco

regret that the King, in so many ways a prince of good fellows, the best shot, the best rider, the best polo pl

s sons, were, thank