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A few weeks later when the British troops blew in the walls of the palace citadel after one of the most gallant assaults ever recorded in the annals of war, the old man, with two of his sons, fled to the tomb of Humayon, who occupied the Mogul throne from 1531 to 1556, as if that sanctuary would be revered by the British soldiers. This tomb is one of the most notable buildings in India.
She need not have been in such a hurry, for it did not take long for the "slaves," as she called them, to perform their lowly salaam by touching the very ground with their foreheads. There were but three of them Old Faithful, the trooper; Roy, the Râjput boy; and Meroo, the scullion; the rest were away with their master, King Humâyon.
"Hush!" whispered the newcomer, "I bring a message from King Humâyon. I must see Foster-father at once." The good man was already between the quilts, but he got up quickly, and when he had heard the message he sent for Head-nurse and Foster-mother and Old Faithful, for he felt that a most momentous decision had to be made. Yet the message was a very simple one.
So it was Kumran's turn to grow pale. "August lady," he replied, evading her question, "this is a matter of policy with which women have naught to do. King Humâyon hath taken Kandahâr, he hath imprisoned and degraded his brother Askurry, and for this, I, Kumran, challenge him!" "And wherefore?" asked Dearest-Lady boldly. "Did not Askurry deserve it? Nay! did he not deserve death?
So far as he was concerned that settled the question; but up at the Court there were endless questionings of heart. Prince Askurry was, as ever, in two minds as to what he should do. Cruel brother Kumran, who was Governor at Kâbul, pressed his advice to stand firm, to send the child to him, to let him show King Humâyon that paid Persian troops could not stand up against Indian ones.
Now, however, it was near to the death. There could be no more talk or thought of escape. Kumran, ever half-hearted, tried it one night and failed, losing many followers in the attempt. After that his face hardened. He went about dreaming of revenge revenge on Humâyon, even revenge on Dearest-Lady, who had tied his hands. "Till I return!" No! Dead folks can never return to the worldly.
Perhaps he did know, because he allowed Down's kitten to play with his tail! Winter passed to spring and spring to early summer, and yet no certain news came of King Humâyon or Queen Humeeda.
They were to stay where they were, no matter what happened, until Foster-father returned from showing the fugitives a path he knew to the mountains, and then King Humâyon could say no more. Only as, after a hurried, tearless, hopeless farewell to his little son, he paused at the tent door to take a last look, his half-fainting wife in his arms, he said suddenly in a sharp, loud voice: "Remember!
"I am his sister," replied Bija haughtily, whereat the sentry, for it was he, laughed; but for all that he paused to tell the two women what he knew; though that was not much. It could not be long, however, he said, before news of one sort or another came to them; for King Humâyon was, so they said, within a day's march of Kâbul, and any time they might hear the guns begin. Then would be his turn.
A King cannot waste a whole year in amusement and so let wicked men have time to hatch plots without suffering for it. And Humâyon did suffer. He had to march and counter-march with winter coming on apace, until he was struck down by sudden illness.
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