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Updated: May 15, 2025
Thus news that the little party had escaped death soon filtered from mouth to mouth, till it reached the Captain of the Escort, and ere long Foster-father found himself and those in his care once more semi-prisoners on their way to cruel brother Kumran; all the more cruel, doubtless, because King Humâyon had already begun the siege of Kandahâr, believing his little son to be still within its walls.
"Where is your token from the king, that I may know who you are?" But there was no token. "Then the child stays where he is," asserted Foster-father boldly. "Am I not right oh! Faithful?" "Assuredly my lord is right. Who knows but this man may be an emissary of those who would wile away the little lad from his uncle, Prince Askurry's protection. His other uncle, Kumran, is not so kind."
"That is what I call a King," remarked the Afghan sentry, whom Roy, going with his little master to see the preparations, found keeping guard at the gate. "None of your skinflints like Kumran. Aye!" he continued, seeing Roy's look of surprise and distaste, "I have done what I said I would fought for Kumran till there was no more fighting to be done.
"Something about the bastion and the Heir-to-Empire, master!" said the sergeant doubtfully. "Mayhap 'twould be as well to wait till we can see more clearly. Kumran," he added in a lower voice, "would stick at naught " Sumbal hesitated, then put down the portfire and walked over to the fallen lad, beside whom the stranger was kneeling. "He is not dead!
And these enemies were led by Humâyon's own brothers, Prince Kumran, Askurry and Hindal. It is a long story, and a sad story, too, how Humâyon, so brave, so clever, so courteous, fell into misfortune by his own fault, and had to fly from his beautiful palaces at Delhi and wander for years, pursued like a hare, amid the sandy deserts and pathless plains of Western India.
"He is but a boy," he said slowly, "yet see how he runs. And they have hit him, for he staggers. Yet he comes on. He must bring news, friend, for sure!" "News!" echoed Sumbal contemptuously; "we have half a hundred such runaways coming in every day. It is no news that King Humâyon is better liked than Kumran. Lo! hast thou it at last?"
He was not strong enough; even his wickedness was not real. But, short of death, the young heir should have no shelter. Kumran flung him into a miserable cell close to the Iron Gate and thought no more of him. And now, but for faithful Roy, Akbar would indeed have been in sorry plight.
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?
Ere an hour was over Kumran, scowling, walked up and down the royal apartments, a King once more; but biting his lips and frowning over something that stood between him and perfect revenge! Foster-father, good old fool, was back in his dungeon in the well, where this time he would rot.
Did he not steal the King-of-Empire? Did he not defy the king? Did he not send the Heir-to-Empire away, instead of returning him to his father's keeping? I tell you, nephew Kumran, that your father, Babar the Brave, Babar the Kindly, Babar the Generous, Babar the Just, whom all men loved for his mercy, would have given death for such faults and given it rightly.
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