The Adventures of Akbar | Page 7

by his councillors to cruelty.
"Go, my lords!" he cried fiercely. "Go seek the King who is no true
King if ye will, and kill him. But this boy goes with me to Kandahâr;
the stuff of which he is made counts for life, not for death."
Then with a sudden generous impulse, for he was at heart his father's
son, he held the hilt of his drawn sword in token of vassalage for Baby
Akbar to touch.
And the child, clever, observant beyond his years, remembering how
his mother had guided his fingers to Old Faithful's weapon, put out his
little hand solemnly and touched it.
Behind their close-folded veils Head-nurse and Wet-nurse wept for joy.
And the old trooper's grip relaxed and the hard relentless look faded
from Roy's face.
For here was safety, for a while at any rate, for the Heir-to-Empire.
He, and Fate between them, had won his first victory. No! his second,
since the first had been the conquering of Adam's obstinacy.

But for that Baby Akbar might not have behaved with such dignity.

CHAPTER III
THE ROYAL UMBRELLA
That night even Roy the Râjput, who as a rule woke every hour to see
to his little master's safety, slept sound. And so did the others, though
they sat up till Foster-father crept in to the tent about midnight, after
having seen the Royal Fugitives safely over the Persian border. Of
course, there was nothing but miles on miles of snowy mountains
before them, nothing but long struggle and privation to be hoped for;
still they were out of India, out of an enemy's country. For which
Heaven be thanked!
So they wrapped themselves in their quilts and lay down to rest with
hearts eased for the time of immediate anxiety.
Head-nurse, however, began at once, after her wont, to make plans for
resuming some of the courtly ways which hurry had made impossible.
The gold embroidered royal red umbrella was one thing she was
determined to have.
But who was to hold it over the Royal Infant? Roy would get tired of it
during a long march. He was but a boy; and after all there should be a
Deputy, Assistant, Second, Umbrella Bearer to Majesty.
Could Meroo, properly dressed, of course, be promoted to the position?
She actually woke Foster-father from his well-earned first sleep to
propound this knotty question.
"Good woman," he murmured patiently, "make what court
appointments ye will. Create the scullion Prime Minister, so I have my
sleep."

And he was snoring almost before the words were out of his mouth.
So next morning Head-nurse, refusing the baggage camel with panniers
which Prince Askurry sent for the use of the little Heir-to-Empire,
organised a procession of her own.
First of all came Foster-father, stout and solid, on his skew-bald hill
pony which was called Horse-chestnut because it was patched all over,
like an unripe chestnut, with yellow, brown and white.
It had a lovely tail that touched the ground, and a coat that was long
and wavy like an Irish setter's. A wise, sober pony was Horse-chestnut;
he never attempted to climb up anything he thought too difficult, but
just gave a look at it to make sure and then put down his head calmly,
and began to graze until his rider found an easier path.
Next came Trooper Faithful on his old white charger Lightning. Once
upon a time it had been like its name, swift exceedingly, but now, like
its master, it was slow and stiff.
Then followed Head-nurse, astride, in Indian fashion, the bay Belooch
mare which had been Queen Humeeda's favourite mount until it had
had to be left behind in one of the hasty moves which had of late been
so common in the hunted life of the Royal Fugitives. The mare, of
course, had been taken by the pursuers, and brought along with them;
and the groom in charge of it had come grinning with delight to
Foster-father when he found himself in the same camp again.
Foster-father was for riding the bay mare himself and giving sober
Horse-chestnut to the Heir-to-Empire, but Head-nurse would not hear
of this. The bay mare was, she said, altogether more royal. So there she
was, with Baby Akbar astride a cushion in front, perched on the skittish
creature, feeling at heart very nervous, for she was but a poor rider.
However, she held on very tight with one hand, held Baby Akbar still
tighter with the other, and trusted to Providence, while Roy and Meroo
ran beside her on either side, alternately holding up the Royal Umbrella
as best they could.
Foster-mother on a mule, with little Adam perched in front of her

brought up the rear of the procession. It was a poor one for progress
even