Part 1 (1/2)

King-Errant.

by Flora Annie Steel.

PREFACE

This is not a novel, neither is it a history. It is the life-story of a man, taken from his own memoirs.

”_Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, gentleman, apothecary, ploughboy, thief_.”

So runs the jingle.

The hero of this book might have claimed as many personalities in himself, for Zahir-ud-din Mahomed commonly called Babar, Emperor of India, the first of the dynasty which we mis-name the Great Moghuls, was at one and the same time poet, painter, soldier, athlete, gentleman, musician, beggar and King.

He lived the most adventurous life a man ever lived, in the end of the fifteenth, the beginning of the sixteenth centuries; and he kept a record of it.

On this record I have worked. Reading between the lines often, at times supplying details that must have occurred, doing my best to present, without flaw, the lovable, versatile, volatile soul which wrote down its virtues and its vices, its successes and its failures with equally unsparing truth, and equally invariable sense of honour and humour.

The incident of the crystal bowl, and the details of Babar's subsequent marriage to Maham (the woman who was to be to him what Ayesha was to Mahomed), are purely imaginary. I found it necessary to supply some explanation of the curious coincidence in time of this undoubted marriage with the pitifully brief romance of little Cousin Ma'asuma; for Babar was above all things affectionate. I trust my imagining fits in with the general tone of my hero's life.

If not, he will forgive me, I am sure. He forgave so many in life that he will not grudge forgiveness in death, to his most ardent admirer.

F. A. Steel.

BOOK I

SEED TIME

1493 to 1504

KING-ERRANT

CHAPTER I

”.... for I know How far high failure overleaps the bounds Of low successes--”

_Lewis Morris_.

The fortified town of Andijan lay hot in the spring suns.h.i.+ne. Outside the citadel, in the clover meadows which stretched from its gate to the Black-river (a tributary to the swift Jaxartes which flows through the kingdom of Ferghana) a group of boys and men were playing leap-frog.

”An _ushruffi_ he falls,” cried one watching the leaper.

”A _dirrhm_ he doesn't!” retorted another who had a broad, frank, good-natured face.

”There! He's done! I said so,” continued the first not without satisfaction, for he was rival for champions.h.i.+p.

”Not he!” a.s.serted the second gleefully as the stumble was overborne by an extra effort. ”Trust him and his luck! He wins! Babar wins!”