Part 7 (1/2)

And thereinafter two whole hunts produced nothing. Whether it was a fresh fall of snow in the hills that brought ill luck Babar could not say, but he looked at his cousin with awe.

”Thou hast more power I verily believe,” he said, ”than the Dream-man whom Uncle Hussain keeps--”

”For his amus.e.m.e.nt,” put in Poverty-prince with a frown. ”But _that_ is black magic; mine is white. I do naught. 'Tis thy mind that answers--” he broke off and his large eyes--the only unmarred feature in his face--narrowed themselves to a piercing glance. ”Wherefore should I not say it, cousin? Has it not struck thee, that had'st thou been born crooked and not straight, or had I been born straight and not crooked, we should have been as two twins? That is why I like thee, and thou likest me.”

The boy sat and stared at him, almost incredulously. He could not imagine his youth and strength pent up in that prison of a body; and yet ...

Yes! without doubt there was some tie. Else why should he feel so intimate--why should he speak to Poverty-prince of things which every decent young Mahomedan was taught to keep to himself; for instance of Dearest-One and the possibility of her marrying Baisanghar?

The blood rushed to his face, however, with shame when he felt his cousin's hot, long-fingered, trembling hand close on his wrist in quick arrest.

”Marriage--say not the word! Dost not know? Nay--I forgot thy youth--and I will not soil thine ears with the tale. But we in foul Herat know most wickedness, most degradations. And there is that in miserable Baisanghar's life that bars marriage with any woman worthy the name. Aye! and he knows it--poor maimed soul enmeshed for ever by the wickedness of one who should have protected him--May G.o.d's curse light on him for ever. So think not of marriage, cousin.”

Babar shook off his cousin's clasp haughtily. It was not that he resented having substance given to his vague doubts of Baisanghar--it was better to know for sure; but interference with his womenkind was intolerable. And he had brought it on himself!

”By your leave,” he said with terrific dignity, ”we will speak no more on such private matters. 'Tis my own fault. Such subjects are not meet for public conversations.”

Poverty-prince lay back on his cus.h.i.+ons and kindly raillery took possession of his face. ”Not meet, sayest thou cousin-ling? Yet are they the best half--nay! the three quarters of life. Dost know that even to me, cripple, marriage hath played the major part?”

Babar's eyes involuntarily travelled over the distorted body, the crumpled limbs, and Poverty-prince laughed cynically.

”Thou art right, boy,” he went on; ”loathsome to sight and touch, what had I to do with weddings. But princedom weighs heavy with the pandars of the court. And 'twas done early. Mayhap they did not dream I would grow up so monstrous--as I did.” He paused and his pale face grew paler, his hot fingers clasped and unclasped themselves. ”Mayest thou never--nay! thou will not--see fear upon a girl's face. I saw it. Dost understand? Nay, thou art but a child still. Thank G.o.d! I did. So she waits for release by my death. And then--” He paused again and this time bright, cold raillery took possession of his face as he said: ”Thou wilt make a fine bridegroom, cousin-ling, some day! Fair maids will not be alarmed at thee!”

”Likely I shall be of them,” answered the boy stoutly; and it was true; barring Dearest-One, the stupid, mincing creatures filled him with dismay.

This pa.s.sed but a few days before Kasim, who thought his young charge had had quite enough of the camp, proposed starting homewards. There seemed no prospect of the campaign coming to a close. Quite a variety of strategical movements had been made, mines had been dug, forts besieged, but the result was nil. And time was pa.s.sing. Events had not been going smoothly at Samarkand, the moment for intervention might be near and Grandmother Isan-daulet had sent a messenger advocating return.

None too soon, for the very same day King Hussain's runners brought news of a conspiracy to turn out Baisanghar, and bring in a younger brother Ali-Khan.

”But he is not of the blood, either,” said Babar hotly. ”Kasim! we must go back at once.” The desire for conquest was stirring in him once more.

”The sooner the better, sire,” replied the stout warrior, settling his sword belt. He had wearied terribly among the smart soldiers and was longing for a real raid once more.

”To say farewell,” echoed Poverty-prince, when Babar looked in that night at his cousin's tent; ”I thought it was not to be for a week yet.” And his hot hand clasped the cool one with a lingering touch.

”There was news from Samarkand,” replied the lad, regret tempering the keenness which had come to his face with the prospect of action. ”And, cousin, it matters little--'tis but a few hours' difference--”

”A few hours?” echoed the cripple, speaking, for the first time since Babar had known him, almost regretfully; ”that means much to one who has but a few days or weeks to live. Not that it does so really, coz,”

he added, recovering his usual serenity. ”And thou wilt spare me one of the hours? I dare claim so much of my twin?”

The pathetic playfulness of the appeal went straight to the lad's soft heart; he fell on his knees beside the cus.h.i.+ons, then sat back in the Mahomedan att.i.tude of prayer. ”Nay, brother,” he said--and there was quite a tremble in his young voice--”say not so--I am but a poor creature beside thee. Thou art--truly I know not what! Sometimes I think an angel from G.o.d's paradise--thou art so splendid!”

”Knowest thou if angels be splendid?” asked Poverty-prince with radiant raillery. ”For myself I know not--only this--that I shall miss my double--” He looked at the lad's lithe limbs, at his long legs, his great stretch of arm. ”And to think,” he muttered, ”that I might have been born so--My G.o.d! to think of it.”

Then suddenly he clapped his hands and gave a peremptory order to the servant who appeared.

”See that I be not disturbed--that no one enters.”

He waited till they were alone, then drew something from his bosom and held it before him in both hands. It was a tiny crystal bowl scarce large enough for his finger tips. But they held the glittering thing lightly. It looked like a diamond body to two fluttering ivory wings, as he said slowly, musically.