The Adventures of Akbar | Page 2

BANK OF DRY SAND BABY AKBAR SITTING
UP AND RUBBING HIS EYES Frontispiece
To face page
PRINCE ASKURRY ... STRODE ... INTO THE TENT 16
THE CHILD HAD SLIPPED IT ONTO HIS LITTLE FOREFINGER
62
SO THEY BOTH TOUCHED THE COLD MARBLE FLOOR WITH
THEIR WARM LITTLE FOREHEADS 98
AHEAD OF THEM, A SHADOW SHOWED, A SHAMBLING
SHADOW! TUMBU ... WITH A BOUND WAS OFF FULL TILT
AFTER IT 126
AND ONE DAY THE DOOR DID OPEN.... "MY SON--MY LITTLE
SON!" 166
"LADIES! UNVEIL!" 176
"I STAY MY HAND WHILE I COUNT TEN--NO MORE" 198

CHAPTER I
FAREWELL
Bismillah Al-la-hu Akbar!
These queer-looking, queer-sounding words, which in Arabic mean
"thanks be to God," were shrilled out at the very top of Head-nurse's
voice. Had she been in a room they would have filled it and echoed
back from the walls; for she was a big, deep-chested woman. But she
was only in a tent; a small tent, which had been pitched in a hurry in an
out-of-the-way valley among the low hills that lead from the wide
plains of India to Afghanistan. For Head-nurse's master and mistress,

King Humâyon and Queen Humeeda, with their thirteen months' old
little son, Prince Akbar, were flying for their lives before their enemies.
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. And now, as a last resource, his
followers dwindled to a mere handful, he was making a desperate effort
to escape over the Persian border and claim protection at the hands of
Persia's King.
So the poor tent was ragged and out at elbows, for all that it was made
of costly Kashmir shawls, and that its poles were silver-gilt.
But Head-nurse's "Thanks be to God!" came from a full heart.
"What is it? What is it?" called an anxious voice from behind the
curtain which divided the tent in two.
"What?" echoed Head-nurse in high glee. "Only this: His Imperial
Highness, Prince Akbar, the Admired-of-the-World, the
Source-of-Dignity, the Most-Magnificent-Person-of-the-Period--" She
went on, after her wont, rolling out all the titles that belonged of right
to the little Prince, until the soft, anxious voice lost patience and called
again, "Have done--have done; what is it? Heaven save he hath not
been in danger."
Head-nurse, stopped in her flow of fine words, sniffed contemptuously.
"Danger! with me to guard him? No! 'Tis that the High-in-Pomp hath
cut his first real back tooth! He can eat meat! He has come to man's
estate! He is no longer dependent upon milk diet." Here she gave a
withering glance at the gentle looking woman who was Baby Akbar's
wet-nurse, who, truth to tell, was looking just a little sad at the thought
that her nursling would soon leave her consoling arms.
"Heavens!" exclaimed the voice from within, "say you so?" And the
next instant the curtain parted, and there was Queen Humeeda, Baby

Akbar's mother, all smiling and eager.
Now, if you want to know what she was like, you must just think of
your own dearest dear mummie. At least that was what she seemed to
little Prince Akbar, who, at the sight of her, held out his little fat arms
and crowed, "Amma! Amma!" Now, this, you will observe, is only
English "Ma-Ma" arranged differently; from which you may guess that
English and Indian children are really very much alike.
And Queen Humeeda took the child and kissed him and hugged him
just as any English mother would have done. Head-nurse, however, was
not a bit satisfied with this display of affection. That would have been
the portion of any ordinary child, and Baby Akbar was more than that:
he was the heir apparent to the throne of India! If he had only been in
the palaces that belonged to him, instead of in a miserable tent, there
would have been ceremonials and festivities and fireworks over this
cutting of a tooth! Aye! Certainly fireworks. But how could one keep
up court etiquette when royalty was flying for its life? Impossible! Why,
even her determination that, come what might, a royal umbrella must
be held over the blessed infant during their perilous journeys had very
nearly led to his being captured!
Despite this recollection, as she listened impatiently to the cooings and
gurglings, she turned over in her mind what she could do to
commemorate the occasion. And when pretty Queen Humeeda
(thinking of her husband, the king, who, with his few followers, had
ridden off to