# The Slave Girl of Agra/Book 4/Chapter 4

IV. THE PALACE BAZAAR
It was the Naoroz, the annual festivity of the New-year night, and the Palace of Agra looked its best when the night came. The moon poured a silver light on marble halls and spires, arch and pillar were decorated with festoons and creepers, and fountains played in sparkling showers among beds of flowers. Innumerable lights, fed with fragrant oil, blazed on gateways and peeped from bushes, and a bright bevy of beautiful and bejewelled ladies thronged the paved courtyards and arched colonnades, filling the night with sounds of laughter and joy.
For, according to custom, a Fancy Bazaar was held in the inner palace on this festive night, and wives of Omrahs, Mansabdars and Rajas came there and had their stalls. Queens and Begums were the purchasers, and women of exalted rank, bearing on their jewelled necks and arms the ransom of a kingdom, haggled over the price of a muslin scarf or a velvet cap. A queenly purchaser sneered at the articles and tried to beat down the price; a titled vendor scoffed at the stinginess of her royal customer and bade her go to other stalls for cheaper articles. Sallies of wit and sarcasm spiced these transactions and all entered merrily into the game of haggling, dear to the souls of women. And when the price was settled, sometimes to a fraction of a penny, the purchaser dropped a few pieces of gold, as if by oversight, in addition to the price fixed, and carried off her purchase in triumph.
​The custom became popular in India, as it gave the titled ladies of the land a pleasant introduction to the palace and its inmates. Moslem noblemen sent their wives and daughters to the Naoroz Bazaar to make the acquaintance of the royal ladies and to secure their favour, and Hindu Ranees found this a convenient occasion for introducing themselves to the Queens and Begums. For the rest, the Bazaar brought all distinguished ladies in the land closer together than any formal gatherings could have done. And it afforded the Emperor himself, who was the only man permitted on the scene, an occasion to see and know those whose faces were hid from him by custom at other times.
Stories were told in the palace that the Emperor Akbar, as a young man, had often tried to improve his opportunity, and that fair vendors had sometimes to withdraw from their stalls to escape the attentions of the too ardent purchaser. But Akbar was an old man now, and attended by his Poet-Queen, Salima Begum, he strolled from stall to stall, forgetting for a time the cares and anxieties of the Empire. The witty and sentimental verses of this gifted Queen were the delight of Akbar and the joy of his Court. But the fame of a poetess consorted not with the dignity of a Queen, and Salima Begum as a composer of verses was known to the outer world under the apt pseudonym of "Makhfi," or the Concealed One. She was attracted by the articles exhibited by a Rajput lady from Amber, and leaving her husband for a moment commenced bargaining for an enamelled gold bracelet.
"Many vendors have I seen in my time, fair ​Rajput dame," she said, "but few as shrewd in the trade as thou art. Dost tell me this tinsel bracelet is worth thirty pieces of gold? I should scarcely value it at ten. And Amber bracelets are cheaper now, my dear, after peace has been concluded in Rajasthan."
"Peace didst thou say, great Queen? A river of blood flows between Amber and Mewar which no peace will bridge over for long; wait till Raja Man Singh returns from Bengal. And real Amber enamelled work sells not so cheap as modern tinsel work—may be thou hast seen no better than cheap jewellery. Go to some other stall, fair Queen, thou mayst find wares suited to thy purse."
"The jungle woodcock thinks he is a fine bird till he meets a peacock, and Amber men and women are vastly proud of their enamelled gold-ware till they see what real jewellery is when they come to Agra. But Agra and Amber have been friends, and I deny not that Raja Man Singh of Amber has served us well. What sayst thou to twelve pieces, dame?"
"Ay, ay, thou wilt require the Raja of Amber again when the new Rana marches to Chittore in force, as his fathers have done before. The feud lives in the blood of Amber and Mewar, though the Prince of Bikanir and the Chief from Bengal may have patched up a temporary truce. Twenty-five gold pieces thou shalt count down, noble Queen, if thou hast them in thy purse, which looks rather light, before thou wearest this bracelet. Twenty-five pieces well told, and that scarcely leaves me half a gold piece as profit."
"Why, what a perfect cheat thou art, my dear. Half a piece as thy profit, didst thou say? Methinks ​thou art more likely to make a profit of twenty pieces if thou dost get anyone to buy the glittering tinsel at thy price. Come, come, be reasonable, dear, for I like the women of Amber, and the Amber Queen, the aunt of Raja Man Singh, has ever been kind to me. They say it was her physicians who healed the Bengal Chief when he came to Agra wounded and unconscious. Wilt thou have fifteen pieces? Yes or no, for I have some valuable purchases to make, and cannot spend the whole night over thy tawdry things."
"And well hath the Bengal Chief repaid the kindness he received, for he stole the fairest slave the palace ever had. And a Tartar girl too, though the Chief himself is a Hindu. But in Bengal these Hindus are strange creatures, my Queen; the women wear sarees instead of petticoats, and the men have not learnt to tie a headdress yet. But go thy way, Queen, this bracelet is not for thee, nor shalt thou get it unless thou hast twenty-five pieces in thy purse, which I doubt very much."
"I suppose I must go elsewhere, where I can find honester vendors. Methinks I see a woman in saree in yonder stall; I wonder if she has brought some jewellery from Bengal to our Imperial City."
"Ay, ay, the Bengal lady may sell you her silver filigree works for a trifle, for they are light as feather. I deny not they make wonderful fine works in the East, both in muslins and in silver, but if thou wouldst have solid enamelled gold work come to Amber, my Queen. For twenty gold pieces thou mayst have this bracelet, and that is my last word. And if thou canst not find that sum in thy purse, go ​and ask thy husband, for here he comes." And the Rajput dame drew down her veil.
"Ha! Ha! Doth my gifted Queen unbend herself from the arduous task grateful to the Muses, and cast her eyes on the frivolities of this world? But she hath a shrewd one to deal with if that fair vendor is a lady from Amber, as I guess she is. Amber is well skilled, I can tell thee, Queen, to draw gold from the treasure vaults of Agra."
"So I find, my lord. And if the men of Amber have a grasping hand, the women of Amber have a clever tongue too. Twenty pieces of gold this shrewd woman asks for a tinsel bracelet which is scarcely worth ten, and I like a simpleton have offered fifteen. Beware, great Emperor, of bargaining with the ladies of Amber, with their sharp tongues and their dark eyes too; thou mayst easily bargain away thy empire."
"What sayst thou, my fair Rajput dame, to that?" asked the Emperor.
"I say, my Sovereign," replied the lady, proudly, but in a low voice, and with her eyes modestly fixed on the pavement—"I say that if the gold of Agra sometimes finds its way to Amber, the steel of Amber is oftener needed in Agra. And if the women of Amber can sometimes use their tongues, the men of Amber can oftener use their lances."
"Why, that is well said, Rajput lady, and Akbar will never deny what Rajputs have done for the Empire. But let us know the real price of this bracelet, good dame. The fair witches of Rajasthan are ever stealing our hearts; spare our purses, fair one."
"The palace is well guarded, sire," replied the witty Rajputanee with the same assumed modesty, "and ​there is little risk of thefts either by witches or by wizards. Unless, indeed—"
"Speak out thy thoughts, fair dame, and fear nothing. Unless what?"
"Unless indeed," added the Rajput lady, with an arch smile, "as I have heard it sometimes happens, the King of Diamonds changes himself unto a Knave of Hearts."
"Five gold pieces more for thy bracelet, dear," exclaimed Queen Salima Begum, "for thou hast hit on the truth. Twenty gold pieces thou shalt have, my Rajput sister, for thou hast spoken the truth, which courtiers and ministers dare not speak before their Emperor."
"Why, this is treason in the palace, my gifted Queen!" exclaimed Akbar, laughing. "A lady from a friendly State enters this fort and hatches a libel against her monarch, and our own Queen joins the conspiracy. Hast thou not, child of the Muses, a word to say for men, constant and true, who devote their lives and dedicate their endeavours to their lady-love?"
The poetess smiled and shook her head, and replied in impromptu verse:
I
"Ask me not how men betray, When their wandering fancies stray, How their vows, too lightly taken, Are as often lightly shaken, How their pleading eyes can lie, How their constancy can die!
II
Chains of steel will never bind Love as fleeting as the wind,
Wows of truth will never hold When their fickle flame grows cold, Hearts on fire will freeze as ice, Faith will turn like gambler's dice!
III
Trust the meteor of the skies, Trust the rainbow ere it dies, Trust the light of marsh and fen, Trust not constancy of men! Silent Muses quake with fear, Sorrowing Gabriel drops a tear!"
A group of women had collected round Queen Salima, as she was reciting her verses, and when she ended a ripple of laughter passed through the circle over the discomfiture of the Emperor.
"I cry for mercy," exclaimed the Emperor, himself joining the laughter. "When Mogul and Rajput unite in their onset the charge is irresistible. Pratap Singh found this to be so in the Pass of Haldighat, and I find it in my own palace!" And the humiliated monarch hastily withdrew from the scene.
"Twenty pieces of gold thou shalt have, valiant dame of Amber, for we have beaten an enemy who never before retreated from his foe." And the Queen placed a purse of twenty pieces of gold on the counter, and forgot to take the bracelet as she followed her husband.
"I thought I would find thee here, my lord, ever constant and true," said the Queen, with an arch smile, "for a fair stranger from the East is at this stall. I thought my faithful husband would be here to have a look at her Eastern wares, or perhaps at her pretty Eastern face."
​"Hush, hush! thou merciless woman, nor demean thy lord before strangers. People in the East still have some faith in their Emperor, though he seems to have lost all credit in his own palace! And who art thou, my fair Afghan maid? Methinks I have seen those pretty eyes before. And who is the fair stranger in a stranger's garb whom thou hidest from my view?"
"Much honoured am I, sire, that thou dost recognise thy humble servant, who has often been in this palace before," said the Afghan maid, salaaming gracefully to the Emperor. "My family owes much to thy royal bounty, and my brother, Sher Afghan, holds the rich Jaigir thou hast bestowed on him in Bengal. He sends his salutation to thy Majesty—he and his wife, Mihr-un-Nissa."
"Sher Afghan is a brave and worthy soldier," replied Akbar, "and no Jaigir that I can bestow is too rich for his merits. Providence has bestowed on him a richer gift—a beautiful and faithful wife."
"Providence was considerate," said the witty Afghan maid in a whisper, as if speaking to herself, "and removed her from Agra, as there was peril in her eyes."
"Hush! hush! thou impudent girl, one speaks not lightly of such things in the Bazaar. Methinks there is peril in thy wicked eyes too, and mischief may be caused in the palace unless I can find a handsome warrior and a distant Jaigir for thee. My troops can face the Persians in the West and the Afghans in the East, but who will protect the poor Emperor from pretty Persians and Afghans making an onslaught in the palace itself?"
​The Afghan maid modestly closed her eyes and bent her head, and Akbar smiled. "But tell me, Afghan maid," he asked, "whence comes the visitor whom thou hast to-night in thy stall?"
"She is a great lady from Bengal, sire, who comes with recommendations to me from my sister, Mihr-un-Nissa. I have shown her many of the sights of Agra; and I forced her to come to this Bazaar to-night, so that she may see something of the Queens and Begums of this Imperial palace before she returns to her distant village home."
"She is welcome in my palace," replied the Emperor. "And when she goes back to her native land she will, I hope, carry with her some kindly recollections of one whose dearest wish is to make his subjects, far and near, contented and happy."
"Step forward, my Hindu sister," whispered the Afghan maid to her, "and bow to the great Emperor."
Poor Hemlata had heard of the Emperor of Hindustan as of fabled gods whom mortal eyes can never see, and she could scarcely believe that the head that wore the crown and the hand that ruled the Empire were there before her. As the Emperor stood before the stall Hemlata could see through her veil the open forehead, the grey moustache, the dark, penetrating eyes, the kindly and benevolent face of the Monarch of Hindustan. Forgetting the custom of the Bazaar, where the Emperor and his subjects met almost as equals, and driven by a purpose which she had hidden in her heart when she came here, she knelt down and bowed to the ground before the Sovereign who swayed the destinies of nations. Queen Salima ​smiled; the Emperor's generous heart was touched.
"Arise, fair sister from the East," he said with that natural eloquence which came straight from his heart. "Arise, for I come to thee to-night not as a King, but as a brother to a sister. Greatly am I touched by thy devotion and respect, and may the God of the Moslems and the Hindus make me—a humble worker and an erring man—worthy of the work He has entrusted to me, and worthy of the affection of all my subjects."
"Why, this is true poetry, my husband," said Queen Salima, looking up to her lord with admiration. "My verse is poor and stiff compared with the words which flow spontaneous from thy royal lips."
"I am but an illiterate man, my gifted Queen, but what my heart feels I try to utter."
"And the greatest poet that ever lived, my lord, could do no more."
"Ask this Bengal lady from what town she comes, and to what family she belongs."
"She comes from Debipur, sire," promptly replied the Afghan maid, "and her husband is the new Lord of Debipur, one of the most ancient estates in thy new Province of Bengal."
"Ha! Debipur! Methinks I have heard that name. Is it not in constant feud with a neighbouring estate—what do they call it?"
"With the estate of Birnagar, sire," replied again the Afghan maid, who carried on the conversation, occasionally consulting Hemlata in whispers. For Hemlata spoke little of the northern tongue though she understood it, and she was too timid and shy ​to speak to the Emperor. "Birnagar and Debipur had an ancient feud, but it is ended now, and this lady's husband is the greatest friend of the Lord of Birnagar."
"Lord of Birnagar! Why, methinks I know something of that erratic young man. He played some mischief in this palace, did he not? And we had to banish him to Rajasthan," said Akbar, laughing.
Hemlata trembled at these ominous words from the great Emperor, which once more reminded her of her hidden purpose. She spoke with tremor to her Afghan friend.
"Nay, plead thy own cause before the Emperor," said the Afghan girl, smiling. "Thou speakest a little of our tongue, and His Majesty is gracious to those who plead for his mercy."
The kind-hearted Emperor also spoke to her some words of encouragement. "Speak, sister, for I see thou hast something which troubles thee. And if thou hast anything to ask, may it be in my power to grant thy request and to make thee happy."
Hemlata conquered her agitation for the moment was too precious to be lost. Her veil was removed as she wiped a tear from her eye, and her face was pale and white. But her broken words came from her heart, and her voice was firm.
"Pardon, sire, if I venture to speak for one who is a disinherited and unhappy exile from the home of his fathers. He, Norendra Nath, has fought for thee, sire, and bled for thee, and thy Majesty has not a truer subject or a braver soldier in this vast Empire. Pardon the errors of his youth in thy royal mercy, and ​restore to him the estate of his fathers, and a million tongues in Bengal will bless thy name. Pardon, sire, a woman pleading for the absent, but I have known him from childhood."
Hemlata blushed at the last words until her cheeks and her brow were on flame. She wiped a tear and bent her head.
"Why, this is true poetry, my loved Salima, is it not?" whispered Akbar to his Queen. "Thinkest thou, my beloved Queen, thou couldst plead more eloquently with thy verses for thy erring husband than this Eastern lady with her tears?"
Then the Emperor turned to Hemlata, still kneeling, and said, in a voice which shook with tremor:
"Arise, fair sister from Bengal. I have ever found Norendra Nath a true soldier and a true man; his years of devoted service are known to me; his recent work in Rajasthan claims fresh recognition. Thy suit, fair lady, accords well with our own wishes, and our royal orders will seat him on his grandfather's estate with added honours. And tell him, when thou seest him again, that an Emperor on his throne may well envy a humble soldier whose life claims the interest of a lady so true, so gentle, so lovely in her tears."
Hemlata blushed to the roots of her hair and bowed again to the ground. But the Emperor was gone.