There hardly needed the order to be given that silence should be observed: as the words the Sultaun spoke fell upon the ears of the assembly, and they observed the sudden change in his countenance, the busy tongues ceased directly; there continued a little talking and some bustle towards the end of the room, but as the Chobdars called silence, and went hither and thither to enforce it, all became hushed except the Sultaun himself, who was inquiring from the secretaries whether any despatches had accompanied the prisoners from Bangalore.

‘Huzrut!’ said the Khan, again advancing, ‘they are in the possession of your slave, who craves pardon that in the confusion of presenting his nuzzur, he forgot to deliver them.’ And he laid the packets at the Sultaun’s feet, who instantly tore open the envelope, and selecting one of the enclosures directed to himself, fell to perusing it with great attention.

‘This speaks well of the prisoners,’ he said at length to Syud Ghuffoor, who sat near him; ‘the Killadar of Bangalore writes that one of them, a captain, is a man of knowledge, well versed in the science of war and tactics; that he understands fortification and gunnery, so that he is worthy of being offered our clement protection. Inshalla! therefore, though we need no instruction in these matters,—thanks be to Alla, who hath implanted a natural knowledge of them in our heart, which is not surpassed by any of the whoreson Feringhees—’

And all around interrupting him, cried ‘Ameen! Ameen!’

‘Inshalla!’ he continued, ‘as this is an auspicious day, we will offer life and service. If he accept it, well; if not, I will send him to hell, where thousands of his accursed and mother-defiled race await his coming: are not these good words?’

‘Excellent—excellent words! They are not worthy to live! the race is accursed of Alla!’ cried several; ‘the Sultaun’s clemency is great!’

As this ceased, the tramp of many feet was heard on the wooden staircase, and as the noise approached nearer, Kasim, who had been watching the Sultaun narrowly with intense interest, could see that he was far from being at ease; he fidgeted upon his musnud, the rosary passed twice as fast as usual through his fingers, his eyes winked sharply, and he stroked his mustachios from time to time, either with exultation or inquietude, Kasim could not distinguish which; at length the prisoners reached the head of the stairs, and their escort appeared to wait there for commands.

‘Bid the officer advance,’ said the Sultaun; ‘the rest may be withdrawn for the present, we will send for them when this man is disposed of.’

The order was obeyed, and all were withdrawn but one, who, being desired to come forward through the lane which was opened for him to the foot of the musnud, advanced slowly, but with erect and manly gait and proud bearing, nigh to where the Sultaun sat.

‘Salaam to the light of the world, to the sun of Islam! Perform thine obeisance here, and prostrate thyself on the ground,’ said a Chobdar who accompanied the prisoner.

‘I will salute him as I would salute my own monarch,’ said the prisoner, in a voice audible to all, and in good Hindostanee, but spoken with rather a foreign pronunciation: and still advancing, he had placed one foot upon the white cloth which has been already mentioned.

‘Kafir!’ cried the Chobdar, striking him, ‘son of perdition, keep back! dare not to advance a step beyond the carpet; prostrate thyself to the Sultaun, and implore his clemency.’

The Englishman turned in an instant, at the blow he had received, and raised his arm to strike again; the Sultaun observed the action and spoke.

‘Hold!’ he cried; ‘do not strike, O Feringhee, and do some of ye seize that officious rascal, and give him ten blows upon his back with a cane.’

The fellow was seized and hustled out, while the Englishman continued standing where he had been arrested.

‘Advance!’ cried the Sultaun.

Some of those near tried to persuade him not to allow the Englishman to approach.

‘Pah!’ he exclaimed, ‘I have caused the deaths of too many with arms in their hands, to fear this unarmed wretch. Advance then, that we may speak with thee conveniently; be not afraid, we will do thee no harm.’

‘I fear thee not, O Sultaun,’ said Herbert Compton (for so in very truth it was), advancing, and bowing stiffly yet respectfully, ‘I fear thee not; what canst thou do to me that I should fear thee?’

‘I could order thee to be put to death this instant,’ said the Sultaun sharply; while others cried out fiercely that the speech was insolent, and reviled him.

Herbert looked round him proudly, and many a one among the crowd of flatterers quailed as his clear blue eye rested on them. ‘I am not insolent!’ he exclaimed; ‘if my speech is plain and honest, take ye a lesson from it, cowards! who could insult one so helpless as I am;’ and he drew himself up to his full height and folded his arms, awaiting what the Sultaun should say to him. His dress was mean, of the coarsest white cotton cloth of the country; his head was bare, and so were his feet; but in spite of this, there was a dignity in his appearance which inspired involuntary respect, nay awe to many.

The time which had elapsed had but little altered him, and if indeed there was a change, it was for the better! his appearance was more manly, his frame more strongly knit. His face was thinner and paler than when we last parted with him at the capitulation of Bednore, from whence, with the rest of his comrades, he had been hurried into captivity; but four years had passed since then, and his weary imprisonment, chequered by no event save the death or murder of a companion or a fellow-captive, would have utterly worn down a spirit less buoyant and intrepid than Herbert’s.

Mathews had perished by poison almost before his eyes; he had been accused of having buried treasure, and persisting in the denial of this, he had been tortured by confinement in irons, denied food, subjected to privations of all kinds, which failing in their effect to force a confession of what had not taken place, he had been poisoned by the Sultaun’s order. Numbers had been destroyed; numbers had died of hopelessness, of the climate, of disease engendered by inaction; many had been released at the peace of 1784, but still Herbert and a few of his comrades and fellow-prisoners remained, and had lingered on their wretched existence in the various prisons and forts of the country; for Tippoo hoped that long captivity and hardships at one time, and again indulgence and relaxation, would induce them to accede to his terms of service, which were offered from time to time, with alternate threats of death and promises of immense rewards.

Herbert’s situation near the person of the General, and the plans of fortifications, books on the same, works on mathematics, on engineering, and his many drawings, all of which had been seized with him, had early marked him as an officer of superior attainment, and one whose services would be highly valuable. The others who were confined with him were for the most part men of the artillery, of whose experience and excellent skill as marksmen Tippoo had too often seen the fatal results to his own army not to be very anxious to get them to join him.

A few of the captives, from time to time, dazzled by promises which were never fulfilled and weary of imprisonment, had voluntarily become renegades, and others had been violently converted to Mahomedanism; these served in the army, and, though dissolute in their habits, were yet useful and brave when occasion needed; and the value of their services only made Tippoo more anxious to secure those of a higher grade and more extensive acquirements and education. With Herbert, and those who accompanied him, his many attempts had been vain; and while his desire to accomplish his ends became the more violent from their continued opposition, there now existed a necessity for urging their compliance, which will presently be made manifest. But we have digressed.

‘Peace!’ cried the Sultaun, ‘we have not sent for thee, O Feringhee, to hear thy bold speech, but to advise thee as one who is a friend to thee, and has a true interest in thy welfare.’

‘Dost thou understand the condescending speech of the Sultaun, or shall one of the Franceese interpret it for thee?’ asked one of the Moonshees officiously.

‘Peace!’ again cried the Sultaun, ‘he understands me well enough; if he does not, he will say so; and now, Captain Compton, since thus it is written is thy name, we have sent for thee from the Fort, not as a common criminal and one whose end is perdition, but with honour; we had thee seated on an elephant, lodged in a good tent, supplied with excellent food, and now thou art admitted into the presence, thou shouldest bow in acknowledgment of the condescension shown thee; nay, thou wouldst have done so, we are persuaded, but thy manners are not formed upon the model of those of the true believers. Now our good friend the Killadar writes to us that, weary of confinement, and induced by a sense of the obligations thou and thy companions are under to me, thou art in a frame of mind to accept our munificent offers of entertaining thee in our service, of raising thee to rank, of admitting thee to share—’

‘Stop!’ cried Herbert suddenly, while, as he spoke, the Sultaun fairly started at the suddenness of the interruption to his harangue and the boldness of the tone. ‘Stop! when we are on equal terms thou canst offer me service; it is a mockery to tempt me with promises thou wouldst not fulfil.’

‘By the gracious Alla and his Prophet, I would,’ cried the Sultaun eagerly: ‘say then, wilt thou serve me? thou shalt have rank, power, wealth, women—’

‘I am in your hands, a helpless captive, O Sultaun,’ replied Herbert; ‘and therefore I cannot but hear whatever thou choosest to say to me: but if thou art a man and a soldier, insult me no more with such words. Nay, be not impatient, but listen. When Mathews was poisoned by thy order,—nay, start not! thou knowest well it is the truth,—I was given the choice of life, and thy service, or death upon refusal,—I chose death. Year after year I have seen those die around me whom I loved; I have courted death by refusal of thy base and dishonourable offers: thou hast not dared to destroy me. My life, a miserable one to me, is now of no value; those whom I love in my own land have long mourned me as dead. It is well that it is so—I am honoured in death. Alive, and in thy service, I should be dead to them, but dishonoured: therefore I prefer death. I ask it from thee as a favour; I have no wish to live: bid yonder fellow strike my head from my body before thine eyes. As thou lovest to look on blood, thou wilt see how a man, and an Englishman, can bear death. Strike! I defy thee.’

‘Beat him on the mouth with a shoe! gag the kafir son of perdition! send him to hell!’ roared many voices; ‘let him die!’ while scowling looks and threatening gestures met him on all sides.

‘Peace!’ exclaimed the Sultaun, who seeing that his words were not heard amidst the hubbub, rose from his seat and commanded silence. ‘Peace! by Alla I swear,’ he cried, when the assembly was still once more, ‘if any one disturbs this conference by word or deed, I will disgrace him.’ And then turning to Herbert, who with glowing cheek and glistening eye stood awaiting what he thought would be his doom, ‘Fool, O fool!’ he cried, ‘art thou mad? wilt thou be a fool? Thy race mourn thee as dead; there is a new life open to thee, a life of honourable service, of rank and wealth, of a new and true faith. Once more, as a friend, as one who will greet thee as a brother, who will raise thee to honour, who will confide in thee, I do advise thee to comply. Thou shalt share the command of my armies—we will fight together: thou art wise—we will consult together: thou art skilled in science, in which, praise be to Alla! I am a proficient, and we will study together. Alla kureem, wilt thou not listen to reason? Wilt thou refuse the golden path which thine own destiny has opened to thee? Let me not hear thy answer now. Go! thou shalt be lodged well, fed from my own table; in three days I will again hear thy determination.’

‘Were it three years, my answer would be the same,’ cried Herbert, whose chest heaved with excitement, and who with some difficulty had heard out the Sultaun’s address. ‘I defy thee! I spurn thy base and dishonourable offers, with indignation which I have not words to express. When thou canst give me back the murdered Mathews, whose blood is on thy head—when thou canst restore to life those whom thou hast murdered, thrown from rocks, strangled—when thou canst do this, I will serve thee. For the rest, I abhor thy base and unholy faith.’

‘Hog! son of a defiled mother! vilest son of hell!’ screamed the Sultaun, almost speechless with passion, ‘dost thou dare to revile the faith? Do ye hear him friends? do ye hear the kafir’s words? Have ye ears, and do not avenge me? have ye swords, and do not use them?’

Fifty swords flashed from their scabbards as he spoke, and many were uplifted to strike the daring and reckless speaker, when Kasim, who had been listening with the most intense interest, and remembering his promise of succour, while he felt the high sense of honour which prompted the Englishman’s defiance of the Sultaun, rushed forward, and with uplifted arm stayed the descent of the weapons, which would have deluged the floor with blood, and committed murder on an innocent person.

‘Hold!’ he exclaimed, with the utmost power of his strong voice,—‘are ye men? are ye soldiers? to cut down a man unarmed, and who is helpless as a woman? Have you no regard for honour, or for truth, when you hear it spoken?

‘Rash and foolish youth!’ cried the Sultaun; ‘is this thy first act of service? An act of disrespect and rebellion. And yet I thank thee for one thing—though he whom thou hast saved will curse thee for it—I thank thee for his life, which I have now to torture.’

‘Thy death, kafir Feringhee,’ he continued to Herbert, ‘under the swords of the Moslims would have been sweet and that of a soldier—it shall now be a bitter one. Away with him to the Droog; no matter how he is carried thither, the meanest tattoo, the meanest dooly is enough. Here, do thou, Jaffar Sahib, see this done; travel night and day till it is accomplished: see him and his vile companions, or such of them as will now dare to refuse my offers, flung from the rock by Kowul Droog, and hasten back to report that they are dead. Begone!’

‘Farewell, brave friend,’ said Herbert to Kasim, as they laid hold on him roughly, and with violent abuse urged his departure; ‘if we meet not again on earth, there is a higher and a better world, where men of all creeds will meet, but where yonder tiger will never come. Farewell!’

‘Say, have I not acquitted myself of my promise to thee?’ cried Kasim passionately, for he too was held by the Khan and others.

‘Thou hast,’ was the reply. ‘May God reward thy intentions—’ His last words were lost in the exclamations, threats, and obscene abuse of those who dragged him away.

The Sultaun re-seated himself on the musnud, and the tumultuous heaving of the assembly was after a short while once more stilled. No one spoke, no one dared to interrupt the current of the monarch’s thoughts, whatever they might be. All had their eyes fixed upon Kasim, who, held by the Khan and another, waited expecting his doom in silence, but not with dread: yet his thoughts were in a whirl of excitement; and the remembrance of his mother, Ameena, the Englishman, and the acts of his own life, flashed through his mind, till he could hardly distinguish one from the other. But Kasim’s earnest gaze was all the while fixed upon the monarch, who for a few moments was absorbed in a reverie, in which indecision and a feeling of mercy toward the young Englishman appeared to be struggling with the fiercely excited passion which still trembled about the corners of his mouth and his chin in convulsive twitchings. After a little time it passed away, and left only that stern expression which was habitual to him when a sneer did not occupy his features. His eyes had been fixed on vacancy; but on a sudden he raised them up, and they met those of Kasim, who, still held by the Khan, stood close to him.

‘Ai Kumbukht!’ he exclaimed. ‘O unfortunate, what hast thou done? By Alla I would have loved thee, only for thy rashness. Knowest thou the peril of coming between the tiger and his prey? Knowest thou that I have but to speak, and, ere thou couldst say thy belief, thy young blood would moisten the grass yonder? Knowest thou this, and yet didst thou dare to brave me? Alla kureem! what dirt has not been ordained for me to eat to-day? Whose unlucky face could I have seen this morning when I awoke? Speak, slave! thou art not a spy of the kafir English, that thou wentest beside thyself in his behalf whom we have doomed to death?’

‘May I be your sacrifice, O Sultaun!’ cried Kasim, joining his hands and addressing Tippoo, ‘I am no spy—I am not faith-less—thou hast the power to strike my head from my body—bid it be done; your slave is ready to die.’

‘Then why didst thou behave thus?’ said Tippoo.

‘The Englishman was helpless—he was unarmed—he was my friend—for I rescued him from insult at Bangalore,’ replied Kasim; ‘he told me his history, and I grieved for him: he besought me not to enter thy service, O Sultaun, but to join his race. I was free to have done so; but I despised them, and longed to fight against them under the banner of the lion of Islam. I swore to befriend him, however, if ever I could; the time came sooner than I expected, and in an unlooked for form; and I had been faithless, craven, and vile, had I failed him when he could not strike a blow in his own defence. This is the truth, O Sultaun! punish me if thou wilt—I am thy slave.’

‘Unhappy boy,’ said the Khan to him in a whisper, ‘thou hast spoken too boldly. Alla help thee, for there is no hope for thee that I can see. See, he speaks to thee.’

‘Kasim Ali,’ said the Sultaun, ‘had one of these who know me dared to do what thou hast done, I would have destroyed him; had any one dared to have spoken as boldly as thou hast done, I would have disgraced him for disrespect. Thou art young—thou art brave; thou hast truth on thy forehead and in thy words, and we love it. Go! thou art pardoned: and yet for warning’s sake thou must suffer punishment, lest the example should spread in our army, which—thanks to Alla! who hath given his servant the wisdom to direct and discipline it after a fashion, the perfection of which is not to be met with upon the earth—’

Here he paused, and looked around, and all the courtiers cried ‘Ameen! Ameen! listen to the words of wisdom, to the oracle of the faith of Islam!’

‘For example’s sake,’ continued the Sultaun gravely, ‘thou must be punished. We had thy pay written down at twelve hoons—it shall be ten; thou wast to be near my person—thou shalt serve under the Khan, as he may think fit. If thou art valiant, we shall hear of thee with pleasure, and reward thee; and remember our eyes, which are as all-seeing as those of Alla and the angels, will ever be fixed upon thee. Remember this, and tremble while thou thinkest upon it!’

Kasim saluted the monarch profoundly and drew back; he had been rebuked, but mildly, and the honest face of the Khan was once more overjoyed.

‘Inshalla! thy destiny is great,’ he whispered; ‘now had I, or any one else here, got by any accident into such a scrape, we should have been heavily fined, degraded, and Alla only knows what else; but thou hast come off triumphant, and, as for the loss of the money, thou needest not mind. Alla grant, too, there may soon be an opportunity of winning fame. Inshalla! we will yet fight together.’

Just then the loud cries of ‘Khamoosh! Khamoosh!’ again resounded through the hall, and the Sultaun once more spoke.

‘Let every officer inspect his cushoon^[32] minutely during the ensuing month,’ he said; ‘let the officers of cavalry look well to their horses: let those who have the charge of our invincible artillery look to their carriages and bullocks: let all the departments of the army be in readiness to move at the shortest notice: for we hear of wars against our detachments in Canara, and that the infidel Nairs (may their lot be perdition!) have again taken up arms, and are giving trouble to our troops. Therefore it was revealed to us in a dream, which we have chronicled as it appeared, and with which we will now delight the ears of our people.’ And feeling under him for a manuscript, he began to read it with pompous gravity.

‘On the night before last, soon after this child of clay lay down to rest, an angel of light appeared to him, even like unto the angel Gabriel, as he manifested himself unto the blessed Apostle (may his memory be honoured!) and of whom this mortal is an unworthy imitator; and the angel said,—“The Nairs in thy dominions are becoming troublesome, therefore shalt thou destroy them utterly; their abominations and the loose conduct of their women are offences against the Most High, therefore they shall be punished,—they shall be all honoured with Islamism.” And so saying the angel vanished, and this servant awoke, and recorded the dream as he had heard it.’

‘Ajaib! Ajaib! Karamut! Karamut!^[33] The Sultaun is the friend of Alla—the Sultaun is the apostle of Alla!’ burst from the assembly, with many other ejaculations equally devout and flattering.

‘Yes, my friends, even thus doth the providence of Alla overshadow us,’ continued the Sultaun, ‘and enable us to avert the evils which the infidels would bring upon the true faith. Inshalla! however, we will teach them a lesson, and one which they will remember while they have being. I have read you my dream, and behold, in confirmation of it, this morning’s post brought letters from Arshed Beg Khan, our governor, which informs us of the disorders, and that he is making head against them with all the force he can muster: therefore we would have you all prepared should reinforcements be needed. And now, Rhyman Khan,’ he added, ‘what news hast thou for us from the court of Nizam Ali Khan?’

‘Shall I speak it out, Protector of the Universe, or wilt thou hear it in thy closet?’ said the Khan advancing.

‘Here, friend, here; what secrets have I that my friends about me should not know? Mashalla! in the Sircar Khodadad all is as open as daylight.’

Amidst the murmur of applause which this speech produced, the Khan hemmed audibly, to ensure silence, and proceeded.

‘I beg to represent,’ said he, ‘that Nizam Ali Khan is favourable to the Sircar—entirely favourable. The English pressed him to give up the province of Guntoor, which he is bound to do by treaty; but he is unwilling (and no wonder) to comply; things have advanced to almost a quarrel between them, and if he was sure of the feeling of this Sircar, I would pledge my life on it that he would declare war to-morrow, and thus the two Sircars could fight under the banner of Islam, and exterminate the unbelievers. But, Inshalla! there will be more proof than my poor words; for I heard from good authority that the Huzoor was about to select an ambassador, a man of tact and knowledge, who will explain all his wishes satisfactorily,’

‘An ambassador! sayest thou, Khan? By Alla, rare news! He is then in earnest, and with his aid what may not be done? he can bring a lakh of men—cavalry too—into the field, and he has infantry besides. Alla grant he may come soon! let us only chastise these infidel Nairs, and thus make a step towards the extermination of unbelief from Hind. Let the Durbar be closed!’ he cried suddenly and abruptly after a short silence; and rising, he retired into one of the smaller rooms, where, alone, he meditated over those wild schemes of conquest which were eventually his ruin.