🧚 Opening, part 4

He must have been a bad man indeed, and no knight at all, in that even the vision of Perfect Beauty had not the power to kill in him that which was base and self-seeking.1 So yet once more, he sallied forth against Chittore long years afterwards, when the Baby-King was full grown, and with his twelve brave sons, and Bhimsi, and the other brave Rajput princes, kept faithful guard over the honour of knighthood in Rajputana.2

And Ala-ud-din took with him mighty armies and great engines of war, and by sheer force of numbers and deadly weapons he bore down the brave little body of knights fighting on the walls of their beloved city.3

Then again the knights sat in council.4 “Our weak and defenceless ones shall not,” they said, “fall into the hands of a coward enemy.”5

And they took their women down into the vaults beneath the city, where the Rajput woman was wont to go through fire to meet her lord who had died in battle.6 And they left them enough wood and fire for the sacrifice.7

And the women wore their most beautiful garments, to walk down to the vaults, a long line of beauty and courage led by the queen of beauty, the Lotus-Lady herself.8

And now it was the turn of the men.9 And the King and his sons and his brave knights all strove as to who should be first to meet single-handed the enemy at the gates.10 And they cast lots: and went one by one clad in the Rajput saffron robe of conquest: and single-handed each hewed his way through the gates, strewing the moat and outworks with the bodies of the slain.11

But Ayeshi, his beloved son, had the King sent secretly beforehand to a place of safety, that the race of warriors might still continue.12 And when night fell, the last of the Rajputs had left the city, having laid, each man, at the feet of the true knight and champion of the defenceless, a full sheaf of the unknightly ones.13

And Ala-ud-din came walking carefully across this carpet of the dead, into a fortress of which the gates were wide.14 But no man nor woman nor child found he anywhere in Chittore.15 All was emptiness--palace and hut, and bathing-ghat, and council chamber, and garden and marble-latticed roof--empty, all empty.16

Then at last did he realize that what was in his hands was not victory but defeat; and that the beauty and goodness of which we are not worthy, may not, in this life or the next, be taken by violence.17

The Perfect Host18

Rasmal Rana of Marwar had three sons--Sanga, Prithi Raj, and Jismal.19 And Prithi Raj was ambitious, and would boast that Fate meant him to lead the sons of Marwar.20

One day when he was boasting on this wise his eldest brother Sanga said:21

“Let the gods decide between us, brother.22 Although I am the eldest, you are welcome to my birthright, if so it is written.23 At the Tiger’s Mount lives the priestess who sees the future.24 Let us ask her who is to lead the ten thousand towns of Marwar when our father is dead.”25

So they rode on together to the Tiger’s Mount.26 The cave was empty, and they sat down to await the priestess.27

The cave was simply furnished--a bed, a panther’s skin, a beggar’s bowl of water.28 Prithi Raj made for the bed, but Sanga sought the hearth-rug.29

And the priestess entered and looked at Sanga.30

“In olden times,” she said, “the panther’s skin was the seat of princes.31 As now you sit on this skin, so one day shall you sit on the throne of Marwar.”32

At this Prithi Raj drew his sword and would have slain his brother, but their uncle stepped between, and Sanga escaped.33

He rode hard, his horse bleeding from sword-thrusts, for Jismal, his younger brother, was after him, while the uncle engaged Prithi Raj.34

A long way from the mount he came upon a very holy sanctuary.35 At its gates stood Rahtore Beeda, the perfect host: his horse stood beside him ready for a journey.36

“I am Sanga, son of Rasmal Rana: my brothers seek to kill me,” said Sanga.37

“Have no fear,” said Rahtore Beeda.38 “I will defend the sanctuary while you get away.39 See, there is my horse.”40

And even as he spoke his eyes travelled to the speck of dust on the horizon.41

And now Jismal and his men had come up.42 But Rahtore Beeda stood alone at the door of the sanctuary.43

“We want Sanga.”44

“He is my guest.”45

“Then let us seek for him.”46

“Nay--not while he is my guest,” said Rahtore Beeda, the perfect host, drawing his sword.47

Alone he stood against them.48 And when at last they forced their way into the sanctuary over his dead body, Sanga was far away in safety.49

And the perfect host had kept his tradition of hospitality.50

The Dove-Girl and the Prince51

There was once a Persian Prince of noble birth who lost all his money: so he left his country and came to India, bringing with him his wife and three children.52

“It will not”, he said, “be so hard to be poor in a strange country.”53

He travelled with a great many other people, all coming through the snow mountains and passes, and wild bleak places of Afghanistan.54 The women rode on camels, slung in cages on either side of the driver; and most of their luggage also was carried in this way.55 The men walked, and the journey took a weary long time for man and beast.56 The travellers halted to cook their food, and they halted again to sleep by great watch-fires, till the dawn-star told them that it was time to go on once more.57

One day a baby was born to the wife of the Persian, and he was very cross.58 “It is only a girl,” he said, “and no use at all.”59 So when no one was looking he laid it on the grass by the roadside, and meant to go away and leave it there to die.60

Now it happened that a great man known at the Court of the Emperor Akbar, was also travelling with the pilgrims for safety; for there were many robbers in those days, and only if a man travelled with a crowd of people in what was called a Caravan, could he be safe.61

And the great man saw the poor little baby lying alone on the grass, and, as it seemed to belong to no one, he said he would take it for his own.62 And he looked about among the women in the Caravan for a nurse.63

And the baby’s mother came forward and said: “Please let me be nurse.”64 So the baby had its own mother after all to care for it.65

Now the great man from Akbar’s Court was so kind that the woman told him all her story, and he asked to see her husband and her sons, and sent them all to the Emperor himself for protection.66 So it came to pass that the man from Persia got work and honour at the Emperor’s Court.67

And the baby born by the roadside grew very beautiful, and was called _Mihr-un-Nisa_, which means “the Sun of Womankind”.68 She lived near the Palace, and would go with the women into the Palace gardens, whenever the great Fairs took place, where the zenana women sold their lovely work and embroideries.69

And at one of these Fairs, Prince Salim, the Emperor’s son, lost his way in an empty part of the garden, where he could see no one but a small girl at play.70 He had in his hands his two favourite doves, and, wanting to fly kites with the boys at the fair, he told the little girl, who was our “Sun of Womankind”, to hold the doves till he should return.71 “Take care,” he said; “don’t let them fly.”72