The Rajah of Kashmir and his court went a-hunting on the day of Lal
Singh's return to their good company. They swept down the valley, a
gorgeous train of nobles and host of attendants with falcons girt for
foray, and moved with much state and circumstance among the hills until
the sun grew hot, when silken tents were pitched in a walnut grove near
by a smoothly flowing river. Here they ate and drank and reposed while
obsequious servants fanned them, and the sweet music of vinas blended
with the murmur of the water and the droning of the bees.
The Rajah sat in the entrance of a crimson tent and enjoyed the
delicious air. The nest-laden branches drooped above, the twittering of
birds ceased, but gentle forms hopped lightly from twig to twig, and
curious eyes peeped from leafy lurking-places. In the turban of the
Rajah, the Sapphire of Fate shone with serene lustre like the blue
water-lily of Kashmir. His fingers toyed idly with the plumage of a
magnificent hawk, now unhooded but still wearing the leathern jesses
and tiny tinkling bells of the chase. The leash by which it was held
slipped gradually from the arm of an attendant and it was unconfined.
Its keen eye knew all the ambushed flurry overhead, but it did not
rise--a more curious prey lay nearer.
In a moment it was poised in air. Another second and it had gained
possession of the Mystic Stone, the augur of weal to the Khalsa, its
menace when borne by a foe, the portentous Sapphire of Fate!
All was consternation and clamour. The unlucky fellow who had slipped
the leash, waving his wrist, sought to induce the bold robber to alight,
but his cries were scarcely heard above the vociferation of the throng,
and he was fain to tear his beard and curse the day of his birth. But as
neither lamentation nor rage could restore the treasure, cooler heads
dispatched a party of horsemen with falcons and lures to decoy the
recreant.
With the first shout of dismay and horror Atma stood as if transfixed,
enwrapt in thought, and did not stir nor speak until the rescuing party
had long vanished across the plain, and Bertram touching him on the
shoulder rallied him on his abstraction, and told him that the Nawab
was about to beguile the time and reanimate the flagging spirits of the
illustrious company with a tale. Repressing a sigh, Atma smiled and
suffered his friend to lead him into the circle forming about the
story-teller.
"Far back," began the Nawab, "far back in the ages whose annals are lost
in story, when, Time and Eternity being nearer the point of their
divergence, things preternatural and strange entered into the lives of
men, there lived a mighty king of great renown, who, being stricken with
a lingering but fatal malady, spent the last years of his life in
adjusting the affairs of his kingdom and preparing all things to the
single end that the reign of his successor, who was his only son, might
excel in grandeur and dominion all other empires of that era. This son
ascended the throne while still of tender years, and found that parental
fondness had endowed him with unequalled power and dominion. His
subjects, under the beneficent rule of the departed king, had become a
great and prosperous nation; he was at peace with all neighbouring
monarchs; his treasuries were filled to overflowing; and, more than all,
the wisdom of the counsellors whom the king this father had appointed to
instruct and guide his early years had sunk deep into a heart
well-fitted by Nature to receive it, and his demeanour was such that the
loyal affection which was his by inheritance soon changed to a heartfelt
admiration and love of the virtues which all men perceived him to
possess. Surely no monarch ever began to reign under more auspicious
skies. One of his palaces, his chief pleasure-house, had been built for
him by command of the late king, and was of unique excellence. Its
progress during erection had been impatiently watched by the monarch,
who desired to see it complete and be assured of its perfection before
he closed his eyes on the world, so that the skilful builders who
wrought day and night were distracted between the injunction laid on
them that it should be in every part of unrivalled beauty, and the
hourly repetition of the royal mandate that the task be accomplished
immediately. But, notwithstanding, so well did they succeed that among
all the wonderful palaces of that age and land there was none to compare
with The Magic Isle, for thus was it called, because by ingenious device
it floated on the bosom of one of the lakes by which that country was
diversified. No bridge led to this palace, but gilded barges were ever
ready to spread their silken sails and convey the king to and from the
elysium, which sometimes, as if in coquetry, receded at his approach
among flower-decked islands, and sometimes bore down to meet the gay
flotilla, branches spread and garlands waving, like some enchanted
vessel of unknown fashion and fragrance.