CHAPTER III
THE ROYAL UMBRELLA
That night even Roy the Rajput, who as a rule woke every hour to see tohis little master's safety, slept sound. And so did the others, thoughthey sat up till Foster-father crept in to the tent about midnight,after having seen the Royal Fugitives safely over the Persian border. Ofcourse, there was nothing but miles on miles of snowy mountains beforethem, nothing but long struggle and privation to be hoped for; stillthey were out of India, out of an enemy's country. For which Heaven bethanked!
So they wrapped themselves in their quilts and lay down to rest withhearts eased for the time of immediate anxiety.
Head-nurse, however, began at once, after her wont, to make plans forresuming some of the courtly ways which hurry had made impossible. Thegold embroidered royal red umbrella was one thing she was determined tohave.
But who was to hold it over the Royal Infant? Roy would get tired of itduring a long march. He was but a boy; and after all there should be aDeputy, Assistant, Second, Umbrella Bearer to Majesty.
Could Meroo, properly dressed, of course, be promoted to the position?
She actually woke Foster-father from his well-earned first sleep topropound this knotty question.
"Good woman," he murmured patiently, "make what court appointments yewill. Create the scullion Prime Minister, so I have my sleep."
And he was snoring almost before the words were out of his mouth.
So next morning Head-nurse, refusing the baggage camel with pannierswhich Prince Askurry sent for the use of the little Heir-to-Empire,organised a procession of her own.
First of all came Foster-father, stout and solid, on his skew-bald hillpony which was called Horse-chestnut because it was patched all over,like an unripe chestnut, with yellow, brown and white.
It had a lovely tail that touched the ground, and a coat that was longand wavy like an Irish setter's. A wise, sober pony was Horse-chestnut;he never attempted to climb up anything he thought too difficult, butjust gave a look at it to make sure and then put down his head calmly,and began to graze until his rider found an easier path.
Next came Trooper Faithful on his old white charger Lightning. Once upona time it had been like its name, swift exceedingly, but now, like itsmaster, it was slow and stiff.
Then followed Head-nurse, astride, in Indian fashion, the bay Beloochmare which had been Queen Humeeda's favourite mount until it had had tobe left behind in one of the hasty moves which had of late been socommon in the hunted life of the Royal Fugitives. The mare, of course,had been taken by the pursuers, and brought along with them; and thegroom in charge of it had come grinning with delight to Foster-fatherwhen he found himself in the same camp again. Foster-father was forriding the bay mare himself and giving sober Horse-chestnut to theHeir-to-Empire, but Head-nurse would not hear of this. The bay mare was,she said, altogether more royal. So there she was, with Baby Akbarastride a cushion in front, perched on the skittish creature, feeling atheart very nervous, for she was but a poor rider. However, she held onvery tight with one hand, held Baby Akbar still tighter with the other,and trusted to Providence, while Roy and Meroo ran beside her on eitherside, alternately holding up the Royal Umbrella as best they could.
Foster-mother on a mule, with little Adam perched in front of herbrought up the rear of the procession. It was a poor one for progresseven along the levels, because of the bay mare's fidgeting andcaperings, but when the steep hill sides were reached it becameimpossible to keep up with the rest of the equipage. So Prince Askurryand his men pushed on ahead leaving the little party alone, since escapewas impossible on that wild mountain road, especially with the rearguard of the camp coming a few miles behind them. And, indeed, if suchan idea had entered the heads of any of the party it must soon have fledbefore the difficulty of getting along at all. It was a steep zig-zagpath, and looking upwards you could see it zigging and zagging rightaway to the sky line. Poor Foster-mother, who came last, could not takeher eyes off it, for the bends immediately above her were filled withthe most terrifying sights. First her stout husband, who seemed to be inthe act of slipping over Horse-chestnut's tail. On the next OldFaithful, driven to dismounting and laboriously lugging Lightning up bythe bridle. But the last zig-zag in front of her called forth piercingshrieks. For the bay mare, not having been ridden for some time, wasfull of beans. Baby Akbar insisted on holding the reins, and Meroo,whose turn it was to hold the umbrella, _would_ slip and slither amongthe stones, thereby bringing its fringe right on the bay mare's nose.
"Oh! Head-nurse, have a care! The blessed child!" shrieked poorFoster-mother as a more than usually bad stumble sent the umbrella on tothe mare's tail.
This was too much for it. Frightened out of its senses, it gave afrenzied bound forwards, then rearing straight up, hung over the edge ofthe path, as if it meant to take a downward plunge.
All seemed lost! Foster-father and Faithful stood petrified withdespair. Meroo would have dashed forward to catch at the rein but Roy,knowing with that curious instinct of his, that that would only makematters worse, as it would still further frighten the mare, held himback by main force. The only person who was not spellbound with fear wasBaby Akbar. He thought it a fine joke that his mount should stand up onits hind legs and paw the air. So he shrieked with delight, and droppedthe reins to clap his hands, as he always did when he was pleased. Nowthis was the very best thing he, or anybody else, could have done. Themare, feeling herself free, thought better of it, and wheeling rounddropped her fore feet on the path once more.
Foster-father's loud Arabic thanksgiving ended in an equally loud order."Get off the mare, woman. Horse-chestnut is the only mount thou art fitfor. Roy! carry that foolish umbrella behind."
"In front--the emblems are ever carried in front," protested Head-nursefeebly.
"I said behind," was all the answer she got, and behind it went whilethey toiled up and up.
After a while the road became surprisingly bad; nothing in fact but awatercourse, and Foster-father began to doubt if they could be on theright way. Possibly, when they were all excited over the mare's badbehaviour, they had taken a wrong turning. But as the path led everupwards, he judged it better to go on, though it was terribly hard work.Every moment the road became worse and worse until it ceased to be morethan a mere ladder of rocks which puzzled even Horse-chestnut. More thanonce he stopped dead and would no doubt have refused any further attemptto climb had there been anything at which to graze. But there wasnothing; nothing but rocks. So, after a pause he made the best of a badbargain, raised himself on his hind legs, sought a foothold for his forefeet in some crevice, and then scrambled up. Only the two childrenenjoyed themselves, Baby Akbar laughing with delight and clapping hishands over all the slips and slitherings which even nimbleHorse-chestnut made, and which reduced Head-nurse and Wet-nurse topiteous wails to Roy not for Heaven's sake to let go of theHeir-to-Empire's baggy trousers. And Adam enjoyed himself, also, runningon in front and making snowballs in the drifts which, ere long, were tobe seen sheltering from the sun in the clefts of the rocks.
The sight of them made Foster-father frown. "We go too high," he said."Heaven send we have not to climb to a higher pass."
His remark made Head-nurse give way altogether. She wept loudly, sayingin that case she had better stay and die where she was, thus saving themthe trouble of carrying her down the hill.
At that very moment, however, Adam who had run far ahead began wavinghis arms and shouting:
"He says 'The top! the top!'" cried Roy, who was keen in hearing as ineverything else. "Courage, mother! our troubles are over!"
They had not _quite_ ended, but in a few minutes more they had reachedthe beginning of the pass proper. Before them lay a grassy boggy slopecurling gently upwards between higher rockier slopes. A little streamplashed softly adown it, through a perfect wilderness of flowers, andwithout one word the tired travellers threw themselves beside it forrest and refreshment.
But Baby Akbar looked a little troubled.
> "Amma, Dadda 'way 'way in a 'ky," he said solemnly, and essayed to crawlon over the grass. For he could not walk yet, though he spoke so well.They say he began to talk when he was nine months old.
The Adventures of Akbar Page 6
