Atma - A Romance

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.