Princess of the dawn

Chapter 55

"Abdul, you won't believe what I heard in the market!"

"So talk! Did you find out something?"

"Ji! Soldiers are stirring up the people against the Rajputs!"

"What, do you know what you are saying?"

"Indeed! I mingled with the crowd, asking which unit they belonged to. I didn't think it would work! But one particularly loud-mouthed soldier spat out that they belonged to the 'unit of Adha...' before his comrade kicked him!"

Abdul stared at him in horror!

"Adham Khan" they both shouted as if from one mouth!

"Fadhil, this is very precarious! We must proceed with extreme caution! Jalal will not believe a word we say. His faith in Maham Anga is boundless!"

"I see! How do we want to proceed?"

"You write the letter to Moti Bai as discussed. Until then, there is nothing left for us to do but wait for her reply and keep your eyes and ears still open here. We need airtight evidence!"

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Sharif ud-Din had left for his fief in Nagaur with a beaming Bakshi. Jalal spent most of his time enjoying the hunt and the women in his harem. But neither Ruqaya nor any other could fill the strange emptiness inside him and he drowned his anger and pain in wine. Unnoticed, Maham Anga had seized the reins of government. Atgah Khan saw this with concern and turned to Jalal and protested against the interference. Jalal just laughed and wiped away the objection with a wave of his hand. He was relying on Munim Khan. Atgah Khan's hands were tied. Jalal decided to listen around unnoticed in Agra about the rumors of the Rajputs' guilt. Disguised as a common man, he left the fort in the early evening and mingled with his bustling people. Dusk was breaking. Next to cookshops inviting people to eat with their delicious smells, water merchants loudly advertised their thirst-quenching ware. Jugglers, acrobats and storytellers gave their performances. All kinds of charlatans, who wanted to pull money out of the pockets of gullible people with flowery words, loitered around and waited for potential customers. Singers and musicians delighted the ears with their more or less melodious sounds. Jalal let himself drift through the alleys and looked around attentively. No trace of traitors! The melody of a folk song about a dancing girl gripped him!

„To see her is to fall in love, and to drink a drop of wine from the flask of her lustrous eyes is to be transported to the cosiest corner of the heaven. To be with her even for a moment is to taste immortally. She is great, she is pure, she is divine. God makes the like of her only once in a million years".

The bearded blind bard rendered the verses in a full baritone voice which captivated everyone. Jalal watched a group of young men around the bard, whose listened with joy and wonderment. Some of them took up the refrain and sang it over and over again.

The increasing darkness gave the scene of huts and the high minarets of a neighboring mosque in the light of the torches a peculiar atmosphere. Jalal got carried away by the enthusiasm of the young men and hummed along to the catchy melody.

"Who is the dancing-girl he sings about?" he asked the man beside him.

"You've never heard of her?" the latter asked incredulously. "Her reputation precedes her! Rupmati from Saharanpur! She's a Hindu girl. They say she's ravishingly beautiful, more beautiful than the moon, the tulip and the early dawn of the spring." He turned away to join in the refrain again. Jalal listened for a while longer before returning to the fort. His curiosity about this beauty was piqued. For a flash of a moment hazel eyes flashed in his mind. Anger flared up in him and he pounded a pillow with his fist. Maybe this beauty could fill this strange feeling of emptiness inside him. "And erase my memories!" he thought bitterly. Again and again he poured wine in a goblet to find forgetfulness and peace in wine. Drunk, he fell into a troubled sleep. A dancinggirl with waving black hair danced in his dreams, her face hidden by a veil. After a fast turn, the veil blew away and a pair of flashing hazel eyes bored into his! He woke up in a cold sweat. Anger crawled up inside him. Even in his dreams, the rajkumari haunted him! Hastily he poured himself another goblet of wine and emptied it in one go. He let himself fall back on his bed and finally he fell asleep deeply and dreamlessly.