NOURMAHAL, An Oriental Romance.

BY MICHAEL J. QUIN,

AUTHOR OF “A STEAM VOYAGE DOWN THE DANUBE,” “A VISIT TO SPAIN,” ETC.

IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I.

LONDON: HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1838.

PRINTED BY STEWART AND MURRAY, OLD BAILEY.

ADVERTISEMENT.

The reader is to suppose that the following romance is related by a story-teller of Cashmere. Itinerant reciters of prose and poetical fictions are still, as is well known to travellers, as common in the East as they were in the days of Homer.

CHAPTER I.

Too much wisdom is folly: for time will produce events of which thou canst have no idea; and he to whom thou gavest no commission, will bring thee unexpected news.

Tarafa.

In no part of our oriental world are there to be found bolder or more picturesque mountain ranges, or a greater variety of climate, fruits, flowers, and animals, than in that tract of country which lies beyond the grand chain of the Himalas. Although the snow and the cloud seldom disappear, which prevent their stupendous peaks from being seen in all their naked majesty, nevertheless the wanderer looks with delight upon their numerous declivities and valleys, clothed in green 2 herbage, interspersed with villages, and animated by herds and flocks, which abundantly reward the cares of their pastoral population. Sometimes standing upon an abrupt ridge, after having ascended through a wild accumulation of rocks, he beholds, spreading at his feet, a dell irrigated by streams that fall from the surrounding heights with a pleasing murmur, and occupied by cottages near which the amaranth, the convolvulus, the primrose and the hyacinth, blend their charms in gay luxuriance. Passing through the hospitable valley, he clambers higher up the mountain, and treads

through copses, the haunt of the wild goat, red and white deer, and a peculiar species of fox remarkable for it fleetness. The copse leads to the forest, tenanted by that elegant bird the bee-eater, whose brown back and yellow neck form so striking a contrast with the bright emerald of his breast and wings; by the flamingo, that sometimes lightens in the firmament like a meteor; the ring-dove, the starling, the nightingale, and above all the ouzell, whose body has stolen the blush of the rose, while its proud head seems to have been just dipped in the azure of the skies. 3

More than a thousand years have passed since the volcano and the earthquake filled that region with terror; but the traces of their fearful visitation appear to be of yesterday. Enormous bulks of rocks, rent asunder, present abysses through which the torrent rolls unseen, but not unheard, as innumerable caverns multiply its voice of thunder, while it contends against the fallen masses that momentarily resist its course. And yet it is delicious to contemplate the borders of those unfathomable channels, overhung by thickets of barberries and jasmines, and myriads of flowering shrubs, which send forth a spicy fragrance, and decorate the gloomy horror beneath with festoons of the most exquisite beauty.

On the edge of one of those dangerous ravines, in the district of Arjun, Kazim Ayas found himself expecting the return of his falcon, that had plunged into it after a quail. He had brought out the bird rather as a companion than for the purpose of sport, to which he was not much addicted. He had but recently returned to his native village among the mountains of Arjun, from the city of Samarcand, where he had obtained his education, 4 at the celebrated college founded by the munificence of Ulug Beg. The poems of Nizami were much more delightful to his ear than the sound of the hunter’s horn, especially those which paint in such fascinating colours the loves of Leili and Mejnun. For him, also, the moral compositions of Jami possessed peculiar charms. The elegance of language and versification, the sublimity of thought, the strain of religious and philosophical mysticism which characterise the effusions of that bard, often held the soul of Kazim bound in the spell of enchantment. Nor did he fail to render himself familiar with almost every branch of science,

and with the historians who have related the fortunes of all the great empires.

As the sun was fast descending beneath a canopy of gold and purple clouds, Kazim expected anxiously the re-appearance of the hawk, which he would not have lost for a hundred-fold its weight in diamonds; it was the first gift he had received from Mangeli, the idol of his soul from infancy, to whom he had been already for three happy years united. Holding by the branch of a willow which hung down low into the ravine, he ventured to descend over broken rocks, 5 whence, by the aid of gigantic ferns depending from the sides of the fissure, he lowered himself safely to a considerable distance from the summit. Through the dim twilight, he perceived the hawk struggling with its prey, among some fragments in the midst of the raging flood below. He called it repeatedly by its well-known name; but the noble bird, bent on victory, would not surrender the advantage it had already gained. In the contest, both the combatants fell into the torrent, which bore them away in an instant from his sight.

Kazim resolved to dare every danger rather than lose the falcon. Guided by the sound of the torrent, he trod his way through the fissure, until it closed above his head, excluding altogether the light of day. Though exposed every moment to the risk of falling over precipices, made slippery by the perpetual dropping of water from the masses overhead, nevertheless he penetrated through the dark hollows of the mountain, until his steps were checked by what he afterwards discovered to be a lake, in whose ample bosom the roar of the waters, which had almost stunned his ear, was subdued to silence.

6Again and again he called to the falcon, shouting as loudly as his voice would permit, but he was only replied to by a thousand vibrations, which bore the name along the waters, until at length it died away in the distant labyrinths of the cavern. While pausing in wonder at the effect his exertions produced, he descried afar in the heart of the mountain, several sparkles of fire, followed by a flame, that, after flickering for a moment, disappeared. His first impulse was to retrace his steps without delay; but, before he could withdraw his gaze from the spot where the mystic light was kindled, it again came like a star, dimly seen through a cloud, and shooting forth rays all round it. Gradually it grew larger and more brilliant, until Kazim felt that it was approaching rapidly towards the place where he stood. Presently, the outline of a boat was visible, and then dark forms cast their shadows on the water; slight undulations, shining at quick and regular intervals at each side of the vessel, betrayed the speed with which the oars were plied, and created

so much alarm in the mind of Kazim, that he sought concealment behind a projecting rock; whence, however, he could watch the progress of the bark.

7As the vessel came nearer, Kazim perceived that one of the group, who wore a Mogul cap embroidered with gold thread, appeared to be treated by his companions with some degree of distinction. To him they looked for directions as to the course which they were now to pursue, having already arrived in the middle of the lake. Without uttering a word, the chieftain took a torch in his hand, and pointing towards the rock behind which Kazim had sought refuge, desired the boat to be steered in that direction.

“Whom have we here?” exclaimed the leader, as he stepped out of the boat, flashing the light of the torch full in Kazim’s face. “A friend, or a foe?”

“How, when, why came you here?” asked five or six angry voices at once, rendered fiercer by as many sabres, which threatened the stranger with instant destruction.

Kazim explained, as soon as they would permit him to speak, though in a voice agitated by the feelings which this strange scene awakened, that he had undesignedly entered the cavern in search of his falcon.

“A falcon!” they shouted in a tone of derision;—“a spy—off with his head—he comes 8 from the foes of Suleiman—away with him into the lake!”

While the chieftain was scrutinising the countenance of Kazim by the light of the torch, the falcon descended on his hand; its beauteous eyes sparkling with joy for having once more found its favourite resting-place.

“His words are true,” said the chieftain, “for here is the hawk; and a noble bird it is: whence came you? to what tribe do you belong?”

“The Uzbecks.”

“We are friends; we have partaken of their salt; they have raised the war-cry with us; our arrows have flown together over the battlefield.”

While saying these words, the chieftain, without further ceremony, led the way by the road which had conducted Kazim to the lake, when suddenly turning into a dark passage, he entered a spacious cave, on the floor of which several coats of mail, spears, bows and quivers were thrown in confusion. Taking up a saddle-drum which lay amongst them, he struck it thrice with the back of his hand: the floor of the cave immediately awoke to life; numbers of men who had been sleeping, wrapped in their 9 cloaks, rose upon their feet at the signal, and crowding sound their chieftain, anxiously inquired, “What news?”

“Good news, my friends: the rebels will soon be in our power. The day after to-morrow we shall proceed on the march, and in the meantime, look to the boat for an abundant supply of provisions.”

A hundred torches of pine-wood were forthwith lighted, and planted at intervals all round the cavern: some of the men kindled fires, while others proceeded to the boat, and returned laden with deer, hares, partridges, pheasants, sheep, loaves of wheaten bread, and a considerable quantity of wine, and of humiz, the spirit distilled from mares’ milk, in leathern bags and bottles. The latter were reserved for the march, and the expected encounter; but the bags were placed on a shelving rock, and being formed of the skins of lambs prepared for the purpose, the liquid was drawn out through the tail, which was tied up, or let down, as occasion required. Most of those who had been sleeping in the cave, paid preliminary visits to the bags, by way of recompence for the privations which they had for some time endured. Meanwhile, 10 expert hands were occupied in dissecting, with sabres and knives, the venison and mutton, of which large slices were suspended on spikes of wood. These being stuck in the ground, round the fires, were turned repeatedly, until the meat was

roasted. Some hares, pheasants, and partridges were cooked in a similar manner; and while the cavern was thus filled with savory odours, which would have given edge to the appetite even of the epicure, various groups sat down on the floor in circles: salt was served to each man in the hollow of one hand, and in the other was placed bread, and a portion of the fragrant viands smoking from the fire. Bags of wine and humiz went round from circle to circle in due succession.

Kazim, whom the chieftain had directed to sit down near himself, felt not at all disinclined to imitate the example of his new friends. The venison of the red-deer he found as delicious as if it had been prepared by the hand of Mangeli. The wine, which was from Kabul, cheered his soul. By and by, as the hunger of the different groups was sated, and their hearts opened by the generous nectar, conversation became loud and general. Here a Tartar was seen on 11 his legs with a spear in his hand, boasting to those who were near him of the skill he had exercised in shaping the bone with which it was pointed, and in carving that part of it, which he grasped in his hand, when rushing on the foe. There a circle of listeners gathered round a veteran, who related incidents of the battles in which he had been engaged, not forgetting to exhibit scars on his breast and forehead, in verification of his story; while others were more sedately engaged in conjecturing the plans of their chieftain, whom they called Suleiman, and to whose fortunes they appeared to be enthusiastically attached.

From all that he could observe and hear, Kazim collected that the whole party had come from some distance, with a view to surprise three formidable princes, who were now, or were very soon expected to be, in that part of Arjun. While he was anxiously watching the movements of the various groups around him, he found that he had himself become an object of much attention to a noble looking person who was seated on the other side of Suleiman, and frequently conversed with the chief in an under tone. But Kazim felt no uneasiness for his 12 own fate. He had now taken salt with the strangers, whoever they were; they owed him protection, so long as he remained faithful to them; and there was a dignity in the manner of the commander, which appeared to entitle him at once to confidence and submission.

“My friend, Baba Seirami, thinks that he must have seen you somewhere before,” said Suleiman.

“Possibly, at Samarcand.”

“It must have been at Samarcand,” said Seirami. “If I mistake not, I was present at one of the public disputations held in the college of Ulug Beg, at which you took away the principal prize.”

Kazim modestly replied, that it was a great addition to the honours he had obtained on that occasion, to find that they were remembered by a personage, to whom he would have been otherwise unknown.

“Your name, I think, is Ayas?”

“Kazim Ayas.”

“It is a good name; you inherit it from one of the most ancient families at this side of the Himalas. I presume you reside in this neighbourhood?” added Seirami.

13“Not far hence, in a small hut on the borders of the Ilamish.”

“What!” exclaimed Suleiman, “a scholar, and content to die without a name on the banks of the Ilamish? Be of us, henceforth. I shall open to you the paths of glory.”

“I fear that you would find me but an incumbrance. I have never learned even to bend the bow.”

The entrance of a Tartar courier with letters, which he placed in the hands of Seirami, here interrupted the conversation. The latter, rising from the floor, proceeded with Suleiman to a recess in the cavern, where they glanced hastily over the letters. The chieftain immediately called around him his principal officers; and while they remained in consultation, Seirami, returning to Kazim, inquired at much length into the usual habits of his life, and the circumstances in which he was placed since he had quitted Samarcand.

“My biography since that period,” replied Kazim, “may be briefly told. Before I left home, all my dreams and hopes of happiness hovered around one dear image. A shepherdess, whom I used to meet in my daily rambles 14 among the hills, Mangeli, the daughter of Gulbeg, was the star of my existence. Upon my return from the university, I found her still the same. My heart, equally unchanged, knew no peace but in her presence.”

“An Ayas, and married to a shepherd’s daughter!”

“You would not express so much surprise, if you had known her gentleness, her purity of soul, her tenderness for me, her beauty,” said Kazim, deeply blushing; for he felt that the rank of his family was too well-known to Seirami.

“You must keep secret, even from her, all that you have seen or heard in this cave. Your life, your fortunes, depend upon your strict observance of this injunction. You may render us important services, if we can depend upon your firmness on this occasion.”

“The kindness which I have already experienced at your hands, commands my gratitude. Be assured of my fidelity.”

“These letters inform us, that to-morrow a troop of Mogul horsemen, commanded by the Khan Mirtas, will cross the Ilamish. His object is to effect a junction with our force; 15 and as we must move to-night to the place where the greater number of our soldiers are encamped, it will be your business to meet the Khan, and conduct him thither.”

Kazim received his commission with a degree of pride, which he had not known for some time. Seirami, then producing a map, described to him the spot where it was of the utmost importance that the Khan should join Suleiman. Kazim said, that he was perfectly familiar with the country, and he should feel no difficulty in accomplishing the service required of him. He was then, by Seirami’s direction, conducted to the boat, and rapidly rowed across the lake, to a passage by which its superfluous waters were discharged. In a short time the light of the stars, glowing in the firmament, enabled him to assure the rowers that they need give themselves no farther trouble, as he knew that he was upon one of the tributaries of the Ilamish.

CHAPTER II.

Contentment’s realms no fears invade, No cares annoy, no sorrows shade; There placed secure, in peace we rest, Nor aught demand to make us blest. While pleasure’s gay fantastic bower, The splendid pageant of an hour, Like yonder meteor in the skies, Flits with a breath, no more to rise.

Lamiat Alajem.

The moon being on the wane, was just ascending on the horizon, indicating the near approach of midnight, when Kazim arrived within view of his cottage. Through the small aperture, that served as a back window, he perceived a light, which told him that Mangeli was still watching for his return. For the first time, he felt a shade of uneasiness gathering, to qualify the delight he always experienced in 17 meeting her after a short absence. He now held a secret in his breast, calculated to influence, perhaps, the whole of his future destinies; and he had pledged himself not to reveal it even to her. In giving an account of the circumstances that detained him so unusually long from home—circumstances into which she would inquire with all the solicitude of affection—he was sensible that he must be guilty of a departure from that degree of unlimited confidence, which had hitherto subsisted between them. Treading gently by the path that led behind the cottage, he lingered involuntarily outside the window, as if to see how Mangeli was employed; but really hoping that

he might be able to compose his thoughts, and to assume, before he entered, a calmness which he did not feel.

A small bright charcoal fire was burning in the hearth, on which an earthen pan of rice was stewing. On a low table, spread with a snow-white cloth, was a jar of spring water, a loaf of bread made from the grain of purslane, a quarter of a large melon, and a basket of figs, all evidently untouched, as if Mangeli could have no enjoyment which was not shared by her husband. 18 Her father, Gulbeg, who, although he had already counted more than seventy winters, always rose at the dawn to drive the goats to pasture, was sleeping on his dry grass bed, at some distance from the fire; behind him lay his small herd of goats, also in profound repose. Two or three kids were skipping about, in vain soliciting the notice of Mangeli, who was looking out anxiously from the door.

“No—nowhere can I discern the least appearance of his shadow; what can detain him? Kazim, dear, dear Kazim!” she exclaimed, as turning from the door she closed it almost in despair. “This rice will be quite spoiled,” she said, as approaching the hearth she stirred the pottage with a wooden spoon. The falcon, awoke by that well-known voice, fluttered a moment in Kazim’s bosom, where it had hitherto lain asleep. Suddenly Mangeli stood up in the attitude of listening. A smile of joy rising from her tremulous lips, flashed rapidly over her countenance.

“It must be his step: hush!” she cried impatiently to the kids, that were jumping to touch her hand.