India -- History -- 1000-1526 -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Reincarnation -- Fiction
Oman, taken by surprise, had an impulse to refuse the request. A
moment’s reflection, however, changed his mind. She had asked for
his creed. Believing as he did, he had no right to refuse her the
knowledge. Besides, was she not under the special protection of
Bhavani? Bhavani was his patron, nay, his friend. Whom Bhavani loved,
Oman would not deny. So he sent an answer by the little slave that he
would come that day; and the child departed, leaving him in chaos.
Oman spent the next two hours in the greatest confusion of mind. Never
in his life had he been brought into contact with such a woman as he
knew this one to be:—such a woman as the great Indian romances love to
concern themselves with. He thought of the incident of the Buddha’s
entertainment by the woman of Vesali, the beloved of Ajuta-Satra, and
of her conversion to the faith. Had the Sakyamuni found danger in her
presence? Was her hair of golden red? And then, suddenly, Oman started
up, resolutely turning his mind to other things. Hurriedly he bathed
and clothed himself in a fresh gown of white linen, girt himself with
a broad, yellow sash, and wound a white turban around his head. Then,
without pause, he set out for the water-palace.
The afternoon was late, and the shadows lay long and golden across the
road. Full summer was already on the land, and Mandu was a riot of
verdure. Oman’s mood responded easily to the scene. Under the spell of
the surrounding beauty, his thoughts grew lighter, till, when he paused
before the open doors of the waterpalace, he no longer looked like an
ascetic. The sombre fires in his eyes had brightened, and his face was
softened with a smile.
In the curtained doorway stood a tall slave, clad in rich livery, who
addressed Oman with an air of profound respect, and at once made way
for him to pass within. Oman found himself following the slave across
a broad, square hall, in the centre of which was a marble tank filled
with clear water; and thence they proceeded to the end of a short
corridor, where, before another curtained doorway, Oman was left alone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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