_bhang_. And we bribed the eunuchs to bring us opium and nutmeg and
tobacco. We could wear tight trousers, which none of the women here in
Surat dare for fear the mullahs will condemn them." As she spoke, her
eyes grew distant. "We wore jewels the way women in Surat wear scarves.
And silks from China the way they wear their dreary cotton here. There
was always music, dance, pigeon-flying. And we had all the perfumes--
musk, scented oil, attar of rose--we could want. The Moghul had melons
brought by runner from Kabul, pomegranates and pears from Samarkand,
apples from Kashmir, pineapples from Goa." She remembered herself and
reached to place a rolled betel leaf in his mouth. "About the
only thing we weren't supposed to have was cucumbers . . ." She giggled
and took a betel leaf for herself. "I think His Majesty was afraid he
might suffer in comparison. But we bribed the eunuchs and got them
anyway. And we also pleasured each other."
Hawksworth studied her, not quite sure whether to believe it all. "I've
heard the harems of the Turks in the Levant are said to be like some
sort of prison. Was it like that?"
"Not at all." She smiled easily. A bit too easily, he thought. "We used
to take trips to the countryside, or even go with His Majesty when he
went to Kashmir in the hot summer. In a way we were freer than the poor
third wife of some stingy merchant."
"But weren't you always under guard?"
"Of course. You know the word 'harem' is actually Arabic for 'forbidden
sanctuary.' Here we call it by the Persian name _zenana_, but it's
still the same. It's really a city of women. All cities must have
guards. But we each received a salary and were like government
officials, with our own servants. We each had our own apartment,
immense and decorated with paintings and bubbling fountains at the
door. Except there were no doors, since we were always supposed to be
open to receive His Majesty."
"Wasn't there anything about it you didn't like?" He examined her
skeptically. "It seems to me I could list a few drawbacks."
"A few things. I didn't like the intrigues. All the women
scheming how to lure His Majesty to their apartment, and giving him
aphrodisiacs to try to prolong his time there. The beautiful ones were
constantly afraid of being poisoned, or spied on by the older women and
the female slaves. And some of the women were always trying to bribe
eunuchs to bring in young men disguised as serving-women." She took the
stem of a flower and began to weave it between his toes. "But there are
always intrigues anywhere. It's the price we pay for life."
"You've never told me how you came to be in the _zenana _in the first
place. Were you bought, the way women are in the Levant?"
Kali burst into laughter. "_Feringhis_ can be such simpletons
sometimes. What wonderful legends must be told in this place called
Europe." Then she sobered. "I was there because my mother was very
clever. The _zenana_ is powerful, and she did everything she could to
get me there. She knew if His Majesty liked me, there could be a good
post for my father. She planned it for years. And when I finally
reached fifteen she took me to the annual mina bazaar that Arangbar
always holds on the Persian New Year, just like his father Akman did."
"What's that?"
"It's a mock 'bazaar' held on the grounds of the palace, and only women
can go. Anyone who wants to be seen by His Majesty sets up a stall,
made of silk and gauze, and pretends to sell handiwork, things like
lace and perfume. But no woman can get in who isn't beautiful."
"Was that where the Moghul first saw you?"
"Of course. Arangbar came to visit all the stalls, riding around on a
litter that some Tartar women from the _zenana _carried, surrounded by
his eunuchs. He would pretend to bargain for the handiwork, calling the
women pretty thieves, but he was really inspecting them, and the
daughters they'd brought. I was there with my mother, and I wore a thin
silk blouse because my breasts were lovely." She paused and looked at
him hopefully, brushing a red-tipped finger across one nipple. "Don't
you think they still are? A little?"
"Everything about you is beautiful." It was all too true. As
he looked at her, he told himself he much preferred her now to how she
must have looked at fifteen.
"Well, I suppose Arangbar must have thought so too, because the next
day he sent a broker to pay my mother to let me come to the _zenana_."
Hawksworth paused, then forced nonchalance into his voice. "Did Shirin,
or her mother, do the same?"
"Of course not." Kali seemed appalled at the absurdity of the idea.
"She's Persian. Her father was already some kind of official. He was
far too dignified to allow his women to go to the mina bazaar. The
Moghul must have seen her somewhere else. But if he wanted her, her
father could not refuse."
"What eventually happened to you . . . and to her?"
"She became his favorite." Kali took out her betel leaf and tossed it
aside. "That's always very dangerous. She was in great trouble after
the queen came to Agra."
"I've heard something about that." He found himself wanting to hear a
lot more about it, but he held back. "And what happened to you after
you entered the _zenana_?"
"His Majesty only came to me once, as was his duty." She laughed but
there was no mirth in her voice. "Remember I was only fifteen then. I
knew nothing about lovemaking, though I tried very hard to please him.
But by that time he was already entranced with Shirin. He began to call
for her almost every afternoon."
"So what did you do after that?"
"I began to make love to the other women there. I suppose it sounds
strange to you, but I found I actually enjoyed other women's bodies
very much."
"Weren't you ever lonely?"
"A little. But I'm lonely here sometimes too." She paused and looked
away. "A courtesan is always lonely. No man will ever truly love her.
He'll listen to her sing to him and joke with him, but his heart will
never be hers, regardless of all the sweet promises he'll think to make
her."
Hawksworth watched her quickly mask the sadness in her eyes as she
reached for the hookah. At that moment he wanted more than anything in
the world to tell her it wasn't always true, but he knew she would hate
the lie. Instead he took out his own betel leaf and cleared his throat
awkwardly.
"You've never told me how you came to be called Kali. Mukarrab Khan
said that's not your real name."
She looked at him and her eyes became ice. "He's a truly vicious man.
What did he say?"
"That you would tell me." He paused, bewildered. "Don't you want to?"
She wiped her eyes with a quick motion. "Why not? You may as well know.
Before someone else tells you. But please try to understand I was very
lonely. You can't know how lonely it becomes in the _zenana_. How you
long for a man to touch you, just once. You can't imagine. After a
while you become . . . sort of mad. It becomes your obsession. Can you
understand? Even a little?"
"I've seen men at sea for months at a time. I could tell you a few
stories about that that might shock you."
She laughed. "Nothing, absolutely nothing, shocks me any more. But now
I'll shock you. There was this beautiful eunuch who guarded the
_zenana_ at night. He was Abyssinian, very tall and striking, and he
was named Abnus because he was the color of ebony. He was truly
exquisite."
"A eunuch?" Hawksworth stared at her, disbelieving. "I always thought .
. ."
She stopped him. "I probably know what you always thought. But eunuchs
are not all the same. The Bengali eunuchs like Mukarrab Khan has were
sold by their parents when they were very young, and they've had
everything cut away with a razor. Muslim merchants buy boys in Bengal
and take them to Egypt, where Coptic monks specialize in the operation.
That's the type called _sandali_. They even have to pass water through
a straw. But the operation is so dangerous few of the boys live, so
they're very expensive. Abnus had been sent to His Majesty as a gift
from some Arab merchant, who was so stingy he simply crushed the
testicles of one of his grown slaves instead of buying a Bengali boy.
No one realized Abnus could still do almost everything any man can do.
It was our secret."
"So you made love to a eunuch?" Hawksworth found
himself incredulous.
Kali smiled and nodded. "Then one day our Kashmiri ward servant entered
my apartment unannounced. She had suspected us. I didn't know until
that moment she was a spy for the palace." She stopped and a small
shiver seemed to pass through her. "We were both condemned to death. I
didn't care. I didn't want to live anyway. He was killed the next day,
left on a pike to die in the sun."
Kali paused and her lips quivered slightly. Then she continued. "I was
buried up to the neck in the courtyard. To watch him die. Then, in late
afternoon some Imperial guards came and uncovered me. And they took me
back into the palace. I was delirious. They took me into this room, and
there she was."
"Who?"
"Queen Janahara. She offered me a chance to live. I didn't know what I
was doing, where I was, anything. Before I thought I'd already agreed."
At last a tear came. "And I've never told anyone. I'm so ashamed." She
wiped her eyes and stiffened. "But I've never done what I told her I
would do. Not once."
"What was that?"
Kali looked at him and laughed. "To come here with Mukarrab Khan. And
spy on Shirin. So now and then I just send some silly nonsense to Her
Majesty. I know what Shirin is doing . . . and I admire her for it."
Hawksworth tried to keep his voice even. "What exactly is it she's
doing?"
Kali stopped abruptly and stared at him. "That's the one thing I can't
tell you. But I will tell you that I'm now also supposed to be spying
on you too, for Khan Sahib." She laughed again. "But you never say
anything for me to report."
Hawksworth found himself stunned. Before he could speak, she continued.
"But you asked about my name. It's probably the real reason I despise
Janahara so much. Before, I was named Mira. My father was Hakim Ali,
and he came to India from Arabia back when Akman was Moghul. But the
queen said I could never use those names again. She said that because
I'd caused Abnus' death, she was renaming me Kali, the name the Hindus
have for their bloodthirsty goddess of death and destruction. She said
it would remind me always of what I'd done. I hate the name."
"Then I'll call you Mira."
She took his hand and brushed it against her cheek. "It doesn't matter
now. Besides, I'll probably never see you again after tonight. Tomorrow
you'll be getting ready to leave for Agra. Khan Sahib told me I'm not
to come to you any more after this. I think he's very upset about
something that happened with your ships."
"I'm very upset about it too." Hawksworth studied her. "What exactly
did he say?"
"No, I've told you enough already. Too much." She pinched his toe.
"Now. You will keep your promise, my love. And then after tonight you
can forget me."