"Ambassador Hawksworth, His Majesty has asked me to ensure you
are wanting in nothing while you wait." Nadir Sharif was standing on
the wide marble balcony when Hawksworth emerged from the stairs that
led upward from the _Diwan-i-Am_ to the interior courtyard of the
palace. He salaamed with practiced dignity even as his darting eyes
assessed Hawksworth in a quick sweep. "As prime minister for His
Majesty it is my duty, indeed my pleasure, to attend your comfort and
acquaint you with our protocol."
"I thank you on behalf of His Majesty, King James." Hawksworth
awkwardly tried to salaam in return, careful not to bend as low as the
prime minister.
"Perhaps I can begin by acquainting you with the palace." He gestured
toward the open courtyard, where workmen thronged installing marble
fountains, and the rest of the encircling second-story balcony. "The
stalls below us are where the wives of merchants sometimes come to
offer finery to the women of the _zenana_. Now they are being readied
for His Majesty's birthday celebration. And there, across the way"--he
pointed to a massive silk canopy covering a pavilion opposite the
square, on the riverside of the palace-- "is the _Diwan-i-Khas_, where
His Majesty holds his evening gatherings. To the left are His Majesty's
baths and on the right, projecting out over the river, is the Jasmine
Tower of Queen Janahara. Now please follow me. His Majesty has honored
you by inviting you to wait for him in the _Diwan-i- Khas_. The only
other _feringhis _ever to see it are the Jesuits he sometimes invites
here to debate with the mullahs."
Around them the marble porticoes had been carved in relief, a profusion
of flowers and vines, creating a monochromatic garden in stone. The
floors were patterned marble and the walls decorated with hanging
tapestries. As they entered the _Diwan-i-Khas, _Hawksworth noticed its
floor was covered with a vast Persian carpet, over which had been
scattered bolsters and pillows for lounging. On the side nearest the
interior square was a foot-high platform in white marble and on the
opposite side, facing a gallery overlooking the arena below and the
Jamuna River beyond, was a similar platform in black marble. Both were
padded with rich carpets.
"His Majesty uses the white throne in evenings, and the black in the
afternoons, when he sometimes comes here to watch elephant fights in
the square below. The doorway there leads to Her Majesty's apartments."
"Where is His Majesty now?"
"He has retired to the _zenana _for one _pahar_, three hours, where he
dines on roasted meats, some wine, and passes the time agreeably. Each
afternoon Her Majesty selects a woman for him." Moghul smiled.
"Naturally it's never the same one. Her Majesty is always first in his
heart, but she never allows his wanton affections to wander. Afterward
he comes here for his evening gathering." Nadir Sharif walked to the
gallery and looked down on the river. Far below, on the opposite bank,
a caravan of heavily loaded camels passed silently. "By the way, His
Majesty has asked me to inquire if you have a lodging yet, Ambassador."
"I have references for brokers, and tomorrow I'll begin to look."
"And personal servants?"
"I'd hoped they'd be provided with the house."
"His Majesty may wish to arrange lodgings for you." Nadir Sharif turned
back toward Hawksworth and paused for a moment before continuing. "In
Agra ambassadors must acquire their lodgings and servants with care.
There is, regrettably, a certain amount of intrigue in our city.
Trustworthy and efficient servants are not always the easiest thing to
find. Perhaps I should raise the matter of your lodging and servants
with His Majesty."
"There's no reason to trouble His Majesty. I'll contact the
brokers tomorrow." Hawksworth's tone was level but firm, suspecting
that any servants picked for him would be spies. And if they turned out
to be "trustworthy and efficient" rather than lazy and begrudging,
there would be no doubt.
"The matter rests with His Majesty." Nadir Sharif watched as a eunuch
entered bearing a tray with glasses of _sharbat_. A _sarangi _player
followed him and settled in the corner, striking up a mournful-sounding
tune on an instrument that looked like a bloated violin and sounded, to
Hawksworth, like a distressed cat.
"Have you engaged an agent yet, Ambassador?" Nadir Sharif directed the
tray toward Hawksworth.
"What do you mean?"
"If your king wishes to trade large quantities of commodity, he will
certainly require an agent here in Agra. To ensure that documents and
approvals are handled efficiently." Nadir Sharif sighed. "Officials
here naturally prefer to work with someone who understands their . . .
requirements. An agent will be essential, if your king expects to trade
heavily." Nadir Sharif paused. "I presume that is his intention,
assuming His Majesty approves the _firman_?"
Hawksworth examined Nadir Sharif for a moment, assuming he was offering
to be the agent for King James. Or was he merely hoping to elicit trade
information to pass on to the Portuguese.
"I'll engage an agent when the time seems proper. For now I have no
_firman_." Then a light suddenly dawned somewhere in Hawksworth's
brain. "But I suppose I'll need an 'agent' for that as well?"
"It could prove useful. His Majesty can be distressingly absentminded."
"And what would be this agent's fee?"
"It depends on the difficulty involved." Nadir Sharif's face remained
impassive.
"I would say it also depends on whether he's successful."
"So it would. But he would need more information on English trading
intentions than you have divulged so far."
"That will come in time, when I know more about the 'agent.'"
"Naturally." Nadir Sharif cleared his throat. "But enough
of affairs. Permit me to toast your arrival. When your request for a
safe-conduct pass arrived from Surat, we all wondered if a _feringhi
_new to India could successfully travel our bandit-infested roads, even
with the Moghul's pass." He took a delicate sip of the beverage. "I
trust your journey was without mishap."
"For the most part."
"A diplomatic answer. But you seem to have survived all parts well
enough. Did you take the Burhanpur road?"
"I did."
"Ah, then perhaps you passed Prince Jadar. I understand he was there
recently." Nadir Sharif smiled disarmingly. "I always welcome news of
him. You may know he's married to my first daughter, Mumtaz. I hear she
just presented him with his first son."
"He was in Burhanpur when I arrived. But I was only there for three
days."
"Not a very interesting city, I'm told. But they say the Deccan itself
is quite beautiful in harvest. I envy you your trip. I, alas, rarely
can escape Agra, except when His Majesty goes to Kashmir in the heat of
summer." Nadir Sharif signaled the eunuch to refill Hawksworth's cup.
The _sarangi _player had been joined by a drummer, who took up a slow,
even rhythm. "Did I understand you to say you met the prince while you
were there?"
Hawksworth hesitated and studied Nadir Sharif, not remembering he had
mentioned meeting Jadar. "Actually I did see him briefly once. He was
in the fortress, where I stayed."
"Ah yes, the fortress. That was wise of you, considering the situation
now. I'm pleased he invited you to join him."
"As it happened, I traveled from Surat with men from his guard. Their
destination was the fortress."
"His guards? Then you were most fortunate indeed." Nadir Sharif seemed
to listen absently to the melody for a moment. "I'm always a bit stupid
about military campaigns. What would men from his guards be doing in
Surat?"
Hawksworth heard an inner alarm suddenly sound. "I think they were
there to accompany a convoy."
"A convoy? From Surat? Odd. But then I rarely understand these things.
What was it bringing?" Nadir Sharif chuckled congenially. "Barrels of
Persian wine for the prince, I would venture to guess?"
"I understand it was lead for shot."
Nadir Sharif gave Hawksworth a quick, troubled glance. "I see. Yes,
lead would require a guard. But Prince Jadar's Rajputs virtually scorn
to use muskets, so I assume it was rather a small number of carts."
Hawksworth straightened his doublet, shifting the location of Vasant
Rao's katar. "I don't recall the precise number."
"Naturally. I'm confused by numbers myself. Probably something like
twenty, I suppose. Certainly, I would presume, no more than fifty?"
"I didn't count the exact number."
"Too many to count? I see." Nadir Sharif seemed to be only half
attentive to the conversation, as he swung his head from side to side
in appreciation of the accelerating tempo of the drummer. "Doubtless it
was some of the very lead I'm told you brought for trade."
"It wasn't English."
"Ah, then I suppose it was Portuguese. I assume you must have noticed."
"Not actually." Hawksworth paused. "It wasn't really my concern."
"Yes, quite so." Nadir Sharif walked again to the gallery and stood
silent, still swinging his head absently to the time of the music. The
pieces of the puzzle had already dropped into place.
So that's how Jadar did it. And only one man in Surat could have
provided the prince the silver he needed, that contemptible son of a
moneylender Mirza Nuruddin. He's uncontrollable. But even if the prince
survives the Deccan, what can he do? The Imperial army . . .
Allah, it's obvious! There's only one way he can ever march north with
enough men to meet Janahara's army. By the Merciful Prophet, he's mad!