aspect as Nataraj, the god of the dance. For him and for him alone."
"What do you call this dance for your infidel god?"
"Bharata Natyam. The dance of the temple. The sacred tradition as old
as India itself. The god Shiva set the world in motion by the rhythms
of his dance. My dance is a prayer to Shiva." Kamala's eyes snapped
with hatred. "I dance for no one else."
"You were summoned here to dance for me." Arangbar pulled himself
drunkenly erect. Around the room the nobles began to shift uneasily,
their bleary eyes filling with alarm.
"Then I will not dance. You have the world in your hands. But you
cannot possess the dance of Shiva. Our dance is prescribed in the Natya
Shastra of the ancient sage Bharata. Over a thousand years ago he
declared that dance is not merely for pleasure; dance is the blending
of all art, religion, philosophy. It gives mankind wisdom, discipline,
endurance. Through dance we are allowed to know the totality of all
that is. My dance is not for your sport."
Arangbar's anger increased, but now it was leavened with puzzlement.
"If you will not dance your Shiva dance, then dance Kathak."
"The dance Muslims call Kathak is the perversion of yet another of our
sacred traditions. Perhaps there are some Hindu dancers who will, for
Muslim gold, debase the ancient Kathak dance of India, will make it a
display of empty technique for the amusement of India's oppressors.
Muslims and"--she turned and glared at Hawksworth--"now _feringhi_. But I
will not do it. The Kathak you want to see is no longer true Kathak. It
has been made empty, without meaning. I will never debase our true
Kathak dance for you, as others have done, any more than I will
dedicate a performance of Bharata Natyam to a mortal man."
The guards near the entrance of the _Diwan-i-Khas _had all tensed,
their hands dropping uneasily to their swords.
"I have heard enough. A man who dared speak to me as you have would be
sent to the elephants. You, I think, deserve more. Since you speak to
your god through dance, you do not need a tongue."
Arangbar turned to summon the waiting guards when, at the rear of the
_Diwan-i-Khas_, the figure of the Chief Painter emerged, his assistants
trailing behind. They carried a long, thin board.
Nadir Sharif spotted them and immediately leaped to his feet, almost as
though he had been expecting their entrance.
"Your Majesty." He quickly moved between Arangbar and Kamala, who stood
motionless. "The paintings have arrived. I'm ready for my horse. Let
the English ambassador see them now."
Arangbar looked up in confusion, his eyes half closed from the opium.
Then he saw the painters and remembered.
"Bring them in." Suddenly his alertness seemed to return. "I want to
see five Inglish kings."
The paintings were brought to the foot of Arangbar's dais, and he
inspected them drunkenly, but with obvious satisfaction.
"Ambassador Inglish. Have a look." Arangbar called toward the hushed
shadows of the seated guests. A path immediately cleared among the
bolsters, as hookahs were pushed aside, wineglasses seized.
Hawksworth walked unsteadily forward, his mind still stunned by the
imminent death sentence waiting for the woman. As he passed her, he
sensed her powerful presence and inhaled her musky perfume. There was
no hint of fear in her eyes as she stood waiting, statuesque and
defiant.
By the time he reached the throne, eunuchs were waiting with candles,
one on each side of the board, bathing it in flickering light. On it
was a line of five English miniatures of King James, each approximately
an inch square.
Good Jesus, they're identical. Am I so drunk I can't tell a painting of
King James?
He looked up shakily at Arangbar, whose smile was a gloat.
"Well, Ambassador Inglish. What say you? Are the painters of my school
equal to any your king has?"
"One moment, Majesty. Until my eyes adjust." Hawksworth grasped one
edge of the board to steady himself. Behind him there were murmurs of
delight and he caught the word "_feringhi_."
As he walked along the board, studying each painting in turn, he
suddenly noticed that the reflection of the candlelight was different
for one.
The paint is still wet on the new portraits. That's the difference. Or
is it? Are my eyes playing tricks? Damn me for letting Nadir Sharif
fill my wineglass every chance he had.
"Come, Ambassador Inglish. We do not have all night." Arangbar's voice
was brimming with triumph.
Hawksworth studied the paintings more closely. Yes, there's a slight
difference. The colors on the one painting are slightly different.
Duller.
They didn't use varnish. And there are fewer shadows. Theirs are more
two-dimensional.
"I'm astounded, Your Majesty. But I believe this is the one by Isaac
Oliver." Hawksworth pointed to the painting second from the right end.
"Let me see them again." Arangbar's voice was a husky slur. "I will
tell if you have guessed correctly."
The board was handed up. Arangbar glanced at the paintings for only an
instant. "You have guessed right, Ambassador Inglish. And I realize how
you did it. The light from the candles."
"The portraits are identical, Your Majesty. I confess it."
"So we have won our point. And you won the wager, Inglish. Still, you
won only because of my haste. Tomorrow you would not have known. Do you
admit it?"
"I do, Your Majesty." Hawksworth bowed slightly.
"So, you did not really win the wager after all. We lost it. But I am a
man of honor. We will release Nadir Sharif from his pledge. I am the
one who must pay. What would you have? Perhaps a diamond?"
"The wager was only for a horse, Your Majesty." Hawksworth was stunned.
"No. That was the wager of Nadir Sharif. You have won a wager from a
king. Yours must be the payment of a king. If not a jewel, then what
would you have?"
Before Hawksworth could reply, Nadir Sharif stepped forward and bent
toward Arangbar.
"If I may be allowed to suggest, Your Majesty, the _feringhi _needs a
woman. Give him this dancer. Let him amuse himself with her until you
can find a suitable wife for him."
Arangbar looked toward Hawksworth with glazed eyes. It was obvious he
had already forgotten about Kamala.
"The Kathak dancer who was here? She was excellent. Yes, that would be
perfect."
"Your Majesty of course means the woman standing here now." Nadir
Sharif directed Arangbar's groggy gaze toward Kamala, who stood mutely,
eyes flashing.
"There she is. Of course. What do you say to her, Inglish?"
Hawksworth was astounded by Nadir Sharifs quickness of wit. He's saved
the woman. He's a genius. Of course I'll take her. Good Jesus, there's
been enough bloodshed today.
"The woman would be the gift of a great prince, Your Majesty."
"So there's manhood about you after all, Inglish. I had begun to think
you were like your king." Arangbar laughed in delight. "So it's a woman
you would have, Ambassador? Merciful Allah, I have too many now.
Perhaps you would like two. I recall there's an Armenian Christian
somewhere in the _zenana_. Perhaps several. They're said to be as lusty
as the Portuguese harlots in Goa." He choked for a moment on laughter.
"Let me summon the eunuchs."
"This one will do for now, Your Majesty." Think how to phrase this.
"Merely to serve me."
"Yes, she will 'serve' you, Ambassador. Or we will have her head. If
she would amuse you, she's yours."
Kamala's look met Hawksworth's. It was strangely without emotion.
Then Arangbar suddenly remembered Kamala's defiance and turned to study
her again with half-closed eyes.
"But not this one. It must be the other one you want. This one will be
hanged tonight, in a room far beneath the _zenana_. After she has
answered for her words. Tomorrow her carcass will pollute the Jamuna. A
man in her place would already be dead."
"May it please Your Majesty, it would satisfy me even more to have this
one." Hawksworth paused. "Perhaps it's what the English call honor. We
both know I did not win our wager fairly. Only by taking something of
no value, like this woman, could I maintain my honor, and my king's."
"You are persuasive, Inglish, and I am drunk. But not too drunk to
suspect you've taken a fancy to this infidel. But if you prefer her to
the other, then so be it. We offered you whatever you wished. She's
yours. But never let her be seen on the streets of Agra again. We will
have her cut down."
"As please Your Majesty."
"It's done." Arangbar turned to Nadir Sharif. "Is it true you've found
a house for the Inglish?"
"I have, Your Majesty."
"Then send her there." He turned to Hawksworth. "Allah protect you from
these infidel Hindus, Inglish. They have none of your Inglish honor."
"I humbly thank Your Majesty." Jesus Christ, I've just been imprisoned
in a house staffed by Nadir Sharifs hand-picked spies.
"Enough. We've been told to retire early tonight. Her Majesty thinks we
drink to excess." He laughed a slurred chortle. "But we will see you
tomorrow, Inglish. To talk more. We have much to discuss. We want to
hear what gifts your king is preparing for us. We would very much like
a large mastiff from Europe. We hear they hunt game like a _chitah._"
Arangbar drew himself up shakily and two eunuchs immediately were at
his side, helping him from the white marble throne. None of the guests
moved until he had passed through the curtains. Immediately the eunuchs
began moving about the room, extinguishing the lamps. By the time the
guests assembled to leave, the room was virtually dark. Kamala and the
musicians had been escorted from the room by Arangbar's guards.
Suddenly Hawksworth felt Nadir Sharifs hand on his arm.
"That was a noble thing you did, Ambassador. We all owe you a debt of
thanks. I have rarely seen His Majesty so out of temper. The
repercussions could have been distressing for many of us."
"It was your idea."
"Merely a quick fancy, an act of desperation. But without your
cooperation it would have been impossible. I do thank you."
"There's nothing to thank me for." Hawksworth drew his arm away.
"Where's this house you've found for me?"
Nadir Sharif sighed. "Finding a secure lodging these days is more
difficult than you might first imagine, Ambassador. But you were in
luck. I remembered there's a small lodge in my palace grounds that is
unoccupied. I did not reckon on quarters for two, but of course the
woman will be living with your servants. The house should serve until
something more fitting can be found."
"My thanks." Damn you. "When do I move there?"
"Your effects have already been moved, on His Majesty's authority. You
can come tonight. My men will show you there. Your dinner is probably
waiting."
At that moment the last lamp was extinguished. Along with the other
guests they groped their way out of the _Diwan-i-Khas _in total
darkness.