you a story about myself, English. I was born a Persian Jew, a merchant
at my birth by historic family vocation. But my people have ignored the
greatest Prophet of all, the Prophet Mohammed. His voice invites all,
and I heard that voice. I became Muslim, but still I was a merchant. A
Persian merchant. And, perhaps not unlike you, I traveled to India
search of . . . not the greater Prophet, but the baser profit. And
here, my English, I found the other thing I searched for. I found
love. Pure love, consuming love. The kind of love few men are
privileged to know. The love of a boy whose beauty and purity could
only have come from God. But this love was mistaken by the world, was
called impure, and he was hidden from me. So the only one left for me
to love was God. Thus I cast away my garments, my worldliness, and gave
myself to Him. And once more I was misunderstood."
Samad paused and called for another glass of wine. Then he turned back
to Hawksworth. "So I have told the world my story in verse. And now
there are many who understand. Not the mullahs, but the people. I have
given them words that could only come from a pure heart, words of joy
that all men can share." Samad stopped and smiled. "You know we
Persians are born poets. It's said we changed Sufism from mystic
speculation to mystic art. All I know is the great poets of Persia
found in Sufism a vehicle for their art that gave back to Islam almost
more than it took. But then a poet's vocation must always be to give. I
have given the people of India my heart, and they have loved me in
return. Yet such love engenders envy in the minds of men who know it
not. The Shi'ite mullahs would have condemned me for heresy long ago
were it not for one man, a man who has understood and protected me. The
only man in India who is not afraid of he Persian Shi'ites at court.
And now he too is gone. With him went my life."
"And who was that?"
"Can you not guess? You have already met him." Samad smiled. "Prince
Jadar."
Hawksworth suddenly felt as though the world had closed about him.
"Why did you contrive to get me here tonight?"
"Because I wished to see you. And I can no longer walk abroad. It has
been forbidden on pain of death. But death is something I am almost
ready to welcome. One day soon I will walk the streets of Agra once
more, for the last time.
Hawksworth wondered if the claim was bravado, or truth.
"But why did you want to see me?" Hawksworth studied Samad closely.
Suddenly he decided to ask the question directly. "To ask me to help
Jadar? You can tell him for me that I want no part of his politics. I'm
here to get a trade agreement, a _firman_. That's my mission, why I was
sent.
Samad settled his wineglass on the carpet with a sigh of resignation.
"You've heard nothing I have said. I am telling you it would be best
for you to forget about your 'mission.' Your destiny is no longer in
your hands. But if you will open your heart, you will find it has
riches to compensate you manyfold. Still, they can be yours only if you
can know love. But now, I fear, the only love you know is self-love,
ambition. You have not yet understood it is empty as mirror.
_"The world is but a waking dream,
The eye of heart sees clear.
The garden of this tempting world,