Hawksworth heard the exultant cheer of the Rajputs riding
behind him and snapped awake. It was midmorning of the third day and he
had been dozing fitfully in the saddle since dawn, fatigue deep in his
bones. Through the trees ahead the camp of Prince Jadar lay spread
before them, blanketing half the valley.
"I told you we'd make the camp in three days' ride." Vasant Rao smiled
wearily at Hawksworth and spurred his lathered mount forward. "Every
man with us is eager to be with the prince."
They had covered, it seemed to Hawksworth, well over a hundred miles
since departing the environs of Fatehpur. Between five and six hundred
Rajputs rode behind them, all heavily armed with an array of swords,
pikes, clubs, saddle-axes. Each man's body armor, a woven network of
steel and the quilted garment worn beneath it, was secured behind his
saddle, ready to be donned for combat. Hanging at the side of each
rider was a round leather shield and a large quiver containing his horn
bow and arrows. None carried muskets.
Hawksworth glanced back at Shirin, who rode a few paces behind, and
they shared a tired smile. She had ridden the distance like a Rajput,
but now her eyes were glazed with weariness. He had suddenly realized,
the morning after they all galloped out of the camp at Fatehpur, that
he had never before seen a woman in India ride. Where had she learned?
He had pondered the question for an hour, riding behind her to watch
her easy posture in the saddle, and then he had pulled alongside and
asked her point-blank. She said nothing, merely smiled and tossed the
loose strands of hair back from her face. He understood her well enough
to know this meant she had never ridden before . . . and didn't wish
Vasant Rao to know.
"This is the moment I've waited for so long." She reined her mount
alongside Hawksworth's, reached out and touched his hand. "You must
help the prince now too."
"I'm not so sure I'm eager to die for Prince Jadar."
"You can always go back to Agra. And wait to be murdered by Janahara's
guards. The prince has saved your life, and mine, once already. What
makes you think he'll bother with you again?"
"To tell the truth, he also saved my life several months ago, the night
we made landfall at Surat and were ambushed on the Tapti River by the
Portugals."
"I know." She spurred her horse ahead. "I received the pigeon from
Prince Jadar ordering it. I passed the message to the Shahbandar, Mirza
Nuruddin, who sent his personal Rajputs to protect you."
Hawksworth urged his horse back alongside. "So I was right. You were
one of Jadar's agents in Surat. What did Nadir Sharif once call them .
. . _swanih-nigars_?"
"I gathered information for the prince." She smiled in consent. "I kept
his accounts and coded his ciphers at the old observatory. Then you
came along and started combing through it. You made my work that much
more difficult. I never knew when you'd decide to go out there. Or what
you'd find."
"Why didn't you just tell me? What did I care?"
"Too much was at risk. The prince once said never to trust a
_topiwallah_."
Hawksworth laughed. "But surely Mukarrab Khan knew what you were
doing?"
"I think he probably guessed. But what could he do? He was only the
governor, not Allah. He finally forbade me to go into the palace
grounds alone. When I refused to obey, he thought of sending you to the
observatory, just to annoy me." She smoothed the mane of her horse. "So
I think he knew I was doing something there. But he was too entangled
by his own intrigues for Janahara to really care."
"Mukarrab Khan worked for the queen? How?"
"Two ways. Naturally he gathered intelligence for her, mainly about the
Portuguese. But he also collected her Portuguese revenues at the ports
of Surat and Cambay."
"Her revenues? I thought all duties went to the Moghul's Imperial
treasury."
Shirin stifled a smile. "That's what Arangbar thinks too. And at Surat
it's mostly true. She collects very little. Mirza Nuruddin despises her
and always finds devious ways to muddle her accounts, probably keeping
some of her money for himself. But the Shahbandar at the port of
Cambay, where Mukarrab Khan used to go every two weeks, would accept
bribes from the Portuguese to undervalue their goods, and then split
the money with Mukarrab Khan and Janahara." She paused to watch a
bright-winged bird dart past. "Arangbar could never understand why his
revenue from Cambay was so low. I heard he's thinking about closing the
port." She laughed. "If only he knew it's going mostly to Janahara."
Hawksworth rode silently for a moment, thinking. "You know, Nadir
Sharif once proposed the same arrangement for English goods, if I would
trade with him personally through the port of Cambay. I ignored him. I
suspected he planned to find some way to confiscate the goods later on,
claiming nonpayment of duty."
"No, on that I think Nadir Sharif would have been very fair. He always
honors his agreements, with friend or foe." She looked ahead, her weary
eyes brightening as they approached the first jumble of tents and
roaming livestock that formed the edge of the camp. Servants in soiled
_dhotis _were leading camels bearing huge baskets of fodder along the
makeshift streets between the tents. "But their swindle will be
finished when Prince Jadar becomes Moghul. He despises the Portuguese
traders and their Christian priests."
The perimeter of the compound reserved for Jadar and his _zenana _was
clearly visible now, towering above the center of the camp. It was
bordered by a ten-foot-high wall of billowing red chintz, decorated
with a white hem at the top and held up with gilded poles spaced no
more than two feet apart. Spreading out around it were clusters of
smaller tents--red and white striped cloth for noblemen, and onesided
lean-to shelters ranging from brocade to ragged blankets for their
troops.
"The prince asked that we all ride directly to the _gulal bar_, his
personal compound," Vasant Rao shouted back over his shoulder at
Hawksworth. "I think he'll particularly want to see you, Captain."
Cheers erupted as they entered the camp. Tents emptied and infantrymen
lined the sides of the wide avenue leading to Jadar's compound, beating
their swords against their leather shields. As Hawksworth studied the
forest of flying standards spreading out on either side, he suddenly
realized that each _mansabdar _nobleman was flying his own insignia
above his cluster of tents.
Ahead, rising upward from the center of Jadar's compound, was a pole
some fifty feet high with a huge vessel of burning oil secured on its
tip. Hawksworth examined the flame with astonishment, then drew his
horse alongside Vasant Rao's.
"Why's there a light in the middle of the camp? It can be seen for
miles?"
"That's called the _akas-diya_, Captain, the Light of Heaven. It's the
Great Camp Light and it's used by everyone to keep their bearings at
night. How else could a man find his tent? There are probably fifty
thousand men here, with their women and servants. In the evenings,
after all the cow-dung fires are lighted for cooking, it's so smoky
here you can't see your own tent till you're practically in it."
"This camp's a town almost the size of London. How do the people live?"
"The camp bazaar travels with us, Captain. But you're right. It is a
city; merely one that moves." He gestured around them. "The prince of
course has his own personal supplies, but everyone else must shift for
himself. See those small tents on the street over there, between those
two high poles bearing standards. That's one of the bazaars for the
_banyas_, Hindu merchants who follow the army and sell grain, oil,
_ghee_, rice, _dal_, everything you'd find in any town. They feed the
men. The horses are fed by sending servants out to gather fodder. They
cut grass and bring it back on camels, or baggage ponies, or even on
their own head. On a long campaign many of the men bring their women,
to cook and carry water. The women have to bring water from any wells
or streams nearby." He laughed. "Incidentally, I should warn you the
prices these _banyas _ask are as inflated as the market will bear."
"For once I can't fault the merchants. They may well be out of buyers
soon."
Vasant Rao snorted and whipped his horse ahead. They were approaching
the entry to Jadar's compound, a wide silk awning with the prince's
banners flying from atop its posts. On either side stood rows of ornate
red tents with yellow fringe along the eaves. As Hawksworth rode by, he
noticed a high open tent on the left holding caged hunting leopards.
Next to it stood a massive canopy, surrounded by guards, sheltering
light artillery. He squinted against the sun to look inside and caught
a glimpse of several dozen small-bore cannon mounted on carriages. He
also noticed swivel guns fitted with a harness on their base, obviously
intended to be mounted atop elephants or camels. In the center were
several stacks of long-barreled Indian muskets wrapped in cloth. The
last tent on the left, adjacent to the gate, sheltered several gilded
palanquins and a row of immaculate bullock carts for Jadar's _zenana
_women.
On the opposite side of the avenue was a row of stables for elephants,
camels, and horses. Turbaned grooms were busy brushing the animals and
fitting harness. Next to the stables were quarters for the animals'
superintendents.
"Does all this belong to Jadar?"
"These are for the prince, his women, and guards. Each nobleman also
has his own stables and light artillery. The top command is split three
ways: with separate field commanders for the Rajputs, for the Muslims,
for the men of Moghul descent." Vasant Rao smiled reflectively. "It's
always wisest not to mix. For one thing, each needs its own bazaar; no
Rajput would eat food handled by an untouchable Muslim."
Their horses drew into the shade of the awning above the entrance to
the gulal bar. Vasant Rao and the other Rajputs reined in their mounts
and began to dismount.
"This is the _naqqara-khana_, Captain Hawksworth, the entry to His
Highness' private compound." Vasant Rao waved toward the red awning.
"Come. You'll be welcomed warmly by the prince, I promise you. I know
he'd hoped you'd join him."
Hawksworth swung down from his dark mare and stroked her one last time,
wiping away the lather around the saddle. Then he turned to help Shirin
alight. She leaned over and dropped into his arms, the sweat of
exhaustion mingled with her perfume.
Grooms from Jadar's stables were already waiting. As they took the
horses, the leader of the Rajput riders shouted staccato orders to them
in Urdu, the lingua franca of the camp, then turned and dismissed his
men, who immediately swaggered into the gathering crowd to embrace old
acquaintances.
"His Highness is expecting you." Vasant Rao smiled and bowed lightly to
the Rajput commander, who was tan and beardless save for a small
moustache, with a white skirt, a small turban of braided gold cloth,
and a velvet-sheathed katar in a red waist sash. The Rajput nodded,
then adjusted his turban and retrieved a tightly wrapped brocade bundle
from behind his saddle. As he led the way through the _naqqara-khana_,
Vasant Rao turned and motioned for Hawksworth and Shirin to follow.
Jadar's guards directed them along a pathway of carpets leading through
the outer barbican. Ahead was another gate, decorated with striped
chintz and sealed with a hanging tapestry. As they approached it, the
guards swept the tapestry aside and ushered them through.
The second compound was floored entirely with carpets and in its center
stood an open, satin canopy held aloft by four gilded poles. The canopy
shaded a rich Persian carpet and a throne fashioned from velvet
bolsters. Several men with shoulder-high kettledrums and long brass
trumpets were waiting nearby.
As Hawksworth watched, two eunuchs emerged through a curtain at the far
gate and lifted it high. While a fanfare of drums and trumpets filled
the air, Prince Jadar strolled jauntily through the entryway, alone.
He was dressed formally, with an elaborate silk cloak in pastel blue
and a jeweled turban that reminded Hawksworth of the one worn by the
Moghul himself. The brocade sash at his waist held a heavy katar with a
ruby on each side of the handle. His beard was close-trimmed, accenting
his dark eyes. Nothing about him suggested the appearance of a man
facing impending defeat.
"Nimaste, Mahdu, my old friend." Jadar walked directly to the Rajput
commander, grasped the man's turban and pressed it to his own breast.
"How long since we sat together and ate your Udaipur _lapsi _from the
same dish?"
"The New Year's festival of _diwali _two years past, Highness. In my
brother's palace. And I wore the gold cloak you gave me in honor of the
treaty between your armies and his, five years before."
"And tonight we will dine together again." He smiled. "If my cooks can
find enough cane-juice _gur _in all the bazaars to sweeten your
_lapsi_."
"Seeing you again, Highness, sweetens my tongue already." He bowed and
produced the brocade bundle. "My brother, the _maharana_, sends this
unworthy token, together with his prayers for your victory."
A eunuch stepped forward and brought it to Jadar. When the prince
opened the wrapping, a scabbard holding a jewel-handled sword glistened
in the mid morning light.
"He does me honor. A Rajput blade knows its friends and its foes."
Jadar smiled as he brushed the sword handle. Next he drew out the blade
and tested its edge with his finger. The Rajput watched as Jadar
sheathed the sword, then lifted the ruby-studded katar from his own
belt. "To honor him, I grant his brother my own katar. May its blade
soon be crimson with the blood of his foes."
The Rajput bowed as he received the knife. Jadar admired his new sword
a moment longer, then continued. "How many of our friends rode west
with you?"
"Half a thousand, Highness. More would have joined us now, but I
thought it unwise. Your Highness will understand why. But those who did
come I picked carefully. Twenty officers of superior class, and the
rest first and second class."
"The eunuchs watched your banners enter the camp. I've already heard
some of the names." The prince's voice rose. "I think you've gutted the
Rajput field command in the Imperial army."
"Not entirely, Highness."
"Ah, but I know you did." Jadar smiled and leaned forward, dropping his
voice again and switching from Turki to Rajasthani. "The tent poles
here can repeat my words." He drew himself erect again and signaled for
a tray of pan leaves from the eunuchs. "A tent has been prepared for
you. Tonight we will dine again from the same dish and you can tell me
how many white-necked cranes you bagged on Pichola Lake last winter."
The Rajput clasped his hands together and bowed lightly before taking a
pan leaf. "Tonight, Highness."
As Mahdu marched regally back through the entryway, Jadar turned and
studied Shirin thoughtfully for a moment. Then he motioned her forward
and smiled toward Vasant Rao. "And who else did you bring? Yet another
old friend?"
Shirin salaamed lightly. "I thank Your Highness for still remembering
me."
"I remember you very well. But the last I'd heard, Janahara had ordered
you imprisoned. I'm astonished to see you still alive."
"I was released by Arangbar, Highness, after Samad was executed." She
tried unsuccessfully to diguise the fatigue in her voice. "I still do
not know why."
"Perhaps it was his weakness for beauty." Jadar smiled. "But just now I
think you need rest. Mumtaz has asked me to invite you to stay with her
in the _zenana_."
"Shirin stays with me." Hawksworth heard his own voice, abruptly rising
above his exhaustion.
Jadar turned and studied him for a moment, then laughed out loud.
"Suddenly I understand many, many things. Mumtaz was right after all.
Why is it women always seem to see these things so clearly?" His gaze
swept Hawksworth's tattered jerkin. "Well? How are you, Captain
Hawksworth? Still alive, I see, just as I foretold. And still the
fashionable English ambassador."
"There is no other. Unfortunately, however, my mission was not a
complete success."
"First, India must have a just rule. Then trade can be conducted with
an even hand." Jadar leaned back on his bolster. "Tell me, Captain,
have you seen enough of Agra and court intrigue to rethink the matter
we once discussed?"
"I've probably seen all of Agra I'll ever see." Hawksworth fixed Jadar
squarely. "But then I'll have much company."
Jadar sobered and regarded Hawksworth a moment in silence.
"I see time still has not mellowed you. Or taught you very much. Do you
understand anything at all of land tactics, Sea Captain Hawksworth?"
"I've never claimed to. But I can count infantry."
Jadar laughed again. "You still amuse me, Captain. I'll never know why.
It saddens me there'll be so few occasions for us to pass the time
together during the next few days. But at least let me show you around
my compound. You'll see the next Moghul of India does not campaign
entirely like a destitute Arab."
"Why don't we start with your fortifications?"
Jadar roared as he lifted nimbly from his bolster throne and walked
into the sunshine. Then he paused and turned to Shirin. "Join us if you
wish. And by the way, where've you decided to stay?"
Shirin looked at Hawksworth for a moment, and their eyes locked. Then
he saw a smile flicker across her face. "I'll stay with the English
ambassador, Highness."
"As you wish." Jadar's tone was wistful. "I no longer try to reason
with the mind of a woman. But just let me caution you. If you stay
among the Muslims here, their women will spit on you unless you put on
a veil. They've never heard of Persia."
"Then we'll stay with the Rajputs." Shirin tossed her head and followed
along as Jadar led them through a side exit in the interior chintz wall
and into the outer perimeter of the compound. The kettledrums thundered
Jadar's exit.
"This side is for food, Captain." Jadar gestured toward a
row of ornate tents that lined the inside of the chintz walls. "The
first is for fruit and melons. No man can campaign without them,
particularly if he has a hungry _zenana_. The tent over there is for
making _sharbat_, and that one is for keeping betel leaves to make
_pan_." Jadar smiled. "Try denying a woman her betel and you'll have
nothing but squabbles." He led them on, pointing, as he walked. "The
large tent there is the kitchen, the one beyond it the bakery, and the
one past that for grinding spices."
Hawksworth found himself astonished. Who could lead an army amid such
extravagance? The tents were all red satin, with gilded poles around
the outside, giving them the appearance of luxurious pavilions. Some,
like the one for fruits and melons, were raised on a platform above the
ground, while others were two-story, with an interior stair. As he
watched the servants scurry from tent to tent bearing silver trays, he
found it difficult to remember a war was looming.
"You'll soon discover traveling with women is always burdensome,
Captain. For example, on the other side of the _gulal bar _I've had to
erect a special tent just for their perfumes, another for their
tailors, another to hold their wardrobes. Then there's a tent for
mattresses, one for basins, and one for lamps and oil. These women rule
my life. The things I really need--workshops, guardhouses, my arsenal--
I've had to situate back behind the _zenana_, near where the
servingwomen stay." Jadar paused, his eyes gleaming mischievously.
"Well, what do you think?"
"I think an army camp should have fewer women and more men."
Jadar laughed and looked pointedly at Shirin. "But what is life without
women, Captain?"
"Wives don't travel with an army in Europe."
"Then Europe could learn something from India."
"About fighting or about women?"
"Before you're through you may learn a few thing about both." Jadar
turned and started back down the row of tents. "War here is very
different from wars on the seas, Captain. You should see my men fight
before you judge them. But my question now is whether you know how to
fight well enough to be of any help. Tell me, can you handle a bow?"
"Armies don't use bows in England any more. I've certainly never used
one. I think the last time bows were issued for battle was back around
the time of the Spanish Armada, about thirty years ago. Some of the
local forces in Devonshire equipped eight hundred men with longbows."