The Moghul Part 106

"He'd better issue them soon. It'll start growing dark in a couple of hours, three at most."

"I'm sure he's aware of the time, Captain." Vasant Rao turned and disappeared into a circle of bearded Rajputs, barking orders.

Hawksworth watched him disappear, then turned and grabbed two more muskets. Holding them ahead of him like a prow he pushed his way back into the milling street. The air was rank with sweat and the crowds seemed more disorganized than ever. Women jostled in the streets, haggling with the merchants for clay jars of oil, while grooms moved among them leading prancing horses, each wearing a gold-fringed saddle blanket that glowed like ancient coin in the waning sun.

Hawksworth studied the crowd, searching vainly for some sense of organization, then turned to begin working his way back toward Jadar's compound and his own tent.

Shirin was still there, asleep. He stood admiring her again, her soft mouth, the olive skin of her high cheeks, her shining dark hair, and realized he loved her more than ever.

Dear G.o.d, we've only just begun to live. Jadar is a madman.

Almost without knowing why, he began to rummage through the remains of his clothing, still rolled in the carpet and lying where he had thrown it. His pulse suddenly quickened when his fingers closed around a hard round object. It was his very last bottle of brandy, miraculously entangled in the remains of his formal doublet.

If there was ever a time . . .

He ripped away the rotting cork with his teeth and pulled deeply on the brandy, twice. As always, it seemed to work at the knot in his gut. He took one more swallow, then shook Shirin.

She startled awake and stared at him wildly for a second. Then she broke into a smile . . . until she saw the brandy.

"Do you really need that now?"

"I need this and a lot more. How can you sleep? This whole G.o.d-cursed camp is going to be leveled by the Imperial army in a few hours." He stopped and stared at her. "Are you listening? Only a fraction of Jadar's cannon are deployed. Most are still waiting to be pulled into position. It's unbelievable."

Shirin pulled herself up and leaned against a bolster, examining him with weary eyes. "Then why are you here? I

thought you'd decided to help Prince Jadar."

"How can anyone help him when he won't help himself?" Hawksworth took another burning mouthful of brandy and stared at his bow quiver lying on the carpet. In a fit of disgust he kicked it toward the center of the tent.

Shirin watched the bow fall and laughed.

"Have you mastered your Rajput bow yet?"

"No, and what does it matter? You know Jadar is outnumbered three to one." Hawksworth pointed toward the muskets he had leaned against a coil of rope by the tent pole. "I've got three weapons for us. Do you think you can shoot a matchlock?"

"I can shoot a bow." She dismissed the muskets with a glance. "I sincerely hope you've learned enough to shoot one too."

A trumpet sounded from the center of the compound. Immediately it was answered by others the length of the camp.

Shirin snapped alert and rose off the bolster, pulling her gauze cloak around her waist.

"That's the signal to begin preparing the firewood. Come. At least you can help with that."

Hawksworth examined her aghast.

"Firewood! What in G.o.d's name are you talking about? Is Jadar planning to light fires? Is he worried the Imperial army won't find our camp?"

He turned and walked to the doorway, rubbing his brow in disbelief. "I think there's d.a.m.ned small risk of that. The red tents of his _zenana _can be seen for miles."

Shirin laughed and pushed her way ahead of him, past the portiere of the tent. Servants had already begun a.s.sembling piles of logs along the center of the walkway that ran the length of the compound. Hawksworth stood at the doorway and stared in astonishment as clay jars of oil were carried from the kitchen tent and stationed near the logs. As he watched, he noticed the long shadows of dusk beginning to play across the walls of nearby tents.

He turned to retrieve the brandy, and when he emerged again from the tent, Shirin was lost among the crowd of servants bringing wood. He slipped the bottle into his jerkin and started working his way down the side of the compound, back toward the munitions tent.

Pairs of elephants had been harnessed to the larger cannon, and now they were being led out of the camp, into the dusk. Following these were camels with two-pound swivel guns mounted on their backs, together with infantry pulling the smaller guns after them on two-wheeled carriages. Bullock carts heaving with powder and shot came after.

Pyramids of firewood were scattered among the tents, and already many of the Rajputs had a.s.sembled by the unlit piles, talking and embracing.

Some had seated themselves and removed their turbans, chanting verses from the Bhagavad-Gita as they began to oil and comb their long black hair. Hawksworth watched silently as they started pa.s.sing around inlaid teakwood boxes, taking and eating handfuls of small brown b.a.l.l.s.

As he stood puzzling, he recognized Vasant Rao standing among the men.

The Rajput was somber now, clasping each of the men in what seemed a farewell gesture. He looked up and saw Hawksworth and smiled.

"Captain Hawksworth, I'm glad you're here. You're almost a Rajput yourself by now. Do you want to comb your hair? It's how we prepare for what may happen. Who knows which of us will see the morrow?"

"I can die just as well with my hair the way it is."

"Then you're not entirely a Rajput after all. But you're still welcome to join us." He held out one of the boxes.

Hawksworth opened the box and gingerly took out one of the b.a.l.l.s. As he rolled it under his nose, it triggered a distant memory of his first night in Surat and Mukarrab Khan's dinner party. Suddenly he stopped dead still.

It was opium.

"Jesus Christ! Have you all gone mad?" He flung the ball to the ground and whirled on Vasant Rao. "That's the last thing you need if you hope to fight at all. It's like eating death."

"Affion prepares a Rajput for battle, Captain. The more we eat, the stronger we become. It gives us the strength of lions."

"Good Jesus help us all."

Hawksworth pushed his way incredulously back through the milling crowd of infantry and mounted cavalry, feeling as though the world had collapsed. All around him Rajputs were eating handfuls of opium, combing their hair, embracing in farewell. Many had already put on their _khaftan_, the quilted vest they wore under their armor. He wondered how long it would be before they became drunk with opium and began killing each other.

G.o.d, we're all going to die. Can't Jadar stop it? Can't he at least stop them from eating opium before we're attacked? And where are they moving the cannon? Out of the camp? What the h.e.l.l is happening?

He wheeled and headed for the _naqqara-khana_, the entry to Jadar's compound. When he reached it, he realized the guards were gone. Amazed, he walked through the entry and discovered all the interior part.i.tions of the gulal bar were also gone. The satin tents that had held the melons, the pan leaves, the kitchen--all were deserted, empty.

He made his way on through the deserted gulal bar, feeling like a man lost. In the dark there were no guards, no troops, nothing. Ahead he heard the sound of elephants trumpeting and he felt his way forward through the semi-darkness, the ground a mosaic of flickering shadows from the still-burning camp light. His despair absolute, he reached into the pocket of his jerkin for the bottle.

A katar was at his throat.

"It's forbidden by death to draw a weapon in the _gulal bar_, Captain."

"I was only . . ."

There was an explosion of laughter and he turned to see the shadowed face of Jadar.

"What . . . what are you doing here?"

"Thinking, Captain Hawksworth. Do you never think before a battle at sea? Surely you must."

"I think. And I also keep my gunners sober." Hawksworth

felt vaguely foolish as he finished extracting the brandy bottle. "Do you know half your men are eating handfuls of opium?"