The Moghul Part 115

He breathed deeply, trying to clear his mind, then slipped the wire plectrum over his finger and gently stroked the lower sympathetic strings once, twice, to establish the mood. The cool air was crisp and flower-scented, and the sound rose gently upward toward the marble cupola above them. As he listened he found himself looking at Shirin and Jadar, their dark eyes, delicate faces. Then his eyes moved beyond them, to the garden of inlaid stones in the marble walls. And for a moment he felt something he had never felt before. This was the India he had, until that moment, only been in. But here, now, he was finally part of it. He took another deep breath and struck.

The first note was perfect, encompa.s.sing. He felt it. He knew it. He sensed his hand merge with the music, the music with his own life.

Shirin's eyes seemed to melt, and Jadar immediately swung his head from side to side in approval. Then he began to alap, the virtuoso first section of the raga, meant to be played solo and without drum accompaniment. He felt the music slowly growing around him as he found and explored note after note of the raga's structure. He found himself wanting to taste and feel each note to its essence, reluctant to move on to the next. But each time he was beckoned forward, until at last nothing but the music mattered. He played on and on, the intensity of the alap growing organically, almost of its own self, until it burst to completion, like a flower that had gloriously escaped the entrapment of its bud.

When the final note died into silence, Shirin slowly rose and slipped her arms around his neck. Jadar sat motionless for a moment longer, then reached out and put his hand on the strings of the sitar.

"You have earned it, Captain. I've heard what I'd hoped to hear. Your music tells me all I want to know about you." He rose and led them back out onto the balcony. "I know now you can understand why I also want to create something of beauty someday. A Mahal that will last as long as this music. If we cannot taste love and beauty, our hearts are dead."

He smiled at Hawksworth. "There is love in your music, Captain. Your heart is as it should be. And in the end, nothing else really matters.

Nothing else."

He turned and stared pensively into the twilight. "My Mahal will have it too. Because it is in my own heart."

Jadar stopped abruptly and gazed toward the darkening sh.o.r.e. Through the dimming light a boat could be seen approaching, rowed furiously by lines of red-cloaked oarsmen. Sitting in the center on a gilded platform was Maharana Karan Singh, wearing full battle dress. His powerful bow hung loosely from his leather quiver and his rhino-hide shield rested at his side. Jadar studied the boat for a moment and concern gathered in his eyes.

"He would never come here unannounced. Merciful

Allah, has the Imperial army moved against us already? How can it be so soon? My preparations have scarcely begun."

Jadar watched as the maharana leaped from the boat almost before it touched the marble dock. The women around Mumtaz fled the courtyard, and now the eunuchs pressed forward to bow and welcome him. He brushed them aside as he moved quickly through the garden and into the lower arcade of the palace. Jadar stood listening expectantly to the quick pad of his footsteps on the stone stairs, then walked inside to greet him.

"Nimaste, my friend. You've already missed the best part of the sunset, but I'll have more _sharbat _sent."

The maharana glanced in surprise at Hawksworth and Shirin for a second, then turned and bowed quickly to Jadar.

"The news is very bad, Highness."

"Then we'll sweeten it with _sharbat_."

"There is no time, Highness."

"There's always time for _sharbat_. This has been a special afternoon for me."

"Highness, I came to tell you Arangbar is dead. The Moghul of India joined the immortals two days ago."

Jadar examined him a moment almost as though not comprehending. Then he turned and stared out through the balcony doorway, past Hawksworth and Shirin. "I would not have wished it. I sincerely would not have wished it." He turned back to Karan Singh. "How did he die? Did Janahara murder my father, as she's killed so many others?"

"No, Highness. It almost seems as though he deemed it his time to die.

Two weeks ago he was hunting and saw a beater stumble and fall over a ledge, killing himself. His Majesty grew despondent, saying he had caused the man's death. Next he began to declare it an omen of his own death. He refused food and drink. Finally even the physicians despaired. He died in his bed. Word was given out that he was still hunting, so the news was carefully kept from all of Agra until the very end."

"How did you learn?"

"Nadir Sharif sent runners. He dared not send a pigeon."

Jadar walked out onto the balcony and peered down into the darkened garden. After a long moment he spoke. "Allah. Then it's finished." He turned back to the Rajput. "Has Janahara declared Allaudin Moghul yet?"

"She has announced she will do so, Highness." Karan Singh moved out onto the balcony next to Jadar, hesitant to interrupt his thoughts. The cries of water birds flooded the evening air around them. Jadar studied the garden again, as though lost in some distant reverie. When he spoke his voice seemed to emanate from a bottomless void.

"Allaudin will be in the Red Fort. It can never be taken, not even with a hundred thousand Rajputs. He will never come to face me. He will never need to." He turned slowly to Karan Singh. "I've lost it all, my friend. And I've brought ignominy to your lands by my presence as your guest. For that I am truly sorry."

Karan Singh stared at Jadar. "But Highness, Allaudin may not yet be in Agra. You know he wanted Queen Janahara to appoint him to command the army sent against you. Naturally she refused and instead convinced Arangbar to appoint him commander of the forces to be sent against the Persian Safavis threatening the northwest fortress of Qandahar. It was obvious to everyone except Allaudin that she meant it to be merely a ceremonial appointment, an excuse to elevate his _mansab _rank to equal yours. She had carefully arranged to have him detained in Agra. But he decided on his own that he would actually go north, to prove himself a commander. Just before the hunting accident, he persuaded Arangbar to allow him to march. Arangbar was apparently drunk on wine and approved the order before Janahara discovered it. Allaudin departed Agra a week ago with twenty thousand men and a huge train of courtiers. Because of their numbers, it's thought he has traveled very slowly. But Nadir Sharif said as of the day before yesterday he still had not returned to Agra. No one knows for sure how near he may actually be."

"And where are Inayat Latif and the Imperial army?" Jadar's voice quickened.

"Of that we're not yet certain, Highness. They may be in

Agra by now, holding the Red Fort for Allaudin, but we have no way to know."

Jadar turned and seized his arm. "Then I will ride. Tonight. Have you told my men?"

"Two thousand of my men are now in their saddles waiting, Highness. By sunup another twenty thousand will be ready to ride."

Jadar stared at him for a moment, then reached out and touched the turban the Rajput was wearing. Hawksworth realized it was Jadar's gift.

"Then give me three of your best horses. Tonight. I will rotate as I ride." Jadar turned and ordered a waiting eunuch to bring his riding cloak, his sword, and his katar.

"I will be riding with you too, Highness." Karan Singh stepped forward.

This time Jadar embraced Karan Singh for a long moment. Then he pulled back. "No. I will not allow it. If I am too late--and the odds are strong against me--no one who rides with me will leave Agra alive. No, my friend, this I forbid." Jadar silenced Karan Singh's gesture of protest. "Your offer is enough. I want my good friends alive."

Jadar started for the stairs, then paused and turned back to look one last time at Hawksworth and Shirin.

"So our farewell was more timely than we knew. I regret we did not have longer." He paused to take his riding cloak from the eunuch. Then he reached for Hawksworth's hand. "Remember me, my friend. And remember the Mahal. I've told no one else. If I'm still alive when you come again to Agra, I'll take you there. If I'm dead, remember what I dreamed."

He turned and disappeared down the stairwell.

A tear stained Shirin's cheek as she watched him move across the courtyard below. When he reached Mumtaz, anxiously waiting by the dock, he paused and said something to her, then embraced her closely. As he pulled away, she reached out to stop him. But he was already joining the maharana in the boat. In moments they were swallowed in the dusk.

"None of us will ever see him again. You know it's true." Shirin's voice was strangely quiet. "What does it matter where Allaudin is?

Prince Jadar can never challenge the troops Janahara will have holding the Red Fort. Not with two thousand Rajputs, not with two hundred thousand Rajputs. It's impregnable. He'll never see the inside of the Red Fort again." She moved next to him and rested her head against his chest. "Will you help me remember him from tonight. And the Mahal he will never live to build?"

"I'll remember it all." He encircled her in his arms, wanting her warmth, and together they watched the last shafts of sun die in the dark waters below.

LONDON

Sir Randolph Spencer studied the leatherbound packet for a long moment, turning it apprehensively in his hand. Then he meticulously untied the wrapping and smoothed the weathered parchment against the top of his desk. Around the timbered room the Company's secretaries waited nervously, in prim wigs and doublets, watching as he quickly scanned the contents. Then he looked up, beamed, and with a loud voice began to read.

JAVA, Port of Bantam the 3rd of May,