The Moghul Part 25

"It's _tari _wine, Sahib. One of the pleasures of early morning in India." His matter-of-fact manner could not entirely hide his pride.

"Palm wine makes itself overnight. It does not last out the day. When the sun shines the trees only give off vinegar."

Hawksworth gingerly sipped the newly fermented palm sap and was pleasantly surprised by its light flavor, totally unlike ale, or even Canary wine. After the third cup, the world around began to acquire a light sparkle of its own, and he realized the sap was more potent than it seemed.

"Not a bad way to start the day. What do you call it?"

"It comes from the _tari _palm, and some _topiwallahs _call it Toddy.'"

"Toddy, it's called? It's more than pa.s.sable grog."

"Thank you, Sahib. Drink too much and you will spend the day with your head in a buzz." The servant giggled. "So now perhaps you should eat."

He consulted briefly with the eunuchs, who nodded and signaled toward the veranda. Moments later a tray appeared, piled high with honey- covered breads and gla.s.s dishes of sweet curds. Some hard cheese also had found its way onto the tray, and Hawksworth wondered if this was to placate his European taste. He sipped more of the Toddy and munched the bread and curds.

Then he saw the women.

There were five. They seemed cl.u.s.tered in a group as they entered the courtyard, but then he realized it was an aristocratic lady surrounded by four maids. They did not know he was there, for none covered her face. As he watched them they seemed preoccupied in an increasingly animated exchange. Then the aristocratic woman stepped determinedly ahead, turned, and curtly gave instructions whose seriousness was clear, even if her words were foreign. Her voice was not strident, but its authority was unmistakable.

The other women paused, then slowly, one by one, they seemed to acknowledge her orders and they bowed. The lady whirled and continued on her way, while the other four women turned toward the direction they had come. Then, as though the resolution of the argument had suddenly made them aware of their surroundings, they all seemed to see Hawksworth at once. All five women froze.

Hawksworth smiled and tried to remember the bow he had seen performed to him so often. But he could not remove his eyes from the first woman, who was more striking than any he had ever before seen. Her skin was fair, with a warm hint of olive, and her high cheekbones stood in stunning relief as they glanced away the golden light of dawn. Her nose was thin and sculptured, while her lips would have been full, had they not been drawn tight in response to some unspecified inner determination. Yet her eyes seemed untouched by what had just transpired. They were clear and receptive, even warm, and Hawksworth asked himself at that moment if this bespoke innocence, or guile.

In dress and adornment she scarcely differed from her maids. All had long black hair, brushed to gleaming and protected from the morning air with a transparent gossamer scarf edged in gold embroidery. At first glance there seemed little to distinguish among the tight strands of pearls each wore at the neck, or the jeweled bands on their wrists and upper arms. Each wore a tight silk halter for a blouse, and to Hawksworth's a.s.sessing eyes the maids all seemed to have abundant b.r.e.a.s.t.s swelling their halters to overflowing, some--perhaps all--with b.r.e.a.s.t.s more generous than the lady herself. Then he noted in amazement that the women actually wore a form of tapered silk trouser, a tight- legged pajama similar to that worn by aristocratic men.

Unlike the male style, however, each woman's body was enveloped by a long transparent skirt, suspended from a

band that circled her torso just beneath her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. And whereas men all wore a long scarf tied about the waist of their cloaks and hanging down the front, the women all had a long pleated panel tucked directly into the front waistband of their trousers and reaching almost to the ground. He could not help noticing that it clung sensually to their thighs as they walked, while its gold-embroidered hem tinkled against the gold bracelets each woman wore at her ankles. Their shoes were red Turkish leather, with gold decorations sewn across the top and a pointed toe that curved upward.

The only difference between the lady and her maids seemed to be in the rich fabric of her lightly clinging trousers. Then, too, there was slightly more gold thread in her long transparent skirt, and among the pearls at her neck nestled an unmistakable blue sapphire as large as a walnut.

But her primary distinction was not merely the cla.s.sic lines of her face or the perfect curve of her waist and thighs, but rather something in her bearing, in her a.s.sured but unmannered carriage. Her real beauty lay in her breeding.

All five women stared at Hawksworth in momentary surprise and shock.

Then each maid automatically seized her transparent scarf and pulled it across her lower face. The woman also moved instinctively to do the same, but then she seemed to consciously stop herself and with an obvious attempt at restraint she walked on, barefaced, past the courtyard and into the garden beyond. Alone.

Hawksworth watched her form disappear among the clipped hedges and elaborate marble pavilions of the garden. He noticed a curious sensation in his chest as she pa.s.sed from view, and he suddenly found himself wanting very much to follow her. When he finally turned and looked back, the other women had already vanished.

Only then did he realize that all the servants had been watching him.

The one nearest nodded in the direction of the garden and smiled knowingly.

"Perhaps it will not surprise you, Sahib, to learn that she was once the favorite of the Moghul himself. And now she is in Surat. Amazing."

"But why's she here?" Hawksworth glanced back at the

garden once more to a.s.sure himself she was indeed lost to its recesses.

"She is Shirin, the first wife of Khan Sahib." He moved closer to Hawksworth, so that his lowered voice would not reach the eunuchs. "She was removed from the Moghul's _zenana _and married to Khan Sahib last year by Queen Janahara, just before Her Majesty had him appointed the governor of Surat. Some believe she appointed him here to remove Shirin from Agra, because she feared her." The servant's voice became a whisper. "We all know she has refused His Excellency the legal rights of a husband."

The silence of the court was cut by the unmistakable voice of Mukarrab Khan, sounding in anger as he gave some command from within the palace.

There followed a chorus of women's wails.

Hawksworth turned to the servant, but the man read his inquiring glance.

"He has ordered the women whipped for disobeying his order to accompany Shirin at all times, even when she walks in the garden."

Then the door opened again, and Mukarrab Khan strode into the morning sunshine.

"Captain Hawksworth, _salaam_. I trust Allah gave you rest."

"I slept so well I find difficulty remembering all we said last night."

Hawksworth watched him carefully. Will he honor his threat to deliver us to the Viceroy, for a trial at Goa?

"It was an amusing evening. Hardly a time for weighty diplomatic exchange. And did you enjoy my little present?"

Hawksworth pondered his question for a moment, and the drugged dream of the night before suddenly became real.

"You mean the woman? She was very . . . unusual, very different from the women of England."

"Yes, I daresay. She was one of my final gifts from . . . Agra. I often have her entertain my guests. If you like, you may keep her while you stay with me. I already hear she fancies you. The serving women call her Kali, after a G.o.ddess from their infidel pantheon. I think that one's their deity of destruction."

"Why did they give her that name?"

"Perhaps she'll tell you herself sometime." Mukarrab Khan gestured for a servant to bring his cloak. "I hope you'll forgive me, but I regret I must abandon you for a time. Among my least pleasant duties is a monthly journey to Cambay, our northern port in this province. It always requires almost a week, but I have no choice. Their Shahbandar would rob the Moghul's treasury itself if he were not watched. But I think you'll enjoy yourself in my absence."

"I would enjoy it more if I could be with my men."

"And forgo the endless intrigues my Kali undoubtedly plans for you?" He monitored Hawksworth's unsettled expression. "Or perhaps it's a boy you'd prefer. Very well, if you wish you may even have . . ."

"I'm more interested in the safety of our merchants and seamen. And our cargo. I haven't seen the men since yesterday, at the customs house."

"They're all quite well. I've lodged them with a port official who speaks Portuguese, which your Chief Merchant also seems to understand.

I'm told, by the way, he's a thoroughly unpleasant specimen."

"When can I see them?"

"Why any time you choose. You have only to speak to one of the eunuchs.

But why trouble yourself today? Spend it here and rest. Perhaps enjoy the grounds and the garden. Tomorrow is time enough to re-enter the wearisome halls of commerce."

Hawksworth decided that the time had come to raise the critical question. "And what about the Portugals? And their false charges?"

"I think that tiresome matter can be _Resolve_d with time. I've sent notice to the court in Agra, officially, that you wish to travel there.

When the reply is received, matters can be settled. In the meantime, I must insist you stay here in the palace. It's a matter of your position. And frankly, your safety. The Portuguese do not always employ upright means to achieve their ends." He tightened his traveling cloak.

"Don't worry yourself unduly. Just try to make the most of my humble hospitality. The palace grounds are at your disposal. Perhaps you'll find something in all this to engage your curiosity." Mukarrab Khan brushed away a fly from his cloak. "There's the garden. And if you're bored by that, then you might wish to examine the Persian observatory constructed by my predecessor. You're a seaman and, I presume, a navigator. Perhaps you can fathom how it all works. I've never been able to make anything out of it. Ask the servants to show you. Or just have some _tari_ wine on the veranda and enjoy the view."

He bowed with official decorum and was gone, his entourage of guards in tow.

Hawksworth turned to see the servants waiting politely. The turbaned man, whose high forehead and n.o.ble visage were even more striking now in the direct sunshine, was dictating in a low voice to the others, discreetly translating Mukarrab Khan's orders into Hindi, the language that seemed common to all the servants.

"The palace and its grounds are at your disposal, Sahib." The servant with the large white turban stood waiting. "Our pleasure is to serve you."