The Moghul Part 72

For the past two months servants and slaves had toiled through the crisp autumn nights transforming the courtyard of the Red Fort's inner palace from an open-air marble arcade into a vast, magnificent reception room for Arangbar's five-day lunar birthday fete. The surrounding galleries had been softened with rich carpets, their walls cloaked in new tapestries; and in the central square a flowering garden, freshened by interlocking marble fountains, had appeared out of nothing. In this new garden time had ceased to flow, night and day knew not their pa.s.sage one into the other, for the sky itself was now a vast canopy of imperial red velvet, embroidered in gold and held aloft by silver-sheathed poles forty feet high and the size of ship's masts. The horizons of this velvet sky were secured to protruding stone eyelets along the second-story galleries by multicolored cotton cords the thickness of cable.

The centerpiece of the upcoming celebration was an enormous balance, the scale on which Arangbar's yearly weight would be taken. By that weight his physicians would foretell the future estate of his body, and if his weight had increased since the previous year, there was universal rejoicing. But, greater or less, his weight always seemed to augur well for India. His physicians inevitably found it reason to forecast another hundred years of his benevolent rule.

Nor was the balance itself suggestive of anything less than a portentous occasion. The measure of a king demanded kingly measures.

Its weighing pans were two cushioned platforms, gilded and inlaid with jewels, suspended from each end of a central beam by heavy gold chains interwoven with silken cords. The beam itself, and its supports, were carved from rosewood, inlaid with jewels, and plated with gold leaf.

This event of universal joy was never witnessed by more than a few of Arangbar's closest circle. The first tier of court officials were permitted in watch, family members, favored officers with rank over five thousand horse, and a minuscule list of select foreign amba.s.sadors.

Hawksworth tried to look formal and attentive, but his mind was still reeling from the news. All the way to the Red Fort he had tried to sort out the implications.

That crafty b.a.s.t.a.r.d Spencer. He well deserves to be Director of the East India Company. It's perfect. He timed it perfectly.

Why did he decide to send a second voyage? Did they accidentally rendezvous with the _Discovery_ at Bantam? Or was it no accident? Could Elkington have ordered them north? Or maybe it's some sort of scheme with the Hollanders? Who could the Captain-General be?

Spencer, you deceiving wh.o.r.emaster. You double-crossed Elkington, never told him about the letter from King James, and now you, or somebody, has double-crossed me.

Or saved the mission.

There's sure to be a bounty of gifts for Arangbar. If they can make it around Goa, and avoid the Portugals. . .

"Amba.s.sador, this way." Nadir Sharif was standing near the balance, motioning him to the front.

"Amba.s.sador, His Majesty is overjoyed at the news of the English fleet.

He has asked that I seat you here, next to me, so I may translate the Persian for you and allow you to prepare a full report to your king."

The prime minister had changed to formal dress, with a tapestried turban and cloak, under which were skin-tight, pastel-striped pants. He wore a necklace of enormous pearls and in the sash at his waist was a gold-handled _katar _set with emeralds. He was barefoot. "This is an ancient yearly custom of all the Great Moghuls.''

Hawksworth quickly unbuckled his shoes and tossed them by the edge of the vast carpet, near the arcade.

"Seat yourself here next to me and I will explain everything to you.

His Majesty thinks the news of your trading fleet is extremely auspicious, coming as it did on the first day of his birthday celebration. He wants to return the honor by allowing you to join him in the royal circle at the wedding of Prince Allaudin and Princess Layla."

"That's very gracious of His Majesty. And when do you think he's planning to sign the_ firman _approving English trade?"

"Your _firman _should be little more than a formality now, Amba.s.sador.

He has already accepted in principle the terms you requested, but you must realize he is quite preoccupied. I think you will have what you want in a few more weeks. His Majesty has a.s.sumed a natural fondness for you, but I still foresee various enc.u.mbrances from our friends in Goa. Much depends on the fleet, and what happens if the Portuguese intercept it."

Nadir Sharif moved closer and lowered his voice. "You

know, Amba.s.sador, the appearance of your fleet bring nearer the time we should work more closely together. Someday soon perhaps we can discuss the price of English wool. I have five _jagirs _in northern Gujarat that produce superb indigo. They are convenient to the port of Cambay, just a few _kos _north of Surat. And, as it happens, I have a private understanding with the Shahbandar of Cambay. It may be possible to make arrangements that would help us both avoid some of the normal customs duties. I suggest we explore it."

Hawksworth looked at him and smiled. I'll trade with you the day after h.e.l.l turns to ice, you unscrupulous son of a wh.o.r.e.

Kettledrums sounded at the back of the square and Hawksworth turned to see Arangbar making his entry followed by Allaudin and a gray-bearded _wazir_. The men around Hawksworth bounded to their feet as one, performed the _teslim_, and then settled again on the carpets. On Nadir Sharifs whispered urgings, Hawksworth also rose and bowed, without the _teslim _. . . causing Nadir Sharif's eyes to flash momentary disapproval as they both resumed their seats.

The Moghul was outfitted in the most magnificent attire Hawksworth had ever seen. He seemed to be clothed in a fabric of jewels: diamonds, rubies, pearls were woven into his cloak, and his sword handle appeared to consist entirely of emeralds. His fingers were covered with jeweled rings and chains from which dangled walnut-sized rubies. His chest was covered with sparkling necklaces, and even his turban was bejeweled.

The crowd watched with antic.i.p.ation as Arangbar strode directly to the nearest platform of the balance and tested its cushions with a sparkling hand. He waited with a broad smile while it was lowered to the carpet, then without a word seated himself onto the cushions, in the hunched squat all Indians performed. Allaudin and the _wazir _stood on either side and steadied him as officials from the mint, all wearing bright red turbans, approached bearing dark brown bags.

Bag after bag was piled onto the opposite platform, until Arangbar's side slowly began to levitate off the carpet. When a perfect balance had been achieved, his side was tipped gently back down by Allaudin and the _wazir_, while the officials began to remove and count the bags on the opposite platform. When the bags were counted, the weighing commenced again, this time with bags of purple silk.

"The first weighing is in silver rupees," Nadir Sharif whispered through the reverential silence. "Afterwards they are taken back to the mint and distributed to the poor by His Majesty. Today is one of great rejoicing in Agra."

"How much does he weigh?"

"His usual weight is about nine thousand silver rupees."

"That's over a thousand pounds in English sterling."

"Is that a large amount in your king's coinage, Amba.s.sador?"

"It's a substantial sum of money."

"Over the following year, during the evenings, His Majesty will call the poor of Agra to come before him and he will give them the money with his own hand."

"How far will nine thousand rupees go to feed all the poor of Agra?"

"I don't understand your question, Amba.s.sador?"

"Nothing. I . . . I was just wondering if perhaps King James should do the same."

"It is an old Moghul tradition here." Nadir Sharif turned back to the scales, where Arangbar was calling for the next weighing. "But watch.

Now he will be weighed against gold _mohurs_."

The pile of bags was mounting, and again Arangbar's platform slowly began to rise into the air.

"There are twelve weighings in all. You will see. After the gold coins, he is weighed against gold cloth that has been given to him on his birthday by the women of the _zenana_. Then bags of jewels that were contributed by the governors of India's provinces, carpets and brocades from Agra n.o.bles, and so forth. He is also weighed against silk, linen, spices, and even ghee and grains, which are distributed later to the Hindu merchant caste."

Arangbar continued to smile serenely as the weighing proceeded. During the weighing of silk, he spotted Hawksworth and winked, raising a hand to flash a diamond the size of a bullet. Hawksworth noted wryly that he had not seen any of the wealth actually being distributed, that it was all in fact returned directly to the palace.

When all the weighings were completed, Arangbar drew himself erect and regally moved to a raised platform that had been constructed at the back of the arcade. He then signaled for the ma.s.sive balance to be removed and in moments it had disappeared into the recesses of the palace.

The crowd had begun to shuffle expectantly. As Hawksworth watched, he suddenly realized why.

Large covered baskets were being brought before Arangbar, and when their lids were removed, Hawksworth caught the glisten of silver.

Arangbar took the first basket and stood to his full height on the dais. Then with a swing he flung the contents over the top of the crowd. The air seemed to rain silver and the a.s.sembled n.o.bles began scrambling over the carpet retrieving the silver objects. Nadir Sharif picked up one and handed it to Hawksworth.

It was a silver nutmeg, life-sized and topped with a tiny gold flower.

Hawksworth rolled it over . . . and it deflated to a thin piece of foil.

Arangbar flung another basket and the turmoil intensified. Only Hawksworth stood firm, as even Nadir Sharif could not resist scooping up several of the foil replicas of nuts, fruits, and spices that scattered on the carpet around them. The dignified a.s.semblage had been reduced to bedlam. Then the beaming Arangbar spotted Hawksworth and called out.

"Amba.s.sador Inglish. Is there nothing you would have?"

"May it please Your Majesty, an amba.s.sador of the English king does not scramble for toys."

"Then come forward and you'll not have to."

When Hawksworth reached the dais he bowed lightly, and as he drew himself up, Arangbar seized the front of his doublet and dumped a basket of gold foil flowers down the front of his shirt.