The Moghul Part 95

"But I have to see him." Hawksworth hesitated. "Do you know what's happened to Shirin?"

"Nothing, so far as I hear. I believe she's still being held in the fort." Nadir Sharif studied Hawksworth. "But I would advise you in the strongest possible terms to avoid meddling in the business of that Persian adventuress and her departed Sufi heretic."

"What I do is my affair." Hawksworth set down his cup harder than necessary. "I insist on seeing His Majesty. I want you to arrange it."

"But a formal meeting is really quite impossible, Amba.s.sador. Haven't I made that clear?" Nadir Sharif paused to collect his poise. "But perhaps if you appeared when his entourage is departing Agra, you might be able to speak with him. I have to insist, however, that a meeting now would be pointless and possibly even dangerous, considering His Majesty's disposition at the moment."

"I'll see him before he leaves, somehow. I'll find a way."

"Then I wish you G.o.dspeed, Amba.s.sador." Nadir Sharif put down his _sharbat _gla.s.s. "Incidentally, there's a large caravan leaving for Surat day after tomorrow. Should I make arrangements for you to join it?"

"I'm not going anywhere until I see the Moghul."

"You're a headstrong man, Amba.s.sador. Please believe I wish you well.

Notwithstanding His Majesty's current views, I've always regarded you highly." He signaled for a tray of betel leaves and rose, flashing one of his official smiles. "Who knows? Perhaps your luck is due for a change."

Queen Janahara read the dispatch twice, the lines of her mouth growing tighter each time, before pa.s.sing it back to Arangbar. He studied it again, holding it with a trembling hand, seeming not to fully comprehend its meaning, then extended it to Nadir Sharif. The courtyard off Arangbar's private library was deadly silent, all servants and eunuchs banished. The tapestries shading the inner compartment had been drawn back, permitting the hard light of morning to illuminate the flowered murals on the library's red sandstone walls. Arangbar sipped wine from a gilded cup and studied Nadir Sharifs face while the prime minister read, as though hoping somehow to decipher the doc.u.ment's significance from his expression.

"He has plainly refused. Majesty." Nadir Sharifs voice was strangely calm. "When did this arrive?"

"This morning. It's his reply to the pigeon I sent to Burhanpur the day after the wedding, ordering him to return the command in the south to Ghulam Adl and march to the northwest, to relieve the fortress at Qandahar." Arangbar's eyes were bloodshot and grim. "At least we know now where he is."

"We know nothing." Janahara reached for the doc.u.ment and scrutinized it. "This dispatch was sent four days ago. He could be as far north as Mandu by now, or well on his way to Agra."

"I doubt very much he will march anywhere." Nadir Sharif cut her off without seeming to do so. "Until he receives a response to the terms he has demanded."

"Repeat them to me." Arangbar was having difficulty focusing on the wine cup and he shifted his gaze into the courtyard.

"They are very explicit. Majesty." Nadir Sharif rolled the doc.u.ment and replaced it in the bamboo sleeve. "Jadar has refused to march to defend Qandahar unless his horse rank is raised to thirty thousand, and unless the _jagirs _in Dholpur, those that were granted to Prince Allaudin, are returned. What will you do?"

"There can be no bargaining with an Imperial order," Queen Janahara interjected. "How many times will you be intimidated? Remember he refused to undertake this campaign--which, I should add, he has apparently bungled--until his _suwar _rank was elevated, and his elder brother Khusrav was sent out of Agra. When will his demands end?" Her voice rose. "Even now we do not know what has happened. All we know for sure is that two months ago he marched south from Burhanpur. And four days ago he was there again. Was he driven back when he tried to recapture Ahmadnagar from Malik Ambar? Does the Deccan still belong to the Abyssinian? Prince Jadar has much to answer."

"But the dispatch was sent from Burhanpur. At least he hasn't abandoned the city entirely, as some of the rumors said," Nadir Sharif continued evenly. "And I don't believe he has abandoned the south, either. He would not permit it to remain in rebel hands. Whatever else he is, he's a soldier first."

"For all we know he is now isolated at the fortress in Burhanpur."

Janahara studied the empty courtyard. "If he has not already lost the city."

"So what do you propose be done?" Arangbar's voice was slurred as he sipped from his cup.

"There's only one choice remaining, if you ever hope to control Jadar."

She spoke directly to Arangbar. "Order Inayat Latif to mobilize the Imperial army and march south, now. We have to know what's happening there. Inayat Latif is a far abler general than Jadar. He, at least, can ensure the Deccan is secure. Then we can handle the matter of Jadar's demands."

"But that could also give the appearance the Imperial army is marching against Jadar." Nadir Sharif shifted uncomfortably. "He will see it as an ultimatum. Do you really think he will respond to threats? You must know him better than that."

"I know him all too well." Janahara's voice was hard.

"Your Majesty"--Nadir Sharif turned directly to the queen--"perhaps if he is given more time, he will come to better . . . appreciate his position. I suggest the first thing we do is request a clarification of the military situation throughout the Deccan. Then we can send the Imperial army, as reinforcements, if it still seems advisable."

"I'm growing weary of constantly trying to outguess Jadar." Arangbar examined his cup and noted gloomily that it was dry. "First the plague, and now the preparations for the move. I'm exhausted. When do we depart?"

"I'm told the last of the elephants will be ready within one

_pahar_, Majesty." Nadir Sharif studied the queen casually, wondering how far she would push her influence with Arangbar. "I agree with you it would be wisest to wait."

"If you insist on doing nothing, at least the Imperial army should be mobilized and made ready." Janahara's dulcet voice was betrayed by the quick flash in her eyes. "Then Jadar will understand we are prepared to act quickly if he remains defiant."

"How many men and horse does Inayat Latif have under his command now?"

Arangbar searched the darkened recesses behind them for a servant to summon with more wine.

"There are over a hundred thousand men here. Majesty, and probably fifty thousand cavalry. Over three times the force Jadar took with him to the south." Nadir Sharif paused. "They could always move out within, say, two to three weeks."

"I insist the forces here at least be mobilized, and moved to Fatehpur with the court . . . lest the army itself become contaminated by the plague." Janahara hesitated for a moment and then continued evenly.

"I'm prepared to order it in your name today. It would protect the army from infection; you would have them with you if you needed them; and it would also put Jadar on notice."

"Then prepare the orders for my seal, if it pleases you." Arangbar sighed and reached for his turban. "You're usually right."

"You know I'm right." She smiled warmly. "And, regardless, no harm will be done."

"Then it's settled." Arangbar tried unsuccessfully to rise, and Nadir Sharif stepped forward, a.s.sisting him to his feet. "I have to hold _durbar _one last time today, quickly before we leave. The Persian Safavid amba.s.sador notified the _wazir _he has gifts and a pet.i.tion that must be brought to me before the court leaves Agra." He grinned.

"The Safavis are so worried I will form an alliance with the northwestern Uzbeks that their Emperor Shah Abbas sends gifts every month."

"You've decided to hold _durbar _today, after all?" Nadir Sharifs eyes quickened. "If so, there's a Portuguese official from Surat who also wishes to present some gifts from the Viceroy and speak with you on a matter he said was delicate."

"What 'delicate' matter does His Excellency have?" Janahara stopped sharply on her way toward the corridor and turned back. "I've heard nothing about it."

"I suppose we'll all discover that in _durbar_, Majesty." Nadir Sharif bowed and was gone.

Brian Hawksworth waited in the crowded square of the _Diwan-i-Am_, holding a large package and hoping the rumored appearance of Arangbar was true. For the past four days the Moghul had not held _durbar_, had remained in complete isolation. But only an hour before, talk had circulated in the square that Arangbar would hold a brief reception before departing, probably in a tent pavilion that had been erected in the center of the square. As though to verify the speculation, slaves had unrolled several thick carpets beneath the tent, installed a dais, and were now positioning his throne onto the platform.

Hawksworth stared about the square and felt his palms sweat.

Is this the last time I ever see the Moghul of India? And Shirin never again? Is this how it ends?

He had spent the last several days in a private h.e.l.l, thinking of Shirin and waiting for the first fever, the first nodules that would signal the plague. So far there had been no signs of the disease. And he had heard that the consensus in the bazaar was the infection would subside within the month. Clearly it would be nothing like London in 1603.

Palace rumors said that Shirin was still alive. All executions had ceased after the appearance of the plague. And stories were that the Moghul was rarely seen sober. Perhaps, Hawksworth told himself, Arangbar has stayed so drunk he has forgotten her.

He had finally conceived one last plan to try to save her. Then he had packed his chest, settled his accounts, and dismissed his servants. If nothing came of the meeting today . . . if there was a meeting . . . he would have to leave in any case.

He moved closer to the royal pavilion, pushing his way through the melee of shirtless servants. The elephants for the _zenana _had been moved into the square and were now being readied. There were, by Hawksworth's rough count, approximately a hundred elephants to carry Arangbar's women. The _howdahs _for the main wives were fashioned from gold, with gratings of gold wire around the sides to provide a view and an umbrella canopy of silver cloth for shade. A special elephant was waiting for Queen Janahara and Princess Layla, decorated with a canvas of gold brocade and bearing a jewel-studded _howdah_.

As Hawksworth watched, another elephant, shining with black paint and the largest he had ever seen, lumbered regally into the square, ridden by a mahout with a gold-braided turban. Its covering was even more lavish than that of the queen's mount, and its _howdah _was emblazoned with the Imperial standard of Arangbar, a long-tailed lion crouching menacingly in front of a golden sun face. Beneath the verandas rows of saddled horses waited for the lesser members of the court, each with a slave stationed alongside bearing an umbrella of gold cloth, and in front of the horses were rows of crimson-colored palanquins, their pearl-embroidered velvet gleaming in the light, ready for high officials.

The roadway leading from the square of the _Diwan-i-Am _had been lined with a guard of three hundred male war elephants, each with a cannon turret on its back. Behind those, three hundred female elephants stood idling in the sunshine, their backs covered with gold cloth marked with the Moghurs insignia, waiting to be loaded with household goods from the _zenana_. Just beyond the gate a host of watermen were poised with waterskins slung from their backs, ready to run before the Moghul's procession sprinkling the roadway to banish dust. Near them a small party of men stood holding the harness of a camel bearing a roll of white cloth, used to cover and banish from sight any dead animals that might lie along the route of the Moghuls party.