The Moghul

by Thomas Hoover

  Hawksworth finally returned to his compound near midnight, carrying hisempty flask of brandy. He had wandered the length of the chaotic tentcity searching for Shirin. Over the past five hours he had combed thewide streets of the bazaar, searched through the half-empty elephantstables, and circled the high chintz border of the Imperial enclosure.The periphery of the camp swarmed with infantrymen and their wivesgathering supplies for the march, and already there had been numerousfights in the bazaar, where prices had soared after the announcementthe army would march.

  As he neared his tent, he looked up at the stars, brilliant eventhrough the lingering evening smoke from the cooking fires, and musedabout Jadar. The rebel prince would soon be facing Inayat Latif, justrecalled to Agra two months earlier after a brutally successfulcampaign in Bengal extending the Imperial frontier against local Hinduchieftains. Inayat Latif was a fifty-five-year-old veteran commanderwho revered the Moghul and would do anything in his power to protecthim. Although he had made no secret of his dislike of the "Persianjunta," he shared their common alarm at the threat of Jadar'srebellion. It was Arangbar he would be fighting to defend, not thequeen.

  The Imperial army is invincible now, Hawksworth told himself, itscavalry outnumbers Jadar's easily three to one, and its officers are atfull strength. There are at least a hundred and fifty thousand menready to march. How many can Jadar have? Fifty thousand? Perhaps less.Jadar can never meet them. The most he can possibly do is skirmish andretreat.

  Perhaps, he thought ruefully, it was all just as well. A decisivedefeat for Jadar would _Resolve_ the paralysis at court, and theindecision in Shirin's mind. She would realize finally that Jadar hadattempted to move too fast.

  The mission might still be saved. With the Portuguese resistanceneutralized--there were even rumors that Arangbar had ordered FatherSarmento back to Goa--there would be no voices in Agra to poisonArangbar's mind daily against the _firman _for King James. After all,he asked himself, who else could Arangbar turn to? England alone hasthe naval strength to challenge Portugal, even if it might requireyears to break their monopoly completely. He would bargain for a_firman _in exchange for a vague promise of King James's help againstthe Portuguese. It was a bargain England surely could keep. Eventually.

  He slipped through the doorway of his tent and groped for the lamp, anopen bronze dish of oil with a wick protruding through the spout. Itrested where he had left it, on a stand near his sea chest, and hesparked a flint against the wick. Suddenly the striped cotton walls ofthe tent glowed around him. He removed the sword at his belt andslipped it onto the carpet. Then he removed his leather jerkin anddropped against a bolster, still puzzling about Shirin.

  Her status during the past few days had been ambiguous. As a divorcedMuslim woman, she was free to move about as she chose. But everyoneknew she was on very uncertain terms with the Moghul. After they hadarrived outside the western wall of the old city of Fatehpur, Arangbarhad been too preoccupied to remember his threat to move her into the_zenana_. She had remained free, able to move inconspicuously about thecamp, mingling with the other Muslim women. And each night, after thefinal watch was announced, Hawksworth had been able to slip unnoticedto her tent. Once, late one night, he had suggested they try to returnto the old palace of Akman, inside the walls of Fatehpur, but they bothfinally decided the risk would be too great.

  He had hoped the days, and nights, at the camp would bring them closertogether. And in a way they had, although Shirin still seemed toretreat at times into a special realm of mourning she had devised forherself. She could never stop remembering Samad and his brutal death.

  Something, he told himself, had to change. He had begun to wonder if heshould gamble and tell her of the terms the Moghul had demanded for herrelease. Would she then understand she had no choice but to return toEngland with him?

  He rose and rummaged through his sea chest, finding another bottle ofbrandy, almost his last, and to fight his despondency he poured himselfa cup. The liquor burned its way down, like a warm soothing salve, andhe turned to begin assembling his few belongings for packing in themorning. He had reprimed and loaded his remaining pistol, and now helaid it on the table beside his chest. Then he drew his sword from itsscabbard to check its edge and the polish on the metal. Holding it tothe lamp, he spotted a few random flecks of rust, and he found a clothand burnished them away.

  His few clothes were already piled haphazardly in the chest, nowvirtually empty save for his lute. He found his leather purse at thebottom and counted his remaining money. Five hundred rupees. He countedthem twice, beginning to wonder if he might eventually have to walk allthe way back to Surat.

  He searched the floor for any stray items, and came across Vasant Rao'skatar caught between the folds of the carpet. It seemed years now sincethe Rajput aide of Jadar had slipped it into his hand in the square ofthe Diwan-i-Am, and he had almost forgotten he had it. With a smile ofrecollection he gingerly slipped it from its brocade sheath and held itin his hand, puzzling how such a curiously constructed weapon could beso lethal. The grip was diagonal to the blade, so that it could only beused to thrust, like a pike head growing out of your fist. Rajputs weresaid to kill tigers with only a katar and a leather shield, but hewasn't sure he believed the stories. He grasped it and made a few trialthrusts, its ten- inch blade shining in the lamplight like a mirror,then tossed it atop his sea chest. It would make a nice memento of thetrip; every fighting man in India seemed to carry one. Who in Londonwould ever believe such a weapon unless they saw it?

  Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flutter in the portiere of histent, and he looked up to see Shirin standing silently in the doorway.

  "What . . . ?" He looked up to greet her, unsure whether to betray hisrelief by taking her immediately in his arms, or to scold and tease hera bit first.

  She silenced him with a wave of her hand.

  "Are you ready?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  "Ready for what? Where in Christ's name have you been? I've been . . ."

  Again she silenced him as she moved inside.

  "Are you ready to ride?" She glanced in dismay at the belongings he hadscattered about the tent. "We have to leave now, before dawn."

  "Have you gone mad?" He stared at her. "We're returning to Agra dayafter tomorrow. The Moghul has . . ."

  "We have to leave now, tonight." She examined him in the lamplight,consternation growing in her eyes. "The prince . . ."

  "Jadar is finished." He cut her off. "Don't be a sentimental fool. Hebrought this on himself. You can't help him. Nobody can now."

  They stood, eyes locked together, for a moment that seemed as long aseternity. Hawksworth did not move from his place on the carpet.Gradually her eyes clouded with sorrow, and he thought he saw her beginto turn.

  He was on his feet, seizing her arm, pulling her toward him. "I'm notletting you die for Jadar. If he's meant to win, he'll do it withouteither of . . ."

  He sensed a movement in the portiere behind her, and looked up to seethe glint of a sword thrust exactly where she had been standing. Shecaught his bewildered look and revolved in time to see the sword slashthrough the fringed cloth. An Imperial guard, wearing light chain mailand a red turban, moved through the doorway, weapon in hand.

  "You son of a whore!" Hawksworth reached back for the naked sword lyingon the carpet behind him and grabbed his leather jerkin. Holding theleather as a shield, he lunged at the attacker.

  As Hawksworth's sword thrust reached him, the guard caught the bladewith his own and instinctively parried it aside, throwing Hawksworthagainst a tent pole.

  As he tried to regain his footing, he heard Shirin cry out and turnedto see a heavy sword cut through the side of the tent behind them,creating a second opening. A hand ripped away the striped chintz andanother Imperial guard entered, weapon in hand.

  "Jesus! Shirin, get back!" Hawksworth shouted in English and shoved heracross his sea chest, sending her tumbling away from the secondattacker. As she fell, he saw her grab the pocket pisto
l lying on thetable and turn to face the guard approaching her.

  Hawksworth felt a blade rip through the jerkin in his hand and tanglein the leather. He shoved the jerkin and sword aside and cut upwardwith his own blade, miraculously imbedding it in the exposed neck ofthe turbaned guard. The man yelled out and dropped his weapon, whichslid harmlessly onto the carpet. Then he stumbled and fell forward,holding his neck. Still incredulous, Hawksworth looked up to see twomore Imperial guards standing in the doorway behind him, both withdrawn swords. As he moved to keep them at bay with his own weapon, heturned and saw the guard who had entered through the side of the tentadvancing menacingly toward Shirin. Just as the guard raised hisweapon, Hawksworth heard a sharp report, followed by a moan, andwatched the man crumple and fall directly in front of her smokingpistol.

  As he fell, two more guards appeared at the opening behind him andbegan pushing their way through.

  "Shirin, the lamp!" Again he shouted in English before realizing shecould not understand. Without waiting, he grabbed the open oil lamp andflung it against the uniforms of the guards, bathing them in burningoil. Their turbans and hair ignited and they pulled back against theside of the tent, slapping at the flames.

  He turned back to the doorway in time to see the other two

  guards coming toward him. As he attempted to parry them away, he foundhis feet tangled in the leather jerkin on the carpet and he stumbledbackward, losing his balance long enough for one of the attackers tobring his sword around with a heavy sweep and knock his own weaponspinning into the dark recesses of the tent.

  As he grabbed a tent pole for balance he suddenly noticed the darkoutline of two more men approaching behind the guards at the door. Inthe shadows he could tell they were shirtless, wearing only dirtyloincloths and the gray turbans of servants. They carried no weaponsand had been attracted by the uproar.

  Looking quickly around the tent, he noticed the burning outline of hisoil-soaked powder horn lying on the carpet near his feet. He kicked ittoward the approaching guard and as it struck his leg, the cap jarredfree, sending hissing powder flaming through the tent. The man stumbledbackward in surprise and lowered his sword. Just as he did, Hawksworthsaw one of the servants standing at the doorway slip a naked katar fromhis loincloth and seize the guard by the neck. He pulled the attackeraround and with a flash of steel gutted him silently with a savageupward thrust. The other Imperial guard at the doorway turned just intime to watch the katar drawn by the second servant enter his ownthroat.

  Hawksworth stared in astonishment, realizing he had never before seenthe two servants. Even now their faces were largely obscured by theloose ends of their turbans.

  He revolved to see the other two guards turning back toward the openingthat had been cut through the side of the tent, still slapping at theburning oil on their uniforms. As they reached the opening, they seemedto hesitate momentarily, then stumbled backward. As they sprawledacross the carpet in front of him, their throats cut, he saw two moregrimy servants standing in the opening, holding bloody katars.

  The burning oil blazed across the fringe of a carpet and suddenly theinterior of the tent was crisscrossed with fire.

  The four alien servants, all still holding katars, seemed to ignore theflames as they advanced on Shirin and Hawksworth without a word.

  He watched them for a moment in horror, then reached and groped blindlyacross the top of his sea chest. It was bare. Then he rememberedShirin's fall and he felt along the carpet behind the chest, next towhere she stood.

  Just as the first man reached the edge of the chest, Hawksworth's handclosed around the handle of his katar.

  Jesus, what do they want? Did they kill the Imperial guards so theycould have the pleasure of murdering us themselves?

  Bracing himself against the side of the chest, he swung the bladeupward. He still could not see the attacker's face, masked behind theend of his turban.

  The man stepped deftly to the side and caught Hawksworth's wrist in agrip of iron, laughing out loud.

  "Never try to kill a Rajput with his own katar, Captain Hawksworth. Heknows its temperament too well."

  Vasant Rao flipped back the ragged end of his turban.

  "What the bloody hell. . . !"

  "We've been waiting for you by Shirin's tent. It would appear yourwelcome here has run out." He glanced mockingly at Shirin. "So much foryour famous Muslim hospitality."

  "You know very well who's responsible." Her eyes snapped back at him.

  "I can probably guess." Vasant Rao released Hawksworth's wrist andstared about the burning tent. "Are you ready to ride?"

  "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "This is hardly the spot for long explanations. The fact is I'm heretonight to lead some of our friends back to the camp of His Highness,the prince. And you, if you cared to join us." Vasant Rao signaled themen around him to move out through the doorway. The smoke was alreadygrowing dense. "I'm afraid your fire has made our departure that muchmore difficult. It wasn't a particularly good idea on your part. Now wehave to ride quickly."

  "What about all this?" Hawksworth looked about the burning tent. "Ihave to . . ."

  "Just roll what you need in a carpet. If you're going with us, you'llhave to leave now. Before the entire Imperial army comes to see usoff."

  "But who'd want to kill us?" Hawksworth still could not move as hestared through the smoke.

  "Whoever it was, they'll probably succeed if we wait here talking muchlonger."

  Hawksworth turned on Shirin.

  "You knew!"

  "I couldn't tell you before. It would have been too dangerous." Shequickly grabbed a carpet from the floor, stamping out the burningfringe, then flipped open Hawksworth's chest. She grabbed his lute, ahandful of clothes, his boots, his books, and his depleted purse. As hewatched in a daze, she rolled them in the carpet and shoved it into hishands. He looked around the burning tent one last time and caught theglint of his sword lying behind a tent pole. He grabbed it, scooped uphis pistol and jerkin, and took Shirin by the arm as they pushedthrough the smoke toward the entrance, stepping over the bodies of theguards as they emerged into the night air.

  Ahead, beside Shirin's tent, waited saddled horses and a group ofturbaned riders. As they ran toward the horses, Hawksworth recognizedseveral Rajputs from Arangbar's private guard among the horsemen.

  "We were ready to ride." Vasant Rao seized the rein of one of thehorses and vaulted into the saddle. "You were out walking or we couldhave left sooner. Shirin demanded we wait. It was well we did. LordKrishna still seems to be watching over you, Captain."

  "Which way are we headed?" Hawksworth helped Shirin into a saddle,watching as she uncertainly grabbed the horn for balance, then, stillclasping the bundle, pulled himself onto a pawing Arabian mare.

  "West. The rest of the men are already waiting at the end of thevalley." Vasant Rao whipped his horse and led the way as they gallopedtoward the perimeter of the tent city. "This will be a long ride, myfriend."

  As Hawksworth watched the last of the tents recede into thedark, he saw disappearing with them his final chance for a firman. Hewould never see Arangbar again. Probably he would never see Londonagain.

  I've traded it all for a woman. And I still wonder if she's mine.

  God help me.

  BOOK FIVE

  PRINCE JADAR