The Moghul

by Thomas Hoover

  *

  Hawksworth began to count the stone stairs after the third twisting turn of the descending corridor, and his eyes searched through the smoke and flickering torchlight for some order in the arched doorways that opened out on each level as they went farther and farther down. Ail object struck him across the face and his hand plunged for his sword, before he remembered he had left it in his quarters, on Jadar's command. Then he heard the high-pitched shriek of a bat and saw it flutter into the shadows. The torchbearers were ten Rajputs of Jadar's personal guard, armed with the usual swords and half-pikes. None spoke as their footsteps clattered through the musty subterranean air.

  Hawksworth felt the dankness against the beads of sweat forming on his skin. As the old memory of a dark prison welled up, he suddenly realized he was terrified.

  Why did I agree to meet him here? This is not "the lower level of the fortress." This is a dungeon. But he can't detain me, not with a safe conduct pass from the Moghul.

  Still, he might try. If he wants to keep me out of Agra while he's away on campaign. And he may. I already smell this campaign is doomed.

  It was the evening of Hawksworth's third day in the Burhanpur fortress. When the convoy arrived at the village of Bahadurpur, three kos west of Burhanpur, they had been met by Jadar's personal guards and escorted through the city and into the walled compound of the fortress. He had been given spacious, carpeted quarters, always guarded, and had seen no one, not even Vasant Rao. Communications with Jadar had been by courier, and finally they had agreed on a neutral meeting place. Jadar had suggested a location in the palace where they would have privacy, yet be outside his official quarters. Since they would meet as officials of state, Jadar had insisted on no weapons.

  No visible weapons, Hawksworth told himself, glad he wore boots.

  The corridor narrowed slightly, then ended abruptly at a heavy wooden door. Iron braces were patterned over the face of the door and in its center was a small window, secured with heavy bars. Armed Rajputs stood on either side and as Hawksworth's party approached they snapped about, hands at their swords. Then the leader of Hawksworth's guards spoke through the smoke-filled air, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

  "Krishna plays his flute."

  A voice came from the sentries at the door.

  "And longing gopis burn."

  Again Hawksworth's guard.

  "With a maid's desire."

  Immediately the sentries slid back the ancient iron bolt that spanned the face of the door. Then came the rasping scrape of another bolt on the inside being released. When he heard the sound, Hawksworth felt a surge of fear and stared around wildly at the faces of the guards. They all stood menacingly, with a regal bearing and expressionless faces. Each man had his hand loosely on his sword.

  The door creaked slowly inward, and Hawksworth realized it was almost a foot thick and probably weighed tons. The guards motioned him forward and stood stiffly waiting for him to move. He calculated his chances one more time, and with a shrug, walked through.

  The room was enormous, with a high vaulted stone ceiling and a back wall lost in its smoky recesses. Rows of oil lamps trailed down the walls on either side of the door. The walls themselves were heavy gray blocks of cut stone, carefully smoothed until they fit seamlessly together without mortar. He asked himself how air reached the room, then he traced the lamp smoke upward and noticed it disappeared through ornate carvings that decorated the high roof of the chamber.

  A heavy slam echoed off the walls and he turned to see the door had been sealed. As his eyes adjusted to the lamplight he searched the chamber. All he could see were long, neat rows of bundles, lining the length of the stone floor. With a shock he realized they were the bundles from the caravan. Otherwise the room seemed empty.

  At that moment he caught a flicker of movement, a tall figure at the far end of the chamber, passing shadowlike among the bundles, an apparition. Then a voice sounded through the dense air.

  "At last we meet." The stone walls threw back an eerie echo. "Is the place to your liking?"

  "I prefer sunlight." Hawksworth felt the cool of the room envelop his skin. "Where I can see who I'm talking to."

  "You are speaking to Prince Shapur Firdawsi Jadar, third son of the Moghul. It's customary to salaam, Captain- General Hawksworth."

  "I speak for His Majesty, King James the First of England. The sons of kings normally bow before him."

  "When I meet him, perhaps I will bow." Jadar emerged from among the bundles. He had an elegant short beard and seemed much younger, somehow, than Hawksworth had expected. "I'm surprised to see you alive, Captain. How is it you still live while so many of my Rajputs died?"

  "I live by my wits, not by my caste."

  Jadar roared with genuine delight.

  "Spoken like a Moghul." Then he sobered. "You'd be wise never to say that to a Rajput, however. I often wonder how an army of Moghul troops would fare against a division of Hindu unbelievers. I pray to Allah I never find out." Jadar suddenly slipped a dagger from his waist and held it loosely, fingering the blade. "Feringhi Christians would be another matter entirely, however. Did you come unarmed, Captain, as we agreed?"

  "I did." Hawksworth stared at the knife in dismay.

  "Come, Captain, please don't ask me to believe you'd be such a fool." Jadar slipped the dagger into his other hand with a quick twist and tossed it atop one of the bundles. "But this meeting must be held in trust. I ask that you leave your weapon beside mine."

  Hawksworth hesitated, then slowly reached into his boot and withdrew a small stiletto, the Portuguese knife left at the observatory. As he dropped it beside Jadar's weapon, he noticed the prince's knife was missing half its handle.

  Jadar smiled. "You know, Captain, if I killed you here, now, there would be no witness to the deed, save your Christian God."

  "Do you plan to try?"

  "I do not 'try' to do anything, Captain." Jadar opened his hand to reveal that a dagger remained. It was the other side of his original knife, which had been two blades fitted to appear as one. "What I do, Captain, is merely a matter of what I decide to do. Right now I have serious misgivings about your intentions in India."

  Jadar's blade glinted in the lamplight as he moved toward Hawksworth.

  "Is this your greeting for any who refuse to salaam?"

  Hawksworth took a step backward toward the door, feinted toward his boot, and rose with a cocked pistol leveled directly at Jadar. "What game is this?"

  The prince exploded with laughter, and before Hawks­worth caught the quick motion of his arm, the knife thudded deeply into the wooden door behind him.

  "Well done, Captain. Very well done." Jadar beamed in appreciation. "You are, as I suspected, truly without the smallest shred of Rajput honor. Put away your pistol. I think we can talk. And by the way, there are twenty matchlocks trained on you right now." He waved toward the vaulted ceiling of the crypt, where dark musket barrels were visible through slits in the carved decoration. He barked a command in Urdu and the barrels slowly withdrew.

  "Why don't we talk about releasing me and my chest to travel on to Agra." Hawksworth lowered the pistol, but kept it still cocked, in his hand.

  "Agra, you say? Captain, there are already Europeans in Agra." Jadar leaned against one of the bundles. "Portu­guese. They've been there many years. How many more Christians can India endure? You infidel Europeans are beginning to annoy me more than I can tell you."

  "What do you mean?" Hawksworth tried to read Jadar's eyes, remembering Shirin's story of the Persians and Portuguese both hating the prince.

  "Tell me about your English ships, Captain." Jadar seemed not to hear Hawksworth's question. "Tell me how you defeated the Portuguese so easily."

  "English frigates are better designed than the Portugals' galleons. And English seamen are better gunners and sailors."

  "Words, Captain. Easy words. Perhaps the Portuguese allowed themselves to be defeated. This one time. Waiting for a bigger prize. How ca
n you know?"

  "Is that what the Portugals say happened?"

  "I asked you."

  "A well-manned English frigate is the match of any two galleons."

  "Then how many of your 'frigates' would it take to blockade the port at Goa?"

  Hawksworth saw a small flicker in Jadar's eyes as the prince waited for the answer. "I think a dozen could do it. If we caught their fleet in the harbor, before they could put out to sea."

  "Christians typically exaggerate their strength. How many would it really take? Five times what you've said? Ten times?"

  "I said it depends on seamanship. And surprise."

  "Christians always seem to have answers. Particularly when there is no answer." Jadar turned and pointed to the stacks of bundles. "By the way, do you know what the caravan carried, Captain?"

  "I doubt very much it was lead. So it's probably silver." Hawksworth marveled at the way Jadar seemed to lead the conversation, always getting what he wanted before what he wanted had become obvious. And then quickly moving on.

  "Your 'probably' is exactly right. And do you know why it carried silver?"

  "You have a long supply line. You needed to buy supplies and arms."

  "I see you don't think like a Moghul after all." Jadar moved closer, studying Hawksworth's eyes. "Why bother to buy what I could easily take? No, my Christian captain, or ambassador, or spy, I needed men. What is it about human character that allows men to be bought like so many nautch girls?"

  "Not every man is born to wealth." Hawksworth glared directly at Jadar, beginning to find the conversation growing sinister.

  "And few men are without a price, Captain. I think I could even find yours if I looked enough for it." Jadar paused reflectively for a moment, then continued. "Tell me, should I be pleased with your presence here?"

  "You have no reason not to be. My only mission here is to open trade between our kings."

  "You know your 'mission' has brought about many deaths since you landed in India. The most recent were the deaths of forty of my best men."

  "I didn't order the attack on the caravan. Those men's lives are on the head of whoever did." Hawksworth stopped, and as he looked at Jadar something clicked in his mind. Something about the attack that had bothered him ever since.

  "Your caravan was attacked by bandits, Captain. Who could order them to do anything? But the men I provided as escort gave their lives protecting you."

  "Those men were murdered. They never had a chance."

  Hawksworth's mind was racing. Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle began to fall together. Everything fit. Vasant Rao had been too nervous. He must have known the attack was coming, but not when. It was all a game. Some deadly serious war game. And none of the other men knew.

  "But I think I have an idea who did order the attack." Hawksworth continued, glaring at Jadar. "And you do too."

  "Your Rajputs guards were growing careless, Captain. They made a foolish mistake. What commander can afford men who make mistakes? Even if they are Rajputs. All men grow complacent if they are never tested."

  "It was vicious."

  "It was discipline. Security has improved considerably here since that incident." Jadar continued evenly, ignoring the look on Hawksworth's face. "The only real difficulties that night were caused by you. It was very imprudent of you to kill one of the bandits with a pistol. They were instructed merely to disarm you. You were completely safe. But after your rash killing it became much more difficult for me to try to rescue you. And after the eclipse, it actually became impossible." Jadar wanted to ask Hawksworth what had really happened, but he suppressed the impulse. "Still, after your first mistake, you appear to have handled yourself reasonably well. That's why we're having this talk."

  "In a dungeon? Surrounded by muskets?"

  "In a room surrounded by silver. More, I suspect, than you have ever known. How many sailing ships, your 'frigates,' could be bought with this much silver?"

  "I don't know exactly. I do know English frigates are not for sale."

  "Come, Captain. Would you have me believe your king never has allies who share a common cause? That he never aids those who war against his enemies?"

  "Allies have been known to become enemies. If they grow too ambitious. Just who would your frigates, assuming you had them and the trained seamen to man them, be used against? The Portugals? Or against the English eventually?"

  "Sometimes, unfortunately, an ally becomes a tyrant, forcing you to act in your own interest. I know it all too well." Jadar was silent for a moment, then he smiled smoothly. "But tell me about your plans when you reach Agra. You'll have no frigates there. What do you hope to gain?"

  "Open trade. That and nothing more. England wants no war with the Portugals."

  "Truly? I believe they may think otherwise. Time will tell. There may be changes in Agra soon. The Christian Portuguese may find their time has run out. If that happens, what will you do?"

  "I'll wait and see."

  "There may be no time to 'wait,' English Captain Hawksworth. The times may require you to choose. If the Portuguese decide to act in the interest of one party here, will England act in the interest of the other? I want to know."

  "The king of England acts in his own interest."

  "But your king will not be here. You will be here."

  "Then I will act in his interest." Hawksworth fixed Jadar squarely. "And the king of England is not interested in who rules India. Only in free trade between us."

  "But the one who rules India will have the power to permit or deny that trade. You know, there's an Indian folk tale of a Brahmin who once discovered a tiger in a well. He gave aid to the tiger, helped him escape from the well, and years later when the Brahmin was starving the tiger brought him a necklace of gold and jewels won from a rich man in a battle to the death. Do you understand?"

  "I understand. But I still serve my king first."

  Jadar listened silently, but his eyes were intent.

  "And that king is English. For now." Jadar filled the last words with a tone of presumption that left Hawksworth uncomfortable. "But enough. Let's talk of other matters. I assume you are aware the Portuguese will probably try to have you assassinated when you reach Agra. Already there are many rumors about you there. Perhaps you should remember your own personal interests too. As well as your king's. One day, I think, we will meet again. If you are still alive."

  "And if you are still alive."

  Jadar smiled lightly. "We're both difficult to kill. So we both must think of the future. Now I have a last question for you."

  Jadar retrieved his knife from atop the bundles and deftly ripped open the side of one. Rolls of new silver coin glistened in the light. "What do you see in this package, Ambassador Hawksworth?"

  "A king's ransom in silver."

  "I'm surprised at you, Captain. For a seaman you have remarkably bad eyesight. What you see here, what came with you from Surat, is lead, Captain. Ingots of lead."

  "That forty men died to protect."

  "Those men died protecting you, Captain. Don't you remember? Your safety is very important to me. So important that it may be necessary to keep you under guard here in the fortress until this campaign is over. Look again at the bundle and tell me once more what you see."

  "You can't hold me here. I have a safe conduct pass from the Moghul himself."

  "Do you? Good. In that case there shouldn't be any difficulty. I'll only need to examine it to make sure it's not a forgery. There should be an opportunity sometime after I return from this campaign."

  Hawksworth examined Jadar and realized the threat was not empty.

  "There's no reason for me to stay. You have your lead."

  Jadar smiled an empty grin, but with a trace of bizarre warmth. "At last we're beginning to understand each other. Neither of us has a Rajput's honor." He tossed Hawksworth the Portuguese stiletto. "An interesting knife. Did you know it took me almost two weeks to find out for sure who really hired the assassin? And for all tha
t trouble it was exactly who you'd expect."

  Hawksworth examined him in amazement, and decided to gamble another guess.

  "I suppose I haven't thanked you yet for saving us from the Portugals' ambush on the river, the day we made landfall."

  Jadar waved his hand in dismissal. "Mere curiosity, nothing more. If I had allowed them to kill you, we could never have had this interesting talk. But you still have many troubles ahead."

  "We both do."

  "But I know who my enemies are, Captain. That's the difference."

  The door had begun to swing slowly inward.

  "Yes, these are interesting times, Captain. You may find it difficult to stay alive, but somehow I think you'll manage for a while longer."

  Hawksworth watched nervously as the Rajput guards filed into the room and stationed themselves by the door.

  "I plan to march south in ten days. You would be wise to leave tomorrow for the north, while the roads are still secure. Vasant Rao has asked to accompany you, and I'm afraid I have no choice but to humor him. I need him here, but he is a man of temperament. I will provide guards for you as far north as the Narbada River. After that he will hire his own horsemen. I'll give him a letter for a raja in Mandu, who can supply whatever he needs." Jadar studied Hawksworth one last time, his eyes calculating. "We both have difficult times ahead, but I think we'll meet again. Time may change a few things for both of us."

  As Hawksworth passed through the open doorway, he looked back to see the prince leaning easily aginst a stack of bundles, flipping a large silver coin. And suddenly he wanted to leave the fortress of Burhanpur more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.