The Moghul
Page 51
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"You took an astonishing risk merely to honor the whims of your Hindu dancer, Ambassador." Nadir Sharif had summoned Hawksworth to his reception room at sunset. "Few men here would have done it."
"I've lived through plagues twice before. In 1592 over ten thousand in London died of the plague, and in 1603, in the summer after King James's coronation, over thirty thousand died, one person out of every five. If I were going to die, I would have by now." Hawksworth listened to his own bravado and wondered if it sounded as hollow as it was. He remembered his own haunting fear during the height of the last plague, when rowdy, swearing Bearers, rogues some declared more ill-bred than hangmen, plied the city with rented barrows, their cries of "Cast out your dead" ringing through the deserted streets. They charged sixpence a corpse, and for their fee they carted the bodies to open pits at the city's edge for unconsecrated, anonymous burial, the cutpurse and the alderman piled side by side. As he remembered London again, suddenly the Hindu rites seemed considerably less barbaric.
"You're a brave man, nonetheless, or a foolish one." Nadir Sharif gestured him toward a bolster. "Tell me, have your English physicians determined the cause of the infection?"
"There are many theories. The Puritans say it's God's vengeance; and astrologers point out that there was a conjunction of the planets Jupiter and Saturn when the last plague struck. But our physicians seem to have two main theories. Some hold it's caused by an excess of corrupt humors in the body, whereas others claim it's spread by poisonous air, which has taken up vapors contrary to nature."
Nadir Sharif sat pensive and silent for a moment, as though pondering the explanations. Then he turned to Hawksworth.
"What you seem to have told me is that your physicians have absolutely no idea what causes the plague. So they have very ingeniously invented names for the main points of their ignorance." He smiled. "Indian physicians have been known to do the same. Tell me then, what do you think causes it?"
"I don't know either. It seems to worsen in the years after crops have been bad, when there are hungry dogs and rats scavenging in the streets. During the last plague all the dogs in London were killed or sent out of the city, but it didn't seem to help."
"And what about the rats?"
"There've always been men in England who make a living as rat-catchers, but with the dogs gone during the plague, the rats naturally started to multiply."
Nadir smiled thoughtfully. "You know, the Hindus have a book, the Bhagavata Parana, that warns men to quit their house if they see a sickly rat near it. Indians have long assumed vermin bring disease. Have you considered the possibility that the source of the plague might be the rats, rather than the dogs? Perhaps by removing the dogs, you eliminated the best deterrent to the bearer of the plague, the rats?"
"No one has thought of that."
"Well, the European plague has finally reached India, whatever its cause." Nadir Sharif looked away gloomily. "Almost a hundred people died in Agra this past week. Our physicians are still searching for a cure. What remedies do you use in England? I think His Majesty would be most interested to know."
"I suppose the measures are more general than specific. Englishmen try to ward it off by purging the pestilent air around them. They burn rosemary and juniper and bay leaves in their homes. During the last plague the price of rosemary went up from twelve pence an armful to six shillings a handful. But the only people helped seemed to be herb wives and gardeners. One physician claimed the plague could be avoided by wearing a bag of arsenic next to the skin. There's also a belief that if you bury half a dozen peeled onions near your home, they'll gather all the infection in the neighborhood. And some people fumigate the contagious vapors from their rooms by dropping a red-hot brick into a basin of vinegar."
"Do these curious nostrums work?" Nadir Sharif tried to mask his skepticism.
"I suppose it's possible. Who can say for sure? But the plague always diminishes after a time, usually with the onset of winter."
"Doesn't your king do anything?"
"He usually leaves London if an infection starts to spread. In 1603, the year of his coronation, he first went to Richmond, then to Southampton, then to Wilton. He traveled all summer and only returned in the autumn."
"Is that all he did? Travel?"
"There were Plague Orders in all the infected towns. And any house where someone was infected had to have a red cross painted on the door and a Plague Bill attached. No one inside could leave. Anyone caught outside was whipped and set in the stocks."
"And did these measures help?"
"Englishmen resent being told they can't leave home. So people would tear the Plague Bills off their doors and go about their business. Some towns hired warders at sixpence a day to watch the houses and make sure no one left. But when so many are infected, it's impossible to watch everyone. So there were also orders forbidding assemblies. King James banned the holding of fairs within fifty miles of London. And all gatherings in London were prohibited by a city order—playhouses, gaming houses, cockpits, bear-baiting, bowling, football. Even ballad singers were told to stay off the streets."
"His Majesty may find that interesting." Nadir Sharif turned and signaled for sharbat from the servants. "Perhaps he should issue laws forbidding assembly before he leaves Agra."
"Is he leaving?" Hawksworth felt his heart stop.
"Day after tomorrow." Nadir Sharif watched as the tray of sharbat cups arrived and immediately directed it toward Hawksworth.
"I have to see him one last time before he leaves. Before I leave."
"I really think that's impossible now. He's canceled the daily durbar. No one can see him. Even I have difficulty meeting with him." Nadir Sharif accepted a cup from the tray and examined Hawksworth sorrowfully as he sipped it. "In any case, I fear a meeting would do you little good, Ambassador. He's busy arranging the departure for all the court, including the zenana. There are thousands of people to move, and on very short notice. In fact, I've been trying to see Her Majesty for several days, but she has received no one." He smiled evenly. "Not even her own brother."
"Where's His Majesty planning to go?"
"Not so very far, actually. Ordinarily he probably would travel north, toward Kashmir. But since winter is approaching, he's decided to go west, to Fatehpur Sekri. The area around the old palace has remained free of the infection."
"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, Ambassador. 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 Godspeed, Ambassador." Nadir Sharif put down his sharbat glass. "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, Ambassador. 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."