The Moghul

through an enclosed square. Around the sides of the square were porticoes and galleries, where horsemen with swords and pikes waited.
    "Those men are on their chauki , their seventh-day watch." Vasant Rao pointed to the porticoes. "Every soldier in Agra must stand watch once every seven days. Either here or in the large square inside, where we're going. It's the Moghul’s law."
    They passed through another large gate and suddenly a half dozen turbaned guards, in leather armor and wearing long curved swords, drew alongside, as though expecting them. Now with a double escort they began the ascent of a long walkway, perhaps twenty paces wide, situated between two high brick walls. Hawksworth's leather shoes padded against the square paving stones, which had been striated to permit easy footing for the Moghurs horses and elephants. As they reached the end, they emerged into another large court, comprising the southeast corner of the fort.
    Ahead was yet a fourth gate. As they passed through, Hawksworth realized it was protected by more mounted horsemen in the recessed lower porticoes, and archers in elevated galleries. They walked past the wide wooden doors and into a vast milling square. It was several hundred feet on the side and ringed with arcades where still more mounted horsemen waited. A wide roadway divided the square.
    "This is the quadrangle. I only saw it once before, but then I entered from the public side." Vasant Rao indicated an identical gate, directly opposite. "Over there."
    The guards directed them toward a large multicolored silk canopy fanning out from the tall buildings on their right. The area beneath the canopy was cordoned off from the square by a red velvet railing, and porters with cudgels stood around the perimeter. Vasant Rao seemed increasingly nervous as their escorts led them forward, past the guards at the entry to the canopy. Hawksworth noticed that the air beneath the canopy was heavy with incense—ambergris and aloe—burning in gold and silver censers hanging from poles.
    "The arcade ahead is the Diwan-i-Am , the Hall of Public Audience, where the Moghul holds his daily durbar ." Vasant Rao pointed toward the steps that led upward to a large open pavilion at the far end of the canopy. It was several stories high and over a hundred feet on each side. The roof was borne by marble arches supported by rows of white columns. "No man with rank under five hundred horse is allowed to enter inside the railing. I think that's why we have a special escort."
    Above the crowd, at the far end of the hall, was a raised platform of white marble, standing about three feet from the floor and covered by its own tapestried canopy. The platform was surrounded by a silver railing, and several turbaned men holding rolls of documents were now struggling to gain a position at the rail. All around them the crowd buzzed with anticipation.
    Behind and above the platform, in a marble gallery set in the wall, rested an immense throne carved from black marble. At its four corners were life-sized statues of rearing lions, each spangled with jewels, which supported in their silver paws a canopy of pure gold. The walls on either side of the throne were latticework marble screens, through which the zenana women could watch.
    "I've never seen the throne this close before. It's famous." Vasant Rao paused. "And there are some in Agra who would sell their brother to have it."
    The Imperial guards suddenly saluted, fists against their leather shields, turned and marched down the steps of the Diwan-i-Am and back into the square. Vasant Rao watched them disappear into the crowd and then he shook the left sleeve of his riding cloak and a naked katar , the deadly "tiger knife" all Rajputs carried, dropped into his hand. Its handle was a gold-plated grip between two prongs, designed to be held in the fist and thrust directly forward. Without a word he slipped it into a sheath secured in the sash of his belt.
    Hawksworth pretended not to notice and instead turned to examine the crowd. Next to them an assembly of Persian diplomats, wearing heavy robes and jewel-encrusted turbans, eyed Hawksworth's plain doublet and hose with open contempt. The air was thick was sweat and incense and the sparkle of gold and jewels.
    Uniformed servants sounded a drum roll on two large brass kettles at the back of the throne and the velvet curtains behind the throne parted. Two guards with gold-handled swords entered briskly and stood at attention,