The Moghul

merely for a trading firman . But who knew what sea power waited behind the English appearance at Surat?
    She knew Jadar despised Christians, but he would not scruple to use them one against the other. Where would it lead, if Jadar could enlist English sea power in the struggle that loomed ahead, and somehow neutralize the influence of the Portuguese? Maddeningly, the Moghul seemed amused by the Englishman, by his rude manner.
    "Why did His Majesty invite the feringhi to the Diwan-i- Khas tonight?"
    "My esteemed sister, you were at today's durbar. You know His Majesty's whims far better than I. Perhaps he was fascinated by finding a feringhi who speaks his barbarous Turki. For His Majesty the new feringhi cannot be anything more than merely a new toy, like a new dog or horse. He will amuse himself with the feringhi , dangle promises before him, and wait to see if more gifts are forthcoming. You know he is the same with all ambassadors."
    "This one I think is different. Did you see him refuse to teslim ? I think His Majesty is already awed by him. I fear for India if the English ever gain influence here. Do you really believe the English king wants nothing more than trade?" Janahara found herself searching for the key to Nadir Sharifs thoughts. "What do you suppose would happen if these English defy the Portuguese and one day decide to blockade Surat? To allow trade only to those who have supported them at court." She paused as she studied him. "Could there be some here already who are fearful enough to pretend friendship to the Englishman?"
    "Who could know these things?" Nadir Sharif walked to the white marble railing and gazed along the side of the fort, where the Jamuna lapped gently against the thick red walls. He remembered his pigeons, and then he remembered the morning darshan and Janahara's unprecedented appearance.
    The Englishman is hardly a problem, my dear sister. He is already tamed. You are the problem now. You and your newfound power. But if you fear this harmless feringhi more than you fear me, then I have at last found a way to manage you as well. At long last.
    "Tonight I will drink with the English feringhi , and then we may learn something useful. A man lounging with a wine cup in his hands says things he would never utter standing at durbar . I think His Majesty may also be wondering about the intentions of his king."
    Janahara chewed silently on the betel leaf and eyed him, knowing he had met that morning with the Rajput who brought the English feringhi to Agra and wondering why. Whatever the reason, she told herself, Nadir Sharif would never be so foolish as to side with Jadar. Not so long as the prince was isolated and weak. Nadir Sharif did not gamble.
    "The feringhi must be watched closely. Find a way. We need to know what he is doing, what he is thinking. Do you understand?"
    "To hear is to obey." Nadir Sharif bowed lightly.
    "And you will be at darshan tomorrow morning. Even if you were not there today."
    "Naturally had I but known, Majesty . . ."
    "Father made you prime minister. You can be just as easily removed."
    "Your Majesty." Nadir Sharif bowed, and with an unseen flick sent the rolled betel leaf spinning past the railing, toward the dark waters of the Jamuna below.

    *
    Hawksworth sipped from the new cup of wine, his third, and watched the musicians begin to retune. Around him the members of Arangbar's inner circle were assembling in the Diwan-i-Khas . This must be evening dress in Agra, he marveled: silk turbans studded with rubies and sapphires, diamond earrings, swords trimmed in gold and silver, pearl necklaces, cloaks of rich brocade, velvet slippers. The faces around him all betrayed the indolent eyes and pasty cheeks of men long indulged in rich food, hard spirits, sensuality.
    It was, he now realized, the fairyland that Symmes had described that freezing day so long ago in the offices of the Levant Company. What man not a Papist monk could resist the worldly seductions of the Moghul’s court?
    Then he remembered the brave Pathan who had been torn apart by a lion that very afternoon, while all Arangbar's nobles watched unprotesting.
    On the signal of a eunuch standing by the doorway the dummer suddenly pounded out a loud, rhythmic fanfare, and then the sitarist took up a martial motif. The brocade drapery hanging inside a marble archway at the back of the room was drawn aside by a guard and a moment later Arangbar swept into the room. The courtiers all bowed in the teslim ,