The Moghul

and loved by all his subjects."
    "As are we, Ambassador." Arangbar took another ball of opium and washed it down with a third glass of wine. "Tell me, does your king drink spirits?"
    "It is said he drinks often, Your Majesty, though many declare it is more out of custom than delight. He drinks strong liquors—Frontiniack, Canary, High Canary wine, Tent wine, Scottish ale—but never, it's said, more than a few spoonfuls."
    "Then he could never drink with the Moghul of India, Ambassador. We have twenty cups of wine a night. And twelve grains of opium." Arangbar paused as he accepted yet another glass. His voice had begun to slur slightly. "But perhaps your king can trade with me. When will the ships from your king's next voyage arrive? And how many of your king's frigates will we see yearly if we grant him the trading firman he requests?"
    Hawksworth noticed out of the corner of his eye that Nadir Sharif had now moved directly beside him. The prime minister held a glass of wine from which he sipped delicately. Around him the other courtiers were already drinking heavily, to the obvious approval of Arangbar.
    He'll not finish a single glass of wine, if my guess is right. Nadir Sharif’ll find a way to stay stone sober while the rest of the room sinks into its cups. And they'll all be too drunk to notice.
    "King James will one day send an armada of frigates, Your Majesty." Keep Arangbar's mind off the next voyage. He just may try to hold you here until it comes, or refuse to grant a firman until he sees the next batch of presents. "His Majesty, King James, is always eager to trade the seas where his ships are welcome."
    "Even if other nations of Europe would quarrel with his rights to those seas?"
    "England has no quarrels in Europe, Your Majesty. If you refer to the engagement off Surat, you should know that was caused by a misunderstanding of the treaties that now exist in Europe. England is at peace with all her neighbors."
    A skeptical silence seemed to envelop the room. Arangbar took another cup of wine and drank it off. Then he turned to Hawksworth.
    "The matter, Ambassador Inglish, does not seem to us to be that simple. But we will examine it more later. Nights are made for beauty, days for affairs of state." Arangbar's voice had begun to slur even more noticeably. "You may have heard there will be a wedding here soon. My youngest prince is betrothed to the daughter of my queen. The wedding will be held one month after my own birthday celebration, and it will be an event to remember. Tonight I begin the always-pleasant task of selecting the women who will dance. Do you know anything of Indian dance?"
    "Very little, Your Majesty. I have only seen it once. In Surat. At a gathering one evening at the palace of the Shahbandar."
    Arangbar roared and seized another glass of wine. "I can well imagine the kind of entertainment the Shahbandar of Surat provides for his guests. No, Ambassador, I mean the real dance of India. The dance of great artists? Perhaps you have classical dance in England?"
    "No, Your Majesty. We have nothing similar. At least similar to the dance I saw."
    "Then a pleasant surprise awaits you." Arangbar examined Hawksworth's cup and motioned for a servant to refill it. "Drink up, Inglish. The evening is only beginning."
    Arangbar clapped drunkenly and the guests began to settle themselves around the bolsters that had been strewn about the carpet. An ornate silk pillow was provided for each man to rest against, and a number of large hookahs, each with several mouthpieces, were lighted and stationed about the room. The servants also distributed garlands of yellow flowers, and as Nadir Sharif took his place next to Hawksworth, he wrapped one of the garlands about his left wrist. With the other hand he set down his wineglass, still full, and signaled a servant to replenish Hawksworth's. Arangbar was reclining now on the throne, against his own bolster, and the oil lamps around the side of the room were lowered, leaving illumination only on the musicians and on a bare spot in the center of the carpet. The air was rich with the aroma of roses as servants passed shaking rosewater on the guests from long-necked silver decanters.
    The musicians were completing their tuning, and Hawksworth noticed that now there were two drummers, a sitar player, and a new musician holding a sarangi . In the background another man sat methodically strumming a simple upright instrument, shaped like the sitar save it provided