The Moghul

brief moment and then his recognition clicked.
    Eunuchs. They must be Mukarrab Khan's private guards, since they can go anywhere, even the women's apartments.
    "Captain Hawksworth, perhaps you should meet my household officials. They are Bengalis—slaves actually— whom I bought young and trained years ago in Agra. One must, regrettably, employ eunuchs to maintain a household such as this. One's palace women can never be trusted, and one's intriguing wives least of all. I named them in the Arab fashion, after their position in the palace, so I need not trouble to remember their names, merely what they do. This is Nahir, who is in charge of my accounts." He gestured toward a pudgy face now glaring out from beneath a deep blue headdress, a tall conical turban tied in place with a wrap of white silk that circled his bloated throat. The eunuch's open jacket was a heavy brocade and it heaved as he breathed, betraying the sagging fat around his nipples.
    "The one next to him selects my wardrobe." The second eunuch gazed at Hawksworth impassively, his puffed, indulgent lips red with betel juice. "That one selects the clothes for my spendthrift women, and the one on his left is responsible for all their jewels. The one over there takes care of the household linens and oversees the servants. And the one behind him is in charge of the kitchen. You will be asked to endure his handiwork tonight."
    The eunuchs examined Hawksworth's ragged appearance with transparent contempt, and they seemed to melt around him as he walked through the doorway—two ahead, two behind, and one on either side. None spoke a greeting. Hawksworth examined them carefully, wondering which was in charge of the women's apartments. That's the most powerful position, he smiled to himself, nothing else really counts.
    A servant came down the veranda bearing a tray and brought it directly to the governor. Then he kneeled and offered it. It was of beaten silver and on it were two large crystal goblets of a pastel green liquid.
    "Captain, would you care to refresh yourself with a glass of tundhi . It's the traditional way we break the fast of Ramadan." He directed the servant toward Hawksworth. "It's prepared in the women's apartments during the day, as an excuse for something to do."
    Hawksworth touched the drink lightly with his tongue. It was a mixture of sweet and tang quite unlike anything he had ever known. Perhaps the closest was a brisk mug of spiced ale, pungent with clove and cinnamon. But this spiced drink was mysteriously subtle. Puzzling, he turned to Mukarrab Khan.
    "What is this? It tastes like the air in a garden."
    "This? I've never paid any notice, although the women down it by the basinful after sunset." As he received his own goblet he turned to one of the eunuchs. "Nahir, how do the women prepare tundhi ?”
    "With seeds, Khan Sahib. Seeds of melons, cucumber, lettuce, and coriander are pounded, and then blended with rosewater, pomegranate essence, and juice of the aloe flower. But the secret is to strain it properly, and I find I must carefully oversee the work."
    "Doubtless." Mukarrab Khan's voice was curt. "I suspect you should attend the accounts more and the women's apartments less." He turned to another eunuch.
    "Is my bath ready?"
    "As always, Khan Sahib." As the eunuch bowed he examined Hawksworth's dust-covered face and hair discreetly. "Will the distinguished feringhi also require a bath?"
    "He was on the chaugan field this afternoon, just as I was."
    Hawksworth groaned inwardly. What English host would have the effrontery to suggest a guest needed a bath? For that matter, what Englishman would even consider bathing more than twice a year? It's known well enough King James never bathes, that he never even washes his hands, only brushes them with a moist napkin at mealtime. Yet this Moor wants a full bath before a meal, merely to remove a bit of dust.
    "I would be content to rinse my hands."
    Mukarrab Khan examined him for a moment and then broke into a wide smile. "I always forget feringhi are positively afraid of water." He spoke quickly to one of the eunuchs, who turned and barked orders to the servants in a language Hawksworth did not understand.
    "The servants will provide whatever you require." Mukarrab Khan bowed perfunctorily to Hawksworth and disappeared through one of the arched doorways leading off the courtyard, followed by the eunuchs. Then Hawksworth turned to see a dark-skinned man bearing a large silver basin down