The Moghul

searching for truth. That when he finally saw God he would recite the remainder; that to affirm His existence without proof would be giving false evidence. I thought the mullahs would strangle him on the spot." Arangbar laughed to himself as he watched her turn again to the window. "You have to admit that qualifies as blasphemy, by any measure. So if the mullahs want him so badly, why not let them have him?"
    "But Samad is a mystic, a pantheist." Shirin returned her eyes to Arangbar. "For him God is everywhere, not just where the mullahs choose to put Him. Do you remember those quatrains in his Rubaiyat that say,

    "Here in the garden the sunshine glows,
    A Presence moves in all that grows.
    He is the lover, the belov'd too.
    He is the bramble and the rose.
We know Him when our hearts are moved;
He, our lover and our loved.
Open your eyes with joy and see
The hundred ways His love is proved."

    "I've seen his poetry. It sings of the love of some God, although his God sounds a bit too benign to be Allah. But I also know his Rubaiyat will not save him. It may make him immortal someday, but he'll be long since dead by then."
    Arangbar rose unsteadily and moved beside her, staring out onto the glinting surface of the Jamuna. For a moment he watched a fleet of barges pass, piled high with dark bundles of indigo. "I believe I myself will die someday soon. I can almost feel my strength ebbing. But I hope I'll be remembered as my father Akman is, a ruler who tolerated all faiths. I've protected Hindus from the bigoted followers of Mohammed's religion, who would convert them forcibly to Islam, and I've allowed all religions to build places of worship. Did you know I've even built a church for the Portuguese Jesuits, who have to buy most of their converts with bribes? I even gave them a stipend, since they would starve otherwise. They tell me they're astonished I allow so much religious freedom here, since it's unheard of in Europe. But I can do all this only if I remain the nominal defender of Islam. Islam holds the power in India, and as India's ruler I must acknowledge that. I can defy the mullahs myself now and then. But I can't permit your Sufi mystic to do it too. There's a limit."
    "You can do anything. If you wish. The orthodox mullahs have always hated mystics. The Shi'ite mullahs are men who live on hate. You see it burning in their eyes. They even hate their own women, can't you see? They keep them prisoner, claiming that's the way they honor and respect them. The mullahs even resent that Samad allows me to come into his presence without a veil."
    "They say he's a poison in Islam."
    "Yes, his example is poison. His poetry is filled with love. The mullahs cannot bear it, since their own lives are filled with hate. God help India if it ever becomes an 'Islamic’ state. There'll be mobs in the streets murdering Hindus in the name of 'God.' Is that the tranquility you want?"
    "I want to die in peace. Just like your poet. And I want to be remembered, for the good I've done for India." Arangbar paused, seeming to search on the stone ledge for his cup. "I think Samad will be remembered too. Tomorrow I'll make him famous. Let him live on through his words. He knows, and I know, that he must die. We understand each other perfectly. I can't disappoint him now."
    Arangbar suddenly recalled the high-ranking Rajput raja who had asked for an early audience in the Diwan-i-Khas , and he turned and moved unsteadily toward the door. When he reached it, he revolved and looked back sadly at Shirin.
    "I found myself dreaming about you this afternoon. I don't know why. So I decided to come and see you, alone. I didn't come to talk about Samad. It's you I'm uncertain about. Her Majesty wants you hanged. But I cannot yet find the courage to sentence you." Arangbar continued on wearily toward the door. "Where will it all end?" He paused and, as though remembering something, turned again. "Jadar is plotting something against me, I sense it. But I don't know what he can do. Recently I've heard rumors you're part of it. Have you turned against me?"
    "If you kill Samad, I will defy you with every power I have."
    "Then perhaps I should execute you." He stared at her, trying to focus. "But you have no powers left. Unless you're plotting something with the Inglish. If you are, then I will kill you both." He turned to leave, tightening his cloak against the chill. The guards saw him emerge and hurried from the far end of the corridor. Arangbar