The Moghul

London. Please understand I must consider Portuguese demands. But we are pragmatic. I urge you to tell me a bit more about your king's intentions. Your king's letter. Surely you must know what it contains."
    Mukarrab Khan paused to dip a fried mango into a shimmering orange sauce, asking himself what he should do. He had, of course, posted pigeons to Agra at sunrise, but he suspected already what the reply would be. He had received a full account of the battle, and the attack on the river, before the early, pre-sun Ramadan meal. And it was only shortly afterward that Father Manoel Pinheiro had appeared, frantic and bathed in sweat. Was it a sign of Portuguese contempt, he often wondered, that they would assign such an incompetent to India? Throughout their entire Society of Jesus, could there possibly be any priest more ill-bred? The Jesuit had repeated facts already known throughout the palace, and Mukarrab Khan had listened politely, masking his amusement. How often did a smug Portuguese find himself explaining a naval disaster? Four Portuguese warships, galleons with two gundecks, humiliated by two small English frigates. How, Mukarrab Khan had wondered aloud, could this have happened?
    "There were reasons, Excellency. We have learned the English captain fired langrel into our infantry, shredded metal, a most flagrant violation of the unwritten ethics of warfare."
    "Are there really supposed to be ethics in warfare? Then I suppose you should have sent only two of your warships against him. Instead you sent four, and still he prevailed. Today he has no need for excuses. And tell me again what happened when your infantry assaulted the English traders on the river?" Mukarrab Khan had monitored the Jesuit's eyes in secret glee, watching him mentally writhe in humiliation. "Am I to understand you could not even capture a pinnace?"
    "No one knows, Excellency. The men sent apparently disappeared without a trace. Perhaps the English had set a trap." Father Pinheiro had swabbed his greasy brow with the sleeve of his cassock. His dark eyes showed none of the haughty disdain he usually brought to their meetings. "I would ask you not to speak of it outside the palace. It was, after all, a special mission."
    "You would prefer the court in Agra not know?"
    "There is no reason to trouble the Moghul, Excellency." The Jesuit paused carefully. "Or Her Majesty, the queen. This really concerns the Viceroy alone." The Jesuit's Persian was grammatically flawless, if heavily accented, and he awkwardly tried to leaven it with the polite complexities he had been taught in Goa. "Still less is there any need for Prince Jadar to know."
    "As you wish." Mukarrab Khan had nodded gravely, knowing the news had already reached half of India, and most certainly Prince Jadar. "How, then, may I assist?"
    "The English pirate and his merchants must be delayed here at least four weeks. Until the fleet of galleons now unlading in Goa, those of the spring voyage just arrived from Lisbon, can be outfitted to meet him."
    "But surely he and his merchants will sail when they choose. And sooner if we deny them trade. Do you suggest that I approve this trade?"
    "You must act as you see fit, Excellency. You know the Viceroy has always been of service to Queen Janahara." Pinheiro had paused slyly. "Just as you have been."
    The cynicism of Pinheiro's flaunting his knowledge had galled Mukarrab Khan most of all. If this Jesuit knew, who else must know? That the governor of Surat was bound inescapably to the queen. That on any matter involving Portuguese trade he must always send a formal message to the Moghul and a secret one to the queen, and then wait while she dictated the ruling Arangbar would give. Did this Jesuit know also why Mukarrab Khan had been exiled from Agra? To the wilderness of provincial Surat? That it was on orders of the queen, to marry and take with him a woman becoming dangerous, the zenana favorite of the Moghul, before the woman's influence outweighed that even of Janahara. And now this female viper was in his palace forever, could not be removed or divorced, because she was still a favorite of the Moghul’s.
    "So you tell me I must make them rich before you can destroy them. That seems to be Christian wisdom at its most incisive." Mukarrab Khan had summoned a tray of rolled betel leaves, signifying that the interview was ended. "It is always a pleasure to see you, Father. You will have my reply when Allah wills."
    The Jesuit had departed as