The Moghul

the Dutch sank almost his entire fleet. Now the pirates of Malabar daily harassed Indian shipping the length of the western coast and the Portuguese patrols seemed powerless to control them. In one short decade, he told himself, the Portuguese have shown themselves unable to stop the growing Dutch spice trade in the islands, unable to rid India's coasts of pirates, and now . . . now unable to keep other Europeans from India's own doorstep.
    He studied Hawksworth again and asked himself why the English had come. And why the two small English vessels had challenged four armed galleons, instead of turning and making for open sea? To trade a cargo of wool? No cargo was worth the risk they had taken. There had to be another reason. And that reason, or whatever lay behind it, terrified the Portuguese. For the first time ever.
    "We defend ourselves when attacked. That's all." Hawksworth found himself wanting to end the questions, to escape the smoky room and the Shahbandar's intense gaze. "That has no bearing on our request to trade in this port."
    "I will take your request under advisement. In the meantime you and your men will be searched and your goods taxed, in keeping with our law."
    "You may search the men if you wish. But I am here as representative of the king of England. And as his representative I will not allow my personal chest to be searched, no more than His Majesty, King James of England, would submit to such an indignity." Hawksworth decided to reach for all the authority his ragged appearance would allow.
    "All feringhi , except ambassadors, must be searched. Do you claim that immunity?"
    "I am an ambassador, and I will be traveling to Agra to represent my king."
    "Permission for feringhi to travel in India must come from the Moghul himself." The Shahbandar's face remained impassive but his mind raced. The stakes of the English game were not wool, he suddenly realized, but India. The English king was challenging Portugal for the trade of India. Their audacity as astonishing. "A request can be sent to Agra by the governor of this province."
    "Then I must see him to ask that a message be sent to Agra. For now, I demand that my personal effects be released from the customs house. And that no duty be levied on our goods, which are samples and not for sale."
    "If your goods are not taxed, they will remain in the customs house. That is the law. Because you claim to represent your king, I will forgo my obligation to search your person. All of your men, however, will be searched down to their boots, and any goods or coin they bring through this port will be taxed according to the prevailing rate. Two and one-half percent of value."
    "Our Chief Merchant wishes to display his samples to your traders."
    "I have told you I will consider your request for trade. There are many considerations." He signaled for the hookah to be lighted again. The interview seemed to be ended.
    Hawksworth bowed with what formality he could muster and turned toward the counting-room door.
    "Captain Hawksworth. You will not be returning to your men. I have made other arrangements for your lodging."
    Hawksworth revolved to see four porters waiting by an open door at the Shahbandar's left.
    I must be tired. I hadn't noticed the door until now.
    Then he realized it had been concealed in the decorations on the wall. When he did not move, the porters surrounded him.
    No, they're not porters. They're the guards who held back the crowds from the steps. And they're armed now.
    "I think you will find your lodgings suitable." The Shahbandar watched Hawksworth's body tense. "My men will escort you. Your chest will remain here under my care."
    The Shahbandar returned again to his gurgling hookah.
    "My chest will not be subject to search. If it is to be searched, I will return now to my ship." Hawksworth still did not move. "Your officials will respect my king, and his honor."
    "It is in my care." The Shahbandar waved Hawksworth toward the door. He did not look up from his pipe.
    As Hawksworth passed into the midday sunshine, he saw the Shahbandar's own palanquin waiting by the door. Directly ahead spread the city's teeming horse and cattle bazaar, while on his right, under a dense banyan tree, a dark-eyed beggar sat on a pallet, clothed only in a white loincloth and wearing ashes in his braided hair and curious white and red marks on his forehead. His eyes were burning and intense, and he inspected the new feringhi as though he'd just seen the person of