The Moghul

there still bear ill feelings toward His Majesty, because of Inayat Latifs campaign there ten years ago. These Rajputs sometimes have long memories. And who knows what Jadar could be promising them? Remember his treachery with Malik Ambar."
    "What are you suggesting? That the Rajput commanders will not fight for His Majesty, the legitimate Moghul? That's absurd. No one respects authority more than the Rajput rajas."
    "I'm not suggesting it at all. But I do believe the Rajputs here should be monitored closely nonetheless. Any discontent should be addressed before it grows . . . unwieldy. Perhaps their commanders should be placed under a separate authority, someone who could reason with them in His Majesty's name if there are signs of unrest. Inayat Latif is an able general, but he's no diplomat."
    Janahara studied him closely. "Do you believe there would be unrest?"
    "Your Majesty is perhaps not always fully informed as to the activities of some of the more militant Rajput loyalists. I have ordered them watched at all times."
    "What are you suggesting then? That the Rajputs should be placed under a separate top command? Some raja whose loyalty is unquestionable?"
    "I'm suggesting precisely that. If there were extensive defections, it would be demoralizing for the rest of the army, at the very least."
    "Who do you propose?"
    "There are any number of Rajput commanders I would trust. To a point. But it's always difficult to know where their final loyalties lie." Nadir Sharif paused, lost in thought. "Perhaps an alternate solution might be to allow someone of unquestioned loyalty to monitor the Rajput field commanders, someone experienced in handling Rajput concerns, though not necessarily a general. Then the command could remain unified, with orders passing through this other individual, who would ensure compliance."
    "Again, is there someone you would recommend?"
    "There are several men near His Majesty who could serve. It is, of course, essential their loyalty to you be beyond question. In a way it's a pity Prince Allaudin is not . . . older. Blood is always best."
    "That leaves only you, or Father, who is far too old."
    "My responsibilities here would really make it impossible for me." Nadir Sharif turned and walked again to the door of the tent, pulling back the portiere. "Certainly I could not leave His Majesty for an extended campaign."
    "But if the campaign were short?"
    "Perhaps for a few weeks."
    Janahara studied him silently, her thoughts churning. At times even Nadir Sharif’s loyalty seemed problematical. But now there was a perfect way to test it in advance . . .
    "I will advise Inayat Latif you are now in charge of the Rajput commanders."
    "Your Majesty." Nadir Sharif bowed lightly. "I'm honored by your confidence."
    "I'm sure it's well placed." She did not smile. "But before I make the arrangements, there's one other assignment for you. Totally confidential."
    "Anything within my power." Nadir Sharif bowed elegantly.
    "Tonight I want you to order the Imperial guards stationed in your compound to execute the Englishman and the woman Shirin. On your sole authority."
    "Of course." Nadir Sharif’s smile did not flicker.

    *
    Hawksworth finally returned to his compound near midnight, carrying his empty flask of brandy. He had wandered the length of the chaotic tent city searching for Shirin. Over the past five hours he had combed the wide streets of the bazaar, searched through the half-empty elephant stables, and circled the high chintz border of the Imperial enclosure. The periphery of the camp swarmed with infantrymen and their wives gathering supplies for the march, and already there had been numerous fights in the bazaar, where prices had soared after the announcement the army would march.
    As he neared his tent, he looked up at the stars, brilliant even through the lingering evening smoke from the cooking fires, and mused about Jadar. The rebel prince would soon be facing Inayat Latif, just recalled to Agra two months earlier after a brutally successful campaign in Bengal extending the Imperial frontier against local Hindu chieftains. Inayat Latif was a fifty-five-year-old veteran commander who revered the Moghul and would do anything in his power to protect him. Although he had made no secret of his dislike of the "Persian junta," he shared their common alarm at the threat of Jadar's rebellion. It was Arangbar he would be fighting to defend, not the queen.
    The Imperial army is invincible now,