The Moghul

all seemed to see Hawksworth at once. All five women froze.
    Hawksworth smiled and tried to remember the bow he had seen performed to him so often. But he could not remove his eyes from the first woman, who was more striking than any he had ever before seen. Her skin was fair, with a warm hint of olive, and her high cheekbones stood in stunning relief as they glanced away the golden light of dawn. Her nose was thin and sculptured, while her lips would have been full, had they not been drawn tight in response to some unspecified inner determination. Yet her eyes seemed untouched by what had just transpired. They were clear and receptive, even warm, and Hawksworth asked himself at that moment if this bespoke innocence, or guile.
    In dress and adornment she scarcely differed from her maids. All had long black hair, brushed to gleaming and protected from the morning air with a transparent gossamer scarf edged in gold embroidery. At first glance there seemed little to distinguish among the tight strands of pearls each wore at the neck, or the jeweled bands on their wrists and upper arms. Each wore a tight silk halter for a blouse, and to Hawksworth's assessing eyes the maids all seemed to have abundant breasts swelling their halters to overflowing, some—perhaps all—with breasts more generous than the lady herself. Then he noted in amazement that the women actually wore a form of tapered silk trouser, a tight-legged pajama similar to that worn by aristocratic men.
    Unlike the male style, however, each woman's body was enveloped by a long transparent skirt, suspended from a band that circled her torso just beneath her breasts. And whereas men all wore a long scarf tied about the waist of their cloaks and hanging down the front, the women all had a long pleated panel tucked directly into the front waistband of their trousers and reaching almost to the ground. He could not help noticing that it clung sensually to their thighs as they walked, while its gold-embroidered hem tinkled against the gold bracelets each woman wore at her ankles. Their shoes were red Turkish leather, with gold decorations sewn across the top and a pointed toe that curved upward.
    The only difference between the lady and her maids seemed to be in the rich fabric of her lightly clinging trousers. Then, too, there was slightly more gold thread in her long transparent skirt, and among the pearls at her neck nestled an unmistakable blue sapphire as large as a walnut.
    But her primary distinction was not merely the classic lines of her face or the perfect curve of her waist and thighs, but rather something in her bearing, in her assured but unmannered carriage. Her real beauty lay in her breeding.
    All five women stared at Hawksworth in momentary surprise and shock. Then each maid automatically seized her transparent scarf and pulled it across her lower face. The woman also moved instinctively to do the same, but then she seemed to consciously stop herself and with an obvious attempt at restraint she walked on, barefaced, past the courtyard and into the garden beyond. Alone.
    Hawksworth watched her form disappear among the clipped hedges and elaborate marble pavilions of the garden. He noticed a curious sensation in his chest as she passed from view, and he suddenly found himself wanting very much to follow her. When he finally turned and looked back, the other women had already vanished.
    Only then did he realize that all the servants had been watching him. The one nearest nodded in the direction of the garden and smiled knowingly.
    "Perhaps it will not surprise you, Sahib, to learn that she was once the favorite of the Moghul himself. And now she is in Surat. Amazing."
    "But why's she here?" Hawksworth glanced back at the garden once more to assure himself she was indeed lost to its recesses.
    "She is Shirin, the first wife of Khan Sahib." He moved closer to Hawksworth, so that his lowered voice would not reach the eunuchs. "She was removed from the Moghul’s zenana and married to Khan Sahib last year by Queen Janahara, just before Her Majesty had him appointed the governor of Surat. Some believe she appointed him here to remove Shirin from Agra, because she feared her." The servant's voice became a whisper. "We all know she has refused His Excellency the legal rights of a husband."
    The silence of the court was cut by the unmistakable voice of Mukarrab Khan, sounding in anger as he gave some command from within the palace. There followed a chorus of