The Moghul

women's wails.
    Hawksworth turned to the servant, but the man read his inquiring glance.
    "He has ordered the women whipped for disobeying his order to accompany Shirin at all times, even when she walks in the garden."
    Then the door opened again, and Mukarrab Khan strode into the morning sunshine.
    "Captain Hawksworth, salaam . I trust Allah gave you rest."
    "I slept so well I find difficulty remembering all we said last night." Hawksworth watched him carefully. Will he honor his threat to deliver us to the Viceroy, for a trial at Goa?
    "It was an amusing evening. Hardly a time for weighty diplomatic exchange. And did you enjoy my little present?"
    Hawksworth pondered his question for a moment, and the drugged dream of the night before suddenly became real.
    "You mean the woman? She was very . . . unusual, very different from the women of England."
    "Yes, I daresay. She was one of my final gifts from . . . Agra. I often have her entertain my guests. If you like, you may keep her while you stay with me. I already hear she fancies you. The serving women call her Kali, after a goddess from their infidel pantheon. I think that one's their deity of destruction."
    "Why did they give her that name?"
    "Perhaps she'll tell you herself sometime." Mukarrab Khan gestured for a servant to bring his cloak. "I hope you'll forgive me, but I regret I must abandon you for a time. Among my least pleasant duties is a monthly journey to Cambay, our northern port in this province. It always requires almost a week, but I have no choice. Their Shahbandar would rob the Moghul’s treasury itself if he were not watched. But I think you'll enjoy yourself in my absence."
    "I would enjoy it more if I could be with my men."
    "And forgo the endless intrigues my Kali undoubtedly plans for you?" He monitored Hawksworth's unsettled expression. "Or perhaps it's a boy you'd prefer. Very well, if you wish you may even have . . ."
    "I'm more interested in the safety of our merchants and seamen. And our cargo. I haven't seen the men since yesterday, at the customs house."
    "They're all quite well. I've lodged them with a port official who speaks Portuguese, which your Chief Merchant also seems to understand. I'm told, by the way, he's a thoroughly unpleasant specimen."
    "When can I see them?"
    "Why any time you choose. You have only to speak to one of the eunuchs. But why trouble yourself today? Spend it here and rest. Perhaps enjoy the grounds and the garden. Tomorrow is time enough to re-enter the wearisome halls of commerce."
    Hawksworth decided that the time had come to raise the critical question. "And what about the Portugals? And their false charges?"
    "I think that tiresome matter can be resolved with time. I've sent notice to the court in Agra, officially, that you wish to travel there. When the reply is received, matters can be settled. In the meantime, I must insist you stay here in the palace. It's a matter of your position. And frankly, your safety. The Portuguese do not always employ upright means to achieve their ends." He tightened his traveling cloak. "Don't worry yourself unduly. Just try to make the most of my humble hospitality. The palace grounds are at your disposal. Perhaps you'll find something in all this to engage your curiosity." Mukarrab Khan brushed away a fly from his cloak. "There's the garden. And if you're bored by that, then you might wish to examine the Persian observatory constructed by my predecessor. You're a seaman and, I presume, a navigator. Perhaps you can fathom how it all works. I've never been able to make anything out of it. Ask the servants to show you. Or just have some tari wine on the veranda and enjoy the view."
    He bowed with official decorum and was gone, his entourage of guards in tow.
    Hawksworth turned to see the servants waiting politely. The turbaned man, whose high forehead and noble visage were even more striking now in the direct sunshine, was dictating in a low voice to the others, discreetly translating Mukarrab Khan's orders into Hindi, the language that seemed common to all the servants.
    "The palace and its grounds are at your disposal, Sahib." The servant with the large white turban stood waiting. "Our pleasure is to serve you."
    "I'd like to be alone for a while. To think about . . . to enjoy the beauty of the garden."
    "Of course. Sahib. Perhaps I could have the honor of being your guide."
    "I think I'd prefer to see it alone."
    The servant's dismay was transparent, but he merely bowed