The Moghul

silver. The queen will see to that.
    And no silver means no troops can be recalled from the Deccan mansabdars .
    Which means we lose the Deccan. But she'd gladly give the Deccan to destroy me.
    Jadar looked at Mumtaz and smiled. "Yes, I must do something. But right now I'll see my chitahs fed." And he turned and strode briskly back toward his tent.
    A dense mantle of evening smoke enveloped the camp as the three generals passed through the entry of the gulal bar. They advanced to the front of the sarachah platform and halted to wait for Jadar. Each had brought a silver cup, as Jadar had instructed.
    All three were seasoned military leaders. Abdullah Khan, a young Moghul warrior, had been promoted to a rank of three thousand suwar after the successful siege at the northern fortress of Kangra. Under the prince he had risen from the rank of foot soldier to cavalry, and now he commanded his own division. The next was Abul Hasan, a cool-headed Afghan strategist with rank of five thousand suwar , who had led Prince Jadar to his first victory in the Deccan three years before. Finally there was Raja Vikrama-jit, a bearded Rajput of royal blood, who led the Hindus. He scorned matchlocks and fought only with his sword, and he was the bravest man in battle that Jadar had ever known.
    Moments later Prince Jadar emerged through the smoke, carrying his heavy sword and accompanied by Vasant Rao. A servant trailed after them bearing a crystal decanter of wine and two silver goblets on a tray.
    The prince assumed his seat in the center of the platform and ordered the servant to place the decanter on a small table by his side. Then he motioned away the servant and all the surrounding guards.
    "I propose we all take a glass of wine to clear our thoughts. It's Persian, and I had it cooled in the saltpeter tent especially for this evening."
    Jadar personally poured wine for each of the men, then filled the two goblets on the tray for Vasant Rao and for himself.
    "I hereby propose a toast to Ahmadnagar, which Malik Ambar now calls his own capital. And to its recapture within a hundred days."
    The men raised their goblets and drank in silence. Skepticism filled their eyes.
    Jadar looked at them and smiled. "You do not agree? Then let me tell you more. The situation is very bad. How bad even you do not yet know. But battles are more than a matter of numbers. They are a test of the will to win. That's why I called you here tonight." Jadar paused. "But first, is the wine to your liking?"
    The men nodded silent assent.
    "Good. Drink deeply, for none of us will drink again until we drink in Ahmadnagar. Now I will take your cups."
    Jadar reached for each man's cup individually and placed them in a row alongside the tray, together with his own and that of Vasant Rao. Then he laid his own cup on its side on the tray and slowly drew his heavy sword from its scabbard. With a fierce swing he sliced the cup in half. Then the next cup, and the next, until all were destroyed. The men watched him spellbound.
    "Assemble your ranks in the bazaar at midnight. In full battle dress. I will address them. And at dawn, we march."
    Jadar rose and as quickly as he had come disappeared into the darkness.
    Battle gear—helmets, buckles, pikes, swords, muskets— glistened in the torchlight as Jadar rode a fully armored war elephant slowly down the center of the main bazaar. The bristling infantry, arrayed in rows on either side, watched him expectantly. A midnight muster was unheard of. But rumors had already swept the camp telling of the pending marriage of the queen's daughter to Allaudin. All knew Jadar had been betrayed. And with him, all of them as well.
    Then they noticed carts following him, with barrels of wine from Jadar's tent. When the prince reached the center of the bazaar, he raised his arms for silence.
    For a moment all that could be heard was the neigh of horses from the stables, and the cries of infants in the far reaches of the camp.
    He began in Urdu, a hybrid camp tongue of Persian and Hindi, his voice ringing toward Abul Hassan's Muslim troops."Tonight we are many." Jadar paused deliberately. "But in battle the many are nothing. In battle there is only the one. Each of you is that one." Again a pause. Then he shouted in a voice that carried to the far hills. "Is there a Believer among us tonight who would fight to the death for our victory?"
    A roar of assent sounded from the men.
    "Will you swear it? On the Holy Quran?"
    This time the roar