The Moghul

another surprise. "But my route is not yet decided. Although I'm grateful for His Highness' offer, I'm not certain traveling east on the Burhanpur road is best. His Excellency, Mukarrab Khan, has offered to provide an escort if I take the Udaipur road, north past Cambay and then east."
    Vasant Rao examined Hawksworth, choosing his words carefully. "We have orders to remain here for three days, Captain, and then to return to Burhanpur. It would be considered appropriate by the prince, who has full authority to administer this province, if we rode escort for you."
    Hawksworth shifted in the saddle.
    This isn't an offer. It's an ultimatum.
    "Is His Highness aware I have with me a large sea chest? It will require a cart, which I plan to hire. Perhaps the delay this will impose would inconvenience you and your men, since you surely prefer to ride swiftly."
    "On the contrary, Captain. We will have with us a small convoy of supplies, lead for molding shot. We will travel at a pace that best suits us all. Your chest presents no difficulty."
    But there will be many difficulties, he told himself. And he thought again about Mirza Nuruddin and the terms he had demanded. Twenty percent interest on the loan, and only a hundred and eighty days to repay both the new silver coin and the interest.
    But why, Vasant Rao asked himself again, did the Shahbandar agree to the plan at all? Is this Mirza Nuruddin's final wager? That Jadar will win?
    "Will three days be sufficient for your preparations, Captain Hawksworth?"
    "It will. If I decide to use the Burhanpur road." Hawksworth wondered how long he could taunt the Raput.
    "Perhaps I should tell you something about travel in India, Ambassador. There are, as you say, two possible routes between Surat and Agra. Both present certain risks. The northern route, through Udaipur and Rajputana, is at first appearance faster, since the roads are drier and the rivers there have already subsided from the monsoon. But it is not a part of India where travelers are always welcomed by the local Rajput clans. You may well find yourself in the middle of a local war, or the reluctant guest of a petty raja who judges you worth a ransom.
    "On the other hand, if you travel east, through Burhanpur, you may find that some rivers are still heavy from the monsoon, at least for another month. But the clans there are loyal to Prince Jadar, and only near Chopda, halfway to Burhanpur, will you encounter any local brigands. Theirs, however, is an honorable profession, and they are always willing to accept bribes in return for safe passage. We ordinarily do not kill them, though we easily could, since petty robbery—they view it as a toll—is their livelihood and their tradition. They are weak and they make weak demands. Such is not true of the rajas in Rajputana. The choice is yours, but if you value your goods, and your life, you will join us as we make our way east to Burhanpur."
    Hawksworth studied the bearded Rajput guards as Vasant Rao spoke.
    I'm either a captive of the prince or of Mukarrab Khan, regardless of what I do. Which one wants me dead more?
    "My frigate sails tomorrow. I can leave the following day."
    "Good, it's agreed then. Our convoy will leave in three days. It will be my pleasure to travel with you, Captain Hawksworth. Your reputation has already reached His Highness. We will meet you here at the beginning of the second pahar . I believe that's your hour of nine in the morning." He smiled with a warmth that was almost genuine. "You should consider yourself fortunate. Few feringhi have ever traveled inland. You will find the interior far different from Surat. Until then."
    He bowed lightly and snapped a command to the waiting horsemen. In moments they were lost among the trees.

    *
    "This evening must be a time of farewell for us both, Captain Hawksworth. You know, the Hindus believe life and death are an endless cycle that dooms them to repeat their miserable existence over and over again. I myself prefer to think that this one life is itself cyclical, ever renewing. What was new, exciting, yesterday is today tedious and tiresome. So tomorrow brings us both rebirth. For you it is Agra, for me Goa. But I expect to see Surat again, as no doubt do you. Who knows when our paths will cross once more?" Mukarrab Khan watched as a eunuch shoved wide the door leading onto the torchlit garden. "You have been a most gracious visitor, tolerating with exemplary forbearance my unworthy hospitality. Tonight