The Moghul

the sky. Then Nayka returned and approached Hawksworth, twisting his head in the deferential bow all Indians seemed to use to superiors. He stood for a moment in hesitation, and then summoned the courage to speak.
    "It is not well tonight. Sahib. We have traveled this road many times." He pointed east into the dark, where new lightning played across the hovering bank of clouds. "There has been rain near Chopda, farther east where the river forks. In two pahars time, six of your hours, the river will begin to rise here."
    "How much will it rise?"
    "Only the gods can tell. But the river will spread beyond its banks and reach this camp. I have seen it. And it will remain impassable for three days."
    "How can you be sure?"
    "I have seen it before, Sahib. The drivers all know and they are becoming afraid. We know the treachery of this river very well. But the other bank is near high ground. If we crossed tonight we would be safe." Again he shifted his head deferentially. "Will you please tell the raja?"
    To the drivers, Vasant Rao could only be a raja, a hereditary prince. All important Rajputs were automatically called rajas.
    "Tell him yourself."
    "We would rather you tell him, Captain Sahib. He is a high caste. It would not be right for us to tell a raja what to do."
    Hawksworth watched for a moment as the Rajput guards began taking their place around the perimeter of the camp, and then he looked sadly at his waiting cot.
    Damn. Crossing in the dark could be a needless risk. Why didn't the drivers say something while we still had light? God curse them and their castes.
    Then with a shrug of resignation he rose and made his way to Vasant Rao's tent.
    The Rajput leader had already removed his helmet, but after listening to Hawksworth he reluctantly strapped it back on and called for his second in command. Together they examined the clouds and then walked down to the river.
    In the dark no one could tell if it had begun to rise. Vasant Rao ordered three Rajputs to ride across carrying torches, to test the depth and mark out a path. The river was wide, but it still was no more than a foot or two deep. When the third Rajput finally reached the far shore, over a hundred yards away, Vasant Rao issued orders to assemble the convoy.
    The drivers moved quickly to harness their bullocks, which had been tethered to stakes near bundles of hay. The weary cattle tossed their heads and sniffed suspiciously at the moist air as they were whipped into harness. Meanwhile the Rajput guards began saddling their horses.
    Hawksworth saddled his own mare and watched as his cot and tent were rolled and strapped into the cart alongside his chest. He stared again into the darkness that enveloped the river. Nothing could be seen except the three torches on the distant shore. Suddenly he seemed to hear a warning bell in the back of his mind.
    We're too exposed. Half the guard will be in the river while we cross. And there'll be no way to group the carts if we need to.
    He paused a moment, then retrieved his sword from the cart and buckled it on. Next he checked the prime on the two matchlock pocket pistols he carried, one in each boot.
    Five mounted Rajputs holding torches led as the convoy started across the sandy alluvium toward the river. Hawksworth's cart was the first to move, and as he drew his mare alongside, Nayka threw him a grateful smile through the flickering light of the torch strapped against one of the cart's poles.
    "You've saved us all. Captain Sahib. When the river grows angry, nothing can appease her."
    The bullocks nosed warily at the water, but Nayka gave them the lash and they waded in without protest. The bed was gravel, smoothed by the long action of the stream, and the water was still shallow, allowing the large wheels of the carts to roll easily. Hawksworth pulled his mount close to the cart and let its enormous wheel splash coolness against his horse's flank.
    The current grew swifter as they reached the center of the stream, but the bullocks plodded along evenly, almost as though they were on dry ground. Then the current eased again, and Hawksworth noticed that the Rajputs riding ahead had already reined in their mounts, signifying they had gained the far shore. Their five torches merged with the three of the Rajputs already waiting, and together they lined the water's edge.
    Hawksworth twisted in the saddle and looked back at the line of carts. They traveled abreast in pairs, a torchman riding between, and the caravan