Thomas Hoover - The Moghul

A cheer went up again from the onlookers, as they pushed forward to watch. Hawksworth turned to Shirin.

"Is that who I think it is?"

Shirin nodded, her eyes misting. "It's Mumtaz, the first wife of Prince Jadar and the only daughter of Nadir Sharif. He told Prince Jadar he decided today he wanted to see his grandson, since he wanted to see the face of the child who would be Moghul himself one day. Then he told Mumtaz he will die in peace now, knowing that his blood will someday flow in the veins of the Moghul of India." Shirin's voice started to choke. "I can't tell you what this moment means. It's the beginning of just rule for India. Nadir Sharif knew that if Prince Jadar was defeated today, the child would be murdered by Janahara. By defecting with his Rajputs, he saved Prince Jadar, and he saved his grandson." She paused again. "And he saved us too."

"When do you think he decided to do this?"

"I don't know. I still can't believe it's true."

Hawksworth stopped for a moment, then whirled and seized her arm. "Jadar knew! By Jesus, he knew last night! The cavalry. He said the cavalry had to be held to the last. He knew they would turn on the Imperial infantry if he began to lose. He knew all along."

Shirin examined him with a curious expression. "I wonder if Mumtaz herself planned it. Perhaps she convinced Nadir Sharif to save his grandson." She paused. "This must have been the most closely guarded secret in all of Agra. Nadir Sharif somehow kept even the queen from knowing he would defect with the Rajputs or she would have surely killed him." Shirin's voice trailed off as she pondered the implications. "He's astonishing. Janahara has never entirely trusted him, but somehow he must have convinced her to let him command the Rajput cavalry. What did he do to make her finally trust him?"

Nadir Sharif embraced Mumtaz once more, then bowed lightly again to Jadar and turned to leave. As his glance swept the torchlit crowd, he noticed Hawksworth. He stopped for a second, as though not believing what he saw, then broke into a wide smile.

"By the beard of the Prophet! Can it be? My old guest?" He moved toward Hawksworth, seeming not to notice Shirin. "May Allah preserve you, Ambassador, everyone at court thinks you've fled India. For your sake I almost wish you had. What in God's name are you doing here?"

"Someone tried to murder me at Fatehpur." Hawksworth turned and took Shirin's arm. "And Shirin. It seemed like a good time to switch sides."

"Someone actually tried to kill you? I do hope you're jesting with me."

"Not at all. If Vasant Rao and his men hadn't appeared in time to help us, we'd both be dead now."

Nadir Sharifs eyes darkened and he looked away for a moment. "I must tell you that shocks even me." He turned back and smiled. "But I'm pleased to see you're still very much alive."

Hawksworth studied Nadir Sharif for a moment. "Do you have any idea who might have ordered it?"

"This world of ours is fraught with evil, Ambassador." Nadir Sharif shook his head in resignation. "I sometimes marvel any of us survive it." Then he looked back at Hawksworth and beamed. "But then I've always found you to be a man blessed with rare fortune, Ambassador. I think Allah must truly stand watch over you night and day. You seem to live on coincidences. I was always amazed that just when His Majesty ordered you out of Agra, the Portuguese decided to seize one of His Majesty's personal cargo vessels and by that imprudent folly restored you to favor. Now I hear you were attacked in the Fatehpur camp by some scurrilous hirelings… at the very moment the prince's Rajputs just happened to be nearby to protect you. I only wish I enjoyed a small portion of your luck." He smiled. "But what will you be doing now? Will you be joining with us or will you stay with the prince?"

"What do you mean?"

"I understand His Highness is striking camp tomorrow and marching west for the Rajput city of Udaipur. The new maharana there, a distinguished if somewhat renegade Rajput prince named Karan Singh, apparently has offered his lake palace as a refuge for the prince."

"I don't seem to have much choice. I'm probably no more welcome in Agra right now than you are."

Nadir Sharif examined him quizzically for a moment. "I'm not sure I understand exactly what you mean." Then he broke into laughter. "Ambassador, surely you don't assume I had anything to do with the tragedy today. The honest truth is I used every means at my command to dissuade the Rajput cavalry from their insidious treachery. They absolutely refused to heed anything I said. In fact, I actually tried to forewarn Her Majesty something just like this might happen."

"What are you talking about!"

"Their betrayal was astonishing, and I must tell you frankly, entirely unaccountable. I intend to prepare a complete report for Her Majesty. But this is merely a temporary setback for us, never fear." He turned and bowed lightly to Shirin, acknowledging her for the first time. "I really must be leaving for the Imperial camp now. We've scheduled a war council tonight to plan our next strategy." He smiled. "I feel I should counsel you once again that you've chosen very unsavory company. Prince Jadar is a thorough disgrace to the empire." He bowed lightly once more to Hawksworth, then to Shirin, and turned to remount his elephant. "Good night, Ambassador. Perhaps someday soon we'll drink sharbat together again in Agra."

Even as he spoke, his elephant rose and began to move out. His last words were drowned by cheering Rajputs.

"He'll never get away with it." Hawksworth watched incredulously as the elephant began delicately picking its way through the shattered camp.

"Oh yes he will. You don't know Nadir Sharif as I do."

Hawksworth turned to stare in bewilderment at Jadar. The prince was standing next to Mumtaz, their faces expressionless. As Nadir Sharif's elephant disappeared into the dark, Mumtaz said something in Persian and gestured toward Shirin. She replied in the same language and they moved together, embracing.

"Your face is still fresh as the dawn, though your kohl is the dust of war." Mumtaz's Persian was delicate and laced with poetic allusions. She kissed Shirin, then looked down and noticed her right hand. "And what happened to your thumb?"

"I had no bow ring. You know we aren't supposed to shoot."

"Or do anything else except bear sons." Mumtaz flashed a mock frown in the direction of Jadar. "If I would let him, His Highness would treat me like some stupid Arab wet nurse instead of a Persian." She embraced Shirin again and kissed her once more. "I also know you learned to fire a matchlock today."

"How did you find out?"

"Some of the Rajputs saw you shoot a Bundella horseman who had breached their lines and reached His Highness' elephant. One of them told my eunuchs." Her voice dropped. "He said you saved His Highness' life. I want to thank you."

"It was my duty."

"No, it was your love. I'm sorry I dare not tell His Highness what you did. He must never find out. He's already worried about too many obligations. You saw what just happened tonight with father. I think he's very troubled about what price he may be asked to pay someday for what happened today."

"I must tell you the English feringhi also shot the Bundella who had mounted His Highness' elephant."

"Is he the one there?" Mumtaz nodded discreetly toward Hawksworth, who stood uncomprehending, his haggard face and jerkin smeared with smoke. Her voice had risen slightly and now her Persian was lilting again.

"He's the one."

Mumtaz scrutinized Hawksworth with a quick flick of her eyes, never looking up. "He's interesting. Truly as striking as I'd heard."

"I love him more than my life. I wish you could know him." Shirin's Persian was equally as genteel as that of Mumtaz.