Thomas Hoover - The Moghul

"I don't know. I think he may still manage an alliance before he's through. But it will be costly. Otherwise he'll probably have to move south and try to convince Malik Ambar to commit him his Maratha army. But Rajputs are better." She moved closer. "I'm suddenly so very, very tired of armies and tents and strategies. I don't know where it will end. Time is running out. For him and for us." She brushed him lightly with her body. "Will you make love to me tonight as though we'd never heard of Rajputs and Marathas? We'll look at the lake in the moonlight and forget everything, just for tonight." She opened her hand. Inside were several small brown balls. "I took some of the maharana's affion. Tonight we have no battles to fight."

*

Hawksworth sat beside Shirin watching the oarsmen strain against the locks, their orange oars flashing against the ornately gilded boat like the immense gills of some ceremonial fish. A turbaned drummer sat at one end, sounding the beat, and the tillerman stood behind him.

They were headed for Jagmandir Island, on the invitation of Prince Jadar, in a boat provided by Maharana Karan Singh. Three weeks of banquets, hunting, and oaths of lasting friendship seemed to have done little to Resolve the question of the maharana's support for Jadar's rebellion. Time, Hawksworth told himself, is starting to work heavily against the prince. The Imperial army let us escape because they were too shattered to attack again. But we all know they're rebuilding. Jadar has to decide soon how much longer he can afford to stay here and listen to vague promises.

Behind them the high walls and turrets of the maharana's palace towered above the cliff, reflecting gold in the late afternoon sun. As they neared the island, Hawksworth turned back to see the thick stone walls of the city following the curve of the surrounding hilltops and finally angling down to a tall watchtower at the very edge of the lake. He realized the lake itself was actually the city's fourth defense barrier.

Ahead, the white sandstone palace on Jagmandir glistened against the water. At the front a large pavilion surrounded by delicate white pillars jutted out into the lake. Its entrance was guarded by a row of life-sized stone elephants rising out of the water, their trunks raised above their heads in silent salute. As their boat neared the arched entryway of the pavilion, Hawksworth saw a veiled woman surrounded by eunuchs standing on the marble-paved dock to greet them.

"It's Her Highness, Princess Mumtaz." Shirin's voice was suddenly flooded with surprised delight. Then she turned to Hawksworth with a laugh. "Welcome to the zenana, Ambassador."

"What's she doing here?" Hawksworth examined the figure, whose jewels glistened in the afternoon sun, then warily studied the eunuchs.

"She's come to meet us." Shirin's voice was lilting in anticipation. "I think she's bored to frustration trapped on this island prison."

As their boat touched the dock, Mumtaz moved forward and immediately embraced Shirin. Her eyes swept Hawksworth as he bowed.

"Your Highness."

Mumtaz giggled behind her veil and turned to Shirin, speaking in Persian. "Do we have to speak barbarous Turki because of him?"

"Just for this afternoon."

"I welcome you in the name of His Highness." Mumtaz's Turki was accented but otherwise flawless. "He asked me to meet you and show you the garden and the palace."

She began chattering to Shirin in a mixture of Persian and Turki as they walked into the garden. It soon revealed itself to be a matrix of bubbling fountains and geometrical stone walkways, beside which rows of brightly colored flowers bloomed. Ahead of them the small three-story palace rose skyward like a long-stemmed lotus, its top a high dome with a sensuous curve. The ground floor was an open arcade, with light interior columns and a row of connecting quarters off each side for women and servants, screened behind marble grillwork.

Mumtaz directed them on through the garden and into the cool arcade of the palace. At one side, near the back, a stone stairway spiraled upward to the second floor. Mumtaz led the way, motioning them to follow.

At the second floor they emerged into a small chamber strewn with bolsters and carpets that seemed to be Jadar's reception room. Mumtaz ignored it as she started up the next circular staircase.

The topmost room was tiny, dazzling white, completely unfurnished. The ornate marble cupola of the dome towered some thirty feet above their heads, and around the sides were carved niches decorated with colored stone. Light beamed through the room from a wide doorway leading to a balcony, which was also bare save for an ornately carved sitar leaned against its railing.

"His Highness has taken a particular fondness for this room and refuses to allow anything to be placed in it. He sits here for hours, and on the balcony there, doing I don't know what." Mumtaz gestured toward the doorway. "He wanted me to bring you here to wait for him." She sighed. "I agree with him that this room brings a great feeling of peace. But what good is peace that cannot last? I don't know how much longer we can stay here." Mumtaz turned and hugged Shirin again. "I so miss Agra. And the Jamuna. Sometimes I wonder if we'll ever see it again."

Shirin stroked Mumtaz's dark hair, then said something to her in Persian. Mumtaz smiled and turned to Hawksworth.

"Do you really love her?"

"More than anything." Hawksworth was momentarily startled by her directness.

"Then take her with you. Away from here. Away from all the killing and death. How much longer can any of us endure it?" Her hard eyes blinked away a hint of a tear. "I've lived most of my life with His Highness in tents, bearing children. I'm so weary of it all. And now I wonder if we'll ever have a place just for ourselves."

She would have continued, but footsteps sounded on the stone stairs, and Jadar emerged beaming from the stairwell, his turban set rakishly on the side of his head. He seemed in buoyant spirits. "You're here! Let me welcome you and offer you something to banish the afternoon heat." He gave Mumtaz a quick hug. Hawksworth sensed this was not the official Jadar. This was a prince very much at his ease. "I hope Shirin will join me in having some sharbat. But for you, Captain, I've had a surprise prepared. I think you might even like it better than your foul brandy." He spoke quickly to a eunuch waiting at the top of the stairs, then turned back to Hawksworth and Shirin. "Have you found the maharana's palace to your liking?"

"His view of the lake and the mountains is the finest in India." Shirin performed a teslim. "We so thank Your Highness."

Mumtaz embraced Shirin once more, said something to her in Persian, then bowed to Jadar and disappeared down the stairwell. He watched her tenderly until she was gone before he turned back to Hawksworth and Shirin.

"Come outside with me." He walked past them through the marble doorway. "Have you seen the lake yet from the balcony? This one afternoon we will drink together and watch the sunset. Before we all leave Udaipur I wanted you to see this place. It's become very special for me. When I sit here in the cool afternoon, I seem to forget all the wounds I've ever felt in battle. For a moment nothing else exists."

"I think this palace is almost finer than the one Rana Karan Singh has." Hawksworth stroked Shirin's thigh as they followed Jadar onto the cool balcony, impulsively wanting her in his arms. Then he cleared his throat. "I don't remember ever seeing anything quite like it in India."

"At times you can be a perceptive man, Captain. Allah may have showed his wisdom when he sent you here." Jadar smiled. "You know, I still remember my first word of your arrival, and your now-famous encounter with the Portuguese. I think that morning will someday change the history of both our lands-the morning India and England met." He looked pensively down into the garden below. "It all depends on what happens next."