Julian Rathbone - Kings of Albion

He cleared his throat, leant back in his chair so that his face was shaded from direct sunlight. His eyes shone, on account of the reflection from the nearby pool. He laced his long fingers beneath his chin. 'I have a mind,' he said, and his voice was quiet but firm, 'to go to lngerlond myself, find my brother Jehani and bring him home. I have discussed this possibility with the Emperor and he is agreeable, provided I combine the trip with other objectives that will be of more public value. To this end I shall require the services of a guide who knows the language and the country. In short I expect you to come with me in that capacity.'

Note: not 'I should like…' or 'Would you be so good as to…', but 'I expect'. The surprise was that he was coming too. That I had not anticipated – he was of the imperial family, held a senior position in the government, namely Minister for Defence of the Realm. Moreover, considering his age and the pampered ease of his life hitherto, I doubted his capacity to withstand the privations we should undoubtedly encounter.

However, he had arrived at a correct estimate of my circumstances and knew I was in no position to refuse gainful employment. I was not quite sure how I should demonstrate my assent. Had he been a caliph or sultan there would have been no problem: I should have thrown myself on my knees in front of him, grasped his hands, and showered them with kisses and even tears of gratitude, but these Dravidian princes seemed to expect less formal if more subtle appreciation of their rank. They are, however, just as proud as their Arab, Moghul or Brahminical equals, and stand on ceremony too, but a ceremony that is muted, played down, so an illusion is created that discourse with them is conducted as if between equals, near equals anyway. On this occasion I bowed my head, and kept it bowed for a second or two, which appeared to be enough.

'That's settled, then. Chamberlain Anish will take over now and look after you. Through him I want you to make all the preparations you think necessary to get us on our way as soon as possible. I shall require a train commensurate with my position as envoy of the Emperor, but not so magnificent as to inspire envy or suspicion. Anish and you will work out the details.'

He waved his hand, and I found that the Chamberlain was already at my elbow, having returned on silent feet. His master popped a date in his mouth, and thus contrived to signal that the audience was over and that he had other business to attend to. Thus it was that three months later we sailed not from Mangalore but from the more northern port of Gove or Goa, which we Arabs call Sindabur, thereby making the overland journey from the City of Victory shorter by fifty miles or more and the sea voyage to Yemen by.is many leagues.

During the in-between time I was put on the Prince's pay-roll and given a room in the compound that served in the Royal Enclave as his private residence, his official offices, and quarters for his servants and staff. The room was small but clean, the wont thing about it being that it was set over a yard on to which the kitchens opened so the air was often heavy with the smell of clarified but rancid butter, garlic and stale spices. The money, however, was good, especially as I had no expenses, and I banked almost all of it with a Jewish diamond-dealer, whom I befriended on the other side of the river, thereby laying the foundations of the minor fortune that now sustains my old age.

I did not, during this time, meet or even see Suryan or Uma. I spent the early afternoon of the day on which I had concluded arrangements with my Jew wandering about the commercial sector looking for the house to which I thought I had been taken. The trouble was that there were, it seemed, literally scores that might have passed for it and none that fitted my recollection exactly, so I gave up. Indeed, by the time we left the city I was more or less ready to accept that the whole experience had been a fantasy brought on by tiredness, the strangeness of my new surroundings, with some wish-fulfilment thrown in too.

However, I did find a temple, a shrine, not in the Sacred Zone but tucked away between the river and the commercial sector the image of whose goddess exactly matched up with my dream, if it had been a dream, of the black woman ornamented with skulls, dripping with blood. The place was deserted, as if ill-omened, though kept clean and properly maintained. No one would tell me who this goddess was, but rushed past when I asked them, some making warning signs much like those we use in Arab countries against the evil eye. However, eventually a small girl, carrying a straw bag filled with flat, plate-like loaves of bread, told me she was Kali, Bhadra-kali, the goddess of death who, in the legend, slays Shiva.

For the rest I continued to enjoy most of what Vijayanagara had to offer. The great buildings, many of them public, whether devoted to government or religion or to utility and pleasure, never ceased to fill me with wonder and delight. Especially I remember the Queen's Bath, the Shiva Temple, with its bewitching wall paintings, the stepped pool with its terraces of stone seats dropping in half pyramids to the cool water where anyone might find refreshment in the afternoon heat, the imperial elephant stables with their wonderful gilded domes and tall entrances. Everyone; it seemed, was a musician or poet, from the Emperor himself, who was considered an avatar of Krishna and who in writing verses in praise of the god thus praised himself, down to the humblest porter in the fruit market.

There was fruit and rice in plenty for all, and so cheap as to be almost free. Milk, butter, cheese, eggs and fish cost a little but not much. Meat eating was discouraged as being both unhealthy and against religion though the nobility hunted deer and wild goat through the mountain forests and served it at family feasts. Everyone was adequately housed for there was timber, brick and stone in abundance. And so, dear Mah-Lo, my three-month stay passed in congenial work preparing for our expedition and in delight at my harmonious and elegant surroundings.

There was just one evil to be feared: the sultans to the north of the river Krishna, their satraps, and the envious malevolence of their Brahminical collaborators. For the most part they fought each other rather than the Dravidians, but every now and then a warlord, feeling secure to the north after a brief, successful campaign against his neighbours, crossed the river and penetrated as far as he could, looting, pillaging, raping until the Emperor could gather a force strong enough to drive him back. Then the streets of the city would be filled with the wounded and maimed, temples became hospitals, and the open spaces camping grounds for refugees.

Chamberlain Anish, he who carried the ebony wand, proved a valuable ally, a skilled negotiator and a man of practical sense.

About fifty years old, he was short, tubby, had narrow eyes a little like a Chinaman's, and a real understanding of his master's foibles, which yet did not lessen the respect in which he held him. He also had a small silky beard, a fringe about an inch long that ran from ear to ear like a noose: he stroked it with brusque little movements whenever he was pressed to make a difficult decision. Apart from the irritation this habit caused me. we got on well enough.

One day, when time hung heavily as we waited for an official in the treasury to release funds, I asked him what were the real purposes of our journey and indeed of Jehani's before us.

His normally serene expression clouded. 'It is historically inevitable," he said, 'that Vijayanagara will be overwhelmed, if not by the Bahmani sultans then by the Moghul hordes from further north. It has been the policy of our enlightened emperors to do all they can to postpone that evil day for as long as they can.' He took a turn about the treasury official's anteroom, looked over his shoulder as if fearing eavesdroppers and took me by the elbow to a shady corner. 'The root of the problem is this. Our Mussulman armies will fight their co-religionists only for as long as two conditions are fulfilled. One, that we can pay them more than our enemies can, and, two, that they are assured of winning while suffering only minimal casualties. There is no point in being paid a vast sum if you don't live to enjoy it. This means we must either employ ever larger armies or equip them with the best arms and armour available, then teach them to use them efficiently. The latter course is obviously preferred. We have had indications, by rumour and hearsay, that the Inglysshe, since they are the least civilised and most barbaric people on earth, are, when well led, unbeatable, not only through their courage and prowess but also because of the equipment they use. It was to establish the truth of this assumption that Jehani travelled west, hoping to bring back with him knowledge of the military technology the Inglysshe possessed, and possibly military men who could teach our armies how to fight.