Thomas Hoover

“ Hawksworth pushed his way incredulously back through the milling crowd of infantry and mounted cavalry, feeling as though the world had collapsed. All around him Rajputs were eating handfuls of opium, combing their hair, embracing in farewell. Many had already put on their khaftan, the quilted vest they wore under their armor. He wondered how long it would be before they became drunk with opium and began killing each other.
God, we're all going to die. Can't Jadar stop it? Can't he at least stop them from eating opium before we're attacked? And where are they moving the cannon? ”

“ The Portuguese crewmen on the St. Sebastian had begun throwing themselves into the sea, terrified at the sight of the Bon Ventura's blazing hull drifting slowly across their bow. The wind had freshened again and was pushing the burning galleon rapidly now. The blaze had become an inferno, fueled by casks of coconut oil stored below decks on the galleon, and Hawksworth involuntarily shielded his eyes and face from the heat that, even at their distance, seared the Discovery. ”

“ They had plotted a course directly east-north-east, running with topgallants on the night breeze, to make dawn anchorage at the mouth of the Tapti River. Through the night the Resolve had stayed with them handily, steering by their stem lantern.
When the first light broke in the east, hard and sudden, there it lay—the coast of India, the landfall, the sight they had waited for the long seven months. Amid the cheers he had ordered their colors hoisted—the red cross, bordered in white, on a field of blue—the first English flag ever to fly off India's coast. ”

“ 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. ”

“ As though in a dream, Hawksworth leveled the long barrel of his matchlock against the rim of the howdah and took aim. The stock felt alien and bulky in his grip, and its lacquer inlay smooth and cold. He saw Shirin thrust her own musket alongside his own, struggling to keep its heavy barrel balanced. As the horseman raised his sword to plunge it into Jadar's exposed back, Hawksworth squeezed the gun's inlaid trigger. ”

“ Hawksworth sipped from the new cup of wine, his third, and watched the musicians begin to retune. Around him the members of Arangbar's inner circle were assembling in the Diwan-i-Khas. This must be evening dress in Agra, he marveled: silk turbans studded with rubies and sapphires, diamond earrings, swords trimmed in gold and silver, pearl necklaces, cloaks of rich brocade, velvet slippers. The faces around him all betrayed the indolent eyes and pasty cheeks of men long indulged in rich food, hard spirits, sensuality. ”

“ As Hawksworth listened, he realized he very much wanted to go. To lose himself for a time. And suddenly the words of Huyghen, and of Roger Symmes, flashed through his mind. Of the India you would not want to leave. Until you would not be able to leave.
As they rode toward the town, Mukarrab Khan fell silent. And Abul Hasan, too, seemed lost in his own thoughts. Hawksworth slowly let his horse draw to the rear in order to count the governor's personal retinue of guards. Thirty men, with quivers of arrows beside their saddle, pikes at their right stirrup, and a matchlock musket. ”

“ The flawless blue sky seemed to cloud as Jadar spoke. "Tell me what you would do?"
"Strike camp and march south. We have no choice."
"Sometimes you Rajputs show less wit than your monkey god, Hanumanji." Jadar laughed good-naturedly. "You learned nothing from the hunt today. Don't you see that would merely scatter them? They'll never dare meet us if we march in force. They'll only stage small raids. Harass our baggage train. No, we must do just the opposite." Jadar reined in his horse, turned to Vasant Rao, and lowered his voice. "Think like a chitah for once, not like an impulsive Rajput. ”

“ Hawksworth examined the bobbing balls anew. The coconut was yet another legend of the Indies. Stories passed that a man could live for days on the liquor sealed within its straw-matted shell.
The moon chased random clouds, but still the riverbank was illuminated like day. The damp air was still, amplifying the music of the night—the buzz of gnats, the call of night birds, even the occasional trumpet of a distant elephant, pierced the solid wood line on either side of the narrowing river. Hawksworth tasted the dark, alert, troubled. Where are the human sounds? ”

“ What's so honorable about Rajputs slaughtering each other?"
"Warriors are bound by their dharma to join in battle against other warriors. A warrior who fails in his duty sins against the dharma of his caste." Vasant Rao paused. "But why am I bothering to tell you this? I sound like Krishna, lecturing Arjuna on his duty as a warrior."
"Who's Krishna? Another Rajput?"
"He's a god, Captain Hawksworth, sacred to all Rajputs. He teaches us that a warrior must always honor his dharma." ”

“ Hawksworth was suddenly awake. The chill of early dawn penetrated his face and hands, and his hair sparkled with light jewels of dew. His leather couch was moist and glistening, while the pale sky above was blocked by a tapestried canopy. Only in the east, above the white railing of the rooftop, could he see the glitter of a waning Venus, her brief reign soon to dissolve in the red wash of early sun. ”

“ Nadir Sharif said she was famous.
"Just who are you?" Arangbar's voice cut through the carpeted room, toward the woman's back. He was speaking Turki, and he was outraged.
Kamala whirled on him. "One who dances for Shiva, in his
aspect as Nataraj, the god of the dance. For him and for him alone."
"What do you call this dance for your infidel god?"
"Bharata Natyam. The dance of the temple. The sacred tradition as old as India itself. The god Shiva set the world in motion by the rhythms of his dance. My dance is a prayer to Shiva." Kamala's eyes snapped with hatred. "I dance for no one else." ”

“ Hawksworth watched Mukarrab Khan in fascination as he leaned back and closed his eyes in wistful anticipation. And at that moment the instrumentalist began a lightning-fast ascent of the scale, quavering each note in erotic suggestiveness for the fraction of a second it was fingered. The governor seemed absorbed in some intuitive communication with the sound, a reaction to music Hawksworth had never before witnessed. His entire body would perceptibly tense as the drummer began a cycle, then it would pulse and relax the instant the cycle thudded to a resolution. ”

“ Is she here?"
"She's no longer in Surat. Be sure of that. But at this moment you are here with me. Why always seek after what you do not have? You see, I do know much about you. You're a pilgrim." He waved his hand absently. "But then we all are pilgrims. All searching for something. We call it different names—fulfillment, knowledge, beauty, God. But you still have not found what you seek, is that not true?' Samad watched Hawksworth in silence as he drank from his own wineglass. "Yes, it is given many names, but it is in fact only one thing. We are all searching, my English, for our own self. ”

“ At the corners were immense vases of solid gold studded with precious stones that sparkled in the lamp light. Incense burners wrought from silver hung from the walls. Servants circulated among the crowd bearing trays of rolled betel leaves, glasses of lemony sharbat, and cups of green milky bhang. In deference to the ceremonial significance of this holy Muslim occasion, there would be no wine until after the Shi'ite mullahs had left. Hawksworth decided to take a glass of sharbat and wait for the wine. ”

“ Hawksworth watched in horror as a burly Portuguese, his silver helmet askew, braced himself against the mast and drew back his sword to send a swath through the English. Hawksworth tried to set a parry, but his arms were pinned.
He'll kill half the men. The bastard will . . .
A bemused expression unexpectedly illuminated the soldier's face, a smile with no mirth. In an instant it transmuted to disbelief, while his raised sword clattered to the planking. As Hawksworth watched, the Portuguese's hand began to work mechanically at his chest. ”

“ Now that the high trading season of September-January had begun, Surat's narrow streets were one loud bazaar, swollen to almost two hundred thousand grasping traders, bargaining seamen, hawking merchants. A dozen languages stirred the air as a motley mélange of up-country Indian traders, Arabs, Jains, Parsis, Persians, Jews, Egyptians, Portuguese, and returning Muslim pilgrims—every nationality known to the Indian Ocean—swaggered through the garbage-sodden mud paths called streets. ”

“ Vasant Rao turned to Hawksworth. "He says you are a fool as well as an Untouchable."
"Tell him that if I am to die with the sun, he must kill me now. I spit on his Brahmins and their Panjika. I say the eclipse will be this very day. In less than three hours."
"In one pahar?
"Yes."
"No god, and certainly no man, can control such things. Why tell him this invention?" Vasant Rao's voice rose with his anger. "When this thing does not happen, you will die in even greater dishonor." ”

“ He had an elegant short beard and seemed much younger, somehow, than Hawksworth had expected. "I'm surprised to see you alive, Captain. How is it you still live while so many of my Rajputs died?"
"I live by my wits, not by my caste."
Jadar roared with genuine delight.
"Spoken like a Moghul." Then he sobered. "You'd be wise never to say that to a Rajput, however. I often wonder how an army of Moghul troops would fare against a division of Hindu unbelievers. I pray to Allah I never find out." Jadar suddenly slipped a dagger from his waist and held it loosely, fingering the blade. ”

“ You must understand that the queen and her family are Shi'ites, a Persian sect of Islam. They believe all men should bow to some dogmatic mullah, whom they call an imam. But this was never in the teachings given to the Prophet."
A curse on all religions, Hawksworth had thought. Am I caught in the middle of some Muslim holy war?
"But why do these Persians, or their imams, want to be rid of Samad?"
"Because he's a Sufi, a mystic, who teaches that we all should find God within our own selves. Without the mullahs. That's why the Persian Shi'ites despise him and want him dead." ”

“ They've never been harmed, and they've never been caged. So they're unafraid." She turned and called to it. "If they're caught and imprisoned, their spirit dies and their beauty starts to fade."
The bird ruffled its wings again and flew to the top of the bolster beside Shirin. Hawksworth watched her for a moment, still incredulous, then settled himself on the carpet next to a chalice of wine that sat waiting. She reached and touched his arm. "I never asked you what your lovers call you. You're so important, nobody in India knows your first name, just your titles." ”

“ Then Arangbar took another drink and turned to Hawksworth.
"But you know I don't entirely agree with that wisdom, Inglish. The Holy Prophet, on whom be peace, wisely realized a man needs more than one wife. He also demanded of us that we give each of them equal attention, never to turn away from any one of them. What man can do that, even with Allah's help? It is never possible. So we all do the best we can. It is the will of Allah." Arangbar paused to swallow a ball of affion as he watched the trays of lamb being placed before them. "Tell me, Inglish, have you found a wife for yourself yet?" ”

“ You are a man of sensuality." Kamala looked at him regretfully. "But not of the sensuous. Do you even understand the difference?"
"How do you know what I am?"
"Remember I was once a devadasi. It's my dharma to know the hearts of men. Who they are and what gives them pleasure." She fell silent for a moment, then continued. "The sensualist is one who only knows his own feelings; the one who is sensuous knows also how to give."
Hawksworth shifted uncomfortably, uncertain how to reply.
"Do you, Ambassador Feringhi, touch a woman with the same feeling you touch the strings of your English sitar?" ”

“ When we dance we invoke the energy, and the life force, that moves through the world, outside its great cycles of time."
Hawksworth picked up his wineglass and drew on it. "To tell the truth, I find your Hindu symbols a trifle abstract."
"But they're not, really. They merely embody truths already within us. Like the life force. We do not have to think about it. It's simply there. And we can reach out and experience this force when woman and man join together in union. That is our lila, our play. That's why we worship Lord Shiva with dance, and with kama." ”

“ We've learned it's wasted on feringhi, Captain, as I fear it's now wasted on you."
The talk left Hawksworth feeling strangely insecure, his mind wrestling with ideas that defied rationality.
"I know there are things you understand with your gut, not with your head."
"Then there may be hope for you, Captain Hawksworth. Now we will see if you can die like a Rajput. If you can, perhaps you will be reborn one of us."
"Then I might even learn to be a bandit."
"All Rajputs are not the same, Captain. There are many tribes, descended from different dynasties. Each has its own tradition and genealogy. ”

“ Her body was like ivory, perfect from the band at her neck to the small rings on her toes, and her breasts billowed full and geometrically round, a long necklace of pearls nestled between them. As Hawksworth stared at her dumbfounded, the drummer commenced a finely metered rhythm timed exactly with his heartbeat.
She moved to Hawksworth's side and slid her left hand beneath his open doublet. "The very first note of a raga can contain everything if it is sounded with prahna. And the first touch between a man and a woman can become the OM, the syllable that carries the totality of creation." ”

“ Rajputs were said to kill tigers with only a katar and a leather shield, but he wasn't sure he believed the stories. He grasped it and made a few trial thrusts, its ten- inch blade shining in the lamplight like a mirror, then tossed it atop his sea chest. It would make a nice memento of the trip; every fighting man in India seemed to carry one. Who in London would ever believe such a weapon unless they saw it?
Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flutter in the portiere of his tent, and he looked up to see Shirin standing silently in the doorway. ”

“ Rajputs with one, two, even three arrows in their back continued to sound their war cry and take head after bearded head, until they finally slumped unconscious from the saddle. Riderless horses, many with their stomachs slashed open, could be seen running wildly through the Imperial ranks, unused arrows still rattling in their saddle quivers.
Waves of Jadar's infantry had begun pouring down from the hills, following the cavalry. The men wore heavy leather helmets and a skirt of woven steel. A hood of steel netting hung down from each man's helmet, protecting his face and neck. ”

“ Hawksworth stared at him for a moment, and suddenly everything came together. He could have shouted his realization.
"You're Samad. The Sufi. . . ." He stopped, his heart racing. "Where is . . .?"
"Yes, I'm a poet, and I'm called a Sufi because there is nothing else to call me."
"You're not really a Sufi?"
"Who knows what a Sufi is, my English friend? Not even a Sufi knows. Sufis do not teach beliefs. They merely ask that you know who you are." ”

“ She paused and looked away. "A courtesan is always lonely. No man will ever truly love her. He'll listen to her sing to him and joke with him, but his heart will never be hers, regardless of all the sweet promises he'll think to make her."
Hawksworth watched her quickly mask the sadness in her eyes as she reached for the hookah. At that moment he wanted more than anything in the world to tell her it wasn't always true, but he knew she would hate the lie. Instead he took out his own betel leaf and cleared his throat awkwardly. ”

“ Nadir Sharif laughed. "You'll need more than a glass if you drink with His Majesty. I'll send the servants." He bowed again at the doorway of the vestibule. "I'll rejoin you when I can. In the meantime, summon the eunuchs if you require anything."
He turned and was gone. In what seemed only moments, two turbaned servants appeared, smiling as they placed a large chalice of wine on the carpet next to Hawksworth's bolster.
"It's all too incredible." Queen Janahara slumped onto a velvet divan and distractedly took a rolled betel leaf from the silver tray offered by a hovering eunuch. ”

“ Then the pilot turned directly to Hawksworth and a smile flickered momentarily across his lips. "And now you English have come to challenge them by sea. You must pardon me if I smile. Even if you prevail today, which I must tell you I doubt, and even if one day more of your warships follow and drive them from our seas entirely—even if all this should take place, you will find your victory hollow. As theirs has been. For we have already destroyed them. The way India consumes all who come with arms. The ancient way. They have robbed our wealth, but in return we have consumed their spirit. ”

“ Someday, Inglish, I fear they may decide to war against me as well. And what of those I see around me? Do they think I am blind to their deceit?" Arangbar leaned farther back on the bolster. Nadir Sharif sat listening, rolling a ball of lamb between his fingers. "Sometimes I think you may be the only honest man left in India, Inglish. You are the only one who has ever dared refuse to teslim. It is only with the greatest forbearance that I do not order you hanged."
"I thank Your Majesty." Hawksworth took a decanter and poured more wine into Arangbar's glass before replenishing his own. ”

“ But unlike her, I was born in India. And it is in India that I will stay. She can banish me to the remotest village of the Punjab, but she will never send me to Goa. To live among unwashed Portuguese. Never. She does not have the power. And if you were a man, you would divorce me. Here. Tonight. For all to see. And I will return to my father, or go where I wish. Or you may kill me, as you have already tried to do. But you must decide."
Mukarrab Khan's face was lost in shock. The courtyard stood lifeless, caught in a silence more powerful than any Hawksworth had ever known. ”

“ Hawksworth then noticed how Mukarrab Khan was dining. He, too, ate with his fingers, just as you would in England, but somehow he managed to lift his food gracefully with balls of rice, the sauce never soiling his fingertips.
A breeze lightly touched Hawksworth's cheek, and he turned to see a servant standing behind him, banishing the occasional fly with a large whisk fashioned from stiff horsehair attached to a long stick. Another servant stood opposite, politely but unnecessarily cooling him with a large fan made of red leather stretched over a frame. ”