The Moghul

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  A drum roll lifted across the dark plain, swelling in intensity like angry, caged thunder. It rose to fill the valley with a foreboding voice of death, then faded slowly to silence, gorged on its own immensity.

  "That's the Imperial army's call to arms. Prince Jadar was right. Inayat Latif is attacking now, before dawn." Shirin was seated next to Hawksworth in the dark howdah. She rose to peer over the three-foot-high steel rim, out into the blackness. Around them were the shapes of the zenana guard elephants, silently swinging their trunks beneath their armor. The zenana waited farther back on female baggage elephants, surrounded by hundreds of bullock carts piled with clothing and utensils. "Merciful Allah, he must have a thousand war drums."

  "You saw the size of the Imperial army mustering at Fatehpur." Hawksworth rose to stand beside her, grasping the side of the rocking howdah and inhaling the cold morning air. "The queen had begun recalling mansabdars and their troops from every province."

  Suddenly a chorus of battle horns cut through the dark, followed by the drums again, now a steady pulse that resounded off the wooded hills, swelling in power.

  "That's the signal for the men and cavalry to deploy themselves in battle array." Shirin pointed toward the sound. "The Imperial forces are almost ready."

  Below them fires smoldered in Jadar's abandoned camp, a thousand specks of winking light. Although the east was beginning to hint the first tinges of light, the valley where the Imperial army had massed was still shrouded in black.

  The drums suddenly ceased, mantling the valley in eerie, portentous quiet. Hawksworth felt for Shirin's hand and noticed it perspiring, even in the cold dawn air.

  From the eastern edge of Jadar's abandoned camp points of cannon fire erupted, tongues of light that divulged the length and location of the camp's defenses. A few moments later—less time than Hawksworth would have wished—the sound reached them, dull pops, impotent and hollow. The firing lapsed increasingly sporadic, until the camp's weak perimeter defense seemed to exhaust itself like the last melancholy thrusts of a spent lover.

  The defense perimeter of the camp had betrayed itself, and in the tense silence that ensued Hawksworth knew the Imperial guns were being set.

  Suddenly a wall of flame illuminated the center of the plain below, sending rockets of fire plunging toward the empty camp.

  "Jesus, they're launching fireworks with cannon. What are they?"

  "I don't know. I've heard that cannon in India were once called naphtha-throwers."

  A second volley followed hard after the first. Although this time no fireworks were hurtled, the impact was even more deadly. Forty-pound Imperial shot ripped wide trenches through the flaming tents of the prince's camp. In moments the gulal bar, where they had been standing only hours before, was devastated, an inferno of shredded cloth and billowing flame.

  A harsh chant began to drift upward from the valley, swelling as voices joined in unison.

  "Allah-o-Akbar! Allah-o-Akbar!" God is Great. It was the battle cry of Inayat Latifs Muslim infantry.

  The plain below had grown tinged with light now, as dawn approached and the fires from Jadar's camp spread. As Hawksworth watched, nervously gripping the handle of his sword, a force of steel-armored war elephants advanced on the eastern perimeter of the camp, their polished armor plate glowing red in the firelight. Those in the vanguard bore steel-shrouded howdahs, through which a single heavy cannon protruded . . . probably a ten-pounder, Hawks­worth told himself. The steel howdahs on the next rows of elephants were almost three feet high and perforated to allow their archers to shoot without rising above the open top. Sporadic cannon and matchlock fire from the few hundred men left in the camp pelted the elephants but did nothing to impede their advance. Directly behind them the Imperial infantry swept in dense, martialed ranks.

  Jadar knew exactly what he was doing when he picked this terrain for the camp, Hawksworth told himself. He used it to set the terms for the battle. There's no room to maneuver. When they discover the camp is abandoned, the elephants can't retreat and regroup without crushing their own infantry.

  He slipped his arm around Shirin's waist and held her next to him. They watched as the Imperial war elephants crashed through the camp's outer edge, scarcely slowing at the ditch. When the elephants were at point-blank range, the specially loaded cannon along the perimeter opened fire, spraying a rain of steel barbs among them. Even from the hilltop he could hear the clang of steel as the barbs ricocheted off their armor.

  "We'll soon know if Jadar's plan has a chance. Can he contain the elephants there, or will they obliterate the camp, then regroup, and . . ."

  The first row of elephants suddenly reared chaotically, lashing out with their armored trunks and dismounting some of the gunners. As barbs caught in their feet, they trumpeted in pain and started to mill randomly in angry confusion, crushing several of the men they had thrown.

  Just as Jadar predicted, the deadly carpet of barbs had temporarily disrupted their advance. Their ranks were broken and their guns in disarray. Behind the elephants the infantry still marched unaware, until the confusion in the elephant ranks began to disrupt their front lines. Gradually the order in the infantry ranks completely disintegrated, as the men stopped to eye the milling war elephants ahead of them in growing fear and confusion. By a single cannon salvo Jadar's men had robbed the attack of its momentum.

  "Now's Jadar's moment." Hawksworth watched in grow­ing admiration. "Will he use it?"

  As though in answer, a blare of trumpets from the hills on both sides of the plain suddenly electrified the morning air. As they died away, the woods opened wide with a single chorus, deep and throaty and unforgiving.

  RAM RAM. RAM RAM. RAM RAM.

  It was the ancient Rajput war cry.

  A blaze of fire from Jadar's camouflaged cannon shredded away the leafy blinds erected along the foot of the hills, sending a rain of forty-pound lead shot into the Imperial war elephants. Their disordered ranks erupted in tangled steel and blood. Seconds later, a volley by Jadar's small artillery ripped into the unsuspecting infantry massed behind the elephants, hurtling fragmented bodies and orphaned weapons spinning through the ranks. Finally came the fiery streaks of rockets, thin foot-long iron tubes filled with gunpowder and set with a lighted fuse, many with a sword blade attached to the end, which cut in a deadly wave through the Imperial troops, slashing and exploding as they flew.

  A dense roll of Jadar's war drums sounded from both hillsides, and the first wave of Rajput cavalry, still bellowing their war cry, charged down on the disrupted Imperial forces, discharging volleys of arrows with mechanical precision. They wore steel-net cloaks and helmet guards, and their horses were armored with woven steel netting encased in heavy quilting—with a wide frontlet over the chest, a neck-length collar secured to the top of the bridle, and a body shroud over their sides and hindquarters emblazoned with each man's family crest. The startled infantry turned to meet them, and in moments the air darkened with opposing arrows. From the hill above came the din of supporting matchlock fire from Jadar's own infantry.

  The Rajput cavalry plowed into the first rows of Imperial infantry with their long nezah lances held at arm's length high above their heads, thrusting downward as they rode. Veins fueled with opium, the Rajputs had forgotten all fear. They brushed aside Imperial spears and swords and slaughtered with undisguised pleasure, as though each death endowed more honor to their dharma. Hawksworth's stomach knotted as he watched a thousand men fall in less than a minute.

  While the Rajputs attacked, the prince's division of armored war elephants had emerged from their camouflage and begun advancing across the western edge of the plain, isolating the ragged remainder of the Imperial elephants from the battlefield. Although Jadar had far fewer war elephants, they now were easily able to contain the shattered Imperial forces.

  Hawksworth turned to watch as yet another wave of Jadar's cavalry bore down on the plain. These rode through the tangle of Imperial infantry wieldi
ng long curved swords, killing any the first wave had missed.

  "I'm not sure I believe what I'm seeing." Hawksworth peered through the dust and smoke boiling across the plain below. "Jadar has already seized the advantage. He's im­mobilized their war elephants, their major advantage, and he timed the counterattack perfectly."

  "The battle has only just begun." Shirin took his hand for no reason at all and gripped it. "And their major advantage was not elephants, but numbers. I fear for him. Look, there." She pointed toward the east, where the red sky now illuminated a vast sea of infantry, poised as reinforcements. "The prince's Rajputs cannot stop them all. Prince Jadar does not have the forces to meet them. I think he will be defeated today, badly."

  "And if he dies, do we die with him?"

  "Perhaps not you. But they will surely kill me. And probably Mumtaz. Most certainly they have orders to kill his son."

  On the field below Jadar's cavalry fought as though possessed. 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. They advanced firing volley after volley of arrows into the Imperial infantry. When they reached the plain, they drew their long curved swords and, waving them above their heads, threw themselves into the forces of Inayat Latif. The field quickly became a vast arena of hand-to-hand combat, as inevitably happened when two Indian armies met, with Jadar's forces badly outnumbered.

  Shirin watched the slaughter in silence for a time, as though tallying the dead and dying on both sides, and then she turned her face away.

  "Allah preserve us. Prince Jadar's Rajputs have eaten so much affion I think they can fight even after they die, but their numbers are already shrinking. How long can they protect the prince?"

  "Where's he now?"

  She turned back and peered through the dust on the field for a long moment. Then she pointed. "He's on the field now. There, in the center. Do you see him?" She paused. "He's very courageous to take the field so early. It will inspire his men, but it's a very bad omen."

  Hawksworth squinted toward the east. He could barely make out a phalanx of elephants moving across the plains, into the middle of the fiercest fighting. Several of the elephants had clusters of two-pound swivel guns mounted on their backs, a few had rocket launchers, but most carried howdahs filled with Rajput archers. In the center moved a large black elephant, heavily armored and bearing a steel howdah decorated with ornate gilding. Standing erect in the howdah, beneath a huge embroidered umbrella, was the figure of Prince Jadar, loosing arrows in rhythmic succes­sion as the Imperial infantry closed around him.

  "Why is it a bad sign?"

  "It's unwise for the supreme commander of an army to expose himself so early in the battle." Shirin was watching Jadar, transfixed. "If he's killed, the battle will be over. All his troops will flee."

  "Even his fearless Rajputs?"

  "That's the way in India. If he's lost, what do they have left to fight for? They will melt into the forest. In India a commander must always be visible to his men, standing above the armor of his howdah, so they'll know for certain he's alive."

  As the circle of elephants surrounding Jadar advanced through the field, a triple line of his Rajput infantry moved into place around him. He quickly became the focus of the battle, and the Imperial infantry massed to encircle him, like the king in a game of chess. His protective buffer of elephants was coming under increasingly heavy attack. The advantage of surprise enjoyed by his original offensive was gone. Now he was clearly on the defensive.

  "I think Jadar's starting to be in serious trouble. You were right. I don't know how much longer his circle of elephants can protect him."

  In the silence he slowly turned to Shirin and their eyes met. Nothing more was said because no more words were needed. She reached out and touched his lips and a lifetime seemed to flow between them. Then he drew his sword and leaned over the edge of the howdah.

  "Yes."

  With a single stroke he severed the tether rope tying their elephant. Their startled mahout turned and stared in disbelief. When Hawksworth shouted at him to start, he hesitated for a moment, then flung his barbed iron ankus into their howdah and plunged for the grass.

  Hawksworth grabbed the ankus, but before he could move, the elephant lifted its trunk into the morning air and emitted a long, defiant trumpet. Then he plunged past the tethered zenana elephants and broke into a gallop, eastward down the hill and directly toward the battle.

  Hawksworth staggered backward and grasped the side of the swaying howdah.

  "How . . . how did he know?"

  "Prince Jadar didn't give us a baggage elephant. He gave us one of his personal war elephants. To protect you. He knows where he should be now."

  In only minutes their elephant reached the edge of the plain and began advancing like a dreadnought through the swarm of Imperial infantry, headed directly for Jadar. Any luckless infantryman caught in his path would be seized in his trunk and flung viciously aside, or simply crushed beneath his feet.

  "But how could he know Jadar's threatened?"

  "He knows. His whole life is to protect the prince."

  A steel arrowhead sang off the side of the howdah. Then another thudded into one of the wooden beams supporting the armor. Hawksworth grabbed Shirin and shoved her down, below the steel rim. She fell sprawling and turned to grab their bows. As Hawksworth took them and began to notch the string on each one, he noticed for the first time that Jadar had given them one of his combat howdahs, with firing holes all around the sides.

  War cries and sounds of steel on steel ranged around them as they advanced, but their elephant seemed oblivious, only beginning to slow when they approached the dense lines of Imperial infantry encircling Jadar.

  Hawksworth found his bow ring and slipped it awkwardly over his right thumb. Then he strung an arrow and took aim through one of the firing holes in the side of the howdah. The arrow sang off his thumb and glanced harmlessly against the steel net cloak of an Imperial infantryman. The man looked up, then paused to aim an arrow at the howdah. It was a lethal decision. Their elephant turned and seized him as he took aim, flinging him down and crushing him under its foot with a single motion. At once the Imperial infantry again started to clear a path in front of them.

  "Jesus, I see why elephants are so feared on a battlefield."

  "Yes, but they cannot fight the entire battle . . ." Shirin's voice trailed off as she stared through a hole in the side of the howdah. Suddenly her eyes flooded with fear. "Oh, Allah! Merciful Allah! Look!"

  A close-ranked formation of Imperial horsemen, perhaps fifty in number, was advancing toward them from the eastern perimeter of the plain. They wore body armor of black steel and they ignored the infantry battling around them as they charged directly for the circle of Jadar's elephants.

  "Who are they?"

  "I think they're Latifs special Bundella guards. I've only heard about them. His elephant must be near and he's ordered them to attack. He must realize the prince is vulnerable now. He hopes to kill Prince Jadar in a quick action and so end the battle." She stared over the side of the steel howdah again. "If they fail, then he will send his regular Rajput cavalry."

  "What's so special about Bundellas?"

  "They're from the region of Bundelkhand, and their horses are said to be specially trained against elephants. The native Bundellas . . ." She ducked down and stared wildly around the howdah as an arrow grazed by. "Where ... the matchlocks!"

  Hawksworth quickly pulled up one of the muskets and checked the prime. He passed it to Shirin and t
ook a second for himself. As he looked again over the top of the howdah, he saw the elephants guarding Jadar start turning to face the approaching horsemen. Their own elephant had now reached the defense lines and it immediately assumed its normal place in the protective circle.

  Many of the approaching Bundellas were already being cut down by the spears of the Rajput infantry, but over half managed to penetrate the outer defense perimeter and reach the circle of elephants. The horsemen immediately began firing rockets into Jadar's elephants from long bamboo tubes they carried, intending to frighten them and disrupt their ranks.

  As Hawksworth watched, three of Jadar's encircling war elephants shied skittishly away from the fireworks, creating a momentary opening in the line. Before the opening could be secured, two of the Bundella cavalry dashed through the space. Once inside the defense perimeter, they parted, one riding toward either side of Jadar's elephant. One of the horsemen took careful aim with his bow and shot a barbed arrow connected to a line deep into the steel-net armor of the mahout seated on the neck of Jadar's elephant. The horseman quickly whipped the arrow's line around his saddle horn and reined his mount. The horse seemed to know exactly what was expected, as it instantly reared backward, unseating Jadar's mahout and toppling him into the dust.

  As the mahout fell, his steel ankus clanged against Jadar's howdah, momentarily distracting the prince. When he whirled to look for his mahout, the other Bundella spurred his stallion alongside the elephant's rump, lifting a heavy spear above his head. But instead of hurtling the spear toward Jadar he turned and plunged it deep into the ground beside the elephant.

  "Shirin, what's he doing? How can . . . ?"

  The horseman twirled his long reins around the shaft in a quick motion, tethering the horse. Then he balanced himself atop the saddle, unsheathed his sword, and with an agile leap landed on the armored rump of Jadar's elephant.

  He secured his balance in less than a second, then grabbed the side of Jadar's gilded howdah. Hawksworth stared spellbound as a rain of Rajput arrows glanced harmlessly off his black steel body armor.

  "Now!" Shirin's voice was almost a scream.

  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.

  The stock kicked into his face and a burst of black smoke momentarily blinded him. Shirin's matchlock had dis­charged at the same moment, and he looked down as she tumbled backward against the padded side of the howdah, still grasping the gun's heavy stock.

  Then he heard a cheer from the Rajputs and turned in time to see the Bundella spin in a half circle. Hawksworth realized one musket ball had caught him directly in the face, the other in the groin. He vainly reached to seize the side of Jadar's howdah to regain his balance, but his foot skidded and he slipped backward . . . into a forest of Rajput spears. The flash of a sword took his head. Jadar had never seen him.

  That settles one debt, you cocky bastard.

  There were shouts from the other attackers still outside the defense perimeter and two horsemen reined their mounts and charged toward Hawksworth and Shirin. As they approached, the elephant began revolving to meet them.

  Hawksworth reached down and grabbed the last remain­ing musket and rose to fire.

  As he looked up, he stopped in astonishment, for a second refusing to believe what he saw.

  Both Bundelkhand horses were advancing on their hind legs, rearing and bounding toward them in high leaps. He watched transfixed as one of the Bundellas discharged his bow past the neck of his horse, directly at the howdah. The arrow missed Shirin's dust-covered hair by only inches.

  Hawksworth lifted his matchlock and leveled it against the rim, wondering for an instant whether to aim for the man or the horse. Then the matchlock blazed and he watched the horseman buckle backward in the saddle, toppling into a circle of waiting Rajput swords.

  Suddenly the howdah shuddered, throwing him sprawling against the side. As he pulled himself up, he realized the other horse had secured its front feet against the side of their elephant. The Bundella was staring directly in his face, pulling an arrow from his saddle quiver.

  The horseman's bow was already half drawn when Hawksworth heard the sing of a bowstring beside him. As he watched, the end of a shaft suddenly appeared in the right cheek of the Bundella, buried to the feathers. The horseman's own arrow slammed into the side of the howdah, and he reached to claw at his face with his saddle hand, forfeiting his grip. As he slipped backward off the rearing horse, the Rajput infantrymen beheaded him in midair.

  Hawksworth turned to see Shirin drop her bow onto the floor of the howdah. She slumped against the steel side, her eyes glazed with incredulity at what she had done.

  They watched wordlessly as the perimeter of Jadar's elephants was again drawn together and secured. As the other horsemen were driven back, a coherent defense barricade of concentric circles was gradually established around the prince. The outer perimeter was a line of Rajput infantry armed with long spears. Inside their line were Rajput swordsmen, who now had linked together the skirts of their long, steel-mesh cloaks to form a solid barrier. And inside these was the last defense line, the circle of armored war elephants.

  As their own elephant instinctively rejoined the line protecting Jadar, Hawksworth reached to touch Shirin's hand. As he did, he noticed her thumb was bleeding and realized for the first time she had not been supplied a bow ring.

  "I think we can hold off the infantry with the elephants. But I don't know how long . . ." Her voice trailed off as he looked up at her face. She was leaning against the side of the howdah, pointing wordlessly toward the east.

  He turned to see a vast wave of the Imperial Rajput horsemen bearing down on their position. They numbered in the thousands.

  "God Almighty." He reached weakly for another arrow, trying to count those remaining in the quiver and asking if he would live long enough to shoot them all. "It's over."

  Their battle cry lifted above the plain as the approaching cavalry neared the edge of the massed Imperial infantry engulfing Jadar. They began advancing directly through the infantry, not slowing, heading straight for Jadar.

  Hawksworth notched an arrow and rose up in the howdah to take aim. He drew back the string and picked the man in the lead for the first arrow.

  As he sighted the Rajput's bearded face down the shaft, he suddenly froze.

  The Rajput had just driven the long point of his spear into an Imperial infantryman.

  Hawksworth lowered his bow in disbelief and stared as the approaching Imperial cavalry began cutting down their own infantry, taking heads as they rode toward Jadar, leaving a carpet of death in their bloody wake.

  "Holy Jesus, what's happening? They're attacking their own troops! Are they sotted with opium too?"

  Suddenly their chant of "Ram Ram" was taken up by the Rajputs surrounding Jadar, and they turned on the Imperial infantry nearest them with the ferocity of a wounded tiger.

  "Today Allah took on the armor of a Rajput." Shirin slumped against the side of the howdah and dropped her bow. "I had prayed they would all one day join with the prince, but I never really believed it would happen."

  Jadar's circle of war elephants began to cut their way through the remaining infantry to join the Rajput forces, swivel guns blazing from their backs. In what seemed only minutes his entourage merged with the vanguard of Rajput cavalry, and together they moved like a steel phalanx against the Imperial infantry reserves waiting in the east.

  Hawksworth watched as the Imperial lines were cut, separating the infantry fighting on the plain from their reserves. Next a corps of Rajput horsemen wielding long spears overran the Imperial gun emplacements, then grouped to assault the Imperial command post
. When the elephant bearing the banner of Inayat Latif started for higher ground, discipline in the Imperial ranks evaporated.

  By late afternoon the outcome was no longer in question. A final attempt by the Imperial forces to regroup disinte­grated into a rout, with thousands of fleeing Imperial infantry falling before the swords and spears of the Rajput cavalry. Only the merciful descent of dark enabled Inayat Latif and his Imperial commanders to escape death at the hands of pursuing Rajput archers.

  As Hawksworth rode with Jadar's entourage through the dusty, smoke-shrouded battlefield, headed back for the camp, he felt he was witnessing the gaping mouth of hell. The plain was littered with the bodies of almost forty thousand men and over ten thousand horses. The proud war cries were forgotten. Through the dusky twilight came the plaintive moans of dying men and the shrill neighing of shattered horses. Rajputs moved among the bodies, plundering the dead enemy, searching for fallen comrades, dispatching with their long swords any lingering men or horses who could not be saved.

  All because of Jadar, Hawksworth thought, and his stomach sickened. Now what will happen? Jadar won the day in this valley, in the middle of nowhere, but the Moghul is still in Agra, and tonight he still rules India. And I think he'll still rule India, if only in name, till the day he dies. Jadar can't march against the Red Fort in Agra, not with this ragtag army. Even his division of Rajput defectors couldn't storm that fortress. I'm not sure God himself could take the Red Fort. So what now, noble Prince Jadar? So far you've merely brought death to half the fighting men in India.

  The torchbearers marching four abreast at the front of their elephants were now approaching the remains of the camp. Through the flickering light emerged the vision of a burned-out ruin. Scorched furrows from the first Imperial cannonade trailed between, among, through the few remaining tents. Small clusters of wounded men, some begging for water and some for death, were being fed opium and their wounds wrapped with the shreds of ripped-apart tents.

  Jadar moved through the camp, acknowledging the triumphant cheers of his men. Ahead his servants were already erecting a new chintz wall around the gulal bar and replacing the tents for the zenana. Hawksworth watched as carpets were unrolled from bullock carts and carried inside the compound.

  Jadar's elephant proceeded instinctively to the very entry of the gulal bar, where it kneeled for him to dismount. Around him Rajputs pushed forward to cheer and teslim. As he stood acknowledging them, the other elephants also began to kneel. Jadar's servants rushed forward to help Hawksworth and Shirin alight.

  "This was the most horrible day I've ever known." Her arms closed around his neck as her feet touched ground, and she held him for a long moment, tears staining her cheeks. "I've never before seen so much killing. I pray to Allah I never see it again."

  Hawksworth returned her embrace, then looked at her sadly. "There'll be a lot more before Jadar sees Agra, if he ever does. This is just one battle, not the war. I'm not sure we want to be here to find out how it ends."

  She looked back at him and smiled wistfully in silence. Then she turned and performed the teslim to Jadar.

  The prince was scarcely recognizable. His helmet had been torn by countless arrows, or matchlock fire, and his haughty face and beard were smeared with dust and smoke. The emerald bow ring was missing from his right thumb, which was now caked with blood. Beneath his armor the torn leather of his right sleeve was stained blood-dark, where he had ripped out an arrow. As he lifted his arms to acknowledge the rising cheers, his eyes were shadowed and tired, but they betrayed no pain.

  Hawksworth turned and examined Jadar's howdah. It was a forest of arrows and broken spear shafts. Grooms from the stables had already brought water and sugarcane for his elephant and begun extracting iron arrowheads from its legs and from a section of its right shoulder where its armor had been shot away.

  As he watched the scene, Hawksworth slowly became aware of a pathway being cleared through the camp toward the east. Next, the cheers of some of Jadar's Rajputs began to swell through the smoky air. Through the encroaching dark, there slowly emerged the form of another elephant approaching. In the torchlight he could tell it was regal in size and bore a gilded howdah shaded by a wide brocade umbrella. There were no arrows in the side of this howdah, nor was there more than a trace of dust on the elephant's gilded and enameled armor. With its elaborate decoration of swinging yak tails and tinkling bells, it seemed more suited for a royal procession than for a battlefield.

  Jadar watched impassively as the elephant neared the center of the clearing. While the Rajputs around him stood at attention, the elephant performed a small bow, then began to kneel with practiced dignity. Several Rajputs rushed forward to help the rider alight.

  The man's jeweled turban and rows of finger rings sparkled in the torchlight. As he moved directly toward Jadar, Hawksworth suddenly recognized the walk and caught his breath.

  It was Nadir Sharif.

  The prime minister paused a few feet from Jadar and salaamed lightly. He did not teslim, nor did he speak. As he stood waiting, from out of the darkness of the gulal bar the figure of a woman emerged. She was veiled, surrounded by her women, and accompanied by a line of eunuchs wearing sheathed scimitars in their waist sash. She stopped and performed the teslim to Jadar. Then she turned to Nadir Sharif.

  He stared at her for a long moment, then said something in Persian. Without a word she lifted her veil and threw it back. Next she turned and gestured to one of the servants standing behind her. The servant stepped forward with a bundle wrapped in a brocade satin blanket and carried it directly to Nadir Sharif.

  The prime minister stood for a moment as though unsure whether to take it. Finally he reached out and lifted the blanket from the servant and cradled it against one arm. He stared down for a long moment, his eyes seeming to cloud, and then he pushed back part of the blanket to examine its contents more closely. With a withered finger, he reached in and stroked something inside the blanket. Then he looked up and smiled and said something to Jadar in Persian. The prince laughed and strolled to his side, taking the blanket in his own smoke-smeared hands and peering down into it with Nadir Sharif. They exchanged more words in Persian, laughed again, and then Nadir Sharif walked to the waiting woman, whose dark eyes now brimmed with joy. He stood looking at her for a long moment, then spoke to her in Persian and enfolded her in his arms.

  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.

  "But is he yet a worthy lover in your bed?" Mumtaz's smile was almost hidden. "I sent your message to father about the Hindu devadasi."

  Shirin smiled and said nothing.

  "Then you must bring him with us to Udaipur."

  "If His Highness will have us there."

  "I will have you there." She laughed and looked again at Hawksworth. "If you'll tell me sometime what it's like to share your pillow with a feringhi."

  "Captain Hawksworth." Jadar's martial voice rose above the assembled crowd of congratulating Rajputs. "Didn't I notice you on the field today? I thought I had assigned you to guard my zenana. Are you aware the punishment for disobeying orders in an army in India is immediate beheading? Of if you like, I can have you shot from a cannon, as is sometimes done. Which would you prefer?"

  "Your cannon were mostly overrun. I guess you'll have to behead me, if you can find anyone left with a sword sharp enough."

  Jadar roared and pulled out his own sword. There was a deep nick in the blade.

  "By tomorrow I'm sure we can find one. In the meantime I'll have to confine you in the gulal bar to prevent your escape." He slipped the sword back into his belt. "Tell me, did you manage to hit anything today with your match­locks?"

  "Possibly. There were so many in the Imperial infantry I may have succeeded in hitting someone."

  Jadar laughed again. "From the looks of her thumb, it would seem the woman in your howdah did most of the shooting. I'm astounded you'd permit her such liberty."

  "She has a mind of her own."

  "Like all Persians." Jadar reached and lowered Mumtaz's veil over her face. She let it hang for a moment, then shoved it back again. "Allah protect us." He turned and stared a moment into the dark, toward the direction Nadir Sharif had departed. "Yes, Allah protect us from all Persians and from all Persian ambition." Then he suddenly remembered himself and glanced back at Hawksworth. "So tonight we may eat lamb together after all, if there's one still to be found. But not yet in Paradise. For that you will have to wait a few days longer."

  Hawksworth s
hifted uncomfortably. "What exactly do you mean?"

  "Udaipur, Captain, tomorrow we strike camp and march for Udaipur. It's a Rajput paradise." He turned and beckoned toward the Rajput commander who had ridden from Fatehpur with them. "It's time you met my friend Mahdu Singh, brother of His Highness, Rana Karan Singh, the Maharana of Udaipur. The maharana has generously offered us his new guest palace, on his island of Jagmandir. It's on Pichola Lake, in the Rajput capital of Udaipur. He was only just building the palace when I was there before, but I seem to remember it's designed in a very interesting new style." He glanced at Mumtaz. "I think Her Highness will approve." Then he continued. "Rajputana, Captain, is beautiful. What's more, its mountains are impregnable. I led the only Moghul army ever to escape defeat by the Rajputs who live in those mountains. But today I have many loyal friends there." Mahdu Singh bowed lightly to Hawksworth while Jadar watched in satisfaction. "His Highness, the Maharana, may decide to make a Rajput out of you and keep you there, if you seem worth the trouble. Who can tell?"

  He turned and dismissed Mumtaz and her eunuchs with a wave. He watched fondly as she disappeared into the gulal bar, then turned and joined the waiting Rajputs. Together they moved out through the camp, embracing and consol­ing.

  "Did you hear what he said?" Hawksworth turned to Shirin, who stood waiting, a light smile erasing some of the fatigue in her face. "He's planning to recruit another army of Rajputs. This war is only beginning. Good Christ, when will it end?"

  "When he's Moghul. Nothing will stop him now." She took his hand, and together they pushed through the shattered gulal bar toward the remains of their tent.