The Moghul Page 14

  Hawksworth saw George Elkington approaching and dropped the daggerquickly into his boot.

  "'Twill take a lifetime the rate these heathens dawdle." Elkingtonwiped a sweaty arm across his brow. Deep bags sagged under hisbloodshot eyes. "An' we'll be months movin' the lead and ironwork withthese damn'd rickety carts. Not to mention the silver bullion forbuyin' commodity. We'll have to get a barge."

  "How many more trips do you need to bring in the wool?"

  "Can't say. But 'tis clear we'll need more of these damn'd carts, forwhat little they're worth." As Elkington turned to spit, he spotted aporter who had let a roll of woolen cloth dip into the river, and hisneck veins pulsed. "Hey, you heathen bastard, mind the water!" Hestumbled after the terrified man trailing a stream of oaths.

  Hawksworth leaned against the wooden spokes of a bullock cart andquickly passed the stiletto from his boot back to his belt. As hewatched, the bark tipped, beginning to list dangerously, and then heheard Elkington command the porters to stop the loading and prepare toget underway. Only five of the twenty-five bullock carts had beenemptied, and the sun was already approaching midafternoon. AsHawksworth had watched the men at work, some corner of his mind hadbecome dimly aware of a curious anomaly. Whereas the Shahbandar'sporters were working at full speed, the drivers of the bullock cartsseemed actually to be hindering the unloading--moving the carts aroundin a confused way that always kept the work disorganized. And a numberof answers began, just began, to fall into place.

  "Captain-General Hawksworth, do you expect to be joinin' us?" GeorgeElkington stalked up and began to scrape his muddy boots on the spokesof the bullock cart

  "Elkington, I want you to dismiss these drivers." Hawksworth ignoredhis sarcastic tone. "I want the Shahbandar to supply all our men fromnow on."

  "What the bloody hell for?" Elkington tightened his hat and hitched uphis belt.

  "Something's wrong. Did you have any accidents coming in from Swalley?"

  "Accidents? Nay, not a bleedin' one. Unless you'd call the axle of acart breakin' the first day and blockin' a narrow turn in the road,with mud on both sides so we couldn't pass and had to unload the wholebleedin' lot and look half the mornin' for another cart to hire. An'then the drivers had a fight over who was responsible, and who'd payfor what, and we couldn't start till after midday. And yesterday one oftheir damn'd bullocks died, right in the road. Which is scarce wonder,considerin' how worn out they are. Nay, we had no accidents. The wholebleedin' trip was an accident."

  "Then let's get rid of them all. Men, carts, bullocks, the lot. Andhire new. Let the Shahbandar hire them for us. We pay in silver, andgive him his commission, and I'm sure he'll provide us what we need."

  "Think he can do any better?" Elkington's skeptical eyes squintedagainst the sun. "These damn'd heathens all appear similar."

  "I think he'll make a difference. They all seem terrified of him. Wehave to try." Hawksworth started for the barge.

  "You don't have much time left." Shirin had said. "Try to understandwhat's happening."

  The porters were loosening the lines on the pegs. The bark was ready toget underway.

  "Don't assume you know who'll aid you," she had said. "Help may come ina way that surprises you. It can't be known who's helping you."

  He waded through the mud and pulled himself onto the

  bark. Then he turned and rolled over onto a bale of cloth. The sky wasflawless and empty.

  "Just trust what feels right," she had said, and for no reason at allshe had reached out and touched his lute. "Learn to trust your senses.Most of all"--she had taken his hand and held it longer than she shouldhave--"learn to open yourself."

  They were underway.

  The Shahbandar watched from the _maidan_ as the bark of English woolensmoved in short spurts toward the steps below him. Oars sparkled in thesunshine, and the faint chant of the rowers bounced, garbled, acrossthe waves. Behind him two short, surly-eyed men held the large umbrellathat shaded his face and rotund belly. A circle of guards with polespushed away traders who shouted begs and bribes for a moment of histime injtheir tent, to inspect their goods please and render themsalable commodity with his chapp and an invoice stating their worth,preferably undervalued. The 2 1/2 percent duty was prescribed by theMoghul. The assessed value was not.

  Mirza Nuruddin ignored them. He was calculating time, not rupees.

  His latest report was that four weeks more were needed for the Viceroyto outfit the galleons and fireships. But the single-masted frigattabringing the news from Goa was two weeks in travel. Which means thegalleons will be here within three, perhaps two weeks, he told himself.A Portuguese armada of twelve warships. The Englishman's luck has runout. They'll be caught unlading and burned.

  He fingered the shred of dirty cloth tucked in his waist. It had beensent by Shirin, wrapped with a gift of aga of the rose. Her crypticnote had told him all he had needed to know. When his spies reported noone recently injured among the servants of the Portuguese Jesuits, thesearch had begun in the horse bazaar. They had found the man the nextday. The truth had come quickly when Mirza Nuruddin's name wasmentioned.

  And nothing had been learned. The man had been given the knife byHindi-speaking servants. Their master's name was never divulged. Butthey knew well the routine of the Englishman, and the location of theobservatory.

  And now I must tamper with your destiny, English captain. We are all--you, I, the prince--captives of a world we no longer can fully control.

  He asked himself again why he had made the choice, finally. To take therisks Jadar had asked, when the odds against the prince were growingdaily. It was stupid to support him now, and Mirza Nuruddin had alwaysheld absolute contempt for stupidity, particularly when it meantsupporting a hopeless cause.

  If the queen crushes him, as she very likely will, I've jeopardized myposition, my holdings, probably my life.

  The prince does not understand how difficult my task is. The infidelEnglishman is almost too clever.

  I had planned it perfectly. I had shown them the opportunity for greatprofit, then denied it to them. They were preparing to leave, butsurely they would have returned, with a fleet. Then Mukarrab Khanapproved their trade, after waiting until he was certain the Portuguesepreparations were almost complete. So now they remain, awaiting theirown destruction, never to leave again. And when these frigates aredestroyed, will any English ever return?

  The Englishman will surely be dead, or sent to Goa. There'll be no tripto Agra. And Arangbar will never know why.

  But the silver coin will soon be ready. And the prince's cipher todaysaid Vasant Rao himself will arrive in ten days to escort theEnglishman and the silver as far as Burhanpur. Time is running out.

  There's only one solution left. Will it work?

  The barge eased into the shallows and the porters slid into the water,each already carrying a roll of cloth.