The Moghul Read online

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "Now we will begin. As my guest, you have first throw of thedice." Mirza Nuruddin fingered the gold and ivory inlay of the woodendice cup as he passed it to Hawksworth. Then he drew a heavy gurgle ofsmoke from his hookah, savoring the way it raced his heart for thatbrief instant before its marvelous calm washed over his nerves. Heneeded the calm. He knew that any plan, even one as carefully conceivedas the one tonight, could fail through the blundering of incompetents.Or betrayal. But tonight, he told himself, tonight you will win thegame.

  The marble-paved inner court of the Shahbandar's sprawling brick estatehouse was crowded almost to overflowing: with wealthy Hindu money-lenders, whose mercenary hearts were as black as their robes werewhite; Muslim port officials in silks and jewels, private richesgleaned at public expense; the turbaned captains of Arab cargo shipsanchored at the bar, hard men in varicolored robes who sat sweltering,smoking, and drinking steaming coffee; and a sprinkling of Portuguesein starched doublets, the captains and officers of the three Portuguesetrading frigatta now anchored at the bar downriver.

  Servants wearing only white loincloths circulated decanters of wine andboxes of rolled betel leaves as an antidote to the stifling air thatlingered even now, almost at midnight, from a broiling day. Thetorchbearers of Mirza Nuruddin's household stood on the balconiescontinuously dousing a mixture of coconut oil and rose attar onto theirhuge flambeaux. Behind latticework screens the _nautch_ girls waited inboredom, braiding their hair, smoothing their skintight trousers,inspecting themselves in the ring-mirror on their right thumb, andchewing betel. The dancing would not begin until well after midnight.

  As Hawksworth took the dice cup, the sweating crowd fell expectantlysilent, and for the first time he noticed the gentle splash of theriver below them, through the trees.

  He stared for a moment at the lined board lying on the carpet betweenthem, then he wished himself luck and tossed the three dice along itsside. They were ivory and rectangular, their four long sides numberedone, two, five, and six with inlaid teakwood dots. He had thrown a oneand two sixes.

  "A propitious start. You English embrace fortune as a Brahmin hisbirthright." The Shahbandar turned and smiled toward the Portuguesecaptains loitering behind him, who watched mutely, scarcely maskingtheir displeasure at being thrown together with the heretic Englishcaptain. But an invitation from the Shahbandar was not something aprudent trader declined. "The night will be long, however. This is onlyyour beginning."

  Hawksworth passed the cup to the Shahbandar and stared at the board,trying to understand the rules of _chaupar_, the favorite game of Indiafrom the Moghul's _zenana _to the lowliest loitering scribe. The boardwas divided into four quadrants and a central square, using two sets ofparallel lines, which formed a large cross in its middle. Each quadrantwas divided into three rows, marked with spaces for moving pieces. Twoor four could play, and each player had four pieces of colored teakthat were placed initially at the back of two of the three spaced rows.After each dice throw, pieces were moved forward one or more spaces ina row until reaching its end, then up the next row, until they reachedthe square in the center. A piece reaching the center was called_rasida_, arrived.

  Hawksworth remembered that a double six allowed him to move two of hispieces, those standing together, a full twelve spaces ahead. As hemoved the pieces forward, groans and oaths in a number of languagessounded through the night air. Betting had been heavy on theShahbandar, who had challenged both Hawksworth and the seniorPortuguese captain to a set of games. Only an adventurous few in thecrowd would straddle their wagers and accept the long odds that theEnglish captain would, or could, be so impractical as to defeat the manwho must value and apply duty to his goods.

  "Did I tell you, Captain Hawksworth, that _chaupar _was favored by theGreat Moghul, Akman?" The Shahbandar rattled the dice in the cup for along moment. "There's a story, hundreds of years old, that once a rulerof India sent the game of chess, what we call _chaturanga_ in India, toPersia as a challenge to their court. They in return sent _chaupar_ toIndia." He paused dramatically. "It's a lie invented by a Persian."

  He led the explosion of laughter and threw the dice. A servant calledthe numbers and the laughter died as suddenly as it had come.

  "The Merciful Prophet's wives were serpent-tongued Bengalis."

  He had thrown three ones.

  A terrified servant moved the pieces while Mirza Nuruddin took a betelleaf from a tray and munched it sullenly. The crowd's tension wasalmost palpable.

  Hawksworth took the cup and swirled it again. He absently noted thatthe moon had emerged from the trees and was now directly overhead. TheShahbandar seemed to notice it as well.