The Moghul Part 71

"The Englishman. Where is he now?"

"In the garden, Sharif Sahib. He's always there at this time of day, with the Hindu woman."

"What's he doing there?"

"Who can say, Sharif Sahib? All we know is he goes into the garden every day around noon--I think the Hindu woman may be teaching him to play the sitar there--before going to _durbar _in the Red Fort. But he will be leaving soon now, as you must, to be present for His Majesty's birthday weighings."

"The English _feringhi _was invited?" Nadir Sharif was momentarily startled.

"He received an invitation, Sharif Sahib."

"Bring him to the reception room. I will see him now, before he leaves."

The eunuch snapped around and was gone. Nadir Sharif paused to translate the cipher one last time before ringing for his turban.

"Amba.s.sador Hawksworth, please forgive my preoccupation these past few days." Nadir Sharif was bowing, it seemed, unusually low. "We're not always privileged to entertain our guests as we might wish.

Preparations for today's birthday ceremonies have kept me rus.h.i.+ng about the palace. But please, be seated."

Hawksworth's gaze swept the room. It was cavernous, hung with thick tapestries on every wall, and lightly perfumed with rose incense.

Before he could reply a bowing servant was proffering a chalice of Persian wine. As Nadir Sharif watched a gla.s.s being poured, his voice continued, silken.

"Have you found anything here to pa.s.s the time? They tell me you've developed an interest in the sitar. A marvelous instrument really. And in my garden. Tell me, what do you think of it?"

"I can't decide." Hawksworth felt his caution rising automatically, as it did any time he found himself alone with Nadir Sharif. "It reminds me of some of the Tudor gardens connected with English castles, but still it's different. I like the precise geometry of the walkways and hedges, and the running water. It's a soothing place to sit and practice."

"So you find the Persian garden soothing? It is Persian, you know. The whole idea of a symmetrical garden comes from Persia. Not from this barbarous wasteland." Nadir Sharif motioned him to a bolster, and paused until he was seated. "Yes, it's soothing. I agree with you. But of course, that's one of the purposes of a garden." Nadir Sharif eased himself against a bolster and accepted a gla.s.s of _sharbat_. "It pleases me that you enjoy my garden. You see, Amba.s.sador, to a man in the desert, an oasis, a spot of water and green, is like a paradise. So we sometimes believe we are creating a bit of Allah's Paradise when we create a garden. You know, the Holy Quran itself tells us that Paradise will be something like a garden."

"But whose idea was it to build Persian gardens here?"

"When the first Moghul conqueror arrived in India, almost a century ago, he declared the land here around Agra to be particularly barren and depressing. So he immediately built a Persian garden. But we must all do our share, so today there are many gardens, all over India. The garden, you see, is our tribute to nature."

"But why so geometrical? Your garden uses water, stones, and plants to create designs that seem almost like the marble floors of your palace."

"Mathematics, Amba.s.sador, principles of law. Islam is the rule of law.

Why do you think we have so many mathematicians? I deliberately designed this garden with calculated geometric divisions. It provides me great satisfaction to impose order on the willfulness of nature."

"But why are the stone pathways all elevated above the level of the garden? In English gardens they're at ground level and lined with shrubs."

"But surely that's obvious as well. Our gardens are really concealed waterways, with water constantly flowing from one end to the other. We must put the walkways above the water." Nadir Sharif waved his hand.

"But all of that is merely mechanics. The garden is where we find peace. It's where we wait to greet the spring, whose arrival we celebrate at the Persian New Year."

Nadir Sharif strolled to a window and looked out on the garden. "Spring in India seems to come up from the south. It's said that buds appear each day a few _kos _farther north, like a tender army on the march.

But we Persians believe that spring must have a haven if she is to stay. And that's another reason we build gardens."

"I don't understand."

"There's a famous poem in Persian, by the poet Farrukhi, about gardens and spring. He once wrote of a place where spring always arrived feeling lowly and despised, because there was no land for her save desert, a place of rocks and thistles. But then a rich man--actually the patron of Farrukhi, whom he was writing to flatter--built a garden for her and the next year spring came forth from the south and found a home there." Nadir Sharif smiled. "In fact the poem begins by comparing spring's original arrivals to that of a bankrupt _feringhi's_, who appeared with no carpet, no livelihood. But after spring discovered the garden, she brought from the south turquoise for the willows, rubies for the rose."

Nadir Sharif smiled. "What do you think of Farrukhi's poem, Amba.s.sador?"

"What do you mean?"

"Curiosity. I was wondering what are the chances that spring will come again from the south this year? Did the 'bankrupt _feringhi_ merely come to see if the garden was ready? Was the first arrival of spring false, with the real arrival yet to come?"

Hawksworth studied Nadir Sharifs face. "I don't understand what you're trying to say. But I would like to know if you've spoken to His Majesty about the _firman_."

"Please believe I mention it daily. I think now he'll soon agree to terms."

"Then there's nothing yet?" Hawksworth set down the gla.s.s of wine. "I a.s.sumed that was why you wanted to speak to me. But you just wanted to talk about Persian gardens and Persian poets."

"Amba.s.sador, I'm not a man for idle talk. Surely we know each other better than that." Nadir Sharif turned and banished the servants and eunuchs with a wave of his hand.

"Tell me. I know you met Prince Jadar once. Give me your honest opinion. Do you think he's a clever man?"

Hawksworth nodded noncommittally.

"I can a.s.sure you, Amba.s.sador, that he's very clever indeed. Even his staunchest detractors would agree on that. And he's also resourceful.

Not many here are aware he has a full intelligence network of his own.

He does not, of course, have access to the dispatches of the official court reporters in the provinces, the _wakianavis_, or the dispatches of His Majesty's confidential reporters, the _harkaras_." Nadir Sharif paused. "At least we do not think he has access to their reports. But in a way he doesn't really need them. You see, he has his own system of reporters, which we know he began creating over two years ago. Spies whose ident.i.ty is carefully guarded. We do not know any of their names, but we do know he calls them his _swanih-nigars_, and they prepare detailed information on anything in the provinces he asks them to. His network is extensive and, I understand, quite effective."

Hawksworth suddenly found himself remembering s.h.i.+rin, the papers in the observatory, and wondering . . .

"Naturally he has agents along the southern coast. But at times they can be a bit too careless about the information they gather. For example, a cipher intended for the prince-- sent by one of Jadar's secret _swanih-nigars _stationed in Cochin, on the far southern end of the Malabar Coast--was just intercepted by a Portuguese s.h.i.+pping agent at the port of Mangalore, down the coast south of Goa. The message was of great interest to the Portuguese, and they saw fit to forward it to me. What do you suppose the message contained?"

Hawksworth pulled himself alert.

"I have no idea."

"Tell me, Amba.s.sador. The East India Company does trade on Java, am I correct?"

"Six years ago the Company established a factory . . . a trading station . . . at Bantam, the main port on the island."

"Was there a voyage to Bantam this year?"

"The _Discovery_ was bound for Bantam this year, with cargo from Surat."

"Amba.s.sador, the time for games is over. Your charade has made things very difficult for those of us who would try to help you." Nadir Sharif studied Hawksworth deliberately, almost sadly. "It would have been helpful if you had told me everything sooner. It's embarra.s.sing that I must receive my information through captured intelligence, when I'm authorized to serve as your agent. I'm sure it will not surprise you that the Portuguese Viceroy, His Excellency, Miguel Vaijantes, is most disturbed at the news. There will be consequences."

"What are you talking about?"

"The cipher for Jadar. You could have told me sooner of your king's plans. It would have made all the difference." Nadir Sharif stared coldly at Hawksworth. "There's no longer any need to pretend you don't know. The fleet was sighted off the Malabar Coast, by coastal fis.h.i.+ng barks, only three days ago. Four armed frigates, showing English colors, with a course north by northwest, which means they will stand to sea and avoid the Portuguese patrols along the coast. It was only by the slightest chance that they were seen. And then another accident that the cipher intended for Jadar was intercepted. Otherwise no one would have known. It was very resourceful of your East India Company, Amba.s.sador, to have a second fleet sail up our west coast from the English factory at Java. Unless the Portuguese had intercepted and decoded Jadar's cipher, they would have been taken completely by surprise. Now they estimate the English fleet is scheduled to reach Surat within the month. Unless they are met and engaged . . . which they most a.s.suredly will be."

The perfumed air of midmorning still seemed to hover above the inner courtyard of Arangbar's palace as Hawksworth approached its towering wooden gates. The astonis.h.i.+ng news of the English fleet had sent his spirits soaring, and he had donned his finest doublet and hose for the occasion. As scimitared eunuchs scrutinized his gilded invitation and bowed obsequiously for him to pa.s.s, he suddenly felt he was walking through the portals of a Persian dreamland.