It took Jahanara a moment to deduce the meaning of the expression not by a long shot. And as was often the case when talking to the up-timers, Jahanara found more questions in the answers. “Professional soldiers? Like our sowar?”
“Similar…I guess. Seems to me that your sowar are paid out of their umara’s pocket instead of directly from the coffers of the empire?”
Jahanara nodded. “The umara are paid a fixed salary by the crown, out of which they must pay not only their own maintenance, but that of a specified number of sowar. They are given the tax proceeds to do this, but they often skimp on pay with promises of loot. Regardless, an individual sowar’s pay is often low, especially if they do not provide their own weapons or horses. It is a complicated system of ranks for umara…which I think I heard Ilsa’s John call them officers?” she asked, looking at Ilsa for confirmation. When Ilsa nodded, she continued, “But there is little distinction made between horsemen who are not umara.”
Priscilla looked again at the army, but this time Jahanara had the sense that she was trying to avoid saying something she thought would upset the princess.
“What is it, my friend?” she urged.
The up-timer shrugged. “My uncle, he used to brag that one of the reasons we won the World Wars was because we didn’t rely on nobles to lead us.”
Ilsa put an arm around the taller up-timer woman. “These umara aren’t quite the same as our nobles in Europe, Pris.”
“I know.”
“How are they different?” Jahanara asked.
Ilsa gave a delicate snort. “To start with: our nobles are mostly born into their station without having to earn any part of it. I suppose in the past they might have been warriors, but many noble families do not produce reliable leadership—military or otherwise—these days.”
“Fascinating. You have been here long enough to see how much better our system works, haven’t you?”
Both Priscilla and Ilsa looked away this time.
“What is it? What did I say?” Jahanara asked, confused.
It was Ilsa who looked at her and said, quite cautiously, “John says your umara are a good sight better than the nobles he dealt with in Europe.”
“But?” Jahanara said, annoyed that she’d asked the question in such a demanding tone. She was unused to having friends, and it was difficult to keep a lifetime’s habit of command from straining her relationships with these women.
“But we just don’t know, Begum Sahib. He says your ideals of military leadership and ours are quite different.”
Jahanara drew a steadying breath. “But we will soon find out, won’t we?”
Both women nodded. Another uncomfortable silence pervaded for a little while.
This time it was Jahanara who broke it: “I would hear more of your American military, if you would, please?”
Priscilla smiled uneasily and shrugged. “I’m not really a student of military matters, so take what I say with a grain of salt. My dad used to complain about the draft…” She trailed off, obviously uncertain. After a moment’s thought she resumed, “Thing is, until coming through the Ring of Fire, I’d never seen a battle or, hell, even real life-and-death violence up close. Most Americans hadn’t. For that matter, most Americans never had an opportunity to watch our soldiers at work. Oh, we might watch movies and TV shows about it, but we really didn’t know what it was our military did for us—or, more accurately, how they protected us.”
“How can that be?” Jahanara asked. Much of court life revolved around military ceremonies; the granting of rank, investment of command, even governorships were all military matters. Beyond the ceremony, she had been witness to many battles, both for and against Jahangir. So many that she felt she knew more than she wanted to about the sacrifices involved.
Priscilla shrugged. “I guess we were lucky in that most of our wars were fought defending our allies or our interests far from home.”
“Where?”
“Oh, the Middle East, Europe, Africa, and Southeast Asia. I don’t even know some of them qualify as real wars, but our soldiers died fighting them.”
“Never in India?”
“To my knowledge, no. Not even Pakistan.”
“I heard mention of this Pakistan. I gather it is the northern part of the subcontinent?”
Priscilla’s lips curled in an uncertain smile as she shook her head. “If I recall correctly, after the English pulled out they left two states south of Afghanistan: one primarily Muslim, and one…not. Pakistan and India, though I’m almost certain I am way oversimplifying things…”
“Fascinating. You mentioned that looting was illegal. How then did the common soldier make his fortune?”
“They didn’t often make a fortune. They served for duty, honor, family tradition, because it was a good way to pay for an advanced education, and even because some people just didn’t have any better options.”
“They didn’t often make a fortune?” Smidha asked, confusion echoing Jahanara’s own. Salim himself was a fine example of the warrior-adventurer most common at court. Granted, he was far more successful than most.
“They were paid, but there were safer, better paid jobs out there to be had.” Priscilla snorted, shook her head. “When there were jobs to be had…” She again shook her head in evident frustration, saying, “Sorry, these waters run deep, and I barely have the experience or knowledge to do the subject justice, dammit.”
“Why ‘dammit’?” She asked the question gently, pronouncing the unfamiliar English word carefully.
Priscilla pulled at a strand of hair, obviously searching for the right words. “I’m frustrated because the experience of American armed services were so foreign to my day-to-day existence yet I recognize that their service formed an intrinsic part of precisely why my childhood and the childhoods of so many generations of Americans did not contain daily concerns about things like invasions or having our cities being made battlefields. So, yes, it upsets me that I feel all this gratitude yet cannot easily describe for you what motivated the
