“Some years, now, Shehzada.”
He looked at the priest. “And you, De Jesus, how long have you been here?”
“Slightly more than a year, and almost all of that spent in Portuguese India.”
Aurangzeb nodded as if their answers had explained something he hadn’t already known. Looking off into the distance, he asked, “And within the first weeks or months of your arrival, President and Priest, did either of you have occasion to enter into negotiations for goods or services?”
Both men nodded, De Jesus seeming impatient with the seeming non sequitur.
Methwold’s expression was more cautious, as if the Englishman sensed a trap.
“And when you negotiated, did our merchants or the masters of our caravanserai grow impatient with your lack of language skills?”
“Only when first we came,” Methwold answered before the priest could do more than open his mouth. “As we became more proficient, then—”
Aurangzeb’s gesture of negation cut him off.
“Shehzada?”
“Were they impatient with you, or, lacking understanding, were you impatient with them?”
Methwold’s shoulders twitched slightly, then slumped.
“For my part, I suppose I was the first to grow impatient,” De Jesus supplied when Methwold did not answer. The priest was clearly puzzled by Methwold’s sudden silence, so Aurangzeb gave him a moment to think.
Once confident he had the man’s attention again, Aurangzeb nodded, sagely, as if the young priest had explained something very complex to his complete satisfaction.
Methwold shook his head, irritation, and its subject, easy to see.
“What?” De Jesus’ irritated mutter was directed at the Englishman, allowing Aurangzeb to decide to ignore his rude tone.
Explaining to the priest, Methwold said, “The prince kindly illustrates for us that we are but lately come into his camp, and therefore do not yet understand all the goings-on here. He implies we are impatient, and our impatience reflects poorly on us, and may, eventually, annoy even our most patient of princes…” He trailed off with a thoughtful look at Aurangzeb.
“But—”
“What’s worse,” Methwold went on over De Jesus’ words, whatever they might have been, “I suspect that he cannot explain his precise plans to us”—here his eyes flicked to the clouds of dust kicked up by the army—“they are for us to learn.”
A slight smile teased at the corners of Aurangzeb’s mouth. The Englishman was clever and sensible. Too bad his was the lesser part in the delegation the viceroy had sent to treat with and observe him.
“But—” De Jesus tried again.
Methwold cut him off once more. “I suspect there is much the prince would like to tell us, but cannot. Circumstances forbid it. So we must practice patience, and have faith in Shehzada Aurangzeb.”
“Speaking of faith”—Aurangzeb looked at the priest—“I think you may be familiar with the tale of Joseph, son of Jacob? Who was cast down a well by his brothers?”
“Old Testament,” Methwold said, receiving surprised looks from both Aurangzeb and De Jesus for his trouble. “What?” Methwold said. “We of the Church of England know our Bible.”
Aurangzeb smiled, assuming the man’s defensive tone had more to do with the Catholic priest’s confounded expression than his own.
“Indeed you do.” He paused, looking De Jesus in the eye as he continued, “But the reason I bring up Jacob and Joseph’s story is that they reveal for the faithful that patience is considered a great virtue…to both Christian and Muslim, alike.”
De Jesus looked back and, eventually, slowly nodded.
Aurangzeb relented once he was sure he was understood: “In time, I will see to it that the largesse you have shown me is rewarded. I ask that you exercise the virtue of patience, so that we may all benefit thereby.”
De Jesus looked on the verge of asking another question, but Methwold’s cleared throat made the priest subside once more.
Once certain he had Aurangzeb’s attention as well, Methwold said, “We will continue to be patient, Shehzada, and trust in you…”
“I ask for nothing more, and no less,” Aurangzeb said, hoping to end the interview there.
But Methwold had been formulating a diplomatic response, not letting himself be brushed off so easily. “Of course, we two men are not, ultimately, responsible for the quality nor quantity of the largesse you receive. The English Company will continue to offer its support so long as I am president, but the viceroy may not agree with our practice of that virtue you hold in such high esteem. And should the viceroy decide to withdraw support from our endeavor, the Company cannot make up the shortfall the departure of our trading partners would cause in your chain of supply.”
He paused to let that sink in before continuing, a wry smile on his lips. “Furthermore, the Company’s honorable merchants at home may have already determined I am to be replaced. A letter that removes me from my position and names my replacement could already be en route to us here.”
Another brief pause, then: “Such is the uncertainty of the times we live in.”
Aurangzeb could find nothing in Methwold’s statement to seize upon as offering insult. Impressed despite himself, he cast a glance at the priest. The younger man’s expression told him how neatly the Englishman had presented their collective concerns, even at the very moment it appeared those concerns would be dismissed.
He rode in thoughtful silence for a few moments. Wishing to avoid a repeat of this interview any time soon, he measured his own response carefully before speaking. “Thank you. I understand your position more clearly for this conversation. I understand that your positions and any personal desire you might have for patience may be superseded by the commands of those for whom you toil. Equally, I hope that you will understand that I work toward an end that will see all of our collective positions advanced, and you and your masters rewarded.”
He paused, glancing at each older man in turn, hoping to assess their responses.
Methwold’s expression was blandly pleasant and entirely unreadable, while De Jesus looked, if not mollified, then at least less inclined to make another embarrassing scene. Catching the prince looking at him, he opened his mouth to speak.
Aurangzeb smiled thinly and
