“Well,” Methwold said after a moment’s thought. “Dara doesn’t hate ostentation; he revels in theological, metaphysical and courtly display. He also controls the most ready cash and food supplies, as well as their most reliable port in Surat.
“Shah Shuja has a large army in the field, isn’t terribly interested in religion beyond mouthing a few pious words at the proper moment, and will likely have a desperate supply situation sooner rather than later…
“Which leaves Aurangzeb, who is in an even worse position than Shuja, being farther into the famine-stricken Deccan. He is something of an ascetic, but he can’t be the one you want us to approach, because I know from my own eyes that in addition to his asceticism he’s likely the most pious Mohammedan prince the dynasty has produced since their great-great-great-grandsires converted in the first place.”
“Everything you say is true. I have one or two pieces of intelligence you might wish to add, however:
“First, Aurangzeb, at last report, approaches Chorla Ghat where it debauches on the Deccan, and therefore will soon be in a position to receive our aid.
“Second, and perhaps of more importance: I have obtained evidence that Aurangzeb has inherited his great-grandfather Akbar’s practical streak,” Linhares said. “For I have received a message directly from him in which he asks us to send him a churchman and diplomat. Someone to speak to regarding arranging things to our mutual benefit.”
Methwold looked from him to Archbishop dos Martires. “Forgive me for saying so, Your Excellencies, but it seems to me that Father De Jesus may have been correct, that a Jesuit seems called for—what with all the diplomatic pitfalls that present themselves.”
De Jesus looked on the verge of saying something, but the archbishop replied quite calmly before he could do more than look at the Englishman: “Prince Aurangzeb, from all that we hear, makes display of his humility. Aurangzeb does not encourage theological debates between heathen, gentile, and Mohammedan as his eldest brother does, and as his father and grandfather were known to do. He does not seek contradiction in his life. We will not send this prince, who makes prayer hats in his spare time, a priest who would challenge his way of thinking. Instead we will send him a man of God who is humble before both God and man. One who is educated, to be sure, but uses that education for the good of the common people, not to lord it over them. Someone who, when they offer guarantees that the pilgrims on Haj will not be molested, will be believed.”
William Methwold spent a moment digesting the archbishop’s words. “I see the value in defeating his expectations, Your Excellency. I withdraw my objection.” He turned to De Jesus. “I hope I did not unduly insult you, Father De Jesus.”
“With such praise being heaped upon me in result, I can scarce complain of its origin, can I?” the young priest said, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth.
Methwold smiled in return, then cocked his head as if just recalling something. “So, are we to agree to keep our hands off pilgrim shipping, even those ships not under the prince’s protection?”
Linhares nodded. “Assuming Aurangzeb makes it a requirement.”
“Understood.” Methwold nodded, once, sharply, as if deciding on something. “God willing, I shall be ready to travel with the Father within the week.”
Linhares smiled even as the churchmen stared in astonishment.
“Don’t look at me so, Your Excellency. I have great interest in seeing this played through to our agreed-upon conclusion; the Company’s captains do not need a president without portfolio jogging their elbows; and I can teach young De Jesus here my Persian, some of the various gentile tongues, and enough of court politics to avoid being killed, I should think.”
Chapter 4
Agra
Mission House
“Begum Sahib, this is most inappropriate!” Smidha said, for the twelfth time.
Jahanara had been keeping count. She had also kept silent, planning… And dreading, slightly, seeing Atisheh once more. That first night after the attack Atisheh had been on the verge of unconsciousness when Jahanara had Mullah Mohan tortured. Even in such a state she had still cautioned the princess, nearly begging her to leave the Jasmine Tower while the deed was done. Jahanara would not be moved, however. This man had orchestrated Father’s assassination, and if the torture of such a creature would stain her immortal soul, then Jahanara would gladly suffer it to discover what made such a man think he had the right to kill Shah Jahan, emperor of India.
In the end they had discovered only that Mohan was far stronger than he appeared. He would not admit to working for any of her siblings. He would not admit to being manipulated into attempting the assassination, only that he had desperately wanted Nur dead along with Father. But Nur had fled to Aurangzeb, who had almost certainly been Mullah Mohan’s secret patron.
Why flee to Aurangzeb if Mohan had been acting on Aurangzeb’s orders? And if Mullah Mohan had been, why had Aurangzeb ordered Father’s death in the first place? She could think of no reason for Aurangzeb to command his follower to do such a thing. Even one as sure of himself as Aurangzeb must know he had much to learn before he would be ready to rule. Unless he thought himself as exceptional as Babur?
Jahanara was drawn from her silent questions by a loud sniff from Smidha.
“Need I remind you, Smidha, that ‘I am invited to come by their home at any time,’” Jahanara said, knowing that by repeating the up-timers’ impertinent invitation, she was nettling her most faithful servant.
“But, unannounced?” Smidha said, scandalized. “You will put them in a very uncomfortable position, Begum Sahib!”
“It’s not as if I am sneaking up on them unawares!” Jahanara said, gesturing at the howdah’s curtains and the escort beyond them. That escort stretched back toward the gate for
