Mowbray exhibited well-feigned surprise.
“If not Abdul Aziz—for which he may thank the Prophet—who commands you?”
“Nawab Fateh Mohammed, his nephew, your Excellence.”
“Pass the word to halt, then, and ride at speed to bring him hither.”
Fair Europeans, particularly Englishmen, were rarer than white blackbirds in India at that period. The Portuguese invaders were, for the most part, so swarthy as to rival the brown skin of the natives. Never had the Musalman officer encountered a man of such mien and semblance, who, moreover, spoke the aristocratic language of the court in all its sonorous purity. Nevertheless, it was passing strange that the Emperor should choose such a messenger.
“Forgive me, your Honor,” he stammered, “but I must have some authority before I—”
“Does Jahangir need to speak twice by my mouth? Am I to exhibit the seal of the Conqueror of the World to the first who questions me?”
The officer simply could not withstand Mowbray’s grand air. He civilly asked the other to await his return, gave some orders to the guard, and vanished in the dust-cloud which enshrouded the remainder of the column. Walter saw that the troopers surrounded him as if by accident. He paid not the slightest attention to the maneuver, but took off his hat and fanned his face nonchalantly. Behind him, the Rajput sowar sat his horse like a carved statue. Scarce comprehending what enterprise was forward, knowing little save that he would surely swing from the nearest tree if he kept not a still tongue and obeyed orders, the native soldier took his cue from his master in the matter of disregarding the ring of steel which girt them both.
But Nawab Fateh Mohammed must have hurried, judging from the speed of his approach on a long-striding camel, which loomed out of the dust so suddenly that there was barely time to stop the lumbering beast and avoid a collision. The nawab was a stout man, though young, and it was his ambition to make his way in life quickly. This laudable aim arose, however, from a base intent. The more wealth he amassed in a little time the more speedily could he gratify his ignoble passions. Such a person is usually hectoring towards his inferiors and servile to those above him. At present he was all of a twitter owing to the unexpected presence of a messenger from the Emperor, whilst his informant had not failed to apprise him of Mowbray’s imperative mien and the half-veiled menace of his words.
Luckily, Walter took the man’s measure at a glance. Here was one designed by nature to play the cowardly tyrant, and such a personality was far better suited to his purpose than a straightforward soldier, who would have obeyed his own chief’s instructions and cared not for consequences.