In a land where intrigue was rife, the signal favor shown by the Emperor to the two strangers was in every man’s mouth. This was clear from the respect paid to them as they rode forth from the palace. Each menial salaamed, and officials who had surveyed them with hauteur during their first visit now rendered obsequious attention.
They were yet some little distance from the bazaar when two richly clad nobles, mounted on fine Turkoman Arabs, overtook them, drew rein and entered into conversation.
At first, Walter answered their courteous inquiries unguardedly, but a question anent the previous night’s escapade revealed a hidden motive. He described the affair jestingly, robbing it of serious import.
“Nay, friend,” said one, the elder of the pair, “we heard Akbar’s words. Prince Jahangir, a profligate and a drunkard, hath grieved him by his excesses. Had the edge of thy sword fallen on Jahangir’s neck, instead of the flat blade on his wrist, there would have been little harm done.”
“A bold speech from one whom I know not.”
“Would that a bold action by one whom we know not had rid the land of a pest!”
Amazed and somewhat disturbed by this outspoken declaration, Mowbray wheeled his horse squarely towards the speaker.
“I would have you realize that my companion and I are traders. We have no concern with the court beyond the sale of our goods,” he said sternly.
“Traders should not have enemies in high places.”
“We have none.”