"She is Shirin, the first wife of Khan Sahib." He moved closer to Hawksworth, so that his lowered voice would not reach the eunuchs. "She was removed from the Moghul’s zenana and married to Khan Sahib last year by Queen Janahara, just before Her Majesty had him appointed the governor of Surat. Some believe she appointed him here to remove Shirin from Agra, because she feared her." The servant's voice became a whisper. "We all know she has refused His Excellency the legal rights of a husband."
The silence of the court was cut by the unmistakable voice of Mukarrab Khan, sounding in anger as he gave some command from within the palace. There followed a chorus of women's wails.
Hawksworth turned to the servant, but the man read his inquiring glance.
"He has ordered the women whipped for disobeying his order to accompany Shirin at all times, even when she walks in the garden."
Then the door opened again, and Mukarrab Khan strode into the morning sunshine.
"Captain Hawksworth, salaam. I trust Allah gave you rest."
"I slept so well I find difficulty remembering all we said last night." Hawksworth watched him carefully. Will he honor his threat to deliver us to the Viceroy, for a trial at Goa?
"It was an amusing evening. Hardly a time for weighty diplomatic exchange. And did you enjoy my little present?"
Hawksworth pondered his question for a moment, and the drugged dream of the night before suddenly became real.
"You mean the woman? She was very . . . unusual, very different from the women of England."