"How long now do you intend to be staying with us, Inglish?" Arangbar popped a ball of opium into his mouth . . . a bit too early in the day, Hawksworth thought.
"Until you've signed the firman for trade, Your Majesty. I'll return it to King James by the next shipping west."
"We would prefer that you stayed with us awhile longer, Inglish."
"No one regrets more than I that it's not possible, Your Majesty. But my king awaits Your Majesty's pleasure regarding the terms of the firman."
"We have conceived a new idea, Inglish. We will send the ito your king by our own ambassador. Then you can remain here with us until your king sends another ambassador to replace you." Arangbar laughed. "But he must be a man who drinks as well as you, or we may send him back."
Hawksworth felt his stomach tighten. "Who can say when another ambassador will be sent, Your Majesty? Should Your Majesty approve the firman, my duties here will be Resolved."
"But you must remain here to ensure we keep our word, Inglish." Arangbar winked broadly. "Else our heart could grow fickle."
"I am honored, Your Majesty." Hawksworth shifted. "But my first duty is to my king."
"We have been thinking perhaps you should have other duties . . ." Arangbar's voice trailed off as he sipped on his wine and studied Hawksworth. Then he looked up and his glance fell on the Portuguese Jesuits lingering at the back of the courtyard. As he examined them, he recalled the many long evenings when he had allowed the Jesuit Pinheiro and his superior, Father Sarmento, to debate with him the merits of Christianity. And again he found himself marveling how refreshingly different the Englishman was.
Out of curiosity he had once inquired of the Jesuits how exactly a king such as himself could become a Christian, and the very first thing they had said was he must select only one of all his wives and dismiss the rest.