"We were not arming him. The Portuguese were. Miguel Vaijantes was to have armed a Maratha division on the western coast, off-loading at a Portuguese port called Bom Bahia, on the coast west of Ahmadnagar. He had his own reasons, but now it seems he has lost his nerve. I had no idea how alarmed these Portuguese were by the English."
Nadir Sharifs mind was reeling. Say something, anything.
"If I may inject a word on His Excellency's behalf, Majesty, you must understand that matters between the Portuguese and the English are extremely delicate at the moment." Nadir Sharif’s voice grew more statesmanlike as he spoke. He scarcely heard his own words as his mind plowed through the consequences of it all. And the treachery. "The English could conceivably interrupt the entire trade of the Portuguese. All the prince could ever possibly do would be to tighten restrictions on our ports at Surat and Cambay. The Viceroy's decision is clearly strategic, nothing more. I'm sure the regard he holds for Your Majesty remains undiminished."
"That is a touching consolation." Janahara's voice was frigid, and she seemed suddenly much older.
Footsteps sounded through the marble corridor and Allaudin appeared at the doorway. He had changed to a foppish green turban, set off by an effeminate necklace of rubies. His elaborate katar was secured by a sash of gold- threaded brocade, and an emerald was set at the top of each slipper. He wore heavy perfume.
"Your Majesty." He salaamed to Queen Janahara and then stood attentively, somewhat sheepishly, until she gestured for him to sit.
"You're late."
"I was detained in my quarters, Majesty."
Janahara seemed completely preoccupied, unable even to look at the prince. "The question now is what to do about the Englishman."
"What do you mean?" Allaudin did not trouble to mask his sneer. "It's perfectly clear. His Majesty adores the feringhi. He'll surely sign the firman for English trade. Then there'll be a war on the seas. It's really most exciting."