"His Majesty makes the rules. Sahib. It is permitted to use the charkhi fireworks once during a contest, if His Majesty judges that the elephants need to be disciplined. May Allah grant you better luck next week." The man stood waiting, hand outstretched.
"You're a damned thief."
"That is a harsh judgment. Sahib. I am merely a poor man who must live. If you wait, you will see what happens to criminals here."
With a sigh of resignation Hawksworth began to count out the twenty silver rupees, trying to look as sporting as he could muster. He found himself in grudging admiration of the swindler's style. Then he suddenly realized what the man had said.
The rumors must have been right.
"You mean there'll be an execution?"
"This is the day. His Majesty always has executions on Tuesday, after the elephant fights."
Hawksworth looked up to see another bull elephant being ridden into the plaza. He had sharpened tusks, each decorated with a single heavy brass ring, and was guided by a single rider, a fierce-looking, unshaven mahout. The elephant was festooned with bells, but there were no chains about any of its legs.
At the other end of the square a balding man, with a short black beard and a ragged green cloak, was being dragged forward by Imperial guards. Hawksworth noticed that his arms had been bound behind him, by a heavy cord circled just above the elbows. His eyes brimmed with fear.
The guards shoved him struggling toward the middle of the plaza. When they reached the central clearing, the officer of the guard knocked him to his knees with the butt end of a lance. The stunned prisoner turned to watch in terror as the elephant lumbered toward him, flapping its ears in anticipation.