Sarmento watched in horror as Arangbar dismissed him with a gesture of his arm. The old Jesuit turned and moved trembling into the crowd that had pushed around the sides of the pavilion. As he passed by Hawksworth, he suddenly stopped.
"This was all because of you." His voice quivered. "I learned of this only today from my foolish prodigal, Pinheiro. May God have mercy on you, heretic. You and your accomplices have destroyed all His work in India."
As Hawksworth tried to find an answer he heard a drunken shout.
"Inglish! What are you doing here? Come forward and explain yourself."
He looked up to see Arangbar motioning at him.
"Are you deaf? Come forward." Arangbar glared mischievously. "Why are you still in Agra? We were told we sent you away, almost a week ago. I think I may decide to have you and every other Christian in India hanged."
"May it please Your Majesty, I came to request an audience." Hawksworth moved quickly forward, past the confused guards, carrying the package he had brought.
"And what have you stolen of ours, Inglish? Have you come now to tell us it was all a mistake, before I order your hand cut off?"
"Englishmen are not Portugals, Your Majesty. We do not take what is not our own. What have I ever taken that Your Majesty did not freely give?"
"It's true what you say, Inglish. You are not a Portuguese." Arangbar suddenly beamed as a thought flashed through his eyes. "Tell me, Inglish, will your king destroy their fleets for me now?"