"Why would he do so, Your Majesty? You have denied him the right to trade; you have refused to grant the firman he requested."
"Not if he will rout the Portuguese infidels from our seas, Inglish. They are a pestilence, a plague, that sickens all it touches." Arangbar waved in the direction of a eunuch, ordering wine for himself. "You deceived me once, Inglish, but you did not rob me. Perhaps we will have you stay here a few days longer."
"I have already made preparations to depart, Your Majesty, on your orders."
"You cannot travel without our permission, Inglish. We still rule India, despite what the Portuguese Viceroy may think." Arangbar paused and drank thirstily from the glass of wine. "So why did you want an audience, Inglish, if you were planning to leave?"
Hawksworth paused, thinking of the decision he had made, wondering again if there was a chance.
"I've come to make a trifling request of Your Majesty." He moved forward and bowed, presenting his parcel, the obligatory gift.
"What's this have you brought us, Inglish?"
"May it please Your Majesty, after settling my accounts in Agra, I have no money remaining to purchase gifts worthy of Your Majesty. I have only this remaining. I offer it to Your Majesty, in hopes you will understand its unworthiness in your eyes is matched only by its unequaled value to me. It is my treasure. I have had it by my side for over twenty years, at sea and on land."
Arangbar accepted the parcel with curiosity and flipped aside the velvet wrap. An English lute sparkled against the sunshine.
"What is this, Inglish?" Arangbar turned it in his hand, examining the polished cedar staves that curved to form its melon-shaped back.