"But I have given you mine, Majesty."
Arangbar examined the lute once more, then looked at Hawksworth and smiled. "But if I keep this instrument now, Inglish, I will most probably forget by tomorrow where I have put it." He winked at Hawksworth and handed back the lute. "Have your king send us one, Inglish, and a teacher to instruct our musicians."
Hawksworth could not believe what he was hearing. "I humbly thank Your Majesty. I . . ."
"Now what was it you came to ask of us, Inglish?" Arangbar continued to study the lute as he sipped from his wine. "Ask it quickly."
"Merely a trifling indulgence of Your Majesty."
"Then tell us what it is, Inglish." Arangbar turned and searched the square with his eyes, as though monitoring the state of preparations.
Hawksworth cleared his throat and tried to still his pulse. "Your Majesty's release of the Persian woman Shirin, who is guilty of no crime against Your Majesty."
Arangbar's smile faded as he turned back to Hawksworth.
"We have not yet decided her fate, Inglish. She does not concern you."
"May it please Your Majesty, she concerns me very much. I come to ask Your Majesty's permission to make her my wife, and to take her back to England with me, if Your Majesty will release her. She will be gone from India soon, and will trouble Your Majesty no further."