The trays of meat were accompanied by spiced curds, local yogurts, and baked vegetables swimming in ghee. The meal concluded with dried fruits which had been sugared and perfumed, followed by mouth-freshening pan, the betel leaves wrapped around spiced bhang, currants, sweet imported coconut.
The final offering, eagerly awaited by all the Rajputs, was opium. As they popped down handfuls of the brown balls, Hawksworth discreetly signaled for more wine. After the dishes were cleared, several jeweled women in red trousers and thin billowing blouses entered, drank glasses of wine in honor of the maharana, then danced among the guests to the accompaniment of a large sarangi.
After the dancers had been dismissed, Prince Jadar rose
and proposed a toast to the maharana. The toast was ceremonial, elaborate, and—it seemed—entirely expected by everyone.
"To His Highness, the Maharana of Udaipur: whose line flows directly from the great Kusa, son of Rama, King of Ajodhya and the noble hero of the Ramayana. Descendant of the Royal House of the Sun, whose subjects will refuse their food if neither he nor his brother the Sun are present to show their face upon it and bless it."
The maharana's reply was equally effusive, describing Jadar as the greatest Moghul warrior in all of history, the equal of his Mongol forebears Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, a worthy descendant of the early Moghul conquerors Babur and Humayun, and finally, the one Moghul whose martial skills might actually approach those of the fighting Rajputs of Mewar—an oblique reference to the fact that Jadar had led the Moghul army that subdued Mewar a decade earlier and induced its Rajputs to finally acknowledge Moghul dominance over northwest India.
Immoderate praise of one another's armies followed next. Then the maharana said something else, and Jadar turned suddenly toward Hawksworth.
"Ambassador Hawksworth. His Highness has asked to speak with you."
Hawksworth rose from the carpet and moved forward. Around him the Udaipur Rajputs studied him with open curiosity. They had listened to lavish toasts for years, but none had ever before seen a feringhi in a doublet. The very concept of such a phenomenon exceeded their imagination.
"His Highness has asked permission to allow his court painters to make your portrait, so that he may remember your likeness. Dressed as you are tonight. Do you have any objection?"