As Jadar stepped forward to present the turban, the maharana's eyes flooded with emotion. Before Jadar had moved more than a pace, Karan Singh was on his feet, ripping off his own turban. They met in the center of the room, each reverently placing his own turban on the other's head, then embracing.
Hawksworth looked around the room and saw Rajputs who would gut an enemy without a blink now near to tears. He leaned back toward Shirin.
"What's the significance of the turbans?"
"It's the rarest gift any man could present to another. I've never before heard of a Moghul or a Rajput giving his turban. The story of this will be told throughout Mewar. We have just seen the creation of a legend."
Then the maharana's voice rose. "Mewar, the abode of all that is beautiful in the world, is made even more beautiful by your presence. In years past we have stood shield to shield with you; tonight we embrace you in friendship. We wish you victory over those who would deny you your birthright, which you have earned both by blood and by deed. No other in India is more fit to reign, more just to govern, more honorable to his friends, more feared by his foes. Tonight we offer you our hand and our prayers that Lord Krishna will always stand with you."
Hawksworth turned to Shirin and whispered. "What's he saying?"
Her eyes were dark. "He's delaying his answer to the prince. Offering him prayers to Lord Krishna. Prince Jadar doesn't need prayers to Krishna. He needs Rajputs. Thousands of Rajputs. But perhaps in time the maharana can be convinced. Banquets are not the place for negotiation. They're the place for perfumed talk."
Jadar was smiling as though he had just been offered the whole of Rajputana. He managed to thank the maharana lavishly.
The maharana beamed and signaled for pan leaves again, signifying the evening was ended. The room emptied in moments.
"I think Jadar could be in serious trouble." Hawksworth turned to Shirin as they entered the hallway. "If he fails to get support here, what will he do?"