"Captain Hawksworth, please be tolerant of our Hindu friends. They are single-minded soldiers of fortune, and a trifle old-fashioned in their manners." The leader of the guard smiled and pointed to a riderless saddled horse being held by one of the riders. "We have a mount for you. Will you kindly join us?"
Hawksworth looked at the horse, a spirited Arabian mare, and then at the saddle, a heavy round tapestry embroidered in silver thread with tassels front and back, held by a thick girth also of tapestry. The stirrups were small triangles of iron held by a leather strap attached to a ring at the top of the girth. A second tapestry band around the mare's neck secured the saddle near the mane. The mane itself had been woven with decorations of beads and small feathers. The horse's neck was held in a permanent arch by a leather checkrein extending from the base of the bridle through the chest strap, and secured to the lower girth. The mare pranced in anticipation, while her coat sparkled in the waning sun. She was a thing of pure beauty.
"Where are we going?"
"But of course. The governor, Mukarrab Khan, has staged a small celebration this afternoon and would be honored if you could join him. Today is the final day of Ramadan, our month-long Muslim fast. He's at the chaugan field. But come, patience is not his most enduring quality."
Hawksworth did not move.
"Why did the Shahbandar change his order? We were going to the customs house to fetch my chest."
"The governor is a persuasive man. It was his pleasure that you join him this afternoon. But please mount. He is waiting." The man stroked his moustache with a manicured hand as he nodded toward the waiting mount. "His Excellency sent one of his finest horses. I think he has a surprise for you."
Hawksworth swung himself into the saddle, and immediately his mare tossed her head in anticipation. She was lanky and spirited, nothing like the lumbering mount his father had once taught him to ride at the army's camp outside London so many, many years ago.
Without another word the men wheeled their horses and started off in a direction parallel to the river. Then the one who had spoken abruptly halted the entire party.
"Please forgive me, but did I introduce myself? I am the secretary to His Excellency, Mukarrab Khan. We were cast from the civilized comforts of Agra onto this dung heap port of Surat together. Perhaps it was our stars."