“I want her kept from the other women for the time being,” said Akbar. “I don’t want her becoming like them. Her value to me is in her very difference. See that every effort is made to cure her servant, for if she remains lonely she will be easy prey for the other women of the zenana for a woman needs another woman to talk with. In the meantime, is there anyone in my service who can speak the tongue of the Franks?”
“When you asked me, Most High, I thought you had set me an impossible task, but I have actually found someone. He is a young eunuch of the lowest rank. His mother was a girl of Cambay and his father a French sailor. The boy is one of many children, and in the last famine was sold into service and gelded for a eunuch. His name is Adali. He claims to speak good French.”
“Bring him to me and we will see. I do not want to send him to the woman only to disappoint her. She is very brave, but I do not think she can take much more.”
Ramesh nodded. “The eunuch could be merely seeking to advance himself. If he has lied I will personally see that he is flayed alive.”
“Let us hope he has not,” returned Akbar, and then with a final glance down at the bathing pool he regretfully turned away and hurried from the zenana, Ramesh at his heels.
Because the emperor would not trust himself to test the eunuch personally, a French Jesuit who traveled with the court was sent for to speak with Adali. “His French, Majesty, is of the lower classes, but intelligible,” the Jesuit announced and was thanked for his trouble.
Akbar looked at the eunuch. Adali was short and already plump as many were in his position, but his brown eyes were intelligent. “You have been chosen for a very special assignment,” said the emperor. “You are to care for a European lady who has entered my zenana and cannot speak our language. Answer all her questions and be loyal to her. She has a female servant, but the girl is ill at this time, and the lady has had no one to speak with during most of her trek from Bombay. She is still fearful, and you will reassure her that no one here will harm her. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Most High,” the eunuch said.
The emperor turned to Ramesh. “Take him to the English woman’s quarters.”
Velvet had been fed a light meal of tender baby lamb, saffroned rice, melon, and a light fruity wine. She was slightly uncomfortable in her new clothes, which consisted of a pale green skirt, its hem edged in gold, which hung to her ankles and a matching blouselike top. When the women had put the blouse on her she had at first thought the garment too short, for despite its modest, high, round neckline, it fit her tightly and only covered the tops of her breasts to the nipples, leaving the fullness of her lower breasts bare. The bath women had laughed, however, and putting on their own blouses had shown her that the garment was as it should be.
Velvet sighed at the strangeness of it all, but meekly followed one of the women back to her own chamber where, to her surprise, a short, plump little man in white Turkish trousers and a sleeveless white vest awaited her.
“I am Adali,” he said in careful French. “I have been assigned to serve you, princess.”
“I am not a princess,” said Velvet.
“You must be,” said the smiling eunuch, “for I could only serve a princess.”
“I am Velvet Gordon, the Countess of BrocCairn, Adali.”
“I do not know what acomtesseis,” he returned, “but I do know what a princess is, and you are as beautiful as any princess I have ever seen. You must therefore be a princess.”
Velvet laughed. She liked this fat little man with his snapping, merry brown eyes. “And how many princesses have you seen in your life, Adali?”
“Well,” he considered, “there is the Amber Princess who is the emperor’s favorite wife. Then there is the Princess of Khandesh, the Princess of Bikaner, the Princess of Jaisalmer, the Princess of Puragadh, to mention but a few of the lord Akbar’s other wives. It seems that every time a king makes a treaty of peace with another king there is a nubile princess involved in the transaction! Now why was I not born a king also?” He gave a watery chuckle that was so infectious in its mirth that Velvet laughed again.
She settled herself in the middle of the pillows upon the bed and looked at Adali. “Your French is terrible!” she scolded him. “Where on earth did you ever learn it? I am going to have to teach you to speak properly, Adali.”
“Oh, yes, princess! I should very much like to learn whatever you can teach me. My father was a simple sailor from Brittany who married my mother, who is a Muslim, and settled in the city of Cambay. They own a small shop on the waterfront where they repair sails. It is from my father and his sailor friends that I learned to speak the tongue of the Franks. They are simple men, princess.”
For a moment Velvet felt ashamed at having teased him. She was fortunate that Adali spoke French at all. “Forgive me, Adali,” she said humbly. “I have been unkind, and the truth is that I am very grateful you can speak to me.”
“It is nothing, princess,” he answered her graciously. “I am your slave, and you may do with me as you will.” Her honest apology had won him, and he would serve her with loyalty always.
Velvet found his words rather startling. She had never owned a slave before. To cover her confusion she said, “Sit down and answer the many questions that I have, Adali. What is this place, this Fatehpur-Sikri? It seems a city, and yet it does not.”
A smile split his round face. “When the rains stop I shall show you Fatehpur-Sikri,” he said, “for it is indeed a city. It was built by the lord Akbar, and for over ten years it was his capital. He abandoned it five years ago in favor of Lahore to the north. Many say it was because Sheikh Salim, the holy man who lives here and who predicted the birth of the lord Akbar’s three sons, disliked the bustle and noise of the capital. It disturbed his meditations, they say.
“That, however, is not so. The lord Akbar abandoned Fatehpur-Sikri because of a water shortage. We are on the edge of the great Indian desert here, and as there are not enough natural springs to supply a city we have to depend upon reservoirs and catch basins. And it does not rain enough here except in this the monsoon season. There isn’t really enough water to supply the city, to keep the gardens, and to supply the fountains. That is why the lord Akbar left Fatehpur-Sikri. Still, it is his favorite place, and occasionally he cannot resist returning. The last time was over three years ago.”
“So that is why it seems deserted,” said Velvet.
Adali nodded. “There is no longer a large population here,” he replied.
“Does the lord Akbar’s whole court travel with him like our English queen’s does?”
Adali chuckled. “Sometimes and sometimes not. This is one of those times when the lord Akbar wished to be by himself for a short while.” The eunuch grew somber and lowered his voice. “It has not been a good year for my master. His eldest son, Prince Salim, is now twenty and chafes against his father’s control. His two half brothers are nineteen and seventeen. They are the princes Murad and Daniyal. They, too, resent their father, but they resent each other as well. The two younger sons have too great an addiction for sweet wines, and it is said that Prince Salim is an opium-eater as well. None of them are really like their father. He loves them, but I think they sadden him.
“He is a great king, the lord Akbar. Under him almost all of India is now united. The laws, the judgments, and the taxes are finally fair. The roads are safe to travel. He loves and encourages musicians and artisans. He is a man of great intellect and curiosity. He built a house here in Fatehpur-Sikri and then invited priests of all religions, including the Christians, to come here and discourse with him and with each other. He holds no prejudices like our past rulers. He even lifted the special tax from the Rajputs! He is a wonderful and good man, but he has not been well, and so he has come to Fatehpur-Sikri once again to regain his strength.”
