This Heart of Mine (47 page)

“Three of them reached my court a few years ago at just this time. The artist had married a half-caste girl and remained in Goa, but the others I knew. The jeweler I took into my service, and he served me well until he died of a fever. The other two departed Fatehpur-Sikri to return to their homeland and I never heard from them again.”

“They had not returned to England when I left several months ago, my lord,” Velvet said.

“It was unusual that three Englishmen reached my court at all,” said Akbar. “Tell me now how it is that you find yourself here, my lady. Where is your family? Why have the Portuguese taken it upon themselves to deliver you to me? You do understand that they have sent you to me as a gift? Why did you not arrive as befits your state in a jeweled palanquin?”

“The Portuguese have not the right to ‘gift’ you with me, my lord. I am a great noblewoman in my own land! I stand high in the queen’s favor!” Velvet’s voice rang out angrily with her indignation.

Fascinating, he thought. In his whole life only his mother had ever raised her voice at him. The Englishwoman was different from the women he knew, and he was becoming more
and more intrigued. “Do not be angry,” he soothed her. “I merely seek to learn how you came here and in such a frankly disgraceful state.”

“There was no jeweled palanquin, my lord, for as I was told before we left Bombay, the caravan master wished to travel quickly before the rains set in. I was made to walk, and my only shelter was beneath a cart at night. Two weeks ago my tiring woman became ill, and they wanted to leave her behind. I do not speak Portuguese, and I do not speak your language, but I conveyed to the leader of the caravan my distress at being separated from Pansy. I screamed and I cried and I clung to her, all the while shaking my head and saying ‘no.’ Finally I offered the caravan master my jeweled mirror as a bribe, and they put her in one of the carts. I have been nursing her ever since, but she is very sick, my lord. Have you a doctor who can make her well? She is all I have.” Velvet’s voice quavered at this last.

Akbar clapped his hands twice, and a servant materialized seemingly from nowhere. The emperor spoke quickly and firmly to the man who, when his master had finished speaking, bowed low and hurried from the chamber.

“Your servant will be well cared for now, my lady,” Akbar said. “I have given instructions that the physician see to her. He will report to me as soon as he has made his examination and can render a diagnosis.”

“Thank you!” she exclaimed, smiling at him.

Allah! he thought. Beneath all that dirt she is pretty. He was suddenly even more curious than before to learn just
how
pretty. “Your journey of the last several weeks has been long, and hard” he said, “and I do not doubt that you are exhausted. Let me have Ramesh take you to a comfortable place where you can bathe and eat. Then I will come, and you will tell me of your travels and how it is you have come to Fatehpur-Sikri.”

“You are kind, my lord, and I thank you,” said Velvet. She had been very frightened, but now her fears had lessened for this king did not seem a cruel man.

Once more the emperor clapped his hands, and then ordered the answering servant to fetch Ramesh. Then he turned back to Velvet. “Ramesh is the khan-i-saman of my household. You would call him a lord high steward. You need not fear him, and he will see that you are made comfortable.”

His words were barely finished when Ramesh hurried into the audience chamber and bowed before Akbar. “How may I serve you, Most High?”

“The woman is English, Ramesh, and I suspect the Portuguese have done something that they ought not have by sending her to me. Still, she is here now, and she has suffered. I have already given orders that her beloved servant who is ill be cared for, and now I would have you take her to the women’s quarters so that she may bathe and eat. Give her her own room and be sure she is kindly treated, for I do not want her frightened further. Then see if you can find someone among my servants who can speak the tongue of the Franks. If there be a eunuch or maidservant who knows it, then transfer them from their current duties to serve this woman. I will visit her later to learn her full history.”

“It will be as you desire, Most High,” replied Ramesh, bowing low again. He looked at Velvet and gestured her to follow him.

“Go with him,” said Akbar. “He has been ordered to treat you gently.” He smiled reassuringly at her, showing strong, very white teeth.

Velvet stood and, clutching her cape about her, followed Ramesh from the room. She followed him down a wide corridor and out into the hot, cloudy afternoon, then across the square to a beautiful, two-storied, carved sandstone building. Ramesh gestured her inside. Velvet hurried through the doors. It had now begun to rain.

I wonder where I am, she thought. Thanks to the emperor she knew that the name of this town was Fatehpur-Sikri, but
was
it a town? There didn’t seem to be any townspeople in evidence. What was this building to which she had been escorted? To her amazement she saw that there were women soldiers guarding it. As she followed Ramesh up a flight of stairs and through the building, she caught glimpses of other women and at least one small child, a little girl with big dark eyes who seemed startled at Velvet’s appearance. The building did not have windows as she knew them, but rather arches, some fitted with carved screens and some open, through which she could see the rain falling in sheets across the great square.

Ramesh stopped before a door and, opening it, gestured for her to enter through it. For a moment Velvet hesitated. Why was he not entering the chamber? Then as she fought back her rising panic she remembered Akbar’s promise that Ramesh would treat her gently. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she entered the room and heard the door close behind her. Turning, she saw that she was alone, and, frightened again, she ran to the door and tried the handle. It turned. With
a sigh of relief she left it shut and set about to explore her new surroundings.

It was a large single room, the walls of which were painted with wonderful scenes of Indian court life. There were hunting scenes that showed the king upon an elephant, with all his court, the beaters fanning out in the tall grass to ferret out the tiger, a wonderful creature of fierce proportions who hid not too successfully from them. There were scenes showing dancing girls performing before the king, their colorful skirts whirling gracefully so that their brown legs showed. Then there was the king upon a horse, his hunting cats loping by his side; the king upon his dais listening to petitioners; and the king seated with his women about him. The colors were bright and fresh upon the sandstone walls.

The rest of the chamber was just as lovely. Upon a red-painted platform with square gilt feet was a mattress covered in sky blue silk, and above it, held up by delicate, twisted red posts at each corner of the platform, was a blue and gold canopy. There were colorful pillows strewn at one end of the bed, which had been placed in the center of the room to catch the breezes. Beyond the platform was an open doorway that led out on to a veranda that was filled with plants of all descriptions, including two red rose trees. The greenery grew in crockery planters of all sizes and shapes. Velvet could only stand and look at it through the gauze curtains as the rain was heavy.

Turning back to the room after a moment, she saw that there was a large, engraved brass table, actually an enormous tray that was set upon wooden supports. About it were more pillows. Other than that and the bed the room was empty.

The door opened, and a woman beckoned her toward the hallway with an impatient motion. Without even thinking twice, Velvet followed her. She had no other choice, and she was once more beginning to feel frustrated by her lack of ability to communicate. The woman, obviously an upper servant, led her to what she quickly realized were the baths. As more women hurried forward to aid her, Velvet blushed at their nudity. Her cape was taken from her, and the women immediately set about to make her presentable once again.

For a brief moment the bath mistress stared at Velvet as if she couldn’t decide where to start. Then with a sharp order to her helpers she pointed to Velvet’s head, and they mercilessly went to work washing her hair and scrubbing her scalp until she feared that they meant to make her bald. One washing was not sufficient, nor was two. Not until they had soaped,
scrubbed, and rinsed her head three times did the bath mistress evince any sign of satisfaction. Next Velvet found her skin being washed vigorously, and before she could protest a rose-colored paste smelling of almonds was smeared beneath her arms, on her arms and legs, and, to her mortification, upon her Venus mont, which she had been unable to pluck free of hair these last weeks.

By means of hand signals they indicated to her that she was to stand still, and while she did a girl began to towel her hair damp-dry. When the bath mistress deemed it time, the almond paste was rinsed from her skin, and to her surprise she found her entire body now hairless. Velvet was quite fascinated, for although she had never thought to denude her arms and legs of their body hair, it was a tiresome chore to pluck her Venus mont free of its silky growth. Still, Mama had always said that no lady would allow such a growth upon her private person.

Once again she was washed, but this time they scrubbed her gently, using soft cloths and scented soap. Nothing was overlooked, and several times Velvet found herself reddening with embarrassment, but protests were useless. They could not comprehend her words, nor could she understand them. In the end she bore the treatment stoically.

Afterwards she was led to a marble bench and gestured to sit. While one girl cleaned and pared her fingernails, another, kneeling before her, sighed and
tsked
over the condition of Velvet’s feet as she pumiced and cut the calluses from them, then finally cleaned and pared the toenails.

Smiling now, the bath mistress herself led Velvet into another room that contained a large pool. Gesturing her toward the wide steps that led down into the pool, she waved her into the water. Velvet gladly complied and to her delight found the pool both warm and deliciously scented. “Oh.” She sighed, her pleasure evident, and the bath women giggled behind their hands, happy that she was pleased with their treatment of her. Feeling better than she had felt in months, Velvet swam and paddled about the bathing pool like a little girl released from tedious lessons.

Above her, hidden behind a carved screen, Akbar watched her frolic, gaining pleasure from the sight of her firm, young breasts, her sleek flanks, and wonderfully long legs. “Well, Ramesh,” he said to the steward who stood by his side, “what do you think of the Portuguese gift now? The woman is beautiful! Look at that skin! It is as white as the snows of Kashmir! I want her kept from the sun, and see that lemons are brought
from the bazaars in Agra to bleach her hands and feet and face. Never have I seen a woman so fair! Never have I possessed a woman so fair, but possess her I shall!”

“She will not be easy to win over, Most High,” observed the lord high steward. “She is a European and not familiar with our ways.”

“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.