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The Moghul Part 51

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He turned to Vasant Rao, whose face showed no trace of fear. The Rajput seemed oblivious to the smell of death as smoke from the fire engulfed the palms that lined the village roads. They were approaching the porch of the great house where the head of the dynasty had lived.

Two guards shoved Hawksworth roughly to his knees. He looked up to see, standing on the porch of the house, the young man who had tossed the torch into the pit. He began speaking to them, in the tones of an announcement.

"He's the son of the man you killed. He has claimed leaders.h.i.+p of the dynasty, and calls himself Raj Singh." Vasant Rao translated rapidly, as the man continued speaking. "He says that tomorrow there will be an eclipse of the sun here. It is predicted in the Panjika, the Hindu manual of astrology. His father, the leader of this dynasty of the sun, has died, and tomorrow the sun will die also for a time. The Brahmins have said it is fitting that you die with it. For high castes in India the death of the sun is an evil time, a time when the two great powers of the sky are in conflict. On the day of an eclipse no fires are lit in our homes. Food is discarded and all open earthenware pots are smashed. No one who wears the sacred thread of the twice-born can be out of doors during an eclipse. The Brahmin astrologers have judged it is the proper time for you to pay for your cowardly act. You will be left on a pike to die in the center of the square."

Hawksworth drew himself up, his eyes still smarting from

the smoke, and tried to fix the man's eyes. Then he spoke, in a voice he hoped would carry to all the waiting crowd.



"Tell him his Brahmin astrologers know not the truth, neither past nor future." Hawksworth forced himself to still the tremble in his voice.

"There will be no eclipse tomorrow. His Brahmins, who cannot foretell the great events in the heavens, should have no right to work their will on earth."

"Have you gone mad?" Vasant Rao turned and glared at him as he spat the words in disgust. "Why not try to die with dignity."

"Tell him."

Vasant Rao stared at Hawksworth in dumb amazement. "Do you think we're all fools. The eclipse is foretold in the Panjika. It is the sacred book of the Brahmins. It's used to pick auspicious days for ceremonies, for weddings, for planting crops. Eclipses are predicted many years ahead in the Panjika. They have been forecast in India for centuries.

Don't Europeans know an eclipse is a meeting of the sun and moon?

Nothing can change that."

"Tell him what I said. Exactly."

Vasant Rao hesitated for a few moments and then reluctantly translated.

The Rajput chieftain's face did not change and his reply was curt.

Vasant Rao turned to Hawksworth. "He says you are a fool as well as an Untouchable."

"Tell him that if I am to die with the sun, he must kill me now. I spit on his Brahmins and their Panjika. I say the eclipse will be this very day. In less than three hours."

"In one _pahar_?

"Yes."

"No G.o.d, and certainly no man, can control such things. Why tell him this invention?" Vasant Rao's voice rose with his anger. "When this thing does not happen, you will die in even greater dishonor."

"Tell him."

Vasant Rao again translated, his voice hesitant. Raj Singh examined Hawksworth skeptically. Then he turned and spoke to one of the tall Rajputs standing nearby, who walked to the end of the porch and summoned several Brahmin priests. After a conference marked by much angry shouting and gesturing, one of the Brahmins turned and left.

Moments later he reappeared carrying a book.

"They have consulted the Panjika again." Vasant Rao pointed toward the book as one of the Brahmins directed a stream of language at Raj Singh.

"He says there is no mistaking the date of the eclipse, and the time.

It is in the lunar month of Asvina, which is your September-October.

Here in the Deccan the month begins and ends with the full moon. The _t.i.thi_ or lunar day of the eclipse begins tomorrow."

As Hawksworth listened, he felt his heart begin to race.

The calculations at the observatory had a lot to say about your Panjika's lunar calendar. And they showed how unwieldy it is compared to the solar calendar the Arabs and Europeans use. A cycle of the moon doesn't divide evenly into the days in a year. So your astrologers have to keep adding and subtracting days and months to keep years the same length. It's almost impossible to relate a lunar calendar accurately to a solar year. Jams.h.i.+d Beg, the astronomer from Samarkand, loved to check out the predictions in the Hindu Panjika.

If I deciphered his calculations right, this is one eclipse the Panjika called wrong. The astrologer must have miscopied his calculations. Or maybe he just bungled one of the main rules of lunar bookkeeping. Solar days begin at sunrise, but lunar days are different. The moon can rise at any time of day. According to the system, the lunar day current at sunrise is supposed to be the day that's counted. But if the moon rises just after sunrise, and sets before sunrise the next day, then that whole lunar "day" has to be dropped from the count.

Today was one of those days. It should have been dropped from the lunar calendar, but it wasn't. So the prediction in the Panjika is a day off.

According to Jams.h.i.+d Beg's calculations, at least. G.o.d help me if he was wrong.

"Tell him his Panjika is false. If I'm to be killed the day of the eclipse, he must kill me now, today."

Raj Singh listened with increasing disquiet as Vasant Rao translated. He glanced nervously at the Brahmins and then replied in a low voice.

Vasant Rao turned to Hawksworth. "He asks what proof you have of your forecast?"

Hawksworth looked around. What proof could there be of an impending eclipse?

"My word is my word."

Another exchange followed.

"He is most doubtful you are wiser than the Panjika." Vasant Rao paused for a moment, then continued. "I am doubtful as well. He says that if you have invented a lie you are very foolish. And we will all soon know."

"Tell him he can believe as he chooses. The eclipse will be today."

Again there was an exchange. Then Vasant Rao turned to Hawksworth, a mystified expression on his face.

"He says if what you say is true, then you are an _avatar_, the incarnation of a G.o.d. If the eclipse is today, as you say, then the village must begin to prepare immediately. People must all move indoors. Once more, is what you say true?"

"It's true." Hawksworth strained to keep his voice confident, and his eyes on the Rajput chieftain as he spoke. "It doesn't matter whether he believes or not."

Raj Singh consulted again with the Brahmin priests, who had now gathered around. They s.h.i.+fted nervously, and several spat to emphasize their skepticism. Then the Rajput leader returned and spoke again to Vasant Rao.

"He says that he will take the precaution of ordering the high castes indoors. If what you say comes to pa.s.s, then you have saved the village from a great harm."

Hawksworth started to speak but Vasant Rao silenced him with a gesture.

"He also says that if what you say is a lie, he will not wait until tomorrow to kill you. You will be buried alive at sunset today, up to the throat. Then you will be stoned to death by the women and children of the village. It is the death of criminal Untouchables."

As the smoke from the funeral pyre continued to drift through the village, the high-caste men and women entered their homes and sealed their doors. Women took their babies in their laps and began their prayers. Only low castes and children too young to wear the sacred thread remained outside. Even Vasant Rao was allowed to return to the room where they had been held prisoner. Hawksworth suddenly found himself without guards, and he wandered back to the square to look once more at the pit where the funeral pyre had been. All that remained of the bodies were charred skeletons.

An hour ago there was life. Now there's death. The difference is the will to live.

And luck. The turn of chance.

Was Jams.h.i.+d Beg right? If not, G.o.d help me . . .

He knelt down beside the pit. To look at death and to wait.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

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