The Enemy's Daughter

Chapter Ten

 Hassan searched the bazaar for the spice shop. He found it tucked away between a blacksmith and a potter. His wares were displayed on the side of the dirt road. Potfuls of turmeric vied for space with bowls of cloves, peppers, cardamoms, and cinnamon, along with other spices which he was unable to recognize. A barrel of salt stood to one side. The man himself, plump and pockmarked, was seated amid his wares, which sweetened the air with their aroma. Hassan stopped at the shop, picking up a handful of cloves to check their quality, then let it slide back into the vessel.

"What do you want, foreigner?" the man asked, his manner hostile and bored.

"I would like bagfuls of these," he pointed to the spices and then indicated the small sacks lying at the back of the shop. Hassan waited patiently as the man proceeded to weigh them out, his movements slow and forced. Once all the spices were filled into the sacks and sealed, started the long process of negotiating for the price. They haggled, first as a routine business practice, then in earnest as the shopkeeper demanded an unreasonable amount, trying to make a windfall profit from a foreign merchant.

"Gentleman, you are asking too much for your wares. In any other city I can get this much for half the price," Hassan complained.

The man chewed on a stick, then spat on the road. "Take it or leave it, man. I have more important things to tend to."

"Please, state a reasonable sum. It is getting late and I have to leave for my home," Hassan requested, unwilling to search for another shop in the busy market. The sun was overhead and he felt the sweltering heat hit him like a blast from a furnace. The clanging sound floating from the blacksmith's shop next door gave him a headache. He was unprepared for what happened next. As the man gave him a push, he fell backward onto the busy road, dodging an oncoming camel cart in the nick of time. A crowd of passersby gathered around him, as he got up and an altercation started between both of them. The onlookers jeered, many siding with their brethren rather than with an outsider. A guard, passing by on horseback, stopped at the fracas in the middle of the road.

"What's the matter? Who is brawling here?" he queried in a stern voice. The shopkeeper pointed a finger at Hassan, lying as he blamed him for the fray. "Come with me. The Prince will decide what to do with you," the guard threatened him. Hassan tried to explain but to no avail. Defeated, he walked with the guard and a group of men followed him, booing.

*****

Priyadarshini made a face as Lalita forced another piece of fruit into her mouth. Chewing it slowly, she sat up, leaning on the pillows. "So, tell me all about the coup. How did they foil it?" Lalita sat on the floor beside the bed, recounting how the king's own brother had been caught when he stealthily broke into the palace at night to finish off the prince in his sleep.

"He really reached the prince's chamber and almost stabbed him with his dagger?" she exclaimed, her eyes as wide as saucers. She could not contemplate such villainy. Her own clan had always rallied behind her father, supporting him in every decision. "What happened to the rebels?" Priyadarshini was curious to know all of it.

Lalita held out another slice of fruit to her. "Rumor has it that Sunder Singh escaped with some of his men. He is still at large. As for the king's brother, he languishes in the dungeons till such time as his majesty decides what to do with him." At that moment the doors were pushed open by a young maid who rushed in, curtsied, and then tarried to regain her breath.

"The Prince has a message for you, my lady," her clear voice rang out in the chamber. The words were enough to fill Priyadarshini with dread. She waited with bated breath for whatever was to come. "He says that tonight he will dine with you, milady."