The Enemy's Daughter

Chapter Seven

 The evening sun cast a red glow over the sky. The bazaar was a hub of activity as the shops reopened once the afternoon heat had passed. Wares were displayed artistically on shopfronts. Cloth, right from colorful cotton to fine silks, gold and silver jewelry, pottery, and sundry other items vied for space as the shopkeepers called the passers-by. The aroma of spices and oils filled the air. Neelanjana raised her face and sniffed the air heavy with the sweet scent of vetiver. She glanced at the shops, searching for the one she wanted to visit. As she jostled with the crowd of men in tunics and women in long skirts and veils, as well as the goats and cows ambling leisurely through the narrow streets as if they had the first right of way, her glance fell on the young man leading his large Arabian horse by the reins.

The young man, wearing loose robes and a head cloth, did not appear to be a local. He had an air about him which led her to assume that he was an outsider. The man, appearing about her own age, was well built with a ruddy complexion, but classically sculpted features and a prominent hawk-like nose. His almond-shaped dark eyes seemed to be searching for something desperately. Her interest piqued, she asked the accompanying servant to stop him.

"Greetings traveler. What is it that you are searching for? Mayhap we can help you," the servant stopped the handsome stranger in the middle of the street.

"Greetings brother. My horse and I have traveled a long way today and are both thirsty and travel-weary. We need water and a place to rest."

The servant looked inquiringly towards her. Neelanjana nodded. "My mistress has a house not far from here. Would you care to accept our hospitality?"

The stranger accepted the generous offer, and the three of them made their way back over the small distance where Neelanjana's mansion stood. "Leave your horse with my servant. He will give him a drink and rub him down," she said, waving the stranger inside the wide doors. Handing the reins to her man, the stranger followed her into the cool interior. They took their seats on low cushions in the hall and she rang for sherbets to be served. As he gulped down the cool drink thirstily, she sent some covert glances his way. In all her years during her profession, first at the tavern and later in the palace, she had never felt so drawn to any of the men she had been with. Though she cared for Harshvardhan, it was more expediency than love on her part. She had to please him if she were to keep her position in the royal court. She knew that she could neither be his consort nor give him an heir. Now, sitting so near to the stranger, she felt the first stirrings of emotion.

"Thank you, gentle lady, for your kindness," the stranger remarked with courtesy, once he had quenched his thirst.

She accepted his thanks graciously, before commenting, "Good manners require that we introduce ourselves. I am Neelanjana, the chief courtesan of Jaigarh."

"I'm Hassan, my lady, a merchant and have come from my far-off homeland in the northern mountains, for trade. I am in search of pearls and spices in exchange for my lapis lazuli." He pulled out a pouch that had been tucked inside the cloth tied around his waist and pulled the thread which held it together. Out poured the radiant blue gems on his palm, their sparkle vying with that of the stars in the sky. Tucking them back into his waistband, he turned to her. "You have been so kind in letting my horse and me rest for some time, but I must make haste now to find a place for the night."

Neelanjana was dismayed. She did not wish to see him depart so soon. How would she find him again? Could she dare to give him a place in her own mansion? What if Harshvardhan found out? In that battle between her mind and heart, she found her heart having the upper hand. She would offer him a place in the outer building where the gateman resided. "Would you care to accept a place here to rest for the night? I have a spare room in the gatehouse." Hassan accepted her offer with alacrity. He had ridden for miles through the arid landscape and wanted nothing more than to rest his exhausted body. "Well then, I will see you over dinner in an hour." A servant showed the stranger to the tiny room in the gatehouse. It was sparsely furnished with a narrow bed and a pitcher of water beside it on a board. The small window overlooked the busy street below and let in the breeze at night. Though spartan, it was clean, and heaven sent for him.