you a story about myself, English. I was born a Persian Jew, a merchant at my birth by historic family vocation. But my people have ignored the greatest Prophet of all, the Prophet Mohammed. His voice invites all, and I heard that voice. I became Muslim, but still I was a merchant. A Persian merchant. And, perhaps not unlike you, I traveled to India search of . . . not the greater Prophet, but the baser profit. And here, my English, I found the other thing I searched for. I found love. Pure love, consuming love. The kind of love few men are privileged to know. The love of a boy whose beauty and purity could only have come from God. But this love was mistaken by the world, was called impure, and he was hidden from me. So the only one left for me to love was God. Thus I cast away my garments, my worldliness, and gave myself to Him. And once more I was misunderstood." Samad paused and called for another glass of wine. Then he turned back to Hawksworth. "So I have told the world my story in verse. And now there are many who understand. Not the mullahs, but the people. I have given them words that could only come from a pure heart, words of joy that all men can share." Samad stopped and smiled. "You know we Persians are born poets. It's said we changed Sufism from mystic speculation to mystic art. All I know is the great poets of Persia found in Sufism a vehicle for their art that gave back to Islam almost more than it took. But then a poet's vocation must always be to give. I have given the people of India my heart, and they have loved me in return. Yet such love engenders envy in the minds of men who know it not. The Shi'ite mullahs would have condemned me for heresy long ago were it not for one man, a man who has understood and protected me. The only man in India who is not afraid of he Persian Shi'ites at court. And now he too is gone. With him went my life." "And who was that?" "Can you not guess? You have already met him." Samad smiled. "Prince Jadar." Hawksworth suddenly felt as though the world had closed about him. "Why did you contrive to get me here tonight?" "Because I wished to see you. And I can no longer walk abroad. It has been forbidden on pain of death. But death is something I am almost ready to welcome. One day soon I will walk the streets of Agra once more, for the last time. Hawksworth wondered if the claim was bravado, or truth. "But why did you want to see me?" Hawksworth studied Samad closely. Suddenly he decided to ask the question directly. "To ask me to help Jadar? You can tell him for me that I want no part of his politics. I'm here to get a trade agreement, a _firman_. That's my mission, why I was sent.