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been transported in gilded howdahs atop richly caparisoned elephants through a jungle teeming with blooms and redolent with sweet scent, finally coming to a halt in a clearing cut from the lush undergrowth. A limpid pool lay beyond a screen of bamboo. It was the water source for the animals in the surrounding area, and just prior to the rainy season, with water scarce, a great variety of game came to drink.
    Skillful organization was required for a tiger hunt, along with accomplished shikaris (hunters) who knew the country and the animals’ habitat and temperament. Most crucial was the necessity of safeguarding the nizam and his guests. Nothing was more dangerous than a snarling tiger breaking from cover at a full gallop. The man-eating beasts were known to attack elephants, even charge the howdahs in a flying leap, and they could carry off a man at lightning speed. A mother with cubs was particularly fierce, liable to take the offensive without provocation. The Europeans had been warned.
    At the sound of a single gunshot signaling the beginning of the drive, a sudden tension filled the air. And a moment later, blaring horns and banging drums indicated that the nizam’s vassals were on the march, forcing the beasts of the jungle to flee before them.
    As Prince Rupert and his colleagues waited under the blazing sun, a native shikari stood behind each howdah, ready to hand over the loaded guns. The elephants had been prodded by their mahouts into a line facing the oncoming drive. Regardless of the oppressive heat, the advancing drumbeats prompted a cold sweat on tyro brows.
    After what seemed an eternity to the novices from Europe, flocks of frightened birds abruptly burst from the jungle in a frenzied cloud, the shrill cries of monkeys terrorized by the tigers underfoot rose into the air, and the hunters were warned of the imminent approach of game.
    The shikaris quickly passed over the guns, and short moments later eight roaring tigers broke from the jungle and scattered in every direction. The well-trained elephants stood firm, a dozen guns opened fire in a wild explosion, and the indiscriminate slaughter commenced.
    The bag that day was thirteen tigers, six leopards, four cheetahs, and several score lesser game. Afterward, pictures were taken by the nizam’s court photographer; the smug foreigners, their guns in hand, lined up behind the splendid array of exotic animals spread at their feet.
    As the nizam intended, his tiger shoot afforded peerless pleasure to his guests. Regardless that British rule was universally hated in India, he was obliged to offer his hospitality to them and their European compatriots for the sake of the dominions his family had ruled for a millennium.
    Better artifice than prison.
    And he had many sons to advance.
    The return to the palace was a raucous affair as the young aristocrats shared and compared shooting experiences, the exhilaration of danger met and conquered adding a piquant satisfaction to the lively discourse. Servants riding alongside the elephants served cool wine to the guests, the drink quaffed down like water in the blazing heat.
    After the party alighted at the palace and everyone had rested and bathed, a sumptuous dinner was served in the nizam’s cool, perfumed garden lit with hundreds of lanterns strung from the trees. Endless courses and wines, fruits and delicacies were served while poets recited ghazals —the Urdu or Persian love lyrics intrinsic to an evening’s entertainment.
    In due course, musicians arrived, accompanied by beautiful, shapely dancers who launched into an enchanting performance of indigenous dances. The young men from Vienna were captivated by the sensuous, overtly erotic choreography and particularly enticed by the ladies’ diaphanous garments that left nothing to the imagination.
    Wine continued to flow copiously, a servant always at the ready to refill the guests’ cups; golden hookahs were lit and passed around, affording bliss of another