The Serpent's Tooth Part 12

Jahanara felt so numb with shock she could scarcely think, let alone speak. This wasn't how she'd imagined her reunion with Dara would be. Many times she'd dreamed of telling him of her innocence, knowing he'd believe her, of how he would go to their father and explain, how Shah Jahan would return with him to her apartments to beg her forgiveness. Now, with her father still sick, three of her brothers in arms against him and the empire perhaps about to dissolve into civil war, her own problems suddenly diminished. 'I've heard nothing,' she finally whispered. 'Even though I'm confined to these rooms Satti al-Nisa visits me every day. She'd have told me at once if such rumours had reached the court.'

'I gave orders that all imperial cossids were to be diverted to me as I made my way back to Agra. I didn't want Father alarmed if I could avoid it until I was back at his side. In the week it has taken me to return I've received more messages. In particular those I sent east confirm that Shah Shuja indeed has an army on the move. It can't be long until this news becomes common knowledge.'

'We must prevent it from doing so for as long as we can, at least until we've sent messengers to our brothers telling them our father is recovering ... that in any case their behaviour is treason.'

Dara smiled a little sadly. 'They probably know both those things certainly the latter. They've also known for a long time that he intends me to be his heir. They've seized on his illness as an excuse to act before he makes any formal announcement. It gives their claims greater legitimacy.'

'But what do they intend to do? Fight you and our father's armies for the throne?'

'I don't know, but this is clearly a conspiracy planned some time ago for just such a contingency. They must have agreed that if anything happened to our father they would act together. Perhaps they've agreed some sort of plan to divide the empire between them. Whatever the case, I'm certain Aurangzeb is their leader.'

'Why do you say that?'

'He hates me,' Dara said simply. 'I've seen it in his eyes many times, however conciliatory his words. Behind my back he derides my beliefs and interest in other religions and calls me a heretic to anyone who will listen, and many I suspect do through self-interest if nothing more. I thought that in the Deccan he was too far away to do much harm but I was wrong. I've been too confident in Father's favour and in my position here at court. I should have paid more attention to what was happening elsewhere. I have let down my own sons. If I fail now, Suleiman and Sipihr as well as I will surely pay the price.'

'All this can still be stopped. Before he was taken ill our father was in command of his empire and he can be so again. The most important thing is to quash the rumours that he's too ill to rule or dying or dead ... As soon as possible tomorrow at dawn if he is in any way strong enough he must resume his daily appearance on the jharoka balcony to prove to his people that their emperor still lives. And he must be told at once what has happened. G.o.d willing he's not too ill to take command of the situation himself. Surely our brothers won't dare to defy his authority if they know he is himself again.'

'Your words are wise as always ... I won't wait until the morning. I'll go to him now ...' Dara hurried to the door but then stopped to look back at her over his shoulder. 'Do you want to come with me?'

'I can't. He still refuses to see me. Even when I asked to be allowed to visit his sickbed he would not permit it. I fear the sight of me will only disturb him and distract him from more pressing matters.'

'I'll tell him how wrong he has been to suspect you. Satti al-Nisa wrote to me informing me exactly what had happened. I'll make him listen. All will yet be well I promise you.'

But would all be well, Jahanara wondered, listening to Dara's fast receding footsteps. She wasn't so sure. Her father's accusations and ready belief in her guilt ... the knowledge that her own sister had had a hand in her downfall ... had rocked her faith in her family, her belief that they were united and not each out for their own interests. And now this dreadful news about her brothers had confirmed her fears exceeding anything she could have imagined in her worst nightmares. Who would ever have believed it could come to this? Taktya takhta throne or coffin the brutal code her Moghul ancestors had brought with them from the Asian steppes. Strip away the fine clothes and jewels, the formal etiquette that governed their lives as imperial princes, and what were her brothers? Not civilised scions of a great and enlightened empire but wild animals, snarling at each over a carca.s.s that wasn't yet even dead meat ... snarling like the flat-eared tiger on her father's worn, heavy, gold ring that had once graced Timur's hand.

Shah Jahan rose from the low chair where he had seated himself to hear Dara's story and began slowly to pace his bedchamber, arms wrapped around himself, head bowed. At first Dara's words had so disconcerted him that for a while he'd just sat silent and still. He had even wondered whether they were a product of his imagination conjured by the hakims' potions. Often, particularly during the early days of his illness, he'd felt caught midway between wakefulness and sleep, uncertain what was real and what emanated from his tired and troubled brain. Strange images had floated through his mind, often of the departed his grandfather Akbar, his father Jahangir and above all Mumtaz smiling as she whispered 'Mubarak manzil', the traditional greeting from an empress to a returning emperor.

Now, though, he realised he was back in the real world, confronting harsh realities rebellion, and rebellion led not by traitorous subjects but by members of his immediate family. What madness could have possessed his younger sons? None of them was what he would have wished, but he had never suspected them of such naked treachery. It was as if the old days were returning the days when the Moghuls' greatest enemies had been each other. He himself had been pushed into rebellion against his own father and to fighting with his half-brothers for the throne. But that was different ... Urged on by Mehrunissa, Jahangir had driven him to it. He had only acted to protect his family. His own sons had no such excuse and he would not allow the old wheel of family ambition, feuding and bloodshed to begin turning again. He would he must end this rebellion before it destroyed his family and everything the Moghuls had achieved.

He ceased his pacing and turned to Dara. 'Send out scouts to their provinces. Find out how big their armies are, how far they have advanced and who has declared for them. I need as much hard information as possible. And in the morning I will summon my council. They must hear everything that you've told me. One thing is already clear we must act quickly and decisively before the rebels gain further momentum.'

'Jahanara suggested you should appear to your people on the jharoka balcony as soon as you can to quell any rumours that you are dead.'

'Jahanara? You've seen her?'

'Yes. I went to her immediately I reached the fort.' Shah Jahan gave Dara a penetrating look but said nothing as he continued, 'You have done her a great injustice. These stories about her and Nicholas Ballantyne are as malicious and baseless as the stories of your demise. She only asked Nicholas to come to her because she was worried about Aurangzeb. She wanted Nicholas to tell her what had happened during the northern campaign. She swears on the memory of our mother that she's innocent of any liaison with him ... Father, forgive me for speaking so bluntly, but from what I hear you condemned Jahanara unjustly. At least see her now ... let my sister herself show you how wrong you have been.' Dara waited. His father needed those members of his family like Jahanara still loyal to him. He tried again. 'Father ... you must believe me. I ...'

This time Shah Jahan did respond. 'Enough, Dara. I have heard what you've said.'

'You will see Jahanara?'

'Perhaps.'

Three hours later, with an apricot glow lightening the eastern horizon, Shah Jahan sipped the water his qorchi had just handed him. It was still cold from the well and he drank thirstily, holding the jade cup with hands that were still not quite steady. Was it the result of his illness the strange weakness that had suddenly inflicted him and for which the hakims could find no explanation? Or agitation at Dara's news of rebellion? Or was it because soon Jahanara would be before him and he must ask her forgiveness once more?

He was still pondering when he heard a series of shrill trumpet blasts the signal he had ordered to be given to rouse the people of Agra from their sleep and summon them to the banks of the Jumna to witness the reappearance of their emperor on his jharoka balcony. 'Qorchi, bring me my robes, please.' Normally the emperor made his brief appearance on the balcony in a simple cotton tunic, but his people hadn't seen him for nearly three months. He would wear green brocade and sparkle with jewels when he stepped from his bedchamber on to the carved sandstone balcony as the rising sun warmed the earth. He would raise his arms to bless them and the day to come, remaining there longer than usual so that none could doubt that it was indeed their emperor, returned to health, before them.

Half an hour later, the task was done. Shah Jahan turned away from the cheering crowds gathered below and went back into his apartments. Jahanara would be waiting for him on his private terrace as he had asked. For a moment he hesitated, then made his way there, shading his eyes against the now brilliant light as he came outside again. Jahanara was standing there but did not come forward. For a moment they stood looking at one another, then Shah Jahan strode towards her.

He could find no words. Dara had been so eloquent on her behalf, so convincing in his explanations, so insistent that she was innocent, and in his heart Shah Jahan had known his son was right. How could he have reacted with such unthinking anger? Once again he had failed her. 'Forgive me,' he managed at last. 'I judged you in haste and in anger. I make no excuses ...'

'It is past, Father. Perhaps we shouldn't speak of it again.' Jahanara's tone was measured, devoid of the conflicting emotions swirling within her.

'But tell me you forgive me or I will not be able to rest.'

'I forgive you.' As she spoke those words, as she knew she must for the sake of the dynasty, Jahanara saw her father visibly relax. But were they really true, she wondered. Could she forgive him again? Eventually, perhaps, though it would take time to forget his immediate, unthinking belief in her guilt and his unreasoning anger. But looking at her father with fresh eyes after so many weeks of separation, she realised with a shock how old he looked. His broad shoulders were bowed and his once muscular body a warrior's body looked thin and fragile. His still handsome face was riven with deep lines. Had his illness really taken such a toll or was it that she was only now seeing him as he really was?

Pity welled within her and she managed a smile, but it faded as another thought struck her. 'I'm not the only one who has suffered an injustice. You wronged Nicholas Ballantyne too. He was blameless for what happened. I turned to him because I was worried about my brothers Aurangzeb especially. I was too impulsive, I know. I should have reflected how my actions might appear to others. But Nicholas's only crime was to try to help me despite his reluctance. He is taking ship for England. Let me write to him. My letter may not reach him in time but I would like him to know that all is well ... that our family are conscious of what they owe him.'

'Of course. Tell him I regret what happened and remember his past service with grat.i.tude. Should he ever return to my court he will be welcome.' Shah Jahan put his hand on Jahanara's arm. He felt a deep relief that one breach at least was mended, but a deadly weariness followed. He sighed and for a moment closed his eyes.

'Father ... are you all right? Should I summon your hakims?'

'No. I've been an invalid too long and must become an emperor once more.' Shah Jahan straightened his back. 'How much has Dara told you of your brothers' rebellion?'

'That they have used your illness as an excuse to raise troops and intend to challenge for the throne ...'

Shah Jahan frowned. 'That is the gist of it. I keep thinking what your mother would have thought and how badly I have let her memory down. I should have paid more attention to what your brothers were doing and controlled them better, making regular imperial progresses through their provinces. Instead I gave them and their ambitious counsellors time and opportunity to plot against me.'

Jahanara did not respond for a moment. Her father was right. Grief at Mumtaz's death had forced him into an emotional seclusion from which he had never fully emerged, blunting his empathy with all of his children, herself included, as his willingness to believe the worst of her had shown. But how could she say any of that to him? 'Father, the past is gone. Nothing you have done or failed to do can justify my brothers' rebellion. Concentrate on bringing them to heel.'

Shah Jahan looked round the familiar circle of his counsellors, their faces proof that the news of his sons' insurrection which he had just broken was as great a surprise to them as it had been to him a few hours earlier. Unless, of course, some of them were good dissemblers. At least one had money worries his lands had been badly affected by drought. What if Aurangzeb had offered him a handsome sum for his support, Shah Jahan wondered, looking hard into the man's face. And another over there near the door was known to have coveted a rich jagir that not long before his illness he'd granted to another. He too might have been bought. Who could say? Most men had their price. But at least his Rajput allies, Raja Jai Singh of Amber and Raja Jaswant Singh of Marwar were utterly loyal, he was sure, bound to the Moghuls since Akbar's time by family ties as well as those of honour. Raising his hands, he spoke again. 'I have told you only the main facts about the treachery of my three youngest sons. Now Prince Dara will give you as much detail about their movements and that of their forces as we've been able to gather.'

'Aurangzeb's army is already on the march from the Deccan,' Dara said. 'He is apparently claiming that this is not a rebellion merely that there have been so many rumours that he wishes to come to Agra in person to satisfy himself that the emperor is indeed alive. Shah Shuja also has an army in the field, advancing west along the Ganges. It contains many war elephants bred in the jungles of a.s.sam as well as a large number of hors.e.m.e.n and foot soldiers.'

'Aurangzeb of course already had standing forces ready to deploy against the rulers of the south, but how did Shah Shuja raise so many men so quickly?' asked Jai Singh.

Shah Jahan answered. 'Bengal's coffers are deep enough to buy him an army twice that size, and he also has the revenues of Bihar, which I was foolish enough to award him though others advised against it. Go on, Dara.'

'My brother Murad is as deeply implicated as the others. He's apparently also been mustering troops and buying equipment or trying to, because unlike his brothers' his treasuries are nearly empty thanks to his extravagance and incompetence. He's attempting to raise loans among the wealthy merchants of Gujarat and that will delay him, but not for long, I fear ...'

'You really think they all intend to bring their armies to Agra?' asked Jaswant Singh.

'It would seem so. I believe they have made a pact with one another, but whether it is to support one of them for the throne or to divide the empire between them isn't clear,' Dara replied.

'Then it will come to a battle unless I can prevent it,' said Shah Jahan. 'I have already sent messages by post riders to every one of my governors and senior officials in the provinces a.s.suring them that I am returned to health and that anyone who aids my rebellious sons will suffer a traitor's death. I have also written to my sons, demanding they cease their rebellion and reminding them of their duty to their father. But matters may well have advanced too far for that to have much effect on these ingrates. I have no choice but to command you to prepare the imperial troops immediately for war, summoning every warrior you can muster from your fiefs and ordering your va.s.sals to do the same. Perhaps when the traitors realise the strength of the forces ranging against them they will see reason and pull back before Moghul sheds the blood of Moghul.'

Two hours later, after the last of the counsellors had left, Shah Jahan rose a little shakily from his silver chair. Dara hurried to support him but Shah Jahan waved him back. 'No. I must learn to be strong again ... and, Dara, there's something I must say to you. If I'd formally declared you my heir many years ago, this could never have happened. Now you will be forced to fight for what should have been yours by right. I regret it from the bottom of my heart, but more importantly I mean to try to make amends. Tomorrow, seated on my peac.o.c.k throne and before all my court, I will formally declare you my successor and your brothers outlaws.'

Chapter 17.

Nicholas Ballantyne turned restlessly on the straw mattress on which he had been trying to s.n.a.t.c.h a few hours' sleep and slapped at one of the many mosquitoes whining around him. In just three days the Juno would sail from Surat for Bristol, her hold packed with calicos, silks and indigo to add to the fat profits of the English East India Company. He would also be aboard. He'd negotiated a good price for his pa.s.sage with the Juno's burly red-faced captain but there was little pleasure in the prospect of the long and hazardous voyage round the Cape of Good Hope and a return to the country which, the more he'd thought about it, was scarcely any longer home.

Abandoning thoughts of sleep as pointless, Nicholas got up. Though dawn was barely an hour away heat still radiated from the mud-brick walls of the small, bare ground floor room of the inn and his near-naked body felt damp with perspiration. Going out into the courtyard he drew a bucket of water from the well and poured it over himself. Then, shaking himself like a dog, he went to sit beneath the spreading branches of a neem tree near a string charpoy on which an old man supposedly the night.w.a.tchman was fast asleep. At least he need no longer worry about Princess Jahanara. The short letter that had caught up with him the day before had put his mind at rest, extinguishing any guilt he'd felt at fleeing Agra.

Jahanara was strong. She had learned to be, even in childhood when her family had fled from Jahangir. All the same, the thought of her standing accused of imaginary crimes had troubled him deeply, especially if the rumours circulating among the merchants in Surat were true. But could the emperor's younger sons really be in revolt? Jahanara's letter had said nothing explicitly, but she had mentioned her relief at being able again to be at her father's side with Dara, whatever fate held in store for them. Could this be an oblique reference designed not to alarm him on his voyage? Probably not. Far more likely Dara's brothers were just posturing. In this vast land, despite the imperial trunk roads and teams of post riders, news took time to travel. It often became distorted along the way and there were always credulous fools to be taken in.

Nicholas had risen to go inside when he heard a barrage of crashes and felt the ground shake. After a minute or two the noise began again, and this time didn't cease. It could only be cannon fire. Was Surat under attack? By the direction of the sound cannon were pounding the city from the landward side. From nearby streets came shouts of alarm. Nicholas hurried back into his room, hastily pulled on his shirt, breeches and boots and ran into the alley outside to find it already full of people English merchants, some in their night clothes, some clutching their cash boxes; Indian clerks and shopkeepers. They must be making for the protection of the fort. The square, thick-walled tower lay about a quarter of a mile away on the tip of a promontory. The East India Company stored its treasure there in deep underground vaults and it was well fortified and guarded by a regiment of Company soldiers sent out from England. In case of serious trouble the Company also kept several ships well equipped with cannon riding at anchor beneath its walls.

And trouble, it seemed, had definitely arrived ... Pressing himself into a doorway to allow the tide of humanity to sweep past, he looked back over their heads towards the city walls and sure enough in the pale light of dawn saw billowing columns of dust and smoke. Suddenly he caught sight of a young merchant he knew slightly, clutching a leather-bound ledger to his chest as he ran towards him. 'John, what's happening?' Nicholas yelled above the confusion. When the young man didn't appear to hear him Nicholas reached out a muscular arm and yanked him over as he pa.s.sed. 'It's me, Nicholas. Do you know what's going on? Is it dacoits?' But even as he posed the question Nicholas knew it couldn't be. They might lurk outside the city to prey on caravan trains but where would they get large cannon?

'Someone said Prince Murad has hired Turkish mercenaries to attack Surat.'

'But he's the Governor of Gujarat! Why is he a.s.saulting its richest city the one that pays him most in taxes?' The young merchant was trying to twist from his grip and Nicholas saw his pale eyes turn towards the stream of people who in their eagerness to get away from the danger and into the fort were now pushing and shoving each other as they ran.

'Because the prince asked the Company for a huge loan and the local board of directors refused him,' the young man gasped, feeling Nicholas's hold on him tighten.

'So now he's decided to help himself ...' Nicholas released his grip and the merchant dashed away to be swallowed up in the crowd. Nicholas stayed where he was. Should he too take sanctuary in the fort? He was no longer a Moghul commander with troops to deploy but a foreigner caught in the middle of someone else's problems on the eve of his return home. His first duty was to himself. Or was it? If Murad had indeed launched an attack on Surat this was anarchy. Shah Jahan would never have sanctioned such a thing, in which case the rumours must be true: the emperor's sons or Murad at least had indeed risen against their father.

Stepping out of the doorway, Nicholas barged his way through the jumbled ma.s.s of frightened people and back into the inn from which everyone else seemed to have fled. The string charpoy was empty and the only sign of life was a pale-furred dog that had taken refuge beneath the bed where it lay, head between its front paws, whimpering in fear as the bombardment continued. Running into his room Nicholas grabbed his two saddlebags from beneath the straw mattress. They were not heavy so much for his many years' service in Hindustan but he still owed something to this land and he knew where he must go.

There had been so little time to organise the imperial armies but delay was not an option, Shah Jahan reflected as he prepared to address his council once more. Like him, his counsellors were growing old. Barely a man under fifty. Not for the first time since the crisis had broken three weeks ago he regretted Dara's lack of military experience. He had wanted to keep his eldest son by his side, content, as in truth Dara had been also, for his younger brothers to go off on campaign, never for a moment thinking it was giving them the chance to develop skills they would one day turn against himself and Dara on the battlefield.

'My loyal counsellors, the latest reports I have through scouts and post riders are that Shah Shuja's forces are still advancing westward along the Ganges, making slow but steady progress,' he began. 'I have sent orders to those whose lands lie in his path to do all they can to obstruct him and deny him supplies, but I must meet force with force. Therefore I am despatching an army against Shah Shuja. My grandson, Dara's son Suleiman, will lead it, with you, Raja Jai Singh of Amber, as his adviser. Your force will consist of twenty thousand hors.e.m.e.n and five thousand foot soldiers. You and my grandson will be reinforced as you travel down the Ganges by my Afghan general Dilir Khan and his men.'

'Is Shah Shuja to be taken alive?' asked the raja.

'Yes. I want to avoid shedding my sons' blood. I wish him brought before me to answer for his crimes.'

'Is there any news of your other two sons, Majesty?' asked the Uzbek Khalilullah Khan, whose scarred face testified to his hard and loyal fighting at the side of Aurangzeb against his fellow countrymen in his northern campaign.

'The information on Murad is still patchy and vague. Some reports state that he has proclaimed himself emperor in Gujarat that the khutba has been read in his name in the mosques and he has ordered coins to be struck to mark the start of his reign others that he has murdered his revenue minister Ali Naqi, a man who was always loyal to me for protesting against his treasonous acts. They say Murad himself ran him through with a sword. There are also rumours that Murad plans to attack and loot Surat and then, when he has filled his war chest, to march from his capital at Ahmadabad to rendezvous with Aurangzeb as he moves up from the Deccan. Murad has apparently sent his women and children to safety in the fortress of Champanir, which means he antic.i.p.ates a long campaign.'

'Surely if Prince Murad has already crowned himself emperor, he intends to fight Prince Aurangzeb, not join forces with him?' asked Raja Jaswant Singh of Marwar, running a finger along the hilt of the dagger hanging in its jewelled scabbard from a gold chain round his waist.

'I think not. Our scouts intercepted one of Aurangzeb's messengers riding north to Ahmadabad. He was carrying a letter bearing Aurangzeb's seal and addressed to Murad. Listen to what it says.' Shah Jahan motioned to an attendant to hand him the doc.u.ment. 'Our scheme for seizing the throne is now under way. Together we will trample the idolaters and infidels who bring shame upon the name of Islam and Moghul alike and enforce the word of the one G.o.d in this sinful country. You, my dear brother, have joined me in this great enterprise and I hereby reaffirm my promise to you that when we have prevailed as we will, for our cause is just your reward will be the provinces of Punjab, Afghanistan, Kashmir and Sind to govern without let or hindrance as your own, let G.o.d be my witness. When we meet, as we are pledged to do before reaching Agra, we will debate further about how we will bring these glorious things to pa.s.s and send our enemies to perdition.' It may be a forgery, intended deliberately to fall into my hands and to mislead me. Aurangzeb is devious enough for that. But I think it's genuine. Aurangzeb is playing to Murad's conceit and vanity. He knows that Murad is much closer to Agra than he is and I suspect the reason he is insistent on their joining forces before reaching here is to avoid Murad's arriving before him and thus seizing some kind of advantage militarily or politically. What Aurangzeb's intentions are towards Shah Shuja I can only guess. But one thing I'm absolutely certain of we must prevent either Aurangzeb or Murad from reaching Agra. I therefore intend to despatch another army south under you, Raja Jaswant Singh, to seek them out and confront them, either singly or together. G.o.d and right are on our side not theirs.'

Shah Jahan sat down and for a moment closed his eyes. Dara knew that he was exhausted. Despite his continuing weakness he had sat up through much of the night with himself, Suleiman, Jai Singh, Jaswant Singh and his other commanders, studying maps and discussing logistics how many troops were ready to move, how long it would take to muster further units, how many cannon he had, how many war elephants there were in the imperial stables and how many more could be provided by his Rajput allies. Only a few weeks ago Shah Jahan had been on his sickbed but now, even if it was draining any reserves of strength remaining in his frail body, his steely determination was inspiring confidence in others. Dara could see it in the counsellors' faces. He felt it in himself.

He rose to his feet and raised his arms. 'Long live my father, the emperor. Zinderbad Padishah Shah Jahan!' As the council's spirited response echoed around him, his own spirits rose further. As his father had said, their cause was just.

'Father, Raja Jai Singh is here.' Dara's voice broke into Shah Jahan's slumber. Despite his recovery, he sometimes dozed after his midday meal itself a much less sumptuous affair than when he had been in his prime. Just some chicken baked in the tandoor and a little saffron rice. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Shah Jahan sat up on the gold brocade couch on which he had been lying, his mind quickly focusing. In recent weeks he'd received few reports of the progress of Suleiman's army. 'What's Jai Singh's news? Why has he come in person?'

'I don't know yet. I've not seen him. I was in the haram resting with Nadira when an attendant told me of his arrival. I thought you and I should hear his report together. I've sent word that he should join us in your private audience chamber in a quarter of an hour.'

In fact it was only ten minutes before a qorchi announced the ruler of Amber to the imperial father and son. As the raja entered he looked as urbane and well groomed as ever, his luxuriant moustaches faultlessly curled and pomaded, his cream robe spotless. Despite the best efforts of attendants in an adjacent chamber pulling the strings of a great punka of peac.o.c.k's feathers so that it swayed back and forth like a giant b.u.t.terfly's wing above the emperor's head, the audience chamber was hot and airless, but Jai Singh wasn't even perspiring.

Anxious and unable to read from the raja's face what his news was, Dara in an unaccustomed breach of protocol spoke before his father. 'Is your news good or bad, Jai Singh?'

Slightly taken aback, the raja responded, 'A mixture, Highness.'

'Well then, Dara,' said Shah Jahan, 'Jai Singh must let me have his report of events in the order they happened so that I can judge them for myself.'

'I will, Majesty.' The raja bowed, recognising in Shah Jahan's words an implicit rebuke to his over-eager son. 'We made swift progress in our flotilla of barges down first the Jumna and then the Ganges, pausing only occasionally to exercise the horses and at Allahabad to take on more weapons and stores and to rendezvous with Dilir Khan. It took us less than a month to cover five hundred miles before acting on information brought to us by a local va.s.sal who had himself rowed from his riverside fort to intercept us your grandson gave the order to disembark near Varanasi. In doing so, he followed the advice of myself and Dilir Khan, as he did in leaving some of the heavy equipment behind and setting out immediately to intercept Shah Shuja and his men, who the va.s.sal had told us were moving west, parallel to the north bank of the river about twelve miles inland.

'During the late evening of the next day, some of our scouts returned to camp. They had been sweeping well ahead of our main body when they saw at a distance what looked like campfires burning. Dismounting and creeping closer they found Shah Shuja's camp quiet and scarcely a sentry posted. Hearing their report, we agreed in a war council to break camp just after midnight and attack Shah Shuja's army at dawn as they prepared for the day ahead. Mindful of your strictures not to shed the blood of your family, Prince Suleiman ordered us to avoid firing on what looked like command positions and to seek to capture rather than kill Shah Shuja.

'All went well until we were pushing through some scrubland less than a mile or so from Shah Shuja's camp. An agonised scream tore the air and our leading scout suddenly pitched from his saddle. His terrified mount galloped back towards us, reins dangling. For a moment we thought an unseen sentry had killed the scout but then, as the horse got closer, we saw great bleeding slashes on its rump as it pushed its way into and through our ranks, unsettling our own horses, followed by a great male tiger. He was the cause of the wounds and the scout's scream not an enemy attack. On seeing our numbers the tiger veered away back into the night. However, the hubbub had roused the few sentries Shah Shuja had posted. They began to yell warnings.

'We immediately dug our heels into our horses' flanks and charged for the camp, levelling our lances and drawing our swords as we went. We were scarcely a hundred yards away from the nearest tents when a few ragged musket volleys crackled out and one of my qorchis tumbled from his horse. Then we were among the tents, slashing at the guy ropes with our swords to collapse them on to the occupants and thrusting into them with our lances. Soon the fabric of the tents was stained with blood and wounded men were struggling from beneath it to surrender. Within what could have been no more than a quarter of an hour, we had penetrated right into the centre of the camp. Then I saw a large phalanx of hors.e.m.e.n gallop away and disappear into a clump of woodland to the east. I shouted to Prince Suleiman that Shah Shuja must be among them but he replied to let them go ... that we could deal with him later. For the moment it was better to concentrate on the rout of the remainder of Shah Shuja's forces and the seizure of the camp with all the valuable equipment it contained, including the magnificent war elephants he had never been able to deploy.'

'Was it my son who fled? If not, what happened to him?'

'I believe it was Shah Shuja, Majesty, but I can't be sure. The group escaped. We did not capture Shah Shuja anywhere else nor was he among the dead or wounded,' Jai Singh added hastily, seeing the look on Shah Jahan's face.

'But surely this is all good news? Under your guidance Suleiman has defeated Shah Shuja.'

'Yes, Majesty, but what happened next is the bad news.'

'Do you mean Shah Shuja's forces regrouped and attacked you?'

'No, Majesty, it's not that simply that your grandson insisted that our forces follow the remnants of Shah Shuja's army, at least half of whom escaped one way or the other and were, we soon discovered, fleeing east towards Patna. Dilir Khan and I argued hard that Shah Shuja was already spent as a contender for your throne and that Aurangzeb and Murad who, as far as we knew, were undefeated, now posed a far greater threat. We wanted to lead our troops, whom we considered the very cream of your army, back west where they were most needed. Prince Suleiman just would not agree and as our commander we had to obey him. The most I could achieve was his permission to return to Agra with my personal retainers and bodyguard to report back to you while Dilir Khan stayed with him as his counsellor.'

'Have you heard any more from Suleiman's forces?'

'Yes, only yesterday. A hard-riding cossid reached me from Dilir Khan. He and Suleiman are a hundred and twenty miles east of Varanasi, pursuing their adversaries into the jungles and marshes of Bengal.'

Shah Jahan frowned. Jai Singh was right: the news was mixed. Shah Shuja had been routed but Suleiman was behaving as if he were on a hunt rather than engaged in a deadly contest. All would be well if Jaswant Singh succeeded in defeating Aurangzeb and Murad, but if not Suleiman's men would be needed. His reckless pursuit of Shah Shuja must stop. Shah Jahan would send orders at once recalling the prince to Agra.

The spring sunshine warm but not overly fierce felt good on his face. Shah Jahan was glad to be on horseback again as he urged his bay stallion into a gallop. It wasn't long before the red sandstone gateway of Akbar's great tomb at Sikandra loomed before him. Needing time and solitude to absorb the latest news, he had felt a sudden impulse to visit the final resting place of the grandfather who had taught him so much about the duties of an emperor. What would Akbar have said about the crisis now confronting his favourite grandson? Akbar himself had never faced such peril, perhaps because he had been a better ruler, more a.s.siduous and astute in reading the mood of his empire ...

As green-turbaned guards snapped to attention, Shah Jahan dismounted stiffly. Either through age or the aftermath of his illness probably both the ride had tested and tired his muscles and bones more than he had antic.i.p.ated. Throwing his reins to a qorchi, he signalled his escort to remain outside and walked alone through the gateway. As he emerged into the gardens beyond, a monkey, taken by surprise, scampered off screeching and a trio of deer grazing beneath a plane tree raised their heads and looked towards him. But Shah Jahan's eyes were on his grandfather's tomb directly ahead at the end of a long raised sandstone path shaded by trees. The tomb was too solid for beauty but its bulk seemed to embody Akbar's spirit. He had been a big and powerful man, physically and mentally, expanding his empire and placing it on foundations as firm and deep as those that supported his burial place. Slowly, Shah Jahan made his way down the path and reaching the end sat on one of two marble benches facing the tomb. He had come here to think but, exhausted by the ride and the shock of the day's events, almost immediately his eyes began to close.

Footsteps on the sandstone paving woke him with a start. Standing, he turned to see someone walking quickly towards him but the shadows cast by the trees made it impossible to see who it was. Why had his bodyguards admitted anyone when he'd asked to be left alone? Instinctively his right hand went to the dagger at his belt. 'Who are you? Who permitted you to intrude on my privacy?' he called.

The newcomer paused. Shah Jahan saw golden hair not as bright or as thick as it had once been but unmistakable all the same.

'Approach.' He waited as Nicholas Ballantyne came closer.

'Majesty, forgive me for interrupting you. The captain of your guard knows me. When I told him I had urgent information for you, he allowed me to enter.'

Shah Jahan let his hand drop back to his side. Now that the Englishman was closer he could see that his face was gaunt and there were deep circles beneath his eyes. 'My daughter wrote to you, I know, expressing my ... regret at the ... misunderstanding that caused you to leave Agra.'

'Majesty, that's not why I've ridden so hard to find you. I've something to tell you that cannot must not wait.' Nicholas's words tumbled out.

'Speak, then.'

'I was in Surat waiting to embark for England when the forces of your son Murad attacked the city. They smashed through the walls with their cannon and looted the East India Company's treasury ... From what I learned from those I met on the road from Surat, one of Murad's generals led the a.s.sault. The prince himself was already riding south with an even larger force to rendezvous with Prince Aurangzeb ... I knew I must bring you this news at once. I ...' Seeing Shah Jahan's faint, sad smile, Nicholas tailed off.

'I appreciate your coming, but I already knew about the attack on Surat. Even before the event I heard that Murad planned to seize the city and its treasuries but I had no troops to despatch who could arrive in time ...'