Empire of the Moghul: Ruler of the World (50 page)

As soon as they had appeared, it had been obvious that neither Murad nor Daniyal had been as abstemious as he had the previous evening. As Murad had come through the tall stone gateway on to the parade ground, one of his attendants had still been attempting to tie his sash. Murad, square jaw jutting, had brushed him aside, swearing for all to hear that he had no need of such fussing attentions while roughly knotting the sash himself. When Daniyal had entered, he had done so with the slow, exaggeratedly steady gait of the drunk trying to suggest he was anything but. He had kept his head unnaturally still and his bloodshot eyes fixed firmly in front of him as he approached his father, but he had still stumbled as he took
the last few steps and tried to bend into the required low bow.

Akbar had then ordered all three of his sons to mount their horses, held ready by waiting grooms, and lead some of their bodyguards in attempting to spear watermelons from the saddle with their lances. As he tried to mount, Murad’s badly tied sash had come loose and he had stumbled over the trailing cloth, entirely unable to prevent himself sprawling face down in the dust. When he had been helped up and on to his mount and had eventually set it into motion, he had galloped only a hundred yards before slipping once more from the saddle on to the ground.

Daniyal had done rather better, succeeding in mounting and getting his horse to gallop without difficulty. But then, as he attempted to bend to spear the melon, he too had fallen. Staggering to his feet, he had vomited copiously through the gloved hand with which he had tried to stem the noisome stream.

Salim meanwhile had succeeded in spearing the watermelon. His father’s response had been not praise but to say, ‘I see that you for once have not been drinking, Salim. Remember this will not be the last time I will put you through such a test. You are dismissed.’ As Salim left the parade ground he had heard his father order his half-brothers back to their quarters and then command some of his most trusted bodyguards to make sure that the two did not leave their rooms for fourteen days and that no one took alcohol in to them. At the end of that time they were to be kept under close observation to ensure that they remained abstemious.

‘Surely when their spell in confinement ends in a few days, they’ll have sobered up, won’t they, Suleiman Beg?’

‘I doubt it. I’ve heard that some of their companions have managed to smuggle liquor in to them. Rumour has it Murad’s fat steward wound some cow’s intestines filled with spirits around him beneath his voluminous garments to do it, and that Daniyal bribed one of the guards to bring him the stuff in the blocked-off barrel of his musket.’

‘The latter can’t be true. My father would have a guard executed under the elephant’s foot for such blatant disobedience.’

‘It’s surprising what risks men will take for money, but perhaps it’s only a story. All I can say is that everyone is gossiping about it.’

‘Maybe you’re right and they’ve not real rivals as my father’s heir, but that does not mean I have any prospect of achieving the power that is my due at this stage in my life. There is much that I could achieve for our dynasty if only my father would give me a chance.’

‘Like what?’

‘Well, ridding him of some of his fawning and corrupt advisers – Abul Fazl for a start.’

‘But you know your father wouldn’t countenance their dismissal. At the very least, you would have had to prove yourself as a good governor somewhere before criticising his own advisers and administration.’

‘How can I do that when my father will give me no position of trust?’ Salim thudded his dagger into the divan once more, eyes blazing. ‘Sometimes I think I have no alternative but to take over the government of a province without my father’s permission to demonstrate my worth!’

‘But that would be rebellion.’

‘Call it what you will – I might say I was using my initiative.’

‘You are serious, aren’t you?’ said Suleiman Beg quietly.

‘Yes,’ said Salim, looking directly at his friend. ‘It’s something I’ve been thinking about for months in the dark hours of the night as I’ve fought to curb my own craving for drink. Don’t look so shocked – I have many friends among the young middle-ranking commanders in our armies in the east. They too resent the dead hands of their older superiors on their shoulders – they too want power and responsibility.’

‘It’s true. I have heard such mutterings of discontent,’ said Suleiman Beg. ‘There would also be the inducements of promotion and reward . . .’

‘I see that you are beginning to believe that it might be possible. Would you be prepared to join me?’

‘You should know I would. We have shared so much. I owe my loyalty to you before any other.’ Then after some moments’ reflection, now looking as serious and intent as Salim, Suleiman Beg added, ‘What’s more you might well succeed in winning your father’s attention and respect. If you act, what will your first steps be?’

‘To sound out some of those young officers in the eastern army. I cannot travel there without my father’s sanction, but you could . . .’

‘I will go – I still have some relations in the administration in Bengal and no one will suspect if I visit them.’

‘Thank you for your trust and loyalty.’ Much to his surprise, as he spoke Salim heard a new-found authority in his tone – not unlike his father’s. Now he had determined on action, at least the uncertainty of waiting would be ended. Whatever the outcome he would never need to reproach himself with a lack of the courage to act.

As Salim looked out three months later from beneath the awning of his large tent at the centre of his camp, the sun was setting over the Chambal river. Flocks of waterfowl – dark silhouettes against the pale orange sunset – were swooping down to roost among the reeds and rushes fringing the riverbank. Under the pretext of an extended tiger hunting expedition he had left his father’s court six weeks previously. For the last few days he had been anxiously scanning the landscape for approaching groups of horsemen, hoping for the return of Suleiman Beg from his clandestine mission to the east but a part of him fearing that any riders who appeared might be Abul Fazl’s men coming to arrest him having discovered his plotting.

Just after noon that day, a group of horsemen had appeared. As they drew closer, emerging from the shimmering heat haze, he had seen there were too few to be an arresting party. To Salim’s great relief, it had been Suleiman Beg. However, he had been so exhausted by long days in the saddle that after reassuring Salim in the broadest terms of his mission’s success he had requested permission to sleep. The two had agreed to discuss the results in more detail as they ate together that night. Behind him in the tent Salim could hear his attendants beginning to make preparations for the meal.

Shading his eyes against the setting sun, he saw Suleiman Beg making his way towards him and stepped forward to greet him. The two men embraced and then, arms round each other’s shoulders, ducked beneath the tent’s fringed green awning and entered.

Here, a low table surrounded by silk-covered bolsters and cushions
was spread with an array of foods – chicken and lamb cooked in the tandoor, stew made in the Kashmiri way with dried fruits, mild spices and yoghourt stirred into the sauce, hotter vegetable dishes made according to Gujarati recipes and fish from the Chambal. As they began to eat, dipping into the stews with pieces of nan bread, Salim dismissed the servants and spoke.

‘Tell me about your discussions. How many officers can we count on in the eastern provinces?’

‘Perhaps two hundred. Each new recruit suggested others who might be sympathetic to our cause. They are mostly as we expected – young men like ourselves, eager for responsibility as well as for the rewards I promised them on your behalf. But there are also some older ones disappointed by their lack of advancement or critical of the tolerance your father shows towards former enemies and those of other religions.’

‘How many men do they command in total?’

‘Around thirty thousand.’

‘That should be enough to demonstrate to my father that I must be taken seriously and given more power.’

‘Many were convinced to join us because this is your motivation, not full-scale rebellion and the usurpation of your father’s throne. It reassured them that at some stage you would negotiate.’

‘Then they must continue to believe so.’

‘What do you mean? That is your intention, isn’t it?’

‘Yes . . . yes, I suppose it is. Although sometimes I indulge myself by thinking that if all went very well I might force my father’s abdication now rather than wait for his death.’

‘Guard against such thoughts. Your father’s forces are powerful. We will have enough men to show your mettle and your worthiness for a greater role in government affairs, but never enough to succeed in a full revolt. If you tried to do so, some of our existing supporters would fall away.’

‘My father is loved by the people, I know. It sometimes seems to me that he understands them better and cares more about their happiness than he does for many of those closer to him. I will doubtless negotiate. I was only suggesting we should not rule anything out while we see how the situation develops.’

‘When should we take the next step? We shouldn’t wait long. Abul Fazl’s spies are everywhere. He has subtle ways of coaxing secrets from men and changing their loyalties.’

‘Allow me to worry about Abul Fazl. He is only human, after all. But we won’t delay. I’ve already sent messages to people I know to be loyal to me in Agra and Lahore to join me here within a month. When you’re rested and we’ve discussed our plans in more detail you should return east and collect our forces there. Once I have assembled my own men, I’ll ride with them to meet you at Allahabad. Its position at the junction of the Jumna and the Ganges will mean my father will be unable to ignore us if we make that our base.’

Salim held up his hand to halt his column. The messenger he had sent to Nasser Hamid, commander of the garrison of Allahabad, now only four miles away, its domes and towers clearly visible, was galloping back towards them. As the young man reined in there was a broad smile on his face. ‘Highness, Nasser Hamid has thrown open the town to you. He bids you welcome.’

Salim’s shoulders dropped and he began to relax for the first time in weeks. Nasser Hamid was a friend from his youth and in secret correspondence had promised to yield Allahabad to Salim. Nevertheless, as he had ridden towards the city that morning, Salim had felt apprehensive. Everything seemed to be going almost too well. Since parting from Suleiman Beg he had succeeded in winning young officers from both Lahore and Agra to his cause. Just seven weeks ago, scarcely pausing in a conversation with Abul Fazl, Akbar had nodded his assent to his eldest son’s request to leave the court and Lahore on another hunting expedition. The next day Salim had ridden out with a band of his followers on his mission to demand his father’s attention and to prove his worth, as he put it to himself, although he knew others would simply call it rebellion.

As he rode he wondered whether and in what circumstances he would see Akbar again. Of more concern than the impact of his action on his father had been the fact that he could bring neither his wives nor his children with him. He felt far from close enough
to any of his wives to take them into his confidence – besides, the
haram
was notorious for its loose talk. His young sons spent so much of their time with their grandfather that their departure with him would be too unusual to pass without notice. Perhaps his greatest sorrow, though, was that he had been unable to say anything to his grandmother who had worked so hard for his recall from Kabul. He knew how much it would hurt her that he was challenging his father and in such a way. She loved them both and would fear for them both, dreading their confrontation turning into all-out war. At present, however, there was no sign of that. His scouts had reported no traces of pursuit, and when a division of his father’s horsemen on a routine patrol had approached, both their commander and Salim had sheered away, making sure they gave each other a wide berth. As he had ridden day after day with his growing army, Salim had begun to enjoy command and the freedom he felt from interference by his father or anyone else. He knew this would not last for ever and he would need all his abilities to secure the best outcome for himself and also, he reminded himself, for the dynasty.