Empire of the Moghul: The Tainted Throne (34 page)

‘But what can you do?’

‘Go back to Agra again, throw myself on my father’s mercy once more and force him to listen to me . . .’

‘No!’ Her vehemence startled him. ‘Listen to me, Khurram. To do so would mean almost certain death. Blinding like that of Khusrau would be the very least you could expect. When you first told me Mehrunissa had become our enemy I couldn’t believe it of my own aunt . . . but then I started to reflect and to realise how little I really know her. While I was growing up, she was with her first husband in Bengal. After she became empress she seemed to become more distant, more preoccupied with herself and her position . . . I hardly ever saw her alone. Now, with Ladli betrothed to Shahriyar, we have become obstacles to her . . . I understand that now. And one thing I do know about my aunt is how clever she is, how determined, how strong . . . She used those qualities to save herself and our family when my uncle Mir Khan joined Khusrau’s rebellion and she will use them to destroy us if she sees the need. Don’t go back to Agra . . . don’t put
yourself in her power. I’m terrified of what she might convince the emperor to do. Promise me, please . . .’

Khurram heard the passionate conviction in Arjumand’s voice. Usually willing to trust his judgement she seldom argued with him. She was probably right. However much he believed in his innocence and his powers of argument and persuasion, Mehrunissa, impregnable in Jahangir’s affections, would be likely to prevent him even getting another interview with his father. ‘Very well,’ he said at last, ‘I promise . . . I will be patient a little longer.’

Jahangir winced as the
hakim
bound his forearm tightly. The gash was the result of his own carelessness while out hawking along the Jumna. If he had worn his leather gauntlet the sharp yellow beak of his falcon, a favourite bird that he had trained himself, could not have ripped the old scar tissue on the arm he had wounded fighting the Raja of Mirzapur. As the
hakim
finished his work an attendant entered. ‘Majesty, the Governor of Mandu wishes to see you. He says he has news that cannot wait.’

‘Then bring him to me here in my apartments at once.’ What did the man want? Jahangir wondered as the
hakim
packed away his instruments and departed. Mandu was many days’ travel to the south and the stout and ageing Ali Khan wasn’t given to unnecessary exertion. Five minutes later the governor made his obeisance. His sweat-stained robes and dusty boots suggested he indeed had something urgent to impart.

‘What is it, Ali Khan?’

‘Serious news I wanted you to hear from my own lips or else I feared you might not believe it.’

‘Go on.’

‘Your son Prince Khurram is raising your subjects against you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He wrote to me seeking my support if there should be an open breach between you. I, of course, refused and thought it my duty to come to you at once.’

‘Show me his letter.’

‘I no longer have it, but I had the messenger who brought it tortured until he confessed everything. Prince Khurram is trying to build a power base in the south from which to challenge you. I am not the only governor the prince has approached. See – I have a list of names . . .’ Ali Khan smiled what Jahangir assumed was meant to be an ingratiating smile.

Jahangir took the paper Ali Khan was holding out to him. He had had cause to suspect the governor’s loyalty as long ago as the time of Khusrau’s last revolt. However, Ali Khan was both wily and well connected and Jahangir had never had sufficient grounds to act against him. Khurram would have known the man’s loyalty was suspect and that was presuambly the reason he had approached him. It said something for the weakness of Khurram’s position that Ali Khan, no doubt after careful calculation, had decided to betray him to his father.

Scanning the list of names Jahangir saw it was long. Suddenly, he felt weary and wanted to be alone. ‘I will reward you well, Ali Khan. Leave me now.’

‘Thank you, Majesty. You may depend on my loyalty.’ Ali Khan beamed as he turned and headed from the room.

Once the doors closed behind the governor, Jahangir brushed the back of his hand across his eyes. How could the son he had once loved the most be so disloyal? Since their
last brief meeting on the battlements, barely a day had passed when he had not brooded about Khurram, wondering what he was planning to do. Part of him had hoped that he might repent his defiance and submit. His letters from Asirgarh had at first encouraged those hopes, but as Mehrunissa had pointed out his words were no more than arrogant self-justification – there had been no apology, no recognition of any fault. At her suggestion he had not replied. But he had not sent troops to apprehend his son as Mehrunissa had also urged. Now it seemed she had, as usual, been right. He had been lax, allowing time to drift by without acting, which had encouraged Khurram to further defiance.

Dusk was falling as Jahangir approached Mehrunissa’s apartments. He had just come from a council meeting at which Ali Khan, in clean green robes, had repeated his story. His counsellors’ anxious questioning of the governor had shown they were as troubled as he was himself – or at least pretending to be. None of their names were on Ali Khan’s list but had any of them been aware of Khurram’s plotting? Jahangir’s expression hardened at the thought. Mehrunissa had seen and heard everything through the grille in the rear wall of the council chamber. He wanted to hear what she had to say – but also to consult Ghiyas Beg and Asaf Khan, whom he had summoned to join them.

The evening candles had just been lit in Mehrunissa’s apartments when he entered. His head was aching badly. She came to him at once, put her hands on his shoulders and pressed her lips briefly against his before turning wordlessly away to pour him a goblet of wine. He took a long swallow.
He needed the wine’s comfort and its soothing warmth, he thought, as the doors opened again to admit the tall, now elderly figure of Ghiyas Beg and behind him the bulkier figure of his son Asaf Khan.

‘Well, you all heard Ali Khan. What do you think?’ he asked bluntly.

‘Majesty, I hardly know what to say.’ Ghiyas Beg shook his silver-haired head. ‘I had not thought such a thing possible.’

‘It is only too possible. It’s just as I suspected. Khurram wishes to seize the throne. I was right to advise you to arrest him all those months ago. If only the guards had been quicker . . .’ Mehrunissa said.

‘But, Majesty, reflect a moment – all Ali Khan said was that Prince Khurram is trying to gather supporters. That does not mean he intends leading an army against you,’ Ghiyas Beg protested.

‘But why else take such a step?’ Mehrunissa demanded.

‘Because, daughter, he feels vulnerable. Forgive my plain speaking, Majesty, but you never told the prince how he had displeased you. That is why he risked your anger by coming to Agra to try to speak to you . . . Majid Khan told me of the prince’s conversation with him that night. And if I am honest I and many others at court don’t understand why you have turned against him. Prince Khurram did everything you asked . . . led your armies loyally and bravely to victory. Until recently he was your greatest pride . . . everyone expected you to name him your heir—’

‘Exactly. Because the emperor was so open, so generous with his affections, he raised such expectations, but in the prince himself those expectations turned to something else – a greedy, impatient ambition . . .’ Mehrunissa broke in.

‘Young men are ambitious. But what proof have you that he ever intended treachery?’

‘He abandoned his command in the Deccan and came to Agra.’

‘But only because things had happened that he didn’t understand. Like the awarding to Prince Shahriyar of lands Khurram believed he had been promised . . . and rightly, too.’

‘The grant of those lands was the emperor’s prerogative. It is not your place to question His Majesty’s decision.’

‘And it is not yours to interrupt me. You may be empress but I am still your father.’ The old man took a moment to compose himself before continuing, ‘Majesty, ever since your late father rescued me and my family from destitution I’ve tried to serve your house well. I speak from all my long experience when I urge you to be cautious. Take no hasty decisions you may later regret.’

Silence fell in the chamber. Mehrunissa had turned away. Jahangir could tell by her posture, the angle of her head, how angry she was. He had never heard her argue with her father before nor heard Ghiyas Beg, usually so gently circumspect, speak with such passion. Asaf Khan was looking from one to the other, a deep frown on his face.

‘Asaf Khan, you stand there so silent and grave. Don’t you have anything to say?’ Jahangir asked. ‘If Khurram ruins himself, he ruins your daughter also.’

‘I believe my father is right, Majesty. You should not act until you know more. You need to find out what is really in Khurram’s heart and mind. Send an envoy to him – I will gladly go if you wish.’

‘Yes,’ Ghiyas Beg put in. ‘At least offer him the chance to
be reconciled with you before he drifts so far that reconciliation becomes impossible.’

‘Perhaps he doesn’t want to be reconciled.’

‘You won’t know unless you attempt it, Majesty. In any event, your subjects will praise you for seeking to avert war with your son,’ Ghiyas Beg pressed.

Jahangir studied the dark dregs in his goblet. Ghiyas Beg’s words had struck a chord. Had he been unfair to Khurram, just as Akbar had been to him? What would have happened had he listened longer to Khurram that night on the battlements? Could they have reached a better understanding?

But then Mehrunissa spoke again. ‘Father, in an ideal world your suggestion might be right. But our world is not perfect. It is peopled with enemies within and beyond our borders, all longing to aggrandise themselves at the emperor’s expense. Even now Khurram may be gathering his forces, soliciting allies among our foes.’

‘Have you any evidence of that?’

‘There are rumours. Every day that passes without our taking decisive action weakens the emperor and strengthens Khurram and he will know that.’ Kneeling in front of Jahangir, she took his face between her hands. ‘Listen to me. Haven’t I always advised you well? You must act quickly. Hesitation is a sign of weakness. It’s hard, I know, but you must move to crush Khurram. When he’s brought before you as a captive, that will be time enough to talk. You may be a father, but you are an emperor first. Isn’t your greatest duty to protect your empire?’ For a moment her eyes held his, then she released him and stood up.

Ghiyas Beg was again shaking his head. ‘Majesty, my
daughter’s words are ill judged. You should do nothing rash. At least take a few days to consider . . .’

‘You know you’re only saying that because you favour my brother and his daughter over me and my daughter,’ Mehrunissa burst out, voice trembling. ‘And you, brother.’ She swung round to Asaf Khan. ‘Ask yourself where your true loyalties lie . . . to your emperor or to your daughter?’

Asaf Khan took a step back and glanced nervously at Jahangir, but Ghiyas Beg was not intimidated. ‘Mehrunissa, how dare you make such accusations! We might equally accuse you of having personal reasons to promote the interests of your daughter and Shahriyar over those of Khurram and Arjumand.’

‘You are growing old. Your mind is failing or you could not say such a thing . . . This is about the safety of the empire, not mere family interests.’

‘You are insolent. You forget the duty of respect you owe me.’

‘Duty? You speak of duty? Where was duty when you abandoned me as a newborn baby under a tree to die? How much respect did you show me then?’

‘We were all close to death. I had no choice, as you very well know. And when fortune smiled, I came back to find you . . .’

‘And now you’re abandoning me all over again.’

‘Enough of this!’ Jahangir’s head still ached. For once he even felt impatient with Mehrunissa, whose usually beautiful eyes were glittering with anger and whose lower lip was thrust out in an ugly pout. ‘I wished to hear your views on this matter because it affects both our families, but the decision I take will be mine alone.’

‘Of course.’ Mehrunissa spoke more calmly. ‘I’m sorry I was angry, but my anger was for you, because I wish to defend you from harm . . . as we should always do for those we love.’