Beneath a Marble Sky (14 page)

The execution took place in one of the Red Fort’s immense courtyards with nobles and commoners ringing the square. Inside this circle of angry faces stood three war elephants. These beasts were clad in ceremonial silks and shuffled their enormous feet nervously. Despite being specially trained to maim and kill, the elephants were unsettled by the boisterous crowd. Kneeling before the giants were the six criminals. The merchant begged for their lives while deerskin drums rattled and people edged forward. The boy was terrified, weeping horribly.

Father, Dara and I sat on a raised pavilion, where we had an unobstructed view of the proceedings. Aurangzeb rode one of the elephants. My brother had been warring for several years now and had the appearance of a hardened fighter. He wore leather armor and his chin bore the scar of an explosion that had killed many of his soldiers. He was proud of his wound and made no attempt to cloak it with a beard.

Aurangzeb had taken up the habit of eating raw onions, and as he sat atop his favorite beast he munched one. The onions, I knew from personal experience, irritated the eyes of those near him. He liked causing discomfort and chewed the foul things whenever someone he didn’t approve was present, which seemed all the Empire save a few people. Somehow, the onions didn’t affect him.

Aurangzeb’s bodyguard, Balkhi, also sat on an elephant. By now we had all heard stories of Balkhi’s mayhem, and even those of us in power did our best to avoid him. The man was a brute, and a brute given boundless rein by Aurangzeb was dangerous indeed.

Father, who hated such affairs but recognized their value in governing, called for the episode to commence. Many executions were carried out in this manner, for the extreme horror to those involved was thought a good deterrent to anyone considering a major crime. The crowd knew what to expect. Some cursed the merchant and his men, while others showered them with rotten vegetables.

Sickened by what was about to happen, but present at Father’s request, I watched Aurangzeb closely. He sat on his elephant’s neck and held a pole topped with a hooked blade. He used the blade, just sharp enough to draw blood, to tug the vast ears before him. When Aurangzeb pulled viciously on the creature’s left ear, it bellowed and wheeled in that direction. The merchant before the beast wailed, his groin darkening as he soiled himself. The elephant knocked him down with a tusk, then used its powerful trunk to lift him up. Beating at its trunk, he cried for mercy, his voice rising to a shriek when Aurangzeb hooked an ear and pulled back. The elephant roared and, rising on its rear legs, threw the merchant high into the air. He landed awkwardly, his arm snapping like a twig underfoot.

Blood fell from beneath the elephant’s ears, and I realized that Aurangzeb was further maddening the beast. It speared the man’s leg with a tusk and tossed him again. He tried to limp away, but the monster knocked him down. The crowd cheered as a huge foot was placed atop the merchant’s chest, causing him to scream in mortal fear as tremendous weight pressed down upon him. The elephant shifted its girth forward and suddenly the man’s chest collapsed.

The other elephants’ kills were equally grisly, leaving only three criminals unscathed. The beasts attacked two, while the boy put his head against his chest and scratched madly at his temples. Aurangzeb taunted him before urging his steed forward. Springing to his feet, the boy tried to run into the crowd, but men threw him back into the circle. He sought refuge again and was struck down.

I was ashamed of my countrymen then, a shame that profoundly saddened my heart. These intelligent, skilled people should have been anywhere but here, doing anything but shouting and pleading for a child’s agonizing death. Suddenly I could no longer tolerate the barbarity of it all. I turned to Father, whose face trembled with disgust. “Show the child mercy!”

“I’m sorry, my child, but it’s too late.”

“Too late? What would Mother think?” I shrieked.

The question shook him. He paused for an instant, as if awaking from a long slumber. Then he rose from his cushion and loudly announced, “Mercy for the child!”

Aurangzeb, clearly overflowing with bloodlust, managed to halt his beast, then spun on its neck and stared at me. I realized that he had heard my outburst. Though fearful of his wrath, I was so disgusted to be his sister that for the first time in my life I spat—a pathetic flicker of spit that flew in his direction. For a man it was a harmless thing. But I was a woman, and upon that day many nobles witnessed the deed, and thereby knew my opinion of Aurangzeb. Some jeered me, whereas others spat to show their support.

Aurangzeb straightened in rage. “The criminal is guilty of—”

“Nothing!” Father interrupted.

“Nothing?”

“By Allah, that’s enough! He’s only a child!”

It had been years since Father had shouted so, and no one had ever seen him reprimand a son in public. Aurangzeb wavered for a moment, as if he still considered killing the boy. Then he nodded slightly. “Very well, my lord.”

Father wordlessly left our pavilion, signaling that the proceeding was over. The elephants were led away and the crowd dissipated. Stunned by all that had transpired, I leaned against a tent post unsteadily. Dara approached from behind and placed his hand on my shoulder. He said nothing, yet stood quite close.

“It wasn’t right,” I mumbled.

“But you were, my sister.”

I slumped despondently. “Why would Aurangzeb want to kill a child? Did we not love him enough? Did we—”

“We did nothing amiss.”

I could never agree, for the cruelty my brother displayed must have stemmed from some bulb of discontent. But how to cut that stem was a riddle I couldn’t fathom. We stood motionless as slaves dragged away the five disemboweled corpses and rinsed the bloodied flagstones. Clouds of burning sandlewood incense drifted by, unceremoniously dispersing the odors of dung and urine as the murderous place was restored.

I was about to leave when Balkhi entered the courtyard. A massive man with bushy eyebrows that merged together, he headed directly toward us. The longest sword I’d ever seen hung from his side, and fresh blood stained the hem of his tunic. Though Dara was an ample-sized man, Balkhi towered over him.

Aurangzeb’s bodyguard, however, didn’t gaze at Dara, but at me. “I speak for your brother,” he growled, his thick beard covering his mouth so completely that I hardly saw it move. “The criminal was castrated by my lord.” Balkhi might have grinned, though such movement was hard to discern, for my head spun at his words. “If he lives, keep him as your slave.”

“The boy?” I stammered, my knees weakening. I found it hard to hear and a ringing emerged from within my ears. I swayed unsteadily and would have fallen, but Dara reached across to support me.

Balkhi laughed at my frailty. “Unwise, so unwise to spit at him. He—”

“Hold your tongue,” Dara demanded, his voice lacking vigor.

Balkhi fingered the hilt of his sword. “The weakling on the throne won’t live forever. And when he dies, I’ll use the gelding blade on you both. I’ll use it slowly.” The warrior spat at my feet and walked away.

If my brother were a warrior, he might have killed Balkhi then. If I were a man, I’d have tried, for I understood the peril I faced. Aurangzeb’s honor was slighted today, and he would not rest until I suffered. Alas, Dara remained still. And I was no man.

“You should kill that brute,” I finally said, long after Balkhi had disappeared and my knees had ceased trembling. “Poison him; pay a soldier to slay him in battle. I don’t care how you do it, but do something.”

“One can’t murder, Jahanara, and be righteous. I’m not of that make. Nor will I live in that world.” Dara grimaced, pausing to massage his brow. “You want more killing, after what we saw today? More death?”

“He did the killing! And he’s not finished!”

“I’ll consider his threats but will do nothing more.”

“Then you’re a fool,” I replied, wishing I’d been born as Dara and Dara as I. For surely he was too feeble to stand against Aurangzeb. “When Father departs this life,” I said, “whether in two years or twenty, Aurangzeb shall kill us. We’ll die and our children will die and his claim to the throne will be complete.”

“He is our brother.”

“So?” I exclaimed. “He may have our blood, but not our hearts. Did you see him on the elephant? He reveled in the killing! He castrated that poor boy for the sheer joy of it!”

“I don’t—”

“He defied Father! And yet you think that because he’s your brother he’ll cede you the throne? Are you mad?”

“To fight him goes against every principle I hold dear!”

“The Prophet Muhammad, the founder of Islam, fought his foes!”

“But he was persecuted! I’m not!”

“But you shall be! And Aurangzeb’s more dangerous than any of the jackals Muhammad encountered!”

Dara’s face, which had always given me comfort, flashed with anger. “I’m not Muhammad, Jahanara! And if you wish to fight Aurangzeb, you had better do so yourself!”

I hurried from him. Though I loved Dara immensely, he also enraged me, for I feared his weakness would be our undoing. To stop from crying I bit my tongue, forcing myself to scheme as I stumbled forward. There must be a way out of this wretched mess, I thought, a road appeasing Aurangzeb’s need for revenge. If I could satiate this revenge, I might remain safe.

As I debated what to do, I rushed to the royal physician’s quarters, seeking the boy. When I saw the old man’s face I knew his patient had died. “They brought him too late,” he whispered, “and the cuts were too…much too profound.”

Weeping, I left the physician and ran to the closest mosque. It happened to be the newly finished Moti Masjid, the Pearl Mosque. The site, entirely of white marble, boasted a sprawling courtyard and a façade segmented by seven identical archways. Above the archways, three large domes rose skyward.

In a corner of the courtyard I faced Mecca, praying that the child was in Paradise and that he would be content for all eternity. I also prayed for a way to quench Aurangzeb’s thirst for revenge. I forced myself to scheme, and scheme relentlessly, for I understood that I must act with haste. Aurangzeb was deadly now and would strike without pause. I debated going to Father but decided that by involving him, I’d put the throne at even greater risk. After all, it wasn’t unthinkable to have a son plot against a father.

The day lengthened as I prayed. When Allah finally graced me with an answer, I thanked Him until my cheeks dried of tears. His answer would bring me pain and humiliation, but I hoped it would spare me a worse fate. My plan depended on Ladli, and so I sought her in the royal kitchen, where she still worked on occasion. I pretended to be angry at her, demanding that she follow me. I must have been an adept actress, for Ladli’s masters smiled as she shuffled past.

As soon as we were within a long unused storeroom, I hugged her. I told her that I loved her and that she would always be my friend. I also whispered of what had transpired, and of how I was in danger. She, unlike Dara, didn’t question my words.

“What are we to do?” she asked.

“I have a plan,” I answered softly. “But it involves you and is dangerous.”

“Tell me.”

“The only way Aurangzeb will leave me in peace is if he has his revenge. I hurt him today, and he needs to hurt me back.”

“Like the child he is.”

I ignored her remark, my mind still churning. “Does he consider you a friend?”

“Perhaps…yes, maybe he does. I cook sweets for his men or, better said, his snakes. And I fawn over him, even if he tells his snakes in that overwrought voice of his that he’s bedded me. He lies to them and they cheer him for it.”

My disgust with my brother deepened. “Good. Because I want you to betray me.”

“Betray you?”

“Tell him that last week I stole from my husband.” She started to protest, but I tightened my grip on her hand. “Tomorrow morning, whisper to Aurangzeb that I took a golden ring from Khondamir’s chest. Tell him that I buried it under a brick in my room.”

“It’s true?”

“It shall be. Because Aurangzeb will inform my husband of the crime, and when Khondamir discovers the ring gone, I’ll be beaten.” I paused, wishing some other path existed. “I’ll be humiliated in my own home.”

“But he’ll hurt you! There must be another way!”

“This way I can control the hurt. A beating from my husband will be better than a drop of poison from Aurangzeb, or the knife of one of his butchers. And yet, I think a beating will still my brother’s need for revenge.” I squeezed her fingers. “He’d rather disgrace me than anything else.”

“But better to give the dog a lesser weapon! You’ll lose face in court. The nobles will laugh—”

“My humiliation will never become public. I know my brother. Though he may be what you say, he’ll realize that if Father discovered he betrayed me, he’d suffer.” Because, I thought sadly, he recognizes that Father loves me more than him.

“But the pain.”

“Frightens me. Yet…” I hesitated, wishing today was but a dream. “Yet I’m more fearful of what shall happen to us.”

“Us?”

“After this,” I whispered, “we can never be seen as friends again. For if Aurangzeb thinks that you deceived him, you’ll die. So always we must appear as enemies. Only in secret can we be friends.” My voice quivered and I bit my lip. “This pains me, Ladli. More, much more than you’ll ever know. But it also saves me. And it may help me in the future. For as surely as the monsoon brings life, Aurangzeb will vie for the throne once my father dies. It cannot be given to him. Years from now, perhaps, if he trusts you, we can use this trust to our advantage. We can mislead him, or help Dara in some way.”