Empire of the Moghul: The Tainted Throne (31 page)

‘Highness, you have a visitor.’

Khurram stood up. Glancing at the marble sundial in the courtyard he saw it was nearly midday. He had been waiting all morning for a response to the message he had sent to the fort at first light, requesting an audience with his father. To be kept waiting so long was yet a further snub, though it shouldn’t be long now till he saw Jahangir. But at the sight of the visitor Khurram’s face fell. Instead of his father’s vizier Majid Khan or some other high official of the court, he saw the tall, spindly figure of the English ambassador. Even in his dismay he noticed how changed Sir Thomas Roe looked as he came forward. He was thinner than ever, the thighs protruding from his short striped breeches barely thicker than Khurram’s upper arms, and his once ruddy face was pale. The whites of his eyes were almost yellow and Khurram could see that the long ebony stick in his slightly shaking hand, a gaudy ribbon round its handle, was not for dignity or decoration but support. The ambassador was leaning heavily upon it.

‘Thank you for receiving me, Highness.’

Khurram gestured to Roe to seat himself on a low bench beneath a silk canopy and called for attendants to bring cushions. He had never liked the ambassador – he distrusted all the foreigners who clustered around the court and had been puzzled by his father’s interest in this one – but the man’s physical state demanded his courtesy. Roe lowered himself cautiously on to the seat and as he did so grimaced with pain and couldn’t prevent himself from emitting a low moan. ‘I’m sorry, Highness. My stomach has been troubling me.’ Not only his stomach, the ambassador thought wryly. His bowels were still torture. Hardly a week passed without their turning to water, and now he was troubled by haemorrhoids – his ‘emeralds’ as he called them in his increasingly querulous letters to his wife at home in England. But of course he would say nothing about that to this haughty young prince. There were far more important matters to discuss. Ever since he had learned that Khurram was on the road back from the Deccan he had been debating whether to try to see him. This would be a difficult conversation but it was his duty to his own king, his own country, to have it.

‘Highness, what I have to say is only for your ears.’

‘Leave us,’ Khurram ordered his attendants, and drew closer. ‘What is it?’

Roe waited until he was certain they were alone. ‘Forgive me for coming so soon after your return to Agra, Highness, but it was imperative that I see you. Though I am a foreigner at your father’s court, while I have been here I have learned your language and been privileged to make many friends among the courtiers. For a time I also enjoyed your father’s
favour. Indeed, I felt he had come to look on me as a friend . . .’

‘It wasn’t he who sent you?’ The thought had suddenly struck Khurram.

‘No. I am here on my own account, not his. Indeed, I have not had a private audience with him for some time. You may find what I am about to tell you incredible but I beg you to believe me.’ Roe leaned forward, resting both hands on the top of his stick. ‘Beware the Empress Mehrunissa. She is no longer your friend. Indeed, she is your enemy.’

‘Mehrunissa?’ Had the Englishman become sick in mind as well as body? Nothing else could excuse his bizarre accusation or his impertinence in making it. ‘You are wrong,’ Khurram went on coldly. ‘The empress is my wife’s aunt – the great-aunt of our children. Family ties as well as the love I know she bears my wife make such a thing impossible.’

‘Listen to me, Highness. Very soon I will return home to England. My health can no longer bear the rigours of the climate here. If I stay I may die. But before I depart let me have the satisfaction of knowing that I tried to warn you even if you wouldn’t listen. Remember that as a foreigner I dare tell you things a Moghul courtier might not. Ask yourself why your father has turned his face against you . . . Ask yourself why he is favouring Prince Shahriyar . . .’

The ambassador’s bluntness took Khurram aback. ‘There has been some misunderstanding between us,’ he said stiffly.

‘No. It is all the empress’s doing. She thinks herself subtle but many around the court have noticed her scheming. While you have been away in the Deccan she has done all in her power to bring Prince Shahriyar to the emperor’s attention.
I saw this happening and asked myself why. The prince has no special abilities or talents and – forgive me, Highness, for speaking so of your half-brother – I have even heard him called slow witted. When I heard he was betrothed to the empress’s daughter, matters became clearer. The empress craves power. Perhaps you do not know how many decrees she issues, how many decisions she takes. Some even call her the Purdah Emperor. She means to encourage the emperor to declare Shahriyar – not you – as his heir. When your father dies she will rule Hindustan. Prince Shahriyar and her daughter will be no more than her puppets.’

Khurram stared at the ambassador’s earnest face, beaded with sweat despite the shade provided by the canopy. What Roe was saying seemed impossible, and yet . . . ‘My father would never permit his wife to manipulate him in such a way,’ he said slowly, as much to himself as to the ambassador.

‘Your father has changed. The business of government bores him. Ask any of his counsellors. The empress encourages him to take his ease, to follow the enquiries into the natural world that so absorb him, to drink wine and take opium . . . She has made him utterly dependent on her and abuses his trust for her own ends.’

‘You said you were no longer in my father’s favour. What happened?’

‘I’m not certain. Once I was frequently in the emperor’s company. When I first fell ill, he was most solicitous, suggesting remedies and even on one occasion sending his own
hakim.
But his interest in me waned. His invitations to me during times I was well became fewer and then ceased. The only times I have seen your father recently have been on public occasions.’

‘Perhaps my father has tired of your demands for trading concessions.’ Roe’s expression told Khurram his remark had hit home and he pressed on.

‘You spoke of wanting the satisfaction of warning me. Why, Sir Thomas? Why should you care which son my father favours?’

‘It matters to me because the emperor has refused my request to allow English ships to join the Portuguese and the Arabs in shipping pilgrims to Arabia. My king will be very disappointed. Had your father agreed, many more English ships would have come to Surat and our trading settlement there would have expanded. Our ships would have brought more goods from England and as well as carrying pilgrims could have taken on board more goods from Hindustan to trade in Arabia or bring home to England. Trade must be the ambition of every civilised nation and England’s trade with the Moghul empire could have been greatly enhanced.’

He would never understand these foreigners’ enthusiasm for trade, thought Khurram. Roe was a nobleman yet his face when he talked of profits was as animated as that of any merchant in the bazaar. In his agitation the ambassador had dropped his stick, and he had to stoop to retrieve it before he went on.

‘I came in the hope that my information will help you save yourself . . . that you will remember it was an Englishman who warned you and be grateful . . . that one day, when you become emperor, as I hope and trust you will, you will favour my country.’

‘What do you mean, save myself?’

‘Now the empress has set herself on this path she will
not stop until she has provoked an open breach – perhaps even war – between yourself and your father.’ Seeing Khurram’s still sceptical expression, Roe shook his head in frustration. ‘Highness, reflect on what I have told you. I swear to you I’m not lying. Ignore my words and you will regret it.’

For the first time Roe’s earnestness, the passionate conviction in his voice, penetrated the disbelief clouding Khurram’s mind. Mehrunissa . . . Could it really be she – not an ambitious courtier or disloyal officer – who had turned his father against him? If she had indeed become his enemy every perplexing thing that had happened would start to make sense. ‘I don’t know whether I believe you, but I will think about what you’ve said.’

‘That is all I ask, except for one favour. As I said, I will shortly be returning to England, but my page Nicholas Ballantyne wishes to remain in Hindustan. He is loyal and intelligent and would serve any master well. Will you take him into your household?’

‘To spy and report back to you in England?’

For the first time Roe smiled. ‘No. I tried as hard as I could to persuade him to return to England. But it is no matter. If you will not take him, Majesty, I will ask one of my acquaintances at court.’

Asaf Khan’s usually animated face was very still as he listened. After Khurram had finished, he took a moment to respond. ‘It’s hard to say this of my own sister but I believe the ambassador is right. Mehrunissa has turned against you. She plans one day to rule through Shahriyar and you stand in
her way. As the ambassador said, people at court have begun to talk about her love of power.’

Khurram struck the stone column against which he was leaning with his gauntleted hand. ‘How can my father be so blind? Doesn’t he know what’s being said?’

‘He does know but chooses to ignore it. Only a month ago, Mullah Shaikh Hassan used his sermon in the Friday mosque to criticise the emperor for allowing the empress to issue imperial decrees. He claimed a woman had no right to do so. He also criticised the emperor for drinking wine, blaming it for clouding your father’s mind and making him fall asleep while attending the meetings of the religious council, the
ulama.
Mehrunissa wanted the mullah flogged but for once the emperor resisted her and simply ignored the outburst. The mullahs aren’t the only ones to resent Mehrunissa. Some of the commanders – particularly the older ones like Yar Muhammad, the Governor of Gwalior – have complained to me that it is now her seal more often than his which is affixed to their orders, but they express their discontent privately. One of the few who said anything openly to the emperor found himself next day “promoted” to an outpost in the fever-ridden swamps of Bengal.’

It was early evening. After Roe’s departure Khurram had waited in vain for a summons from his father to go to him in the fort. All day he had been turning Roe’s words over and over in his mind, each time finding them more credible. He had been about to call for his horse and ride up to the fort to demand to see Jahangir when he had thought of consulting Asaf Khan. He better than anyone should have an insight into what might be in his sister’s mind, and as Arjumand’s father he could surely be trusted.

‘In harming me Mehrunissa would harm Arjumand and our children. Doesn’t that mean anything to her?’

‘No. Having installed herself in Jahangir’s affections, she thinks first of her own interests and then those of her daughter. She will brook no rivals . . . whoever they are. You have been away from court. You could not perceive what I have been unable to ignore. She isolates the emperor. Though I command the Agra garrison, these days I rarely see him. Even when I do, Mehrunissa is always there. She issues my orders as she does those of the other commanders. Her seal dangles from them, stamped with the new title Jahangir has given her. My sister is no longer merely “Nur Mahal”, “The Light of the Palace” – your father has awarded her the title “Nur Jahan”, “The Light of the World”.’

‘What does Ghiyas Beg say?’

‘Even he has no influence over her. As the comptroller of the imperial revenues, he knew the Badakpur estates were promised to you. When he asked Mehrunissa why they were instead being given to Shahriyar she told him it was no concern of his. My father is a mild man. I never thought to see him so angry.’ Asaf Khan fell silent, then asked, ‘What will you do?’

‘This must not continue. I will make my father see me, whether he wants to or not. I will make him understand that the empress has dripped poison in his ear and that I am still his loyal son. I have been away from court too long. When he sees me his love for me will revive.’

‘Be careful, Highness. Act with thought as well as passion. If you let your heart rule your head you will be the loser. Heed the ambassador’s warning. Beware Mehrunissa. She is as clever as she is fearless.’

‘Don’t worry, Asaf Khan. At last I know who my enemy is – and how formidable. I won’t allow emotion to run away with me any more than I would in battle. I have never been defeated in my campaigns for my father. I will not let his wife defeat me now.’