‘So?’
‘Some of us have more tolerance of such things than others. Even when I was young,
‘No, Kasim. They help me to think and to relax. Is that all you’ve got to say?’
‘Yes, but please remember even your father did not indulge every day, particularly when he had important business to transact.’As Kasim bowed and turned to leave, Humayun saw an expression of deep anxiety on his lined face. His concern was genuine. It had cost the self-effacing, reticent old man much to make his little speech. Humayun could not be angry with him.
‘I will give thought to your words, I assure you.’
Humayun looked with satisfaction at the huge circular carpet woven in silk blue as the sky that attendants were unrolling before his throne. The series of circles — outlined on the carpet in red, yellow, purple and green chain stitch and representing the planets — were placed exactly as he had ordered. He would reward the weavers well for their skill and the speed with which they had brought his ‘Carpet of Council’ to life.
The idea had come to him only a month ago during a particularly vivid dream — indeed his drugged sleep after drinking Gulrukh’s opium and wine seemed to be growing ever more marvellous and revelatory. One of the stars had actually seemed to speak to him, telling him to make such a carpet so that — when advising him — his counsellors could stand on the planet most appropriate to the business in hand. He had had the weavers work on the carpet in secret, taking it in turns so that the looms were moving every hour of the day. He had not spoken of the carpet to anyone except Sharaf — not Baisanghar, nor Kasim nor even Khanzada. Let it be a surprise to them as it would be to the rest of his council, whom he’d summoned to join him here.
Before long his counsellors were assembled. As it was a Wednesday, their robes, like Humayun’s, were a bright purple and their sashes orange. Humayun smiled to see their curious glances fall on the shimmering circle of pale blue spread out before him. Baba Yasaval was scrutinising it in frank puzzlement.
‘I have summoned you here to see this wondrous carpet. It represents the sky above us. These circles are the planets — see, here is Mars and Venus and Jupiter — and, over here, we have the moon. When you have something you wish to say to me, you must stand on the appropriate circle. For example, if you wish to speak to me of army matters, you must stand on Mars. That will help the planets to guide you. .’
Humayun looked around but suddenly found the faces of his counsellors hard to distinguish — was that Kasim, forehead wrinkled in thought, over there?. . He couldn’t be sure. . everything around him seemed a little blurred. Maybe his eyes were weary from studying the star charts or straining into the heavens when, at night, he climbed to the battlements of the Agra fort to contemplate the stars.
But after a moment everything slid back into focus. Yes, that was Kasim watching him thoughtfully and there was Baba Yasaval looking nonplussed, perhaps unable to comprehend the power of the carpet’s symbolism. But what about Asaf Beg? He seemed to be laughing — a disdainful curl to his lip — as he surveyed Humayun’s carpet. His expression as he raised his face to look full into Humayun’s seemed more than a little mocking. Anger ran like a flame through Humayun. How dare this ignorant petty chieftain from Kabul make fun of his emperor?
‘You there!’ Humayun rose and pointed a trembling finger towards Asaf Beg. ‘You are impudent and you will pay for your disrespect. Guards — take him into the courtyard outside and give him fifty lashes. Think yourself lucky, Asaf Beg, that you are losing only the skin off your back and not your head.’
There was a collective gasp followed by shocked silence. Then a voice spoke. ‘Majesty. .’
Humayun swung round, determined to tolerate neither contradiction nor criticism, but saw that it was Kasim who had spoken. At the real concern showing again on the face of the man whom he trusted and who had served both his father and himself well, Humayun’s rage began to ebb. At the same time he realised his breathing was ragged, his pulse was racing and his forehead was beaded with sweat.
‘What is it, Kasim?’
‘I’m sure that Asaf Beg meant you no disrespect, Majesty. . I beg you to reconsider.’
Asaf Beg, pale and with no trace of a smile now on his wide mouth and usually cheerful face, was gazing pleadingly at Humayun. To be publicly flogged would bring terrible shame on him and all his clan, Humayun knew. He also recalled Asaf Beg’s bravery in battle. He was already regretting his action.
‘Kasim — you speak well, as always. Asaf Beg, I pardon you. But do not test my patience again or you will not find me so merciful.’ Humayun rose — the signal for his council to disperse, which they seemed to do more quickly than usual. As he sat down again Humayun found himself shaking. The carpet had lost its lustrous charm. It was growing late. Perhaps he should return to his apartments to rest. But as he entered them, he was surprised to find Khanzada waiting for him.
‘What is it, Aunt?’
‘Dismiss your attendants. I must speak with you alone.’
Humayun gestured to his servants and to Jauhar to leave. The double doors had barely closed behind them before she began. ‘I witnessed what happened at the council meeting from behind the
‘My council do not always understand that what I am doing is for the best, but you should. It was you who first taught me the value of display to a ruler — you who suggested the weighing ceremony and encouraged me to use ritual as an aid to governing. .’
‘But not to the exclusion of humanity or reason. .’
‘Under the tutelage of the stars I have devised new patterns and new procedures. Government will become simpler. If my counsellors and advisers follow my guidance the tedium of time spent in the audience chamber will be reduced, leaving me free for the further exploration of the unplumbed depths of the heavens.’
‘Forget the stars.You’re obsessed with them and are losing your hold on reality. I’ve tried to warn you before but you wouldn’t hear. Now you must or you risk losing everything you’ve striven for — everything your father achieved. . Humayun, are you even listening to me?’
‘Yes, I am.’ But Khanzada was wrong, he was thinking. . only in the patterns of the stars and the planets could he find the answers to other questions that had long fascinated and tormented him. Whether everything was somehow predestined by the heavens? Whether his father’s early death had been part of some greater plan? How much of a man’s destiny rested in his own hands? How much was preordained, like the position and the family into which he had been born and the responsibilities and privileges that flowed from it? And how could he know. .? An old Buddhist monk whom he had visited in his youth in the monk’s solitary retreat by one of the great statues of the Buddha — cut into the cliffs of the Bamian Valley a hundred miles west of Kabul — had told him that, given the precise date, time and place of his birth, he could foretell not only the course of his life but as what animal he would be reincarnated in the next. The idea of reincarnation was nonsense to him, but what of the rest? Of one thing he was already sure — that with the star charts and tables and records of events long past that he spent so much time studying and that in his opium-fuelled dreams came alive for him, he could create a framework for living and ruling and was already well along the way to doing so.
‘Humayun! Won’t you even answer me?’
Khanzada’s voice seemed to be coming from far off and as he stared at her she seemed to diminish in stature, becoming a little doll animatedly waving her arms and waggling her head. It was almost comic.
‘You smile when I speak of the danger you are in. .’ Khanzada’s firm grip on his arm, the sharpness of her nails digging into his flesh, brought him back to reality. ‘You will hear me out. There are things that must be said. . that perhaps only I can say. . but remember I speak only from love.’
‘Say what you wish.’
‘Humayun, you spend your days fuddled with opium.You used to be a ruler, a warrior.What are you now but a dreamer, a fantasist? I never thought I’d have to say these words to you. . but a leader must be strong, he must be decisive. His people must know that they can look to him at all times. You know that. How many times in the past have you and I not discussed such things? Now you seldom visit me. . And when I look around the court, I see expressions of fear and uncertainty and hear uneasy laughter behind your back. Even to those who’ve known and served you long and loyally — like Kasim and Baba Yasaval — you’ve become like a stranger. They no longer have confidence in your judgement. They never know how you will react — whether you will approve their actions or whether you will be angry. Sometimes they can get no coherent guidance or direction from you for hours. . even
