‘Majesty, my scouts report a small band of riders still some three or four miles off but galloping quickly towards us,’ Ahmed Khan said, reining in his horse.
‘God willing, it’s the messenger I sent to Mirza Husain, returning with an escort. But just in case, halt the column and order the men to take up defensive positions around its perimeter. Post extra guards around the women and the treasure.’
‘Yes, Majesty.’
With luck, the arduous six-week trek from Multan, where he had rendezvoused as planned with his gunners and cannon, and then along the Indus would soon be over and he could plan how to regain the initiative against Sher Shah. Humayun strained his eyes towards the western horizon where the great, blood-red sun was sinking rapidly. Soon, he could make out a cloud of dust rising from among the spindly trees and tumbled rocks ahead and then the horsemen themselves — about thirty of them — led by a cavalryman whose steel helmet glinted in the last rays of sunlight. As the horsemen reined in, Humayun saw that the messenger he had despatched with letters to Mirza Husain nearly two weeks ago was indeed among them. The leading rider removed his helmet, dismounted and made obeisance.
‘Greetings, Majesty. Mirza Husain, Sultan of Sind welcomes you to his lands. He awaits you at a camp just ten miles from here. He denied himself the honour of greeting you in person because he wished to assure himself that all was ready for your reception. I — the captain of his bodyguard — and my men will escort you there.’
Dusk had fallen by the time Humayun saw the orange light of camp fires through the dark silhouettes of the trees. The only time he had seen Mirza Husain was many years ago when the sultan had come to Kabul to pay his respects to Babur and he’d no memory of what he looked like. The tall, straight-backed man waiting in the centre of the camp, hand on breast and dressed in magnificent red robes with a tightly wound golden turban on his head, was therefore a stranger to him.
‘Welcome, Majesty. Your arrival honours my kingdom.’
‘Your hospitality is most welcome, cousin. My brother and I thank you.’
Mirza Husain was a good-looking man if a little fleshy, Humayun thought as the ritual exchange of courtesies continued. Before he let himself run to fat he must have been a good fighter. He recalled Babur’s stories of how Mirza Husain had consolidated and enlarged his kingdom, even taking land from his neighbour to the south in Gujarat, Bahadur Shah.While Humayun had been fighting in Gujarat, Mirza Husain had sent messages of support but had offered no troops. Neither had Humayun asked his cousin for any. Confident of victory, he’d had no wish to share Gujarat’s rich booty any more widely than he’d needed to.
‘Everything is ready for your reception, Majesty. Special quarters have been prepared for the women, near your own, and rows of tents erected for your soldiers. Tonight you must rest. I have ordered food to be brought to you. Three days from now, when we reach my palace at Sarkar, we can talk of former times.’
And of future ones, Humayun thought to himself. He needed Mirza Husain’s help if he could be persuaded to give it. But of course the courtesies must be observed. .
That evening, lying back on a brocade-covered bed in his own tent, Humayun felt himself begin to relax for the first time since leaving Lahore. He had brought his family and his remaining forces to safety. God willing, soon he would be riding to battle again.
Sixty hours later under a blazing sun, with Mirza Husain on one side and Hindal on the other, Humayun rode into the fortress palace of Sarkar, set within thick walls on a high rocky promontory overlooking the sea. Above the gatehouse, two banners fluttered in the clear air — the scarlet red of Sind and by its side the brilliant green of the Moghuls. The palace, approached up a short, steep ramp leading up from the gatehouse, was a golden-stoned building constructed around three sides of a courtyard.
Installed in opulent apartments covering almost the entire middle floor of the palace’s west wing, Humayun summoned Hindal and Kasim. He wished to confer with them alone without the listening ears of his own attendants, apart from Jauhar whom he trusted with his life and who was standing on guard by the door.
Humayun gestured Hindal and Kasim to be seated. The vizier lowered himself with difficulty. The hardships of recent weeks had taken their toll. Kasim looked even thinner and more stooped than before. Humayun waited while his old counsellor settled himself before speaking. ‘Though for courtesy’s sake I’ve not yet said anything, Mirza Husain knows very well why I have come — that I want his help against Sher Shah. Soon, though, I must raise the matter and wish to be prepared. Have you yet managed to glean anything of his thoughts or intentions from those around him, Kasim?’
‘I may have learned something of what is in his mind. . ’ Kasim said cautiously. ‘People reveal more than they realise if you are a good listener. . I’ve been told that when Mirza Husain first read your letter asking him to receive you, he was thrown into great consternation. He has no desire for his kingdom with its prosperous merchants and harbours crammed with cargo dhows from Arabia to be drawn into a conflict. He even fears you mean to take his kingdom from him. . ’
‘Then why did he welcome us here? He could have made excuses,’ asked Hindal.
Humayun grunted. ‘He had little choice. He is our cousin and I think that means something to him. Also, despite my reverses I am an emperor intending to recover my lands and, when I do, well placed to reward him and to further his ambitions. Mirza Husain knows this. And unless he wished for an open breach he could not bar his doors against me. But whatever is in his heart and mind, I must plan our next steps. Has any further news reached us of Sher Shah’s movements these past three days?’
‘None, Majesty,’ said Kasim. ‘From what little we can glean from travellers and others, he has still not moved beyond Lahore.’
‘And what news of Kamran and Askari?’
‘No one knows where they are at present, Majesty. According to some rumours they have withdrawn northwards up the Kabul river to Badakhshan — but as I say, Majesty, those are only rumours. . ’
Humayun frowned. ‘Sometimes I wonder whether Kamran wasn’t playing an even deeper game than I realised, and Sher Shah also. What if the whole business of Kamran’s offer to betray me and Sher Shah’s rejection of it was a subterfuge by the pair of them to draw me out of Lahore so their forces could fall on mine and destroy them?’
‘It’s possible, Majesty,’ said Kasim. ‘We cannot discount it.’
‘I also keep wondering how much Askari knew of Kamran’s plans. Did they scheme together to betray me to Sher Shah or did Askari flee with Kamran because he thought I would never believe he hadn’t been implicated?’
This time Hindal answered. ‘I’m sure Askari did know. He always follows where Kamran leads. I do not speak from malice but because I have reason to know — I was once the same.’
‘I suspect you are right. Unlike Kamran, Askari’s weak and he stands in awe of his elder brother,’ said Humayun. ‘Consequently, his treachery hurts me less. In my boyhood it was Kamran — almost my equal in age — that I played and hunted and sparred with.Though we often argued — sometimes even fought — for a while we were close. . almost like full brothers. That he should desire my death brings me almost as much grief as anger. . ’
A knock on the door interrupted him and he fell silent as Jauhar swung the well-oiled rosewood doors open to see who was there. Humayun heard low voices conversing outside, then Jauhar reappeared.
‘Forgive me, Majesty, but Mirza Husain has sent his vizier with a message.’
‘Admit him.’
The vizier, slight and fine-boned with a direct, intelligent gaze, made an elaborate obeisance. ‘Pardon me, Majesty, for disturbing you but Mirza Husain begs that you and your brother will honour him with your presence at a feast tonight.’
‘Of course.’ Humayun nodded graciously. ‘We would be pleased to attend and thank Mirza Husain for his hospitality.’
The vizier bowed and withdrew.
As soon as the doors were closed again, Hindal smiled. ‘A good sign, don’t you think? Mirza Husain can’t do enough for us. . ’
‘You may be right, but he may be trying to placate us with small things while seeking to deny us what we really want. . let us see. . ’
