Brothers at War

of the palace’s carved central doorway and formed up in two lines on either side of Humayun. Raja Maldeo followed, a tall, powerfully built man in belted orange robes that swept the ground, dark hair tightly bound beneath a turban of cloth of gold flashing with diamonds. Hand on breast, he advanced towards Humayun and bowed his head.

‘Greetings, Majesty. Welcome to Marwar.’

‘I thank you for your hospitality, Raja Maldeo.’

‘Your ladies will be given apartments near those of the royal women of my house as is our Rajput custom. Rooms for yourself and your courtiers and commanders have been prepared in the Hawa Mahal — the Palace of the Winds.’ Maldeo gestured towards the tower. ‘Yours will be in the pavilion at the very top where the breezes blow through.’

‘Again, I thank you. And tomorrow we will talk, Maldeo.’

‘Of course.’

Humayun woke next day to feel a warm breeze stirring the gauze curtains around the soft bed on which, exhausted, he had collapsed into a long dreamless sleep. For a few moments he just lay there, giving himself up to relief and satisfaction that he had brought his family and his men to a safe haven. For a while at least they could all rest, and most important of all Hamida would have the care and comfort she needed. Humayun got up and stepping out on to the wide balcony found himself gazing down the sweep of cliff that fell sheer to the sandy plain below. The sun, already high in the sky, seemed tinged with crimson around the edges, like the flesh of the blood orange.

After the hardships of the past few weeks’ journey, the desert held no charms for Humayun. Turning away, he summoned Jauhar to fetch Kasim, Zahid Beg and his other commanders.Word of this must have reached Maldeo because even before Humayun’s men arrived, the raja’s servants brought great brass trays piled with fruit, nuts and gilded sweetmeats, and golden ewers of chilled sherbet. They were still eating and drinking when Maldeo himself appeared. He was more soberly dressed today in pantaloons and tunic of dark purple and a curved dagger hanging in a plain leather scabbard from the thin metal chain around his lean waist.

‘I trust you slept well, Majesty.’

‘Better than for many weeks. Join us, please.’ Humayun gestured to the orange silk cushion next to him.

Maldeo made himself comfortable and helped himself to a gilded almond. For the sake of politeness, Humayun decided he must wait a while before raising the subject of Sher Shah, but his host was less squeamish.

‘You have not made this long and arduous journey simply to drink sherbet with me.’ Maldeo leaned forward. ‘Let us be frank. We face a common enemy. If left unchecked Sher Shah could destroy us both. He must be defeated.You already know that he has insulted me by threatening to invade Marwar, but in recent weeks he has given me yet further cause to wish to see his head in the dust.’

‘How so?’

‘He has dared to ask for my daughter in marriage. The blood of thirty kings of Rajasthan runs in her veins — I’ll not give her to the thieving offspring of a common horse trader.’ Maldeo’s eyes were narrow slits and his tone was laced with venom.

‘I have few men left but if you will give me an army and ride with me, others will take heart and follow. Like the Moghuls, your people are of warrior blood. Together we can sweep Sher Shah and his dregs into the gutters.And I promise you this, Maldeo — when I am again on my throne in Agra, you will be the first I shall recompense.’

‘Whatever is in my power I will do — not for reward but from respect and honour, both for my own heritage and for yours.’

‘I know, Maldeo.’ Humayun took the raja by the shoulders and embraced him.

Eight weeks later, Humayun watched the raja and his escort ride out of the fortress, disappearing across the dry plains in the direction of the desert city of Jaisalmer where Maldeo planned to raise more troops for the campaign against Sher Shah. In the gathering dusk, the shrill cries of the raja’s pet peacocks pierced the cooling air as they sought a roost for the night on the battlements. As he contemplated the future Humayun felt more relaxed than for many months. Maldeo was an attentive host. A day seldom passed without either some entertainment — camel races, elephant fights or displays of fire-eating and martial Rajput dances — or the presentation of a gift. Only yesterday, Maldeo had sent him a jewelled bridle and Hamida a necklace of translucent amber beads. Pleasing though this was as a sign of Maldeo’s friendship, far more important was that he and the raja had nearly finished planning their campaign against Sher Shah. Soon Humayun would be riding at the head of an army again.

‘Majesty. . ’ He turned to see one of Hamida’s attendants, Zainab, kneeling before him. The girl was badly disfigured by a birthmark that covered the right half of her thin little face and when her mother had died of a fever during the harsh journey to Marwar, her father, a foot soldier with other children to feed, had left her to fend for herself. Touched by her misfortunes, Hamida had taken her as her attendant.

‘What is it?’

Still kneeling, Zainab spoke rapidly. ‘Majesty, her imperial highness asks you to come to her as soon as possible.’

Humayun smiled. He had been planning to visit Hamida tonight. Now that they were in comfort and safety and Hamida was feeling well again, his mind turned frequently to the joys of love-making, although with Hamida’s rapidly swelling belly he must soon learn to curb his passion for her. Nothing must damage the child. But when, finally, Zainab lifted her eyes to his, they looked troubled and he knew something was wrong.

Without stopping to question Zainab, Humayun swiftly descended two floors to the passage connecting the Hawa Mahal to where Hamida and her women had been given apartments adjoining those of Maldeo’s women. Ignoring the members of his bodyguard posted by the sandalwood doors leading to Hamida’s rooms, Humayun himself pushed them open and strode in.

‘Humayun. . ’ Hamida ran to him and putting her arms round his neck clung to him. Her body was trembling and he could feel her hectic, shuddering heartbeat beneath her thin silk tunic.

‘What is it? The child. . ’

Hamida said nothing but waited until the doors had closed and they were alone. Stepping back from Humayun, she folded her hands protectively over her belly. ‘Our son is safe inside me. . for the moment at least. But if we’re not careful we may all soon be dead.’ Her voice was low and as she spoke she glanced around as if eavesdroppers might be concealed behind the fluttering hangings.

‘What do you mean?’

Hamida came close to Humayun again. ‘I have learned that the raja has never been our friend. He has always planned to betray us. Even now he is riding to a secret meeting with envoys sent by Sher Shah from Agra at a fortress deep in the desert. His story about going to raise troops in Jaisalmer was just a blind to conceal his true purpose.’

‘But he is my ally and my host and has treated us with honour. We’ve been in his power these past two months. He could have killed us a hundred times. . ’ Humayun stared at Hamida, worried that her pregnancy had addled her wits.

‘All that has saved us so far is the raja’s greed — he has been negotiating his price. Now he has gone in person to question Sher Shah’s envoys to satisfy himself that all his demands will be met. As soon as he returns. . sooner if he sends a messenger ahead of him. . he will have us murdered.’

Hamida’s face was taut with fear though her voice was calm. He took her hand, feeling its marble coldness.

‘How do you know all this?’

‘A woman — her name is Sultana — came to me from the raja’s haram. She is one of our people — an Afridi from the mountains of Kabul. After her father was killed at Panipat, she and her mother joined a caravan returning to Kabul but as they were attempting to cross the Indus brigands attacked them. Sultana and the other young women were taken to be sold in the bazaars. She was a great beauty. One of the raja’s nobles bought her and sent her to Maldeo as a gift.’

‘What else did this woman tell you?’

‘That in his heart he despises the Moghuls. He thinks us barbarian raiders with no right to Hindustan.The story about Sher Shah wishing to marry the raja’s daughter is a lie. As soon as Maldeo knew we were definitely on our way here, he wrote to Sher Shah gloating that he would soon have us in his power and asking what Sher Shah