ruler should.The treasuries and armouries of Kabul — though not as full as in his father’s time — had yielded enough jewelled daggers and swords, coats of fine mail, finely chased armour, enamelled and gem-encrusted drinking cups and gold and silver coins to reward all his commanders and officers and their men. That Kamran had been so prudent with Kabul’s wealth had surprised Humayun.
His officers and commanders were eating now — the sweet, juicy flesh of young lambs, chickens roasted in butter, quails and pheasants stewed with dried fruits and served whole, their tail feathers still attached but gilded, and fragrant flat bread still hot from the bricks on which it had been baked. The luxurious abundance — the exquisite dishes on which the food was served — seemed a dream after all the years of danger and hardship, of betrayal and deceit. Humayun’s eyes rested with real affection on the battle-scarred faces of Zahid Beg and Ahmed Khan and on the lined faces of Kasim and Sharaf, who had followed him across blistering deserts and over mountains where the cold was so intense it seemed to freeze a man’s heart. When his warriors had numbered less than two hundred — and what tribal leader here tonight had so few? — these loyal men had stayed with him.
Later, as the final course of the meal — sweetmeats of all descriptions including dried apricots stuffed with walnuts and curd cheese mixed with sultanas and pistachios — was brought in on silver platters, Humayun looked around at his commanders, all enjoying the feast and discussing the future and the prospects for the reconquest of Hindustan. He felt content as he had not done for many years. He had never doubted his courage or skill in combat; nor, he suspected, had his followers. But he knew he had gained other perhaps more important strengths as well. He was becoming ever more confident in his authority as a ruler and a leader and in his ability to inspire loyalty in those such as Bairam Khan who had no pre-existing ties to him.
But what about those who had such ties but had not been loyal, among them the nobles and commanders who had supported Kamran and Askari and, of course, his half-brothers themselves? Humayun’s mood sobered. Over the past sixty hours since he had entered the citadel he had been pondering their fate, especially Kamran’s. He had nearly yielded to a visceral desire to revenge himself on his half-brother with his bare hands for threatening his child.
But as his rage had cooled he had begun to think more calmly. He could never forgive Kamran but did he owe it to the future of his dynasty to try to heal the rifts within it rather than deepening them? His father’s face — so like Kamran’s with those brilliant green eyes — swam before him. Suddenly the contentment and confidence welling through him coalesced to make his decision. Standing up, Humayun called Jauhar to him. ‘Have Kamran and Askari brought before me here, at once, together with those of their leading commanders whom we have also kept prisoner.’
A quarter of an hour later, Jauhar whispered to Humayun that the prisoners were outside the chamber’s thick doors. Humayun rose to his feet and clapped his hands to call for quiet. Almost instantly a hush fell on the room as his officers put down their eating implements and goblets, wiped their mouths, sticky from the sweetmeats, and turned all their attention to their emperor.
‘My loyal commanders, we have celebrated our victory and rightly rejoiced in our success in overcoming our enemies, but our task is only half complete. Now we must look to the future and the reconquest of Hindustan. However, first I must deal with those who, unlike you, showed me no loyalty and neglected the ties of blood and of ancestral obligations. Bring in the prisoners.’
Two attendants pulled open the doors and Kamran walked into the room. His hands were tied but his legs were free. Straight-backed, head high, and bruised, hawk-nosed face emotionless, he walked forward, looking neither to left nor right until the guards escorting him halted him ten feet in front of Humayun. He was followed by Askari, who had been confined in comfortable private quarters since being brought to the citadel but whose hands were now also bound. Even though he must have known he had less to fear than his brother since Humayun had promised him his life, his demeanour was less assured than Kamran’s. He was perspiring a little and looking round and smiling nervously at some of those of Humayun’s men he recognised. Behind him came ten of Kamran and Askari’s senior commanders. Among them were Hassan Khahil, a burly, wild-haired Uzbek, and Shahi Beg, a diminutive but courageous Tajik with a livid white scar on his left cheek. He had been Kamran’s commander in Kabul and was in fact a cousin of Zahid Beg, Humayun’s own general. As Shahi Beg entered, Humayun noticed the two men’s eyes met but then both looked instantly away.
Once the commanders were lined up behind Kamran and Askari, Humayun began addressing his own troops. ‘You see before you the men we have defeated. The men who have shed our blood and killed our friends. Yet the war we have fought was a battle between brothers and relations. I know this only too well, as do many others of you. We have fought those with whom we should have banded together to fight the common enemy who has usurped our lands in Hindustan. Much more — heritage, tradition and ambition — should bind us together than those rivalries and jealousies which have split us apart. Divided among ourselves, we may never reconquer Hindustan. United we should be so powerful we need fear none. The fear would be our enemy’s alone — our conquests and ambitions would be without limit.
‘For that reason I have preferred reconciliation to punishment, however well deserved. I have decided to forgive these my former enemies you see before you, provided they will join us in regaining and expanding our empire in Hindustan.’
With that, Humayun walked over to Askari and drawing a small dagger cut his brother’s bonds and embraced him. As he did so, he felt Askari relax and there were wet tears on his half-brother’s cheek as it brushed against his own. Then he moved towards Kamran and severed his bonds too and embraced him. Kamran’s body felt rigid but he did not pull back. Nor did he resist as Humayun held his and Askari’s arms aloft and yelled to the resounding cheers of all present, ‘Onwards to the reconquest of Hindustan.’
An hour later, Humayun made his way to Hamida’s apartments in the royal women’s quarters. She had arrived with Akbar and Gulbadan the previous evening and in the joy of their reunion they had not spoken of Kamran and his fate. As he entered, he could tell at once from her expression that she knew of his decision.
‘How could you!’ she burst out.‘You have pardoned Kamran, the man who stole our child and exposed him on the walls of Kabul. Are you mad? Don’t you care about our son and my feelings?’
‘You know I do. It was a hard decision. A ruler must think about more than his personal emotions. He must think about what’s best for his kingdom. If I’d had Kamran executed, I would have made implacable enemies of some of his most loyal followers and relations, not least Askari whom I had already agreed should live as a condition of his surrender of Kandahar. If I’d had Kamran imprisoned, he would have become a focus for discontent and plotting. The same would have been true if I’d punished his commanders. Our family is not the only one riven by the rebellions. Much better that I try to reconcile my enemies than to provoke blood feuds. If I am to reconquer Hindustan, I will need the willing commitment of all my nobles and vassals, not just those who have supported us this far.
‘Yes, of course I could press others to accompany me or to send levies, but they would soon be plotting or looking for any opportunity to defect or at the very least to return home. That would not help to win back our lands. The wounds that are most difficult to heal are those inflicted by the ones who should be the closest. But if I can heal those from my brothers, our dynasty will be the stronger and Akbar’s position in its future the more secure.’
At the mention of Akbar, Hamida’s expression softened a little, but it still betrayed scepticism and uncertainty. This was so hard for her. Humayun thought back to his own enraged assault on Kamran. At least he had had an opportunity to vent his feelings. .
‘I loathe Kamran. I can never forgive him.’
‘Hamida, I’m not asking you to forgive Kamran — that I know you can never do. But I am asking you to trust in me. . in my judgement. And I have another more personal reason for sparing Kamran. . loyalty to my father and above all the promise I made to him as he lay dying to follow his wishes and do nothing against my half-brothers, however much they deserved it. Their failure to honour his decision that I should succeed to the throne should not absolve me from keeping my own word to him.’
Humayun looked straight into Hamida’s eyes. ‘I am truly sorry if my decision hurts you, but you must know nothing can alter my great love for you and our son and my determination that when I die, which God willing will not be yet, I will leave him secure on the throne of Hindustan as my father left me.’
‘If you tell me that allowing Kamran to live will make Akbar’s future more secure then I must accept it. The future of our son is what matters most. But I cannot lie to you. In my heart I wish Kamran was dead. I would sleep more easily in that knowledge.’
‘This is best for Akbar.’
