Brothers at War

along the new highways and made it possible to know quickly what was happening in the most distant regions of the empire.

To prevent rebellion, Sher Shah had built new forts to control the provinces and stamped hard on lawlessness of any kind. Humayun reread a passage that had particularly caught his eye: In his infinite wisdom and unbounded goodness, His Imperial Majesty Sher Shah has decreed that every headman shall protect his village lest any vile thief or murderer should attack a traveller and thus become the instrument of his injury or death. When Sher Shah had said the headman must be responsible he had meant it. If the perpetrator of a crime was not apprehended, the headman himself had been forced to suffer the punishment.

Putting down the heavy, leather-bound ledger on the inlaid marble table beside him, Humayun smiled to recollect his own early days on the throne. How bored he would have been even thinking of some of the things that had preoccupied Sher Shah. What was heroic about collecting taxes or reorganising provinces or building roads? But now he could see that such things were essential to maintaining power. Had he focused more on them and less on seeking the answers to good government in the stars and in opium, he might not have lost Hindustan.

What mattered now was not to overturn what Sher Shah and Islam Shah had done but to retain the best elements so he could strengthen his own authority over Hindustan. . But there was one change he would make. Though Delhi had been Sher Shah’s capital and the Purana Qila was a palace-fortress fit for an emperor, he yearned to be in Agra once more, the city Babur had made his capital. As soon as he could, he would move his court there. Hamida had never seen Agra, and together they would create a place of such beauty that his court poets would require all their skill to capture it in words. But for the time being Delhi was better placed strategically for the tour of all the provinces of his empire he was planning in the next few months to remind the ordinary people of Hindustan, buffeted as they’d been by the winds of war, who their true emperor was — and that he was powerful. .

‘Majesty, Empress Hamida’s caravan is just five miles from the city.’ An attendant interrupted Humayun’s thoughts and his heart leaped. He knew his wife had been making good progress, but that she was here so soon was a great surprise. He stood, overcome with joy and longing for her. The administration of the empire could wait.‘Bring me my imperial robes. I must look my best for my wife. Even then she will outshine me by far.’

Humayun watched the slow approach of Hamida’s procession from the top of the western gate of the Purana Qila. It was the most magnificent of the entrances, with its tall pointed arch inset with white marble stars and two round flanking towers, and it was through this gate that Hamida, Moghul Empress of Hindustan, was making her entrance. The elephant carrying her was clad in plates of beaten gold and even its tusks were gilded. As it passed beneath the western gate, the trumpeters in the gatehouse sounded their instruments and attendants threw fistfuls of rose petals and tiny twists of gold leaf from the roof. Humayun hurried down to an inner courtyard where a vast green velvet tent had been erected, with awnings fringed with green ribbons and the entrance curtains tied back with tasselled golden cords. Within the tent Humayun could see the block of pure white marble placed ready for Hamida to dismount in privacy.

Hamida’s elephant was coming into the courtyard now and the mahout, seated on the beast’s neck, carefully guided it towards the great tent and on through the opening. Then, tapping his metal staff gently against first the right and then the left shoulder of the elephant, he caused it to kneel by the marble block. As soon as the animal had lowered itself, the mahout slid down and stood respectfully to one side. Humayun approached the howdah and, stepping on to the block, gently pulled aside the shimmering gold mesh.

As she smiled back at him, Hamida seemed more beautiful than ever in gold-embroidered robes, her long, black, sandalwood-scented hair spilling over her shoulders and, rising and falling on her breast, the necklace of rubies and emeralds that had been his wedding gift to her and they had preserved through so many misfortunes.

‘Leave us,’ Humayun ordered the mahouts. As soon as they were alone, he lifted Hamida from the howdah and held her against him. ‘My queen,’ he whispered, ‘my empress. . ’

That night they made love in the apartments he had had prepared for Hamida overlooking the Jumna river. They had once formed a part of Islam Shah’s haram and the carved alcoves, set with tiny pieces of mirror glass, sparkled like diamonds in the candlelight. Frankincense glowed in slender-legged golden burners at each corner of the room and scented water bubbled from a marble fountain carved to resemble the petals of a rosebud.

Hamida was naked except for her necklace and Humayun stroked the satin skin of her hip. ‘At last I can give you what I promised you. During our flight across the Rajasthan desert sometimes at night when I couldn’t sleep I’d watch the stars, wondering what messages they held and finding some comfort there. But you were my greatest solace — so brave, so resolute, so patient, even when all we had to eat was mule flesh boiled in a soldier’s helmet over a dung fire. . ’

Hamida smiled.‘I still remember how shocked I was when my father told me you wanted to marry me. . I’d only seen you from far off. . you seemed like a god. . On our wedding night I was still nervous, but when you came to me I saw your love for me burning so bright that I knew you would become a part of me. . you have. . you are my life. . ’

‘And you are mine. . but let me prove to you once again that I am indeed a man, not a god.’ As Humayun pulled Hamida to him, he saw the answering gleam in her brown eyes.

‘Majesty, a post-rider has arrived with a message from Bairam Khan.’

‘Bring him to me immediately.’ Humayun paced his apartments as he waited. At last. . but what news did the man bring? It was nearly three months since Bairam Khan had ridden out at the head of twenty thousand troops to deal with a sudden and serious threat to Humayun’s supremacy. Though in the aftermath of the battle at Sirhind Sekunder Shah had fled into the foothills of the Himalayas, he had reappeared on the plains of the Punjab where he had been seeking to rally support. Bairam Khan’s early reports had been encouraging, suggesting that he might soon be upon Sekunder Shah and his forces, but then Sekunder Shah had retreated back into the mountains. Bairam Khan’s last despatch, received nearly a month ago, reported his plan to pursue him there. Since then there had been silence.

Humayun’s greatest fears, as day followed day, had been for Akbar. His son had begged to be allowed to accompany Bairam Khan and Humayun had reluctantly agreed, ordering that Akbar be kept back from the fighting and placing him in the special care of Nadim Khwaja, father of Akbar’s milk-brother Adham Khan who was also to go. Though it had filled him with pride, it had been hard to watch his only son ride off cheerfully to war. It had been even more difficult for Hamida and though they had resolutely avoided discussing it he knew how many restless nights she had endured. But now, with luck, the waiting would soon be over.

As he was ushered into Humayun’s presence, the post-rider’s dusty clothes and stiff-legged gait spoke of many hours in the saddle. Bowing before Humayun, he reached into his leather satchel and extracted a folded letter. ‘My orders were to hand this to no one but you, Majesty.’ Humayun took the letter eagerly but then felt a sudden reluctance to know its contents. But that was foolish thinking. Slowly he unfolded the letter and saw the lines of Persian written in Bairam Khan’s neat, elegant hand.

Rejoice, Majesty. Your armies have defeated the traitor Sekunder Shah who has fled like a coward eastward to Bengal, leaving his men to their fate. We have taken five thousand prisoners and great booty. Within a month, God willing, I hope to lead your troops back into Delhi and have the joy of reporting in detail the story of our campaign. Your son is in good health and begs to send his respects to you and Her Imperial Majesty.

For a moment Humayun bowed his head in silent joy. Then he shouted to his attendants, ‘Order the drums to be beaten above the gates of the fortress and on the city walls. We have won a great victory and the world must know.’

Just as the sky was pinkening in the west, Humayun heard the strident blast of trumpets that announced that Bairam Khan was riding in through the western gate. Moments later, one of Humayun’s personal attendants came to help him dress in a coat of dark green brocade with emerald fastenings.

‘You have the gift I wish to present to Bairam Khan?’

‘Yes, Majesty.’

‘Then let us proceed.’ Followed by six bodyguards, Humayun made his way to the audience chamber and