Ruler of the World

and trees would soften the outlines. ‘How are the plans for the gardens going?’

‘Excellently, Majesty. Over there, outside your hall of private audience, the diwan-i- khas, we can see some of the gardeners at work.’

Akbar followed Tuhin Das out of the mint. Again, his chief architect had done well, he thought, watching women as well as men squatting on the red earth as they planted rows of dark green cypresses in between young cedars. In another bed mango trees, sweet-smelling champa and the brilliant vermilion cockscomb his father Humayun had admired so much were already growing.

‘Please enter the diwan-i-khas, Majesty. I hope you will be pleased. It is exactly as it appeared on the drawing.’

It was indeed, Akbar thought as he entered the graceful sandstone pavilion. In the centre of the single high chamber rose the swelling, miraculously carved column he had so admired on paper, on which rested the round platform, linked to hanging bridges, where he would sit. ‘See, Majesty, you will be positioned as if at the centre of the universe. . the place of supreme power. It is like the pattern of our Hindu mandalas — the column represents the axis of the world. .’

Later that day, splashing his face with chilled water from a turquoise-inlaid silver bowl, Akbar felt a deep satisfaction. His campaigns had succeeded and his capital was as glorious as he had hoped. For the next few hours — perhaps until the dawn light warmed the stony desert plains below — he would forget about conquests and empire and visit his haram. Of all the buildings of Fatehpur Sikri that Tuhin Das had shown him, the complex behind its high walls, with the airy five-storey panch mahal where his concubines were housed and the elegant and luxurious sandstone palaces built for Hamida, Gulbadan and his wives, perhaps pleased him most.

The main entrance into the haram lay through a curved sandstone archway, protected, as he had ordered, by elite Rajput guards. Within the complex, the women were attended by eunuchs — the only men other than Akbar himself allowed inside it — assisted by women from Turkey and Abyssinia, selected for their physical strength. The overall running of the haram was under the watchful eye of the khawajasara, to whom he had issued detailed instructions for its smooth functioning and security. While he had been away, yet more rulers anxious for his favour had sent him women to be his concubines if they pleased him — sturdy, broad-cheekboned, almond-eyed women from as far off as Tibet, slight, green-eyed Afghan girls with skin the colour of honey, voluptuous, large-featured women from Arabia, eyes rimmed with kohl, bodies made yet more alluring by intricate patternings of henna — or so the khawajasara promised him.

At the thought of the sensual pleasures awaiting him in that hidden world behind its thick, metal-studded gates, Akbar’s blood quickened. This new haram would be his private paradise — a luxurious retreat of rosewater fountains and silk-hung chambers where he could shrug off the cares of being an emperor and embrace the joys of being a man.

Whom would he make love to tonight? he wondered as he entered the torchlit subterranean passage that was his private entrance into the haram. His thoughts turned briefly to his wives. It would not be the Persian nor the princess from Jaisalmer. . not tonight, anyway. As for Hirabai, he had kept his word and they had not made love since Salim’s birth. However, he had paid her a courtesy visit on his return — even presented her with a diamond bracelet that had once graced the wrist of one of Shah Daud’s wives. Hirabai’s tone had been cold, her oval face expressionless as she had at once handed his magnificent gift to one of her Rajput attendants. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but her undiminished contempt still had the power to wound.

He turned his thoughts in a more pleasurable direction. Perhaps he would order the khawajasara to select the pick of the new arrivals and, after they had removed their jewellery so its clinking would not betray them, he would play a game of hide and seek with them. The woman who evaded him longest would share his bed. Or perhaps he would play a game of living chess with them on the giant board he had had laid out in white and black stone in the haram courtyard. As he ordered each woman to move around the board in her diaphanous garments, he would have ample time to decide which one pleased his fancy most, and — unlike Hirabai — whoever he preferred would undoubtedly be delighted to be the emperor’s choice. .

Six weeks later, Akbar entered his mother’s chamber. Pale pink silk hangings threaded with pearls fluttered pleasingly against the carved sandstone walls, and through the delicately arched casement he saw water bubbling from a fountain carved like a narcissus in the courtyard. His mother should be pleased with her accommodation, he thought. A little guiltily, he realised how few times he had visited her recently.

‘What is it, Mother? Why did you want to see me?’

Hamida exchanged a glance with Gulbadan, seated beside her on a gold brocade bolster. ‘Akbar, we have something we must say to you. We feel imprisoned in this haram of yours behind its gates and high walls, this city of women, guarded by so many soldiers. .’

Akbar stared in surprise. ‘It is for your own protection.’

‘Of course we must be protected, but we don’t need to be shut away like prisoners.’

‘Our royal women have always lived in the seclusion of a haram.’

‘Not isolated from the world like this. You forget who we are — not just royal women but Moghul women. In past times, we accompanied our warrior husbands, brothers and sons in their quest for new lands. We rode hundreds of miles on mule or camelback between makeshift encampments and remote mud-walled settlements. We ate with our menfolk. We played our part in their plans — as advisers, ambassadors, mediators.’

‘Yes,’ Gulbadan broke in, ‘twice I crossed the lines of battle to intercede with your uncles after they had taken you prisoner. . I risked my life like any Moghul warrior in the field and I was glad to.’

‘You should be happy those times are gone. . that we’re not throneless nomads any more. I’m a powerful ruler — an emperor. It would reflect on my honour if I did not free you of such worldly worries and give you every luxury and comfort and the protection due to both your sex and your rank.’

‘My rank? I am a khanim,’ said Gulbadan, raising her chin, ‘a descendant of Genghis Khan, the one they called the Oceanic Warrior because his lands once stretched from sea to sea. His blood as well as that of Timur flows in my veins and gives me strength. I think you have forgotten that, Akbar.’ Her usually gentle voice was firm.

‘I know what you both endured because I’ve often heard you speak of it — how you fled through icy mountains and across blistering deserts, how you almost starved to death. I acknowledge and honour your courage but I thought you would no longer wish to be exposed to potential dangers.’

‘Why didn’t you ask us first rather than assume you knew what we would want or what was good for us? We wish you to treat us like adults with adult minds — not children to be cosseted and given trinkets to keep us amused. Not all of us are content to be like your concubines, compliant, pampered and unquestioning. We have lives of our own,’ responded Hamida. Rising, she came towards him and placed her hands on his shoulders. ‘Yesterday I wished to visit a friend of mine — the wife of one of your commanders who lives near the western gate. I set out with several of my attendants from my palace but when I reached the gates leading from the haram the guards told me I could not pass. . only the khawajasara could give permission for the gates to be opened. If you think this is for our benefit, for our security and protection, you’re quite wrong. It is intolerable to be subject to such restrictions. You may be the emperor, Akbar, but you are also my son and I tell you I will not be treated in this way.’

‘I am sorry, Mother, I hadn’t realised. . I will think about how things can be changed.’

‘No. You will not. You will tell the khawajasara and the captain of the guard and the chief among that army of eunuchs you employ here that I, the mother of the emperor, will give the orders within the haram. I and your aunt will come and go as we please without let or hindrance.’ Hamida released him. ‘And when you go on campaign or on an imperial progress, we will accompany you if we wish to, properly concealed from impertinent or prying eyes, of course. And we will listen to council meetings as has always been our custom from behind the protection of the jali screens. . and later give you any advice we see fit.’

Hamida paused and gave him a searching look. ‘You have fallen in love with your power and magnificence — you think too much of the image you present to the world. Success has come easily to you — far more easily than to either your grandfather or your father. Don’t let its dazzle blind you to the feelings of those close to you, whether