insisted they should not meet again until the heat of the day was dying. This had left Salim yet more time to brood on what message his grandmother might have and to try to interpret the few words they had exchanged. He had even wondered whether Hamida had brought Zubaida, now at least eighty, bent and totally white-haired, with her to remind him both of his childhood and of the times in Kashmir when he was closest to Akbar. Eventually he had abandoned such speculations as futile and filled the time first by practising swordplay with Suleiman Beg and then by luxuriating in the fort’s bathhouse.
Entering the cool dark staircase leading to the top floor of the women’s quarters, Salim increased his pace, once more eager to see his grandmother and hear any message she brought. As he parted the silken hangings leading into her room he saw that Hamida, neatly but not ostentatiously dressed in purple silk, was sitting on a low chair while Zubaida put the finishing touches to her still thick hair by inserting clasps set with amethysts. Seeing her grandson, Hamida asked Zubaida to leave, which she did, bowing to Salim as she went.
‘Sit down on that stool, Salim, where I can see you,’ said Hamida. He did so despite the pulsing tension within him which meant that he would have been far happier being free to roam the apartment. Without any more preliminaries Hamida began, her voice as soft and authoritative as he remembered.
‘For the sake of the dynasty there must be no more posturing and parading of armies. You and your father must be reconciled and join together in defeating our real enemies and expanding our empire.’
‘I have never intended to harm the family. I respect our lineage and the deeds of our ancestors too much. I want the empire to prosper and grow, but my father refuses to understand my desire to assist him by sharing in the imperial duties. Instead he misinterprets my actions as threats to his authority.’
‘Easy enough for him to do so when you have had his chief counsellor and one of his best friends murdered.’
‘I. .’
‘Don’t deny it, Salim. Honesty has always been something we’ve shared.’
‘Abul Fazl saw me as a threat to his influence and powers of patronage. I have long since despised his smooth hypocrisy and scarcely concealed corruption. His death can mark a new beginning in how the court is run.’
‘And indeed perhaps in your relationship with your father. But have you got the insight to put yourself in your father’s place and appreciate how much Abul Fazl’s death hurt him? I think not, given all that’s passed between you, so I will tell you. Imagine how you would feel if your father had Suleiman Beg murdered. After the treachery of his own milk-brother and milk-mother your father never trusted anyone fully again. I even think that their betrayal may lie behind his refusal to delegate real power to you and your half-brothers. However, over time he did begin to rely on Abul Fazl. Think then how he felt when he learned of his murder on the orders of someone else he should have been able to trust — yourself.
‘Your father heard the news when he was visiting the imperial pigeon cotes, testing the speed and homing ability of some of his favourite birds. He almost collapsed and had to be helped weeping to his apartments where he remained alone for two days, refusing to see anyone or eat anything. When he emerged, red-eyed, dishevelled and unshaven, he ordered a week’s court mourning for Abul Fazl. Then he went straight to reproach your mother with giving birth to such an undutiful son. She simply told him that she was glad you had a mind of your own to stand up to him.’
Salim smiled as he pictured the meeting between the two.
‘Your father’s grief is not a cause for amusement,’ Hamida continued sternly. ‘When I visited him, he broke down into tears again. He said, “I know Salim was behind this. What have I — his father — done to deserve such treatment from him? My people and my courtiers love me and respect me. Why cannot my eldest son do the same?” I tried to explain that you were still young and as such more alive to your ambitions and your need for experience than to the feelings of others. But I told him that even so, he had been harder and less sensitive and forgiving in his handling of you than of some of his nobles. I reminded him his own father had died before there could be any conflict of ambitions and that in the early years of his rule he had been impatient and resentful of all restraint and advice. He acknowledged this only grudgingly at first. However, after more discussions over the succeeding days, in which I appealed to him to show to you the magnanimity and wisdom he is renowned for across the empire, he agreed to my coming here to see if you could be reconciled.’
‘I am truly glad you did, but is it really in my father’s character to allow me the power I crave? Isn’t he more like the male tiger who consumes his own young if they should seem to threaten his authority?’
‘And what about you, Salim? Can’t you admit that you have been foolish and headstrong at times? You were the one to behave like a young male animal when you made love to his concubine Anarkali.’
‘I was thoughtless. . I had no concern for the consequences of my lust, only for the lust itself. I admit I was wrong. . I cost Anarkali her life, and yes, on that occasion I strained my father’s patience.’
‘That is an understatement. Your father is a great man, as powerful a warrior as his ancestors Timur and Genghis Khan and a more tolerant, wiser ruler than either. I know that the parents and the children of great men often view them differently from others. However, you showed him no respect as a parent, as a man or as an emperor. You undermined the dignity that is so important to his position. A less forgiving man — one less understanding of his son’s youthful lust — would have had you executed like Anarkali.’
‘I know that, and I am grateful. But many other times my father has slighted me and caused me to lose face before the whole court by his dismissive treatment of me.’
‘You brought him pain through your inability to control your other appetites — not just your lust. Like your half-brothers you’ve staggered around the court helplessly drunk or glassy-faced with opium. Your father is a proud man and very conscious of his imperial dignity. He feels your behaviour has humiliated him as well as you in the eyes of the court.’
‘But I’ve attempted to reform my habits, unlike Daniyal — or Murad when he was alive.’
‘And your father gives you credit for it.’
‘Does he? And what about Abul Fazl?’
‘He thinks you tried to punish him by killing his best friend but he insists he will set the ties of blood above those of friendship — and I believe he will try. Indeed, he knows he must do so. With Murad dead and Daniyal still soaked in alcohol, you and in due course your sons must be the future of the dynasty.’
A wave of relief swept through Salim. He had been right in his analysis of his father. ‘So he recognises that he needs me?’
‘Yes, and you should recognise that you need him more. He could crush your little rebellion if he wanted to. Even if he simply publicly disowned and disinherited you, you would find it difficult to retain your authority or your followers. You do understand that, don’t you?’
Salim said nothing. His grandmother was right. His own position was not as strong as he liked to pretend. His plan to force his father’s hand to give him power was going nowhere. The treasury of Allahabad was emptying fast. He would need to find more money soon if his forces were not to begin to melt away. He was isolated from the court and the nobles there, many of whom he would have to win over if he were to succeed his father. He wished to see his sons, who would have heard only their grandfather’s views about his rebellion. Most important, he knew that latterly at least there had been faults on both sides in his arguments with his father. But it hurt his pride to admit it. Finally he simply said, ‘Yes.’
‘And you agree to be reconciled?’
‘Yes. . provided that I am not humiliated in the process.’
‘You will not be. I give you my word. Your father has agreed to allow me the responsibility of organising the ceremony before the court.’
‘Then I am content.’
‘When the trumpets sound you will enter the
‘And you are sure that everyone will act according to your guidance?’
‘Yes. Just as I am sure that you will. Now ready yourself. I must take my place behind the
