Nur’s control slipped further, as evidenced by the flaring of gold-studded nostrils.
Jahanara watched, that part of her not reveling in the accomplishment worried the older woman would lash out at her with something other than words.
Much to her surprise, Nur did not attempt to strike back with either words or actions, merely repeated her earlier claims in a soft voice. “I had nothing to do with the death of your father. I was, like him, a target of Mullah Mohan’s assassins.”
“So you keep saying. As if repetition would make your story any more believable.”
“I say it because it is the truth.” Nur looked down, then muttered, “But I can see it is no use trying to convince you of it.”
“I’m sorry,” Jahanara said with the honey-and-vinegar tone of a harem instructor correcting a wayward student, “I couldn’t understand your words just now. Please enunciate.”
“Perhaps we should get on with the business we are sent here to conduct?” Nur grated.
Certain she had her opponent off balance and at a disadvantage, Jahanara agreed.
As Nur began laying out Aurangzeb’s position, Jahanara let her thoughts wander, knowing Aurangzeb was exceedingly unlikely to authorize the offer of any substantial concessions, not when he seemed so close to victory. He had offered this meeting more out of concern that he be observed by everyone to have kept the forms rather than any sincere desire to come to terms with Dara or his supporters.
Still, Jahanara must remain alert to some advantage she may yet squeeze from these talks.
Please God, let Salim strike true, and soon.
Chapter 36
Agra
Red Tent, Aurangzeb’s camp
Aurangzeb set aside the golden chalice of julabmost he’d been drinking from and reread the report he’d been looking at but failing to comprehend for the last hour. The report was not so complex it defied comprehension, it was simply that he was impatient for Nur’s return to camp. He’d watched from the shelter of his tent as Jahanara rode to meet his chosen representative, but had retired before he gave the men the impression he was overly concerned with the outcome. The last thing those under his command wanted was a negotiated disposition that prevented them pillaging Agra. Not that he expected Dara to agree to any of the terms Aurangzeb was offering—but God was known to work in mysterious ways.
He blinked. He’d reached the bottom of the page yet again without actually absorbing the information contained in the report.
The messenger entered and placed a fresh packet on the table set aside for Aurangzeb’s correspondence.
I’m going to need a small army of highly qualified munshi soon. It’s one thing to command an army with but my own skills at administration, quite another to rule the empire.
He stood and paced over to the table. Rifling through the latest messages, one caught his eye. Snatching it up, he returned to his seat. A few moments later he had decoded the message within. He had no trouble focusing on its contents. This time he checked his cyphering as well as rereading the message, wanting to be certain he hadn’t read only what he wanted to learn from the message instead of picking up what he wanted to hear.
A slow smile spread beneath his thin, almost-adolescent beard. Roshanara’s report confirmed, from inside the harem, that Salim’s banishment did not appear to be a ruse. Even the up-timers were upset with Dara over the exile of their patron. And they were not the only ones. His sister reported that all the court seemed to have lost heart with his departure. Jahanara had also lost reputation in the exchange, Dara blaming her for some transgression that Roshanara took some glee in reporting, as it was reportedly sexual in nature.
Thoughts racing, Aurangzeb sat back.
Briefly, he considered dispatching a messenger to Nur with this new information. News that Dara’s court was in such disarray might prove useful, but the fact that certain members of the court intended to capitulate meant nothing when Jahanara was negotiating in their presence. No, jogging Nur’s elbow at this late hour would do nothing to benefit his cause.
Was it an opportunity, though?
Perhaps some demonstration before the walls of Red Fort was called for? Some final plea for Dara to surrender? Those umara of questionable loyalty serving Dara might be convinced to betray the pretender if he could find the right words to sway them. But shouting at the walls did not seem the proper way to convey the necessary image of unassailable power and gravitas so essential to his image as a better, more mature ruler than his elder brothers.
No, the value of any piece of information was based not only on the facts, but timing as well. Roshanara’s message had come too late for maximum value. The best Aurangzeb could do with the information now was plan for the defense to collapse rapidly if and when his own army appeared to be so overwhelming, and in such a position that any assault would surely doom the defenders. As any collapse of the defense was already predicated on such shows of force, the intelligence hardly affected the plan.
That need in mind, Aurangzeb turned his attention to considering the disposition of forces at his command. The first assault would be given every chance of succeeding, if only to spare the lives of his followers.
Carvalho was still shepherding the heaviest of the artillery train’s guns a few days to the south, the rains having made progress hellishly difficult. Even after he arrived the guns would take nearly a week to work into positions where they could even start to reduce the walls, a process which would take weeks he did not have. No, they would make do with the lighter pieces to support the assault.
Unfortunately, there were fewer contingents of infantry among his followers than he’d like. The Rajputs were the best of his heavy foot, if a bit oblivious to
