She laughed again. “Who do you think has been managing the empire’s financial affairs? Leaving aside the fact that Jahanara has her own incomes from trade, jagdirs, and endowments from her mother that make her something like the fourth or fifth richest person in the world. Why would any of her entourage go to Dara for a reward when they know that Jahanara will take very good care of them anyway?”
John leaned back in his chair before thinking about it. The pain was sharp, and a stark reminder of the consequences of failing to recognize a backstabber. Sitting unnaturally erect, he spent another few seconds studying the table while the pain subsided. Jahanara had commissioned the large piece of furniture along with the accompanying chairs for the Mission, another reminder of her power. The princess had used the craftsmen of her own establishment, the same ones who provided the many palaces of the dynasty with furniture.
Mom had been into antiques. He had no idea how much it had cost. The wood itself was very fine teak, and it seemed as if every inch of it including the tabletop was covered with intricate carvings of geometric designs. It was probably—literally—worth a fortune. So were each of the chairs.
Worth a fortune to most people. Monique was right about that much, at least: to a princess of one of the two or three largest, richest and most powerful empires in the history of the world?
Pocket change.
“Okay, I can see that,” he said. He looked around the table and issued a soft, dry chuckle. “What the hell? She’s trusting us, isn’t she?”
He frowned again. “She could trust Bobby and Ricky just as much.” He gave Monique a slightly—very slightly—apologetic glance. “Okay, probably your father too. Besides—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—I just got done being royally pissed off at Gervais”—he looked from Bertram to Monique—“and you two.”
“Need to know,” said Rodney, shrugging. “Which none of them do because none of them need to. And before you get all upset about keeping secrets from Gervais, Bertram, and Monique the way they did from us, it’s not treason for the head of the Mission to keep his subordinates in the dark for security reasons. So it ain’t the same, not including them in the…what do we call it? ‘Conspiracy’ seems a little…I don’t know. Underhanded.”
Priscilla shrugged. “That’s because it is.” She shook her head. “It is what it is. Which is, yeah, a conspiracy—but it’s in a very good cause.”
She looked around the table. “And by ‘good cause’ I don’t just mean keeping a woman—Salim, too—whom we all like and admire alive and doing well. It goes way deeper than that. Jahanara and Salim already have a lot of trust and confidence in us, and they listen to us. A year from now, we’ll have even more influence on them.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Which, I don’t know about anybody else, but I damn well plan to use. I want the Mughal empire—hell, all of this subcontinent—to start changing. I’ve gotten attached to it, being honest. But it needs to change.”
She took another deep breath. “Starting with a man and a woman who love each other being able to get married, for Pete’s sake. Starting with a family being able to settle an inheritance without brothers having to murder each other.” Her voice got a bit shrill. “And not executing people by having them stomped on by elephants!”
“What she says,” said Monique. She laughed again, more loudly than before. “And who do you think is most likely to get some of those changes made? Or at least get started. My money’s on the most capable—ruthless, too, when she needs to be—member of this whole damn dynasty.”
John shook his head. “They don’t allow women to rule here.”
His wife laughed. “What difference does it make what these men allow? You will recall Nur Jahan? The woman who, in her heyday, was the empress of India in all but name. Jahanara…”
She said the next words softly. “I think that young woman—she’s still only twenty-three years old—can do nearly anything she sets her mind to.”
“And she’s got a pretty impressive boyfriend too,” said Bertram stoutly.
John ignored Bertram and focused on Ilsa. “But what about our baby? If Pris and Rodney are on Hajj, who’s gonna look after you?”
Ilsa’s smile made her even more radiant. “My mother had six children without a single issue, and your mother gave birth to you on the way to the hospital, John. I’ve had no issues so far, and if something should happen, I have every confidence in the physicians Pris has trained.”
“If they’re so great, let them take care of Jahanara,” John mumbled weakly, knowing he’d already lost the argument.
Her gaze softened the words that followed: “Were you not listening before? Allowing them to treat her places Jahanara, and therefore us, in way too much danger. It is far safer this way.”
John bit his lip, worry for his wife warring with pride in her strength and wisdom. Ultimately, it was her health, and therefore, her choice. Not trusting his voice, John just nodded.
Chapter 53
Red Fort
Harem precincts
“You have no right to do this to me, Janni!” Roshanara wailed, setting Dara’s son to crying.
Jahanara ignored both her sister’s histrionics and her familiarity. “I have every right, Roshanara Begum. I am senior of the bloodline, and have arranged everything.”
“And before you think to ask me or Dara for relief from it, we fully endorse the marriage,” Nadira said, handing her son off to one of his milk mothers. The servant took the squalling child and retreated.
“But, she should be marrying him, not me!” Roshanara cried, gesturing at Jahanara. Her face was a bitter fist, as if she’d devoured a lemon whole. Perhaps Shaista Khan could make her happy, but Jahanara sincerely doubted anything could. Some people were bent on
