Not until ten days after his return to Kabul, when the trees were turning red and gold as autumn came, did Humayun finally have Askari brought before him again. His words to his men had been the honest truth — he was ashamed of his half-brother, of the depths to which he had fallen and the dishonour it had brought to their family. Pallid and thinner than ever from his confinement in the common dungeons, Askari shuffled slowly into Humayun’s private apartments, hands bound, legs shackled and flanked by guards. ‘Leave us,’ Humayun ordered them, ‘but stay within call.’ As the double doors of mulberry wood closed behind them, Humayun walked to his gilded chair, sat down, and chin in hand looked Askari in the face.
‘There’s something I’ve never understood.Twice I’ve spared your life though you threatened mine. More than that, I invited you to be not just my brother but my ally in my invasion of Hindustan. . You must think I’ve wronged you, yet I offered you everything. . ’
Askari slowly shook his head. ‘You didn’t,’ he said in a low voice. ‘All you ever offered me and Kamran was a little of your reflected glory — not power and lands of our own. I see from your face that you don’t understand, but for you life’s always been about your so-called “great destiny”.’
‘It’s not just my destiny — it belongs to us all.’
‘Does it? What about the saying of our people, taktya, takhta, “throne or coffin”? That’s not about a shared destiny — it’s about winner takes all. Humayun, let us speak plainly — perhaps more honestly than we ever have in all these years. I don’t like you but I don’t hate you. . I never did. I was just looking out for myself as you would have done in my place.’
‘You’re just making excuses for thwarted ambition and greed.’
Askari looked down at his bound hands. ‘That’s what you call it. I’d say it was a desire for independence — the freedom I’d have enjoyed if our father had divided his territories fairly between his sons as our ancestors did.’ He paused.
‘But you didn’t have to betray me. Hindal didn’t.’
At the mention of Hindal Askari’s self-righteous expression altered. ‘Hindal was different from any of us. He was as gentle as he was big in stature. He was without guile and so naive that he expected everyone to be as honourable as he was. You lost a good ally when you stole Hamida from him. . ’ Suddenly there were tears in Askari’s eyes. ‘I wish. . but what’s the point. . ’
‘What do you wish?’ Humayun rose from his chair and came so close to Askari he could smell the pungent dankness of his skin and clothes after his days of confinement.
‘I wish I hadn’t killed Hindal.’
‘You? I thought it must have been Kamran. . ’
‘It wasn’t. It was me.’
‘But why? How had he injured you?’
‘I didn’t mean to kill him. It was an accident. A cruel coincidence of fate. I was on a raid with some of my men on a moonless night. In the darkness we encountered a small party of fast-moving riders who wouldn’t halt or identify themselves. I shot an arrow at their leader who tumbled from his saddle as the rest of his men fled in panic. When I looked at the body I. . I saw it was Hindal. . ’ Askari said dully, eyes avoiding Humayun’s. ‘I ordered my men to leave his body outside the walls of Kabul where it would be found before wild beasts took it so you could give him a decent burial.’
‘I did. He lies near our father as he wanted.’ Humayun was still adjusting to the genuine remorse he saw on his half-brother’s face when a thought struck him like a shaft of light suddenly illuminating a dark corner.
‘Hindal was the reason you surrendered when you did, rather than attacked me, wasn’t he? You might well have been able to kill me. . ’
‘Yes. My guilt weighed on me. Everything felt so futile. I didn’t want to add another brother’s death to the burden of regret I already carry.’
Humayun felt tears prick his own eyes as he thought over Askari’s tale. Why had Hindal put himself at risk by riding south with only a few men into lands where he must have known he might encounter Kamran’s and Askari’s robber bands? Was it wishful thinking to think Hindal might have been on his way to Kabul to seek a reconciliation with him? Now he would never know. .
For a few moments, both brothers were silent. Then Askari slowly crossed the room to the window and looked down into the courtyard. As he did so a half-smile crossed his face. ‘When we were children, Hindal and I used to stand here sometimes while the guards drilled in the courtyard. At other times we watched you and Kamran learning to fight with dagger and sword. We were very impressed — compared with us you seemed like grown men, warriors. . We also watched our father ride out on his invasion of Hindustan from here. We’d never seen anything like it — so many thousands of soldiers, so many baggage wagons assembled in the meadows below the citadel, so much noise and excitement in the early morning light. Hindal was yelling with excitement though he didn’t really understand what was happening. . Humayun. . ’
‘What?’
‘Do you intend to execute me?’
‘Probably not.’
Askari closed his eyes for a moment. ‘In that case, help me find a way to make peace with myself and with the past. . ’
‘How can I do that?’
‘Let me make the journey to Mecca, the haj. I want to atone for what happened to Hindal. . ’
‘You want to make the pilgrimage to Mecca?’ Why not, Humayun thought after a moment or two. Making the haj would take Askari nearly a thousand miles from Kabul and from Kamran for months — years even. It was a better solution than incarceration or exile and might even provide Askari with the spiritual comfort he seemed in such need of. ‘Are you certain this is what you want?’
Askari nodded.
‘Then I will send an escort with you under the command of one of my best young officers, Mohamed Azruddin.’
‘To spy on me?’ Askari smiled bleakly.
‘No. To protect you — it is a long and hazardous journey by sea as well as by land. . You may not believe me but I wish things could have been different between us. It is too late for that now — the past will always lie between us — but I pray that you find the peace you are seeking.’
Chapter 22
One clear early spring morning, five months after Askari’s departure on his long journey to Mecca, Humayun stood at the stone casement of his apartments in his fortress palace overlooking Kabul and gazed towards the mountains to the south. Although there had been no falls for some weeks, their jagged peaks were still snow-capped. The winds were chill and Humayun pulled his fur-lined cloak tightly round him. Few travellers made the journey up through the passes from Hindustan at this time of year but as Humayun watched, a small caravan appeared round the bend of the road that led south to Hindustan.
As the caravan got closer, Humayun saw that it comprised a few horsemen, no more than twenty — presumably merchants and their attendants — and about twenty or thirty pack camels. The riders were all well protected against the cold by heavy sheepskin jackets and most had scarves wound round their faces. The camels’ warm breath hung in the cold air as they plodded slowly up the hill under the burden of heavy panniers crammed with trade goods strapped on either side of their bodies, and headed towards one of the caravanserais that clustered just inside the thick walls of the city. After ten minutes, the caravan disappeared from view through the city gates into the caravanserai. Shortly afterwards, Humayun saw the smoke of extra fires lit to warm and feed the newcomers rise from within its walls.