Akbar stood silent and straight-backed as she got up and kissed his forehead. Dismay that she thought him heedless and ungrateful mingled with anger that, like Bairam Khan, she too should treat him like a thoughtless, pleasure-loving youth, grabbing for power he didn’t yet fully comprehend, never mind merit. Flinging open the doors himself, he strode quickly back to his own apartments. He shouldn’t resent his mother’s words but he couldn’t help it. Why didn’t she understand? She had let him down.
He was still brooding when, a little later, his qorchi entered. ‘What is it?’
‘Maham Anga asks that you visit her.’
What did his milk-mother want? a surly-faced Akbar wondered as he approached the silverleaf-covered doors leading to her apartments. Perhaps Hamida had asked Maham Anga to join her in urging patience and moderation on him. If so, their meeting would be short — he didn’t need another lecture. But Maham Anga’s face as she greeted him showed only affection and concern.
‘These past weeks I’ve noticed you’ve looked troubled, and my attendants tell me that earlier this evening you left your mother’s apartments abruptly, as if in anger. Akbar, what is wrong?’ Her clear, hazel eyes looked into his and her voice was as softly coaxing as when he’d been a child. She had always listened to him, always understood. . He found himself pouring out his grievances anew. She listened attentively and without interrupting, just occasionally nodding her head. When at last he fell silent, Maham Anga’s first question was, ‘What did your mother say when you told her this?’
‘Just to be patient.’
‘She is right, of course. It isn’t wise to act precipitately and you still have much to learn.’ His milk-mother was going to agree with his mother, thought Akbar. But then Mahan Anga continued, ‘That is why I wished to talk to you. I too have been growing anxious. I see that you are becoming ready to rule and that Bairam Khan — great man though he is — does not wish to acknowledge it.’
‘He doesn’t wish to give up his power. Since my father’s death he’s been emperor in all but name. .’ The words came rushing out. ‘Now he feels his power slipping from him. He resents it when I assert myself, like when I decided to move my capital here, to Agra.’
‘Perhaps he does think of himself as emperor. I know he makes appointments to imperial posts from among his followers without securing your permission. What is more, I hear,’ she said, dropping her voice as she went on, ‘he has recently been exercising even more of an emperor’s privileges. Akbar, there is something you should know, but first you must promise to tell no one that this information came from me.’
‘Of course. What did you mean about Bairam Khan and an emperor’s privileges?’
‘I am told he has been enriching himself from the imperial treasuries. In particular that he took a valuable diamond necklace with a jewelled peacock for its clasp from booty found in Hemu’s camp after your great victory at Panipat. Hemu’s vizier had listed it in his ledgers as among his master’s greatest treasures but none of your officials could find it. As a result, some soldiers who were supposed to have been guarding the chests of booty were flogged for their negligence.’
‘And you are certain that Bairam Khan took it?’
‘Yes. At first I didn’t believe the stories — unfounded rumours always abound at court, and in particular in the haram where sometimes there is little to do but gossip. But several weeks ago your milk-brother said he had a story that would amuse me. He told me of a concubine who until recently had been in Bairam Khan’s haram and had seen this necklace with her own eyes — indeed she had worn it. It seems that Bairam Khan likes his favourite of the moment to wear it when naked in his presence. My son didn’t realise the significance of his story — he just thought I’d laugh to hear about Bairam Khan’s habits. I said nothing and he has no idea I recognised the necklace from his description.’
‘I can’t believe Bairam Khan would do such a thing.’
‘Perhaps he doesn’t see it as theft. Perhaps he thought it was his right. After all, he has been regent for four years, and power does strange things to people, Akbar.’
‘But why take the necklace in secret? Why let others suffer?’
‘A good question.’
Akbar thought for a moment. Maham Anga had no reason to lie. She had only mentioned the story after hearing of his concern. Bairam Khan was clearly becoming addicted to his power and the perquisites it brought. His mind was made up. ‘Maham Anga, what you have said convinces me even more that I must break his hold over me.’
‘In the time of your grandfather and father, a man would have paid with his life for deceiving the emperor.’
‘What?’ Akbar stared at her aghast. ‘No. There is no question of that. I owe Bairam Khan everything and I would still trust him with my life. I do not even begrudge him the diamond necklace, however splendid. But I must be rid of his power over me. I must rule myself.’
Maham Anga seemed to reflect for a moment. ‘Well then. . When your father wished to be rid of your traitorous uncles he sent them on the pilgrimage to Mecca. Bairam Khan is in Delhi at the moment inspecting the defences, isn’t he? Send a letter to him there. Tell him how much you value his devotion to your interests but say that you fear he has been exhausting himself in the service of the empire. Say that you wish him to make the haj so that his mind and body may be refreshed and he may pray for the security and prosperity of the empire he has done so much to establish. You are the emperor. He must obey.’
Akbar leaned back against a bolster of dark orange silk and pondered. Maham Anga’s suggestion for getting rid of Bairam Khan was a good one. It would take him well over a year to complete the pilgrimage. He would have to travel to the coast of Gujarat, to the pilgrim port of Cambay, and there take ship to Arabia. At the other end, he would face a long overland journey through the desert to Mecca. By the time Bairam Khan eventually returned, Akbar would have taken control of every aspect of the government. He would be able to send his mentor into comfortable retirement on some rich estates that he would find for him.
But at the same time, another part of Akbar’s brain told him such a plan was dishonourable. He owed it to Bairam Khan to ride to Delhi and tell him face to face how he felt. Yet he had already tried that a dozen times. On each occasion, Bairam Khan had turned the conversation, leaving him outmanoeuvred. If he had his mother’s support in confronting him, it might be different, but Hamida had made her feelings clear. . wait, wait, wait. . Perhaps it was time to show her as well as Bairam Khan that he had come of age, that he could think and act for himself.
‘Maham Anga, be my scribe and write to Bairam Khan just as you said. But be sure to add also that I will always honour him. . that he has been like a father to me.’
‘Of course.’ Akbar watched Maham Anga go to a low, brass-inlaid rosewood table on which stood a jade inkpot and a quill and sit down cross-legged before it. Within moments, candlelight flickering over her strong, handsome features, she was penning the letter he hoped would set him free. He knew he could trust her to get the words right.
Chapter 4
‘How could you have been so unthinking and ungrateful towards Bairam Khan!’ Hamida seized Akbar by the shoulders. ‘Who put you up to this?’
‘No one.’ He had no intention of revealing Maham Anga’s role. She had only had his interests at heart, and anyway it had been his decision and his alone. For a moment Akbar thought Hamida was going to slap his face. Never had he seen her so angry.