‘I could tell from your letters you were worried, but I hadn’t realised how serious it’s become.’
‘You’ve been away some time. I visit Father nearly every day. I’d hoped he was finally overcoming his grief — after all it’s nearly five years since our mother died — and for a while it seemed like it. But either I was wrong, perhaps only seeing what I wanted to see, or he’s relapsed … He’s becoming more melancholic and isolating himself from the world again.’
‘Does he at least still take an interest in the building of our mother’s tomb?’
‘Yes. He inspects progress most days, giving detailed instructions, especially about the inlaying of the gems into the marble. But he doesn’t stay long and as soon as he returns he relapses into brooding introspection. If he isn’t careful it will either erode his sanity or lead to internal rebellions, but he doesn’t realise the danger either to himself or to the empire …’
‘Danger? You really think things have become that bad again?’
‘I’m not sure, but quite possibly … I can only tell you what I’ve observed recently. Father is once more finding it difficult to concentrate. The deaths of Kamran Iqbal and our grandfather Asaf Khan following each other in such quick succession have unsettled him, severing further links with his past. What’s more, both of them felt able to speak to him frankly about problems they saw arising and advise him how to deal with them before they grew. Without their prompting he’s become ever more reluctant to turn his mind to issues like official appointments or taxation.’
‘But these things matter.’
‘Yes. They’re what bind our empire together. It’s essential for the empire’s well-being that he retains not just the outward loyalty of his commanders and officials but their genuine support and enthusiasm, but he won’t take time to listen to their petitions and complaints, nor will he read the reports from the provinces. However, I read them and I see what’s beginning to happen …’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’re growing lax. We’re alienating our nobles by disregarding their ambitions at the same time as relaxing our scrutiny of their activities. Though they remain outwardly faithful and deferential much of it is mere show — they feel free to flout obligations like maintaining troops for imperial use in return for the gold we pay them. While you were away, the commander of the Agra garrison wrote to the Governor of Ajmer asking for five thousand men to escort the imperial court when we journey to Lahore in three months’ time. However, the governor replied that the local landowners couldn’t raise that number of men so quickly.’
‘But they’re supposed to keep them ready for action in case of sudden war. Aren’t we still sending inspectors to their estates to check that they’re maintaining the correct numbers of troops and collecting the taxes efficiently?’
‘Yes, but the landowners must be bribing them. I asked Aslan Beg for the records of the Ajmer inspections, and discovered that our officials were there three months ago but reported nothing amiss.’
‘They must be punished, and severely, to make an example, and the Governor of Ajmer as well. At the least he was weak in allowing such corruption. At worst he was involved. I will attend to it even if Father won’t. As you say, it mustn’t be thought even in the most remote outposts that the emperor’s eye is elsewhere or his authority weakening or we will face more rebellions like that of the Raja of Orchha … What do Shah Shuja and Aurangzeb think about all this?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve written to them, of course, but Aurangzeb has been so preoccupied he hasn’t been in Agra for a couple of years. His campaign to quell the Orchha rebellion was harder and took longer than either Father or anyone else could have anticipated. Now that he’s viceroy in the Deccan the region’s still so unsettled that he’s busy dealing with several local risings as well as incursions from beyond our borders. Shah Shuja must have his hands full in Bengal too. The Arakanese are a constant threat to our traders in the Ganges delta.’
‘I heard that Father’s just given Shah Shuja Orissa to govern as well?’
‘Yes. Shah Shuja asked and Father agreed before I knew anything. Otherwise I would have advised against it. Although he enjoys the power and status such appointments bring, I don’t think Shah Shuja yet has the capacity for such wide responsibilities or such hard work and may never do, but perhaps I misjudge him.’ Jahanara took Dara’s hands and smiled. ‘I’m glad you’re back in Agra. I’ve missed you. There are few people I can talk to about such things … Satti al-Nisa sometimes and Roshanara who I’m sure thinks I exaggerate because she doesn’t spend as much time with Father as I do. In fact she’s delighted with him at the moment — she asked him to reinstate the Royal Meena Bazaar and he’s agreed. But enough of such matters. I want to hear about you. Was your journey to Surat successful?’
‘Yes. It was a good idea of yours to take Nicholas Ballantyne. He was useful as an interpreter and helped me negotiate good terms. The English East India Company have agreed to supply ships to protect our trading vessels and our pilgrim fleets on their voyages across the Arabian Sea to Mecca. There are no better soldiers than the Moghuls but we don’t understand how to fight at sea as the English do. They’ll deal with the pirates for us.’
‘The Surat merchants must have been honoured that a Moghul prince came to negotiate in person.’
Dara grinned. ‘Surprised too, I think. I put on a mighty show — one hundred elephants caparisoned in gold and a thousand mounted retainers in green turbans and tunics. These foreigners are easy to impress — their jaws dropped to their knees as they gawped at the opulence.’
‘Father will be pleased with the outcome. The pirate raids on our ships have angered him …’ Jahanara paused. ‘But there’s something else you should know about him … Nearly every night he sends for women from the haram, sometimes two, even three. He’s even built a mirrored hall inlaid with gold and pearls so that he can observe his love-making.’
Dara stared. ‘How do you know all this?’
Jahanara smiled a little sadly. ‘It’s common gossip around the haram. I asked Satti al-Nisa to speak to the khawajasara who confirmed it all. Apparently he never sends for the same woman twice and scarcely utters a word to them while they are with him. She also said that he is taking dangerous quantities of aphrodisiacs — he’s especially fond of some concoction called “the Making of the Horse” … Of course, I was shocked at first. I couldn’t understand how he could act like this when he loved our mother so much … but then I felt pity. He has never recovered fully from her death and now he is seeking whatever solace he can. It’s as if he’s begun testing his potency as a man when he should be more concerned about demonstrating it as an emperor.’
Brother and sister looked at one another in silence. Then Jahanara said, ‘I’ve never told anyone this, but in Burhanpur, while our mother was lying in agony waiting for our father to come to her, she made me promise that if she died I would watch over him and keep him from harm. I wasn’t sure what she meant or what I could do. But I believe she understood his character — that without her guidance and support, and in particular her insight into human nature, for all his strength and courage, all his wealth and power, he would be rudderless — a vessel adrift from its moorings. We must rescue him from himself and anchor him back in the world, Dara … for his sake and for the empire’s. The question is how.’
Thousands of coloured lanterns hanging in the trees lit the main courtyard of the Agra fort. In the centre stood the vast tent of maroon velvet that workmen had laboured for a week to erect for the eighteen-day Nauruz — the New Year festival introduced by Akbar. Inside, every surface was covered with thick, soft silk carpets and brocade hangings embroidered with gold, pearls and precious stones. Each night since the festival’s start Shah Jahan had either held court in the tent, receiving the gifts and good wishes of his nobles, or visited their own resplendent pavilions pitched nearby. This evening, though, would be different. It was the night of the Royal Meena Bazaar, when the wives and daughters of the nobility spread stalls with trinkets and lengths of brilliant silks and played at being traders. It was one of the few occasions when the women of the court dropped their silken veils and men could gaze openly on their faces.