‘I’d prefer to remain here in the fort. Buildings don’t interest me. Anyway, I promised to visit Roshanara today.’
‘You can do that later. I wish you to accompany myself and Dara.’ Shah Jahan’s tone was sharper than he’d intended, but as so often these days Aurangzeb was exasperating him. ‘Now leave me, both of you. I have matters to attend to.’
Two hours later, Shah Jahan rode along the banks of the Jumna, Dara and Aurangzeb on either side of him and a small escort behind. Though still dusty and raw-looking, Dara’s new sandstone mansion glowed handsome in the warm March sunshine. As they dismounted in the courtyard, Dara’s yellow and gold liveried attendants ran forward to take their reins. Shah Jahan looked around with interest as Dara led them through the network of airy rooms and terraces on the ground floor and then up to the flat roof in the centre of which stood a domed chattri. ‘So Nadira and her women can catch the evening breezes,’ Dara explained.
Shah Jahan nodded. ‘Your builders have done well.’ As they reached the ground floor again he turned to Aurangzeb. ‘What do you think?’
‘It’s very fine, but I imagine cost wasn’t an issue.’
Dara looked surprised. ‘As I told you, Father gave me the land and the money to build this new palace some while ago to mark the birth of my second son Sipihr.’
‘If our tour is complete, with your leave I would like to return to the fort,’ Aurangzeb addressed his father. A report arrived this morning about tax gathering problems south of Burhanpur that I haven’t finished reading.’
It was Dara who answered. ‘The tour’s not quite over. You haven’t seen my underground chamber. I’ve had it lined with giant mirrors imported from Aleppo and my architect has designed a series of wind tunnels — such as they have in Persia — to keep it cool in summer. Father, I’d rather show it to you when it’s nearer completion — the decoration’s not finished yet and it’s still dusty and dirty — but I’d like Aurangzeb to see it before he leaves Agra.’
Shah Jahan nodded and was already turning away when he heard Aurangzeb reply in a strange tone, ‘No, I’d rather not.’
‘Aurangzeb.’ Shah Jahan looked back towards his sons. ‘Surely your business from the Deccan can wait a few moments.’
Aurangzeb was silent for a little, then replied, ‘No. As I said, I don’t want to see the underground room and must ask to be excused.’
Shah Jahan stared, unable to believe his ears. Aurangzeb’s expression was set and determined. What on earth was the matter with him? Was it pique that he had given Dara such a generous present? If so, it was unfair. He was open-handed to all his sons. He wasn’t in the mood for childishness. ‘I wish you to visit the chamber as your brother requests.’
‘Father, please think before you order me or I will have to disobey you.’
Shah Jahan’s temper was rising. ‘I don’t understand your behaviour. You are being discourteous to your brother and insolent to me. I am no longer asking you to do as Dara asks as your father, I am ordering you as your emperor.’
‘Then, as your subject, I refuse!’
Shah Jahan strode over and grabbed his son by his thickly muscled shoulders. ‘What’s the matter with you? Do as I say or I’ll have you punished!’
‘Perhaps, but at least I’ll keep my life. I’ve heard about this room — that only one door leads in and out. I don’t understand its purpose — unless it is a trap.’
Dara gasped. ‘What are you suggesting? That I plan to murder you?’
‘How can I be sure that you don’t?’
Shah Jahan pushed Aurangzeb away from him. ‘If you are accusing your brother of wanting to kill you, you’re insane. I won’t force you to go down to the chamber but I want you out of my sight immediately.’ Walking out into the courtyard where their horses were tethered, he shouted to the captain of his escort, ‘Take half your guards and escort Prince Aurangzeb back to the fort at once. The rest of you wait here.’ As the enormity of his son’s behaviour hit him, Shah Jahan struggled to keep his voice low as he re-entered the house. He had no wish to be overheard by the soldiers outside. ‘Aurangzeb, you will return to your quarters in the Agra fort immediately.’
‘Father, I …’
‘Silence. I’ve no interest in your excuses. Just go!’ Shah Jahan turned his back as his son walked quickly out into the sunlit courtyard. Soon came the sound of hoof beats. Shah Jahan realised he was shaking with anger. Some troublemaker must have seeded in Aurangzeb’s mind the idea that Dara wanted him dead — his obstinate expression, the utter determination in his voice had seemed the result of genuine conviction. Otherwise why make allegations that he must have known would bring trouble upon him? Shah Jahan stood a while longer, caught between bafflement and rage. Glancing at Dara, he saw that his son’s handsome face was averted as if not wishing to meet his eye.
‘Aurangzeb, I have a right to an explanation.’ Shah Jahan’s anger hadn’t abated during the hour it had taken to return to the Agra fort and then make his way to his son’s apartments. It would have been better to wait until he was in a cooler frame of mind, but he couldn’t rest until he knew the reason for his third son’s extraordinary behaviour.
‘I’ve no more to say than I said at the time.’ Aurangzeb’s expression was unflinching.
‘You made it clear that you suspected Dara’s motives in inviting you to his subterranean room.’
Aurangzeb nodded but said nothing.
‘Why?’ Shah Jahan shouted. ‘Answer me!’
‘Even if I tell you, you won’t believe me. Dara has poisoned your mind against me.’
‘Aurangzeb — do not play games with me.’
His son hesitated, then shrugged. ‘Very well, since you insist … Ever since my return to Agra I’ve noticed how Dara has changed. He was never modest but now he struts around the court like a peacock. While Shah Shuja and I have been trying to serve you in distant parts of the empire, he has remained here, pampered and preening …’
‘So that’s what all this is about — you’re simply jealous!’
For the first time Aurangzeb smiled. ‘Jealous? No. I despise Dara. He is all show and no substance. I’d suspected it for years. All he cares about is the image he presents. He acts as if he was already your acknowledged heir and we his brothers are of no account. He should take care how far he tries our loyalty.’
‘Be very careful what you say, Aurangzeb …’
‘You demanded to know my true thoughts and feelings. It’s not my fault if you don’t like what you hear. As I said, Dara is arrogant and ambitious …’
‘But if, as you claim, he thinks his brothers unimportant, why should he contemplate killing you?’
‘He maintains to the outside world that he is your acknowledged favourite, basking in your approval with no fears for his position. Secretly, though, he is weak enough on the inside to fear that one day one of us may challenge him. Hasn’t that always been our way, “throne or coffin” as they called it in the old days? You too had to fight for the throne and in so doing you disposed of two of your half-brothers. I respect you the more for it.’
Shah Jahan was silent, anger and guilt contending within him. Eventually, keeping his voice level with an effort, he said, ‘That was different. I had no choice. I only did what I did because otherwise my half-brothers would have killed me — and indeed you — to rid themselves of potential rivals. But such times are long gone. I’ll not tolerate such barbaric notions within my family. All my sons are full brothers, brought up by a caring father and mother to love one another — not the offspring of rival wives and concubines scheming against each other.’
‘You think because we are full brothers that will unite us? Ask Dara if that’s what he believes! Have you forgotten Cain and Abel? Fraternal rivalries are a part of fallen man.’
‘You’ve still given me no evidence that Dara wants to hurt you — that your fears are anything but fantasy …’
‘No, far from it. As I was saying, Dara suspects that when the time comes one of his brothers may challenge him for the throne. Shah Shuja is idle at heart even if he enjoys power and has his own ambitions. Murad is young and unproven. The one Dara should most fear at present is me and I’m sure he does. He knows I’m as able as he — perhaps more so. I could tell he didn’t welcome my return to court from the Deccan. It suits his purpose better that I — and if it comes to it Shah Shuja — should be far away from the centre of influence and from you. And it would suit him best of all if I were permanently out of the way. He knows that I disapprove of his ideas — his passion for Sufi mysticism, his denigration of our religious traditions. Only a week ago one of our mullahs warned me that Dara had said that the empire had no need of bigots like me …’