‘Some months ago I recommended a young Gujarati noblewoman called Nasreen to Jahanara as an attendant. I had always found her diligent and thought she would serve my sister well. Nasreen has an aunt here in the haram and when she visits her she also sometimes comes to see me. A few weeks ago she told me something I haven’t been able to dismiss from my thoughts — that not long before Murad and the army left Agra, Nicholas Ballantyne visited my sister in her mansion. He was with her for nearly an hour, and though Nasreen couldn’t overhear what they were saying she said they spoke very earnestly.’
Shah Jahan blinked in surprise. What could Nicholas Ballantyne and Jahanara have to discuss? And how could his daughter be so blind to propriety as to entertain a man in her palace?
‘You look angry, Father. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’
‘Did Jahanara herself say anything to you about Nicholas’s visit?’
‘No, and that in itself seemed strange.’
‘Why didn’t you ask her?’ The directness of his question seemed to surprise Roshanara. For a moment she looked down, then shrugged. ‘I was too embarrassed — it might have looked as if I were prying. Besides, it’s hardly my place to question her. She is the honoured First Lady of the Empire while I’m only her younger sister.’
Recognising the sense of grievance implicit in her remark, Shah Jahan felt more of his earlier elation at the news from Balkh seep away. ‘What made you decide to tell me? And why did you wait so long?’
‘I wasn’t sure what to do at first but then I began to worry about my sister’s reputation — especially as she doesn’t live here in the haram but has her own establishment. It’s all too easy for wild stories to circulate at court. I insisted Nasreen promise to tell no one else and also to swear the other attendants present that day to secrecy. I decided I should tell you, not only because you are our father but so that you could talk to Jahanara … make her understand that such behaviour could damage her position …’
‘You were right to do so. As you yourself said, malicious gossip spreads fast and redounds to no one’s credit. Now, though, put the matter from your mind.’
After Shah Jahan had left her apartments Roshanara stood for a moment. When her father was buoyed by a great triumph had definitely not been the time, she now realised, to raise Jahanara’s behaviour. But even so, his reaction hadn’t been the one she’d anticipated. Shah Jahan had seemed as suspicious of her motives as of Jahanara’s — but why was she so surprised? Jahanara was perfect in his eyes. Yet she herself had done nothing wrong … Everything she’d told her father had been pure truth, and if Jahanara — for all her status — was foolish enough to be indiscreet then she deserved any consequences. Nasreen had already told her that Nicholas was writing regularly to Jahanara though she had never managed to read any of the letters — Jahanara always locked them in her jewel chest. She would continue to watch and listen. Perhaps one day Nasreen would provide enough evidence to prove to her father that he should have paid more attention to her and to teach Jahanara a deserved lesson. Her father was blind to his two elder children’s faults and both of them too confident of the place they held in his heart. As a consequence both did as they pleased and acted as if their younger brothers and sisters didn’t matter. But let them wait …
‘I summoned you at this late hour because the news is too grave to keep until tomorrow.’ Shah Jahan looked round at his counsellors, whose sleepy faces and hastily pulled on apparel showed that many had not long left their beds. He could still scarcely believe what he had read in the two despatches that had just arrived within half an hour of each other despite having been written over a week apart. For many days he had been waiting for the news that his army was safely across the Oxus and advancing on Samarkand, but it hadn’t come. Instead every despatch had related a series of excuses — the river was too high to cross and they were waiting for the level to fall … the supplies of fodder for the baggage animals were running low and they were waiting for more … fever had broken out among the foreign mercenaries, who were unused to the food and the climate … Uzbeks had been seen on the opposite bank of the Oxus preparing to oppose their crossing so they might need to feint to cross elsewhere.
He had tried to be patient, telling himself that the reasons for the delay were understandable and that there was still enough good campaigning weather for Samarkand to be taken. However, as time went by he had begun to suspect he was being played along. Ashok Singh himself would never do such a thing but, as the Rajput general made increasingly explicit, he was only writing what Murad instructed him … More and more he had begun to detect in Ashok Singh’s words a hesitancy, embarrassment even, and so it had now proved. Holding the first of the new despatches in a hand still trembling with anger, he began to read its contents out loud: ‘Majesty, your son commands me to inform you that the Moghul armies have had no choice but to retreat southwards. It is still too hazardous to ford the Oxus while all the time our enemies are gathering, their recent differences forgotten, with a single aim — to annihilate us at the first opportunity. Only a week ago an Uzbek raiding party crossed the river several miles upstream of our camp and massacred some of our pickets. We found them the next morning, their heads sliced from their shoulders and their severed genitals protruding from their mouths. Our men are becoming disheartened and complaining that they are unsuited to fight in these lands which are unknown to them. Also, the season is now against us — the first snow has fallen and our men are ill equipped to withstand the rigours of a harsh winter. We are therefore on your son’s instructions falling back on Balkh where we will await your further orders. Ashok Singh.’
As Shah Jahan stopped speaking a heavy silence fell. Not a single man was willing to meet his eye. He knew only too well what they were thinking — that Murad had little stomach for a fight. And they were right, especially given this second and latest despatch, written this time by Murad himself.
‘That is not the worst of it. There is more, this time from my son in a despatch which almost overtook Ashok Singh’s. Father, by the time you read this I and your forces will have withdrawn from Balkh and will be on the road back towards Hindustan. It was impossible to hold the city. Learning that thousands of Uzbeks were pouring over the Oxus intending to besiege us, I decided to fall back to Kabul rather than risk the massive losses that would have followed. I did not want the blood of so many of our men on my conscience and trust that you will understand and agree with my decision. Your dutiful son Murad. Dutiful son!’ Shah Jahan could no longer contain himself. ‘He has disobeyed me. He knows his orders were to move immediately on Samarkand. Instead he invented excuses until the time when decisive action would have resulted in certain victory had passed. Now he has forfeited what gains he made without a fight. I have decided to strip him of his command. But the immediate question is what orders to send north to Ashok Singh who, until I appoint a new commander, will take charge of my armies. What do you advise?’ He waited, but again no one spoke. ‘Well, doesn’t anyone have anything to suggest?’
But as he looked around his counsellors, Shah Jahan knew in his heart that this was as much his fault as it was Murad’s. Wanting to teach Aurangzeb a lesson, he had sent an inexperienced youth into the field in pursuit of his long-held goal of Samarkand. But he could never have anticipated that Murad would fail him so badly.
‘Majesty.’ A veteran counsellor at last broke the silence. ‘The present year’s campaign cannot now succeed — too much time has been lost and snow will soon block the northern passes leaving your armies cut off from Hindustan. Why not order your forces to overwinter in Kabul? Then, when the thaw comes, they can advance north again — perhaps taking a different route through the Hindu Kush to surprise our enemies.’