Then, as suddenly as the rush had started, it ceased. A hush descended, to be followed by a strange sound like a great, collective sigh. Then Nicholas saw the cause … A single elephant was making its way into the square — no gorgeously caparisoned beast from the imperial hati mahal with jewelled headplate and gilded tusks but a broken-down, scarred old animal with a ripped ear led by a shaggy-headed man wearing a simple dhoti. But like everyone else, Nicholas was looking not at the elephant but at the two wretched figures riding in a rough wooden howdah on its back — Dara and Sipihr, dressed in rags, with garlands of what looked like rotting flowers round their necks. Dara was sitting very straight, looking to neither right nor left, but his son was slumped forward. Nicholas gazed in horror and instinctively tried to push forward towards the captives, but people were thirty deep at least ahead of him and a tall, red-turbaned man directly in front turned round and swore into his face. Nicholas ignored the stream of spittle-flecked abuse. All he could think of was that Aurangzeb and Murad were parading their brother and nephew through the streets of Delhi as if they were common criminals. But then Nicholas realised something else. If the traitors had hoped the populace would welcome such a spectacle they had misjudged. Cries of disgust were rising from all around him and some people were picking up stones and lumps of animal dung and hurling them at the soldiers, who stood their ground as the elephant continued its slow progress towards the wooden platform where it finally halted.
At that moment, the drumming ceased and a tall, broad-shouldered figure appeared on the balcony above. Nicholas saw at once that it was Aurangzeb. The shouting ceased as suddenly everyone turned their attention to him. What was he about to do? Make a speech? Denounce Dara? But it seemed that Aurangzeb had no such intention. As he raised a hand, trumpets on the battlements above him sounded three shrill blasts. At the sign, two of the soldiers who had been standing around the platform stepped forward and pulled Dara roughly down from the elephant’s howdah. The crowd gasped as Dara fell to the ground. Nicholas lost sight of him for a moment then saw him as he struggled, hands bound, to his feet. The two soldiers took hold of him again, this time pushing him up the three steps of a wooden ladder on to the platform.
Dara turned to face the crowds as they pressed against the barrier of the soldiers’ staves. At this distance he appeared haggard and his unkempt hair straggled in rat’s tails over his shoulders. Yet there was still pride and defiance in his posture, in the carriage of his head. His brothers had stripped away every external trapping of an imperial prince but they hadn’t managed to rob him of his dignity, thought Nicholas. Slowly Dara turned and looked directly up at Aurangzeb, standing motionless on the balcony above. Nicholas heard Dara call out something but couldn’t catch the words. Aurangzeb, though, clearly had. Immediately he signalled to the two soldiers standing next to Dara, who seized hold of him and, turning him back to face the crowd, pushed him to his knees.
Then a gate in the fort wall to the platform’s right opened and a heavily built man appeared. He was wearing a leather apron that reached almost to the ground and in his hand gleamed a broad-bladed scimitar. Nicholas heard himself shout ‘No! … No!’ As the man mounted the platform, Dara began frantically struggling. Breaking free, he jumped from the platform and ran to the side of the elephant on which Sipihr was still sitting. He tried to reach up to his son but Aurangzeb’s soldiers seized him and threw him back on to the platform where the other two soldiers grabbed hold of him again. They pulled Dara on to his knees, then each took one of his arms and stretched it behind him so that his head was pushed forward. The executioner looked up at Aurangzeb, who gave him a nod. A terrible sound between a gasp and a groan rose from the crowd as the man swung his scimitar high in the air and brought it down in a single sweeping slash. Dara’s body slumped bloodily forward, but his head rolled across the platform and fell to the ground where a soldier quickly retrieved it.
As people shoved and pushed for a better view, Nicholas looked up at the balcony. Aurangzeb had gone. Sipihr was now bent almost double and seemed to be weeping as his elephant was led onward into the fort, carrying him to whatever future his murderous uncles had in store for him.
Chapter 21
‘Has there been any serious damage yet Father?’ As Jahanara was still speaking there was a distant boom. The daily bombardment of the fort usually ceased about now as night began to fall and the first cooking fires to glow in the rebel encampment just visible through the trees half a mile away across the Jumna. As had become his habit since the siege began, Shah Jahan spent much of the late afternoon on the battlements watching the exchange of cannon fire as the rebel gunners attacked the fort’s outer defences and his own artillery responded. Guessing she would find him here, Jahanara had just come from the haram to join him.
Shah Jahan shook his head. ‘No. They’re still only using small cannon and targeting points along our defences at random. Only a concerted and prolonged attack by their biggest guns centred on a single point would breach these double walls. I remember my grandfather showing me the plans when he was rebuilding the fort — how proud he was of the walls’ solid construction and their height. I don’t suppose he ever imagined that one day a member of his own family would be assaulting them, any more than I ever thought to be under attack from my own sons …’
‘Why doesn’t Murad bring up his heavy guns? This siege has already lasted a month and what progress has he made? None!’
‘I agree. If Murad were serious he’d deploy all his firepower. But perhaps he isn’t. Maybe he’s no real intention of trying to batter his way into the fort.’
‘In that case why bombard us at all?’
‘My guess is that he wants to remind us of his presence and warn us against sallying from the fort. He knows that if he keeps us isolated we cannot contact supporters with the truth about the rebels’ actions, nor direct our remaining loyal forces. The only version of events that will reach the provinces will be their perverted one and I can scarcely blame the officials there if they believe it, or at least take no action to question it while the outcome of our struggle is uncertain.’
‘Perhaps he also hopes to demoralise the garrison and so precipitate our surrender.’
‘Maybe, but whatever his intentions I mean to stand up to him. We have enough food and water as well as troops, powder and shot to hold out for a long time and even to inflict serious casualties on our enemy. I’ve promised our gunners five hundred rupees for every rebel cannon they silence.’
‘Perhaps Murad’s motives aren’t what you think. Perhaps he’s regretting that things have come to such a pass and is anxious not to do anything to harm you … or his sisters. Maybe he is even thinking of reconciliation …’
‘Murad must know he’s gone too far to think he could ever win my forgiveness. He and Aurangzeb have killed my soldiers on the battlefield and put my appointed heir — their own brother — to flight.’ At the mention of Dara Shah Jahan saw Jahanara’s expression falter. ‘I know how hard this is for you,’ he went on more softly. ‘These past weeks have been difficult for both of us. Every day, like you, I hope for word of Dara.’
‘Not knowing is the hardest. Shut up in this fort we’ve no way of finding out what’s happening in the world outside. And the only news we have had has been bad …’
Shah Jahan knew exactly what she meant — the letter from the Governor of Delhi brought by a messenger that Murad had allowed through his lines three weeks ago, which had reported the governor’s decision to refuse to admit Dara into the city. His justification had been that Aurangzeb had assured him that the emperor was far too ill to have issued any order to hand over the city and its treasure to Dara …