Read Online Empire of the Moghul: The Serpent's Tooth by Alex Rutherford - Free Book Online
Authors: Alex Rutherford
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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basic and selfish instinct shared with animals, man also had other more noble ones … like love.
Chapter 4
S upported by Satti al-Nisa and wearing a shift of sapphire silk, Mumtaz stepped carefully down the three white marble steps into the pool of rose oil-scented water. Despite her bulk – in a few weeks she would give birth – her every move was graceful, thought Shah Jahan, watching from the doorway into the
hammam
. The apricot glow of the candles accentuated the curves of her body. For a moment he allowed himself the luxury of just watching her as she lay back in the pool, resting her head against its side as attendants poured more water down two marble shoots carved in a fish-scale pattern to make the droplets ripple and dance. At least here within the encircling walls of Burhanpur he had created a haven for Mumtaz. Red lilies and sweet-scented
champa
flowers bloomed in the courtyards and the ancient fountains had been coaxed to new life.
Yet beyond the walls lay an unforgiving landscape where men and beasts struggled beneath a pitiless sun that was daily sucking them and their land dry. In their temples his Hindu subjects were beseeching their gods to relieve their suffering – even making blood sacrifice to the many-armed Kali. Some were blaming the Moghul emperor for failing to aid his people. Last week two
saddhus
, bony ash-daubed bodies pale as ghosts, had walked up to the gates of Burhanpur, shaking their sticks and denouncing him. He had given orders they should not be molested and they had remained in the blistering heat for an hour. Before departing they had placed what looked like the body of a young child on the ground. When his soldiers investigated they found it was only a bundle of sticks wrapped in dirty cloth with a dried gourd for a head but the message was clear. Children were dying and he, the emperor, was to blame. He hadn’t told Mumtaz.
As he stepped towards the pool, she heard his footsteps and turned her head, smiling. ‘I felt so tired tonight – I thought a bath would revive me.’
He waited until the tall figure of Satti al-Nisa and the other women had withdrawn, then sat on the pool’s marble ledge. ‘The famine’s getting even worse. Every day I receive reports of whole villages emptying as people take their surviving livestock west to seek water. I’ve ordered the imperial granaries in the affected areas to be opened but there’s just not enough grain to go round – only enough to feed the people for a few weeks, not their flocks. Yet without their animals their future is bleak. In some places the Bijapuran rebels are raiding the grain stores.’
‘You are doing what you can.’
‘But I feel helpless. Despite my wealth and power what is needed is water, not gold. If the rains don’t come quickly many more will die.’
‘Not even you can defeat nature.’
‘I should be able to do better for my people and I can’t while this war distracts me … I must end it quickly.’
‘You’re being impatient again. I’d rather stay here a year, two years even, than see you hazard yourself for the sake of a short campaign.’
In the candlelight Shah Jahan saw the earnestness in Mumtaz’s eyes. Leaning forward he stroked her cheek. ‘You’re right. I am impatient. I always have been. It’s not only that I want to deal decisively with my enemies and be free to turn my ambition elsewhere – I want to be able to take you back to the comfort and security of Agra. Long ago, when we first married, I vowed to protect you from dangers of all kinds and to give you the life of peace and luxury you deserved. But when my father turned against us I couldn’t keep that promise. Since we’ve been here in Burhanpur I’ve worried that I’ve failed you again and exposed you to unnecessary hazards. This is no place for you.’
‘It was my choice. I refused be parted from you, as I’ve always done …’ Mumtaz sat up, then, gripping the marble ledge, pulled herself upright.
Chapter 4
S upported by Satti al-Nisa and wearing a shift of sapphire silk, Mumtaz stepped carefully down the three white marble steps into the pool of rose oil-scented water. Despite her bulk – in a few weeks she would give birth – her every move was graceful, thought Shah Jahan, watching from the doorway into the
hammam
. The apricot glow of the candles accentuated the curves of her body. For a moment he allowed himself the luxury of just watching her as she lay back in the pool, resting her head against its side as attendants poured more water down two marble shoots carved in a fish-scale pattern to make the droplets ripple and dance. At least here within the encircling walls of Burhanpur he had created a haven for Mumtaz. Red lilies and sweet-scented
champa
flowers bloomed in the courtyards and the ancient fountains had been coaxed to new life.
Yet beyond the walls lay an unforgiving landscape where men and beasts struggled beneath a pitiless sun that was daily sucking them and their land dry. In their temples his Hindu subjects were beseeching their gods to relieve their suffering – even making blood sacrifice to the many-armed Kali. Some were blaming the Moghul emperor for failing to aid his people. Last week two
saddhus
, bony ash-daubed bodies pale as ghosts, had walked up to the gates of Burhanpur, shaking their sticks and denouncing him. He had given orders they should not be molested and they had remained in the blistering heat for an hour. Before departing they had placed what looked like the body of a young child on the ground. When his soldiers investigated they found it was only a bundle of sticks wrapped in dirty cloth with a dried gourd for a head but the message was clear. Children were dying and he, the emperor, was to blame. He hadn’t told Mumtaz.
As he stepped towards the pool, she heard his footsteps and turned her head, smiling. ‘I felt so tired tonight – I thought a bath would revive me.’
He waited until the tall figure of Satti al-Nisa and the other women had withdrawn, then sat on the pool’s marble ledge. ‘The famine’s getting even worse. Every day I receive reports of whole villages emptying as people take their surviving livestock west to seek water. I’ve ordered the imperial granaries in the affected areas to be opened but there’s just not enough grain to go round – only enough to feed the people for a few weeks, not their flocks. Yet without their animals their future is bleak. In some places the Bijapuran rebels are raiding the grain stores.’
‘You are doing what you can.’
‘But I feel helpless. Despite my wealth and power what is needed is water, not gold. If the rains don’t come quickly many more will die.’
‘Not even you can defeat nature.’
‘I should be able to do better for my people and I can’t while this war distracts me … I must end it quickly.’
‘You’re being impatient again. I’d rather stay here a year, two years even, than see you hazard yourself for the sake of a short campaign.’
In the candlelight Shah Jahan saw the earnestness in Mumtaz’s eyes. Leaning forward he stroked her cheek. ‘You’re right. I am impatient. I always have been. It’s not only that I want to deal decisively with my enemies and be free to turn my ambition elsewhere – I want to be able to take you back to the comfort and security of Agra. Long ago, when we first married, I vowed to protect you from dangers of all kinds and to give you the life of peace and luxury you deserved. But when my father turned against us I couldn’t keep that promise. Since we’ve been here in Burhanpur I’ve worried that I’ve failed you again and exposed you to unnecessary hazards. This is no place for you.’
‘It was my choice. I refused be parted from you, as I’ve always done …’ Mumtaz sat up, then, gripping the marble ledge, pulled herself upright.
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