Read Online Empire of the Moghul: The Serpent's Tooth by Alex Rutherford - Free Book Online Page B

before the throne.
    ‘Welcome back, Tuhin Roy. Did your embassy to the shah prosper?’ Shah Jahan knew perfectly well that it had – the envoy had sent regular despatches – but it was important to announce the success of his mission in public.
    ‘The shah sends you his greetings and calls you brother. I carry a letter from him. May I read it aloud, Majesty?’
    ‘Proceed, Tuhin Roy.’
    The envoy opened an ivory case and took out a paper. Unfolding it he began to read, starting with a flowery passage extolling the greatness of the Moghul empire at which Shah Jahan suppressed a smile – the Persian shah and the Moghul emperor had long been rivals rather than allies. But then the envoy came to the meat: ‘
I, Shah Abbas, am graciously pleased to accept the trading rights you offer in Herat in return for which I pledge myself not to levy taxes on the merchants of the Moghul empire passing through my city of Isfahan
.’
    ‘You have negotiated well, Tuhin Roy, and you will be well rewarded. But first you must rest, as you have had a tiring journey. For that I know I must blame my son and his eagerness to return to his family. Forgive me, but I am equally eager to be reunited with him.’
    Tuhin Roy looked a little hurt to be dismissed so quickly, but bowed and withdrew. At Shah Jahan’s signal a trumpet sounded and Dara Shukoh appeared through the gateway, the ranks of courtiers bowing like stalks of wheat in the breeze as he passed between them to acknowledge the return of the emperor’s eldest son. Dara was smiling as Shah Jahan descended his dais and enfolded him in his arms. Then taking Dara by the right hand he turned to his assembled courtiers. ‘To celebrate the safe return of my beloved son, I hereby present him with a yaks-tail banner – since the days of my ancestor Babur one of the highest honours an emperor can bestow.’
    That night, as darkness fell and a new moon cast its pale reflection across the fortress of Burhanpur, the
haram
was a place transformed. Burning wicks flickered in glass balls of red, green and blue suspended on chains from trees in the main courtyard, their light softening the austerity of the sandstone masonry. Shah Jahan sat cross-legged in the centre of a dais spread with rich Persian carpets – gifts from the shah. His three eldest sons were still eating. Mumtaz was lying back against a yellow brocade bolster, Jahanara and Roshanara beside her, heads close as they laughed together. Little Murad was on his back sleeping the deep sleep that comes only to the very young.
    Shah Jahan’s first thought on learning of Dara’s return had been to order a celebratory feast, but Mumtaz had taken him on one side. ‘Should we do such a thing during a famine?’ she had asked. ‘Won’t it seem uncaring if we feast lavishly? The smells from our cooking fires will waft over the walls of Burhanpur to those who may not know when they will eat again.’ He had realised at once that – more sensitive than he to what others might be feeling – she was right. She usually was. Instead of the great celebration he had planned, at Mumtaz’s suggestion he had ordered an extra issue of grain to the surrounding villages in Dara’s honour and instructed his cooks to prepare a plain meal for his family to share alone here in the
haram
.
    Shah Shuja was quizzing Dara Shukoh about the Persian court. It was good to see them so easy in each other’s company, Shah Jahan thought. How different from his own boyhood – even in his early years he and his half-brothers had never been close, and later ambition for the throne had severed any bonds there might have been. If he had had a full brother – as his sons were to one another – things might have been different …
    Something Dara was saying – Shah Jahan had been too caught in his own reflections to pay attention – was making Shah Shuja shake his head in disbelief.
    ‘What is it, Shah Shuja?’
    ‘Dara was telling us what the shah told him –