The Moghul Part 29

Directly in front of Jadar's tent was a canopied platform with four ma.s.sive corner pillars, called the _sarachah_, where Jadar held private briefings.

The entire _gulal_ _bar _was sealed from common view by a

high cloth wall. Near the entrance to Jadar's enclosure was the camp artillery, including the cannon, and the tents of the lead horses and war elephants. Its entry was guarded by mounted hors.e.m.e.n, and next to these were the tents for Jadar's leopards. Around the perimeter were the striped tents of the n.o.bles and officers, whose respective colors flew above for easy identification. And spreading out from each officer's tent were the tents of his men, their wives, and their bazaar. The camp itself was laid out with such consistent precision that a soldier might easily find his tent in total darkness, regardless of where the army might be.

As Jadar dismounted at the entry to the gulal bar and strode toward his tent, his mind sorted through the moves that lay ahead. He had notified the Moghul of the envoy's secret report and asked for five million rupees in silver coin. It was the price for the Deccan. Surely he could not refuse. Arangbar's own administrators, who were supposed to monitor the mansabdars, were to blame.

There were also other, new and disquieting, complexities. Word had come through Surat only the day before that the Portuguese were secretly planning to arm Malik Ambar. Why? It was common knowledge they feared and hated Jadar, because he distrusted all Christians and said so. And they certainly were aware that if he should someday unite the rebel- infested province of Gujarat, where their ports of Daimon and Diu were situated, he would undoubtedly try to regain these ports for India. But they would not dare to openly, or even secretly, support rebels within the Moghul empire unless they were sure there would be no reprisals from Agra. Which meant they had powerful accomplices in court.

Accomplices who would venture to endanger the empire itself to ruin Jadar.

Whose interests in Agra were served if the Deccan remained in turmoil?

If Jadar were kept occupied and harried in the south?

The question virtually answered itself.

If this were not perplexing enough, news had arrived two days before telling of an incredible incident. Two merchant frigates of another European nation, calling themselves English, had appeared off the bar of Surat. And humiliated four Portuguese wars.h.i.+ps. Jadar had released pigeons for Surat immediately, ordering that the English be protected until he could determine their intentions.

The dispatch received the following morning, yesterday, reported that his orders had been timely. A Portuguese ambush of the English as they came up the Tapti River had been averted, by Rajputs using arrows stolen from the governor's own guard. And this morning there had been another message from Surat, with news that the governor had sent the Moghul a dispatch claiming credit for the action--this only after he discovered the English captain had gifts for Arangbar!

But who knew the intentions of the captain of this English fleet? Or the content of a letter he had brought for the Moghul. Reports said only that he was "quartered" in the governor's palace. Where he could no longer be protected. . . .

His eunuchs bowed and relayed an urgent message from Mumtaz. His wife begged to receive His Highness the moment he returned.

Without entering his own tent, Jadar proceeded through the circle of guards protecting the women's quarters. Mumtaz was waiting, surrounded by two of her women and the now-constant midwife. She was almost to term with Jadar's third child. The first two had been daughters. His first thought when he saw her was that this birth must be male.

Merciful Allah, make this a son.

Mumtaz's gleaming black hair had been tightly braided, and she wore a shawl and trousers of gold-threaded silk. She had a p.r.o.nounced fondness for gold and silk: few other luxuries were to be found in the army camps that had been her home for most of their marriage. Mumtaz's features were delicate, with high Persian cheeks, and she was well over thirty--the age at which most Muslim women ceased to interest their mates. But she had found ways to remain the center of Jadar's life, if not dominate it.

The flash of her eyes told Jadar she was in an extreme temper.

"Pigeons arrived just after you left. The report from Agra

is astonis.h.i.+ng."

"What 'report' do you mean? Do you and your women receive my dispatches now?"

"Which are rarely worth the bother. No, I receive my own. From Father."

Mumtaz was the daughter of Nadir Sharif, prime minister of the Moghul empire and brother of Queen Janahara. "I had the sense to leave him pigeons for here at Ujjain. And also for Burhanpur . . . which may prove to be vital for you, a.s.suming that city is not overrun by Deccanis by the time you reach it."

"What message did Nadir Sharif ever send that wasn't dictated by our n.o.ble queen?"

"You're a fool not to trust him. But you'd do well to begin. And soon."

Mumtaz's eyes snapped momentary fire, matching the hard red jewel on her forehead, and she eased herself slowly onto a well-traveled velvet bolster to lighten the weight of the child. "I think you'll discover your many friends may be difficult to find if we ever return to the capital."

"Come to the point. I want to see into their tent. They killed well today." Jadar was always amused by Mumtaz's temper. He had long ago despaired of receiving proper respect from her. She defied him exactly the way Janahara defied the Moghul. And he delighted in it. Perhaps all Persian wives were incorrigible. Perhaps it was a racial trait.

"Very well. You should be pleased to know that His Majesty has already forgotten you exist. He has agreed to the queen's outrageous scheme. An affront to sense, but it will be the end of you nonetheless."

"Agreed to what?"

"The very marriage I warned you about, but you wouldn't listen. You were too clever. Yes, you were brilliant. You sent the wrong brother away from Agra. You sent Khusrav, the competent one. You should have sent Allaudin."

"I don't believe it."

"I do. And I told you it would happen. The queen has foisted her scrawny offspring, the simpering Princess Layla, onto Allaudin. But it's the perfect match. The Moghul's youngest son, the notorious 'good- for-nothing,' betrothed to that fumbling little sparrow. Both weak and useless."

"What could Allaudin possibly do? Even Arangbar realizes he's incompetent."

"But Arangbar will soon be dead. So what he knows won't matter. It's perfect for the queen. She'll rule them both. In the meantime, she'll make sure you're nowhere near Agra. Your next appointment will probably be the Punjab, or perhaps the Himalayas. Where you can chase yak with your leopards." Mumtaz could scarcely contain her anger and frustration. "The time will come, and soon, when the Moghul will chance his twenty gla.s.ses of wine and his twelve grains of opium one night too many. And the next day, while you're somewhere sporting with your _chitahs_, she'll summon her lackey general Inayat Latif and his Bengal _mansabdars _to Agra. And declare Allaudin the next Moghul."

Jadar was stunned. Allaudin was incapable of anything, except bowing to the queen's orders like a hand puppet. Once Moghul, he certainly could not rule. She would rule for him. Or probably eliminate him entirely after a few months.

So Janahara had finally made her move. To challenge Prince Jadar, the son who had earned the throne, for his rightful place. The battle had been joined.

"So what do you propose to do? She waited just long enough to trap you in the Deccan." Mumtaz's fury was turning to despair. "If you go back now, you'll be accused of abandoning Burhanpur. If you march on south, you'll be unable to return for months. And by that time Allaudin will be married. Father said she has convinced the Moghul to give him a personal mansab rank of eight thousand _zat _and a horse rank of four thousand _suwar_. Allaudin, who scarcely knows a bow from a wine bowl, will now have his own cavalry."

Jadar was looking at her, but he no longer heard.

This changes everything. There'll be no silver. The queen will see to that.

And no silver means no troops can be recalled from the Deccan _mansabdars_.

Which means we lose the Deccan. But she'd gladly give the

Deccan to destroy me.

Jadar looked at Mumtaz and smiled. "Yes, I must do something. But right now I'll see my _chitahs _fed." And he turned and strode briskly back toward his tent.

A dense mantle of evening smoke enveloped the camp as the three generals pa.s.sed through the entry of the gulal bar. They advanced to the front of the sarachah platform and halted to wait for Jadar. Each had brought a silver cup, as Jadar had instructed.

All three were seasoned military leaders. Abdullah Khan, a young Moghul warrior, had been promoted to a rank of three thousand _suwar _after the successful siege at the northern fortress of Kangra. Under the prince he had risen from the rank of foot soldier to cavalry, and now he commanded his own division. The next was Abul Hasan, a cool-headed Afghan strategist with rank of five thousand _suwar_, who had led Prince Jadar to his first victory in the Deccan three years before.

Finally there was Raja Vikrama-jit, a bearded Rajput of royal blood, who led the Hindus. He scorned matchlocks and fought only with his sword, and he was the bravest man in battle that Jadar had ever known.

Moments later Prince Jadar emerged through the smoke, carrying his heavy sword and accompanied by Vasant Rao. A servant trailed after them bearing a crystal decanter of wine and two silver goblets on a tray.

The prince a.s.sumed his seat in the center of the platform and ordered the servant to place the decanter on a small table by his side. Then he motioned away the servant and all the surrounding guards.

"I propose we all take a gla.s.s of wine to clear our thoughts. It's Persian, and I had it cooled in the saltpeter tent especially for this evening."

Jadar personally poured wine for each of the men, then filled the two goblets on the tray for Vasant Rao and for himself.

"I hereby propose a toast to Ahmadnagar, which Malik Ambar now calls his own capital. And to its recapture within a hundred days."

The men raised their goblets and drank in silence. Skepticism filled their eyes.

Jadar looked at them and smiled. "You do not agree? Then let me tell you more. The situation is very bad. How bad even you do not yet know.

But battles are more than a matter of numbers. They are a test of the will to win. That's why I called you here tonight." Jadar paused. "But first, is the wine to your liking?"

The men nodded silent a.s.sent.