Empire of the Moghul: The Serpent's Tooth (22 page)

‘Aurangzeb.’ Shah Jahan looked back towards his sons. ‘Surely your business from the Deccan can wait a few moments.’

Aurangzeb was silent for a little, then replied, ‘No. As I said, I don’t want to see the underground room and must ask to be excused.’

Shah Jahan stared, unable to believe his ears. Aurangzeb’s expression was set and determined. What on earth was the matter with him? Was it pique that he had given Dara such a generous present? If so, it was unfair. He was open-handed to all his sons. He wasn’t in the mood for childishness. ‘I wish you to visit the chamber as your brother requests.’

‘Father, please think before you order me or I will have to disobey you.’

Shah Jahan’s temper was rising. ‘I don’t understand your behaviour. You are being discourteous to your brother and insolent to me. I am no longer asking you to do as Dara asks as your father, I am ordering you as your emperor.’

‘Then, as your subject, I refuse!’

Shah Jahan strode over and grabbed his son by his thickly muscled shoulders. ‘What’s the matter with you? Do as I say or I’ll have you punished!’

‘Perhaps, but at least I’ll keep my life. I’ve heard about this room – that only one door leads in and out. I don’t understand its purpose – unless it is a trap.’

Dara gasped. ‘What are you suggesting? That I plan to murder you?’

‘How can I be sure that you don’t?’

Shah Jahan pushed Aurangzeb away from him. ‘If you are accusing your brother of wanting to kill you, you’re insane. I won’t force you to go down to the chamber but I want you out of my sight immediately.’ Walking out into the courtyard where their horses were tethered, he shouted to the captain of his escort, ‘Take half your guards and escort Prince Aurangzeb back to the fort at once. The rest of you wait here.’ As the enormity of his son’s behaviour hit him, Shah Jahan struggled to keep his voice low as he re-entered the house. He had no wish to be overheard by the soldiers outside. ‘Aurangzeb, you will return to your quarters in the Agra fort immediately.’

‘Father, I …’

‘Silence. I’ve no interest in your excuses. Just go!’ Shah Jahan turned his back as his son walked quickly out into the sunlit courtyard. Soon came the sound of hoof beats. Shah Jahan realised he was shaking with anger. Some troublemaker must have seeded in Aurangzeb’s mind the idea that Dara wanted him dead – his obstinate expression, the utter determination in his voice had seemed the result of genuine conviction. Otherwise why make allegations that he must have known would bring trouble upon him? Shah Jahan stood a while longer, caught between bafflement and rage. Glancing at Dara, he saw that his son’s handsome face was averted as if not wishing to meet his eye.

‘Aurangzeb, I have a right to an explanation.’ Shah Jahan’s anger hadn’t abated during the hour it had taken to return to the Agra fort and then make his way to his son’s apartments. It would have been better to wait until he was in a cooler frame of mind, but he couldn’t rest until he knew the reason for his third son’s extraordinary behaviour.

‘I’ve no more to say than I said at the time.’ Aurangzeb’s expression was unflinching.

‘You made it clear that you suspected Dara’s motives in inviting you to his subterranean room.’

Aurangzeb nodded but said nothing.

‘Why?’ Shah Jahan shouted. ‘Answer me!’

‘Even if I tell you, you won’t believe me. Dara has poisoned your mind against me.’

‘Aurangzeb – do not play games with me.’

His son hesitated, then shrugged. ‘Very well, since you insist … Ever since my return to Agra I’ve noticed how Dara has changed. He was never modest but now he struts around the court like a peacock. While Shah Shuja and I have been trying to serve you in distant parts of the empire, he has remained here, pampered and preening …’

‘So that’s what all this is about – you’re simply jealous!’

For the first time Aurangzeb smiled. ‘Jealous? No. I despise Dara. He is all show and no substance. I’d suspected it for years. All he cares about is the image he presents. He acts as if he was already your acknowledged heir and we his brothers are of no account. He should take care how far he tries our loyalty.’

‘Be very careful what you say, Aurangzeb …’

‘You demanded to know my true thoughts and feelings. It’s not my fault if you don’t like what you hear. As I said, Dara is arrogant and ambitious …’

‘But if, as you claim, he thinks his brothers unimportant, why should he contemplate killing you?’

‘He maintains to the outside world that he is your acknowledged favourite, basking in your approval with no fears for his position. Secretly, though, he is weak enough on the inside to fear that one day one of us may challenge him. Hasn’t that always been our way, “throne or coffin” as they called it in the old days? You too had to fight for the throne and in so doing you disposed of two of your half-brothers. I respect you the more for it.’

Shah Jahan was silent, anger and guilt contending within him. Eventually, keeping his voice level with an effort, he said, ‘That was different. I had no choice. I only did what I did because otherwise my half-brothers would have killed me – and indeed you – to rid themselves of potential rivals. But such times are long gone. I’ll not tolerate such barbaric notions within my family. All my sons are full brothers, brought up by a caring father and mother to love one another – not the offspring of rival wives and concubines scheming against each other.’

‘You think because we are full brothers that will unite us? Ask Dara if that’s what he believes! Have you forgotten Cain and Abel? Fraternal rivalries are a part of fallen man.’

‘You’ve still given me no evidence that Dara wants to hurt you – that your fears are anything but fantasy …’

‘No, far from it. As I was saying, Dara suspects that when the time comes one of his brothers may challenge him for the throne. Shah Shuja is idle at heart even if he enjoys power and has his own ambitions. Murad is young and unproven. The one Dara should most fear at present is me and I’m sure he does. He knows I’m as able as he – perhaps more so. I could tell he didn’t welcome my return to court from the Deccan. It suits his purpose better that I – and if it comes to it Shah Shuja – should be far away from the centre of influence and from you. And it would suit him best of all if I were permanently out of the way. He knows that I disapprove of his ideas – his passion for Sufi mysticism, his denigration of our religious traditions. Only a week ago one of our mullahs warned me that Dara had said that the empire had no need of bigots like me …’

Shah Jahan held up his hand, his head so full of Aurangzeb’s assertions and accusations that he hardly knew where to begin. ‘You’re wrong. It’s natural that you and Dara should have your differences, even your rivalries. You are young men close together in age. But I cannot tolerate your unfounded suspicions, your wild accusations. Who is this mullah who has tried to set you against your brother?’

‘I cannot tell you. He spoke to me in confidence and I will never reveal his name.’

‘I have had enough of your arrogance and your disobedience … of your assertions of what you will or will not do, as if you – not I – were emperor. You disobeyed my order to visit Dara’s underground chamber and now you tell me you will not give me a name I ask for.’ Shah Jahan began striding up and down the room. ‘You accuse Dara of high-handedness and ambition but you’re the one who’s consumed by them – and by jealousy of your brother, even if you try to deny it.’

‘Perhaps I am jealous, though not for the reasons you think. Even when Dara and I were children given up by you as hostages to Mehrunissa, I knew you loved him more. I can still remember what happened when you came to rescue us from the dungeons of the Lahore palace … how you called out Dara’s name first, not mine – how saving him was your main concern.’

‘That’s madness. I loved both of you – still love you. You are my son just as much as Dara.’ Shah Jahan stared nonplussed at his son.

‘You say that, but it isn’t true. If it were, you’d have sent Dara away to govern a province just as you did Shah Shuja and me. Instead you keep him here by your side at court like a mother hen with a favourite chick. What has he ever done? Has he fought as I have, risking his life for the empire? No! Because in your eyes his life is too precious to be hazarded. Instead he lives a soft life in his palace on the Jumna, as spoiled and pampered and indulged as any woman in his
haram
.’

‘Silence! I can listen to no more of this. Everything you accuse me – or Dara – of is fantasy. But it is dangerous fantasy. What would happen if it leaked out to the court that two of the emperor’s sons were locked in rivalry – that one was even planning to murder the other? Just think what capital our enemies within and beyond our borders could make of it … how much mischief they could stir. I tell you, Aurangzeb, this one-sided feud with your brother must cease here. So must your accusations against me.’ Shah Jahan stopped pacing and turned to look at his son.

Aurangzeb, though, said nothing, his face was set in that expression Shah Jahan knew only too well. Exasperation with his son’s crazy views mingled with concern that he should think himself so unloved, so unappreciated, yet for the sake of his family and his empire he must show strength, not weakness, and put a stop to this behaviour now, or where might it not lead? ‘I have made my decision. Until I can be certain that you have returned to a more rational way of thinking, I cannot allow you to continue as my viceroy in the Deccan.’

For the first time since their meeting had begun, Shah Jahan saw that his words had struck home. Aurangzeb seemed visibly to recoil. ‘Father …’

‘No. I haven’t finished. You will remain in the Agra fort indefinitely. I can’t risk having you far from my sight in your present frame of mind. I hope that in the months to come you will reflect on your foolish behaviour and your unjust accusations. You have shocked and disappointed me more than you realise.’

Back in his own apartments, Shah Jahan sat for a while, still deep in thought. The incident had helped him reach a decision. It was time that he signalled to his family and the wider world which of his sons he wished to succeed him and end all doubt – or misplaced hope – that any of his younger sons might have. They could reconcile themselves to their disappointment while he still lived and could restrain them from any conflict.

Two days later, as he took his place in the Hall of Public Audience upon his glittering peacock throne, he felt proud. What other ruler could have created such magnificence? His courtiers and commanders, arranged before him in order of precedence, were dressed in their finest clothes and jewels, just as he had instructed. Ashok Singh was resplendent in orange silk robes and a diamond-hilted dagger in his sash. So it should be for one of the most significant proclamations of his reign. Glancing to where Dara was standing, flanked by Shah Shuja and Murad, he raised his hands to command attention, though the silence in the many-pillared hall was already absolute.

‘I have summoned you here today to honour my beloved eldest son, Dara Shukoh, before my court. I hereby award him the estates of Hissar Firoza and the right to pitch the scarlet tent.’ Even before he had finished speaking he saw the quickly exchanged glances. Everyone knew what he meant – he had as good as declared Dara heir to the Moghul throne. It wouldn’t take Aurangzeb, still confined in his apartments, long to hear the news and understand its implications. Perhaps, at last, Aurangzeb would see the world as it really was and understand that the throne would never be his. He should have acted faster to dispel false hopes and prevent the souring of fraternal love but, God willing, he was in time. Aurangzeb would reflect on his folly and come to accept that he would never have been his father’s choice while Dara lived. He would also realise that Dara would have had no need to dispose of him – that he had never been a rival – though that would be hard for a proud man like Aurangzeb to stomach.

‘F
ather, I must ask you something …’

‘What is it, Jahanara? There’s nothing wrong, is there? Your health … ?’

Ever since receiving her message Shah Jahan had been wondering what had prompted her request that he visit her in her mansion when nearly every day she travelled by palanquin to the fort.

‘I’m fine, Father. It’s not about me, it’s about Aurangzeb.’

‘So he’s asked you to intercede for him, has he?’

‘No. He has no idea that I’m doing so. But when I see something so amiss in our family I can’t ignore it. Forgive me, Father, but perhaps I notice things you don’t.’

The rebuke, gentle though it was, hurt. ‘I see clearly enough. Aurangzeb only has himself to blame. I thought he was a man, but he didn’t behave like one.’

‘I agree … and I think Aurangzeb himself understands that now. I’ve spent a lot of time with him, listening to his outpourings and trying to make him see reason. He accepts that his accusations were foolish and wants only to regain your favour. He begs you to allow him to return to the Deccan …’

‘I’ve found an excellent replacement and have no need of him.’

‘Father – when I was ill and you were keeping watch by my bedside I sometimes heard you promise God that you’d do anything so long as I survived. God indeed returned me to life, and it’s I – not He – who now asks this favour of you.’