Wild Jasmine (30 page)

Rugaiya Begum had been rendered speechless. She did not know how to comfort Yasaman for the loss of a husband. What did one say in such a situation?
There, there. Everything will be all right
. Everything was not going to be all right, particularly if, as she suspected, Salim was behind the matter. They had married Yasaman off to Jamal Khan to protect her from her brother’s evil lust. How would they protect her now? The negotiations involved in arranging another marriage could not even begin until Yasaman had finished her period of mourning a year from now. Akbar was not going to live that long, Rugaiya Begum knew. Salim had planned well, damn his wicked soul, and now Yasaman, the beloved child of her heart, was in mortal danger.

The door to the room was once again flung open and several soldiers entered escorting Yaqub Khan and Haider Khan, who were protesting loudly at what they considered a great indignity.

“Send me two mutes, then dismiss all the men. You remain,” Akbar ordered the captain. When the mutes had come and the others were gone, the door was closed. Akbar pierced Yusef Khan’s two remaining sons with a hard look and said without preamble, “Why did you kill your brother Jamal?”

Neither of the Kashmiri princes answered him.

“The elephant keeper saw you. He came to me,” Akbar told them quietly. “I repeat, why did you kill your brother?”

Yaqub Khan looked at his younger brother and shrugged. Both men were aware that the mutes were royal executioners. To deny the plot was now futile, but had they been betrayed by Salim? he wondered. Perhaps the truth would save their lives. Akbar was known for fairness. “Your son, Salim, promised me the governorship of Kashmir
and
his sister, Yasaman Kama Begum, for my concubine. To my brother, Haider, he promised a high military position,” he said.

“Did you approach him in this matter, or did he approach you?” Akbar demanded, hoping against hope that it had been
the two Kashmiri princes who had first gone to his son with the idea.

“He called us to him early in the morning, gracious lord,” Yaqub Khan said. “We would not have done this deed had we not been assured great rewards by someone so powerful.”

Akbar nodded. Yaqub Khan was speaking the truth, he knew. The man was a follower and not a leader. “You swear this on your miserable life?” he asked the two brothers.

They nodded, and Yaqub Khan said, “We swear it with our dying breaths, gracious lord.” He suddenly understood the certainty of his fate, for he realized too late that the woman next to the emperor was his sister-in-law, Yasaman Kama Begum.

Akbar sighed deeply and looked to the captain of his guard. The captain silently nodded to the two mutes standing behind the Kashmiri princes. The mutes, with incredible swiftness, garroted Yaqub Khan and his brother Haider before they even realized what was happening. Then, under the direction of the captain, they removed the bodies for immediate burial, departing the room and leaving the emperor, his wife, and his daughter alone again. The captain did not need to be admonished to silence. His entire career had been at the Mughal court, and he knew that Salim would soon rule.

“They lied!” Yasaman burst out. “
They lied!
”

“No,” Akbar said wearily, “they told the truth, my rosebud.”

“Salim would not hurt me in this way,” Yasaman whispered, her voice beginning to quiver with emotion. “He would not hurt me! He loves me.”

“Yes,” Akbar said, “he loves you, my daughter, but he does not love you as a brother loves his sister. He loves and desires you as a man desires a beautiful woman. I think perhaps that this is something you knew but dared not admit to yourself.”

“He tried to seduce me the night of my thirteenth birthday,” Yasaman half whispered to her father. “I thought it might be wrong, and yet …” Her voice trailed off.

“I know he tried to seduce you then,” Akbar replied, “but you must not feel guilty about it, Yasaman. You were an innocent young girl filled with a new and burning passion you did not understand or know what to do with; but your brother, may God forgive him, knew, and he took shameful advantage of you.”

“How did you know, Father?” Her cheeks were pink with the memory of the brief but torrid encounter with her brother.

“Adali was there. He had seen the looks your brother had
lavished upon you over the past years. He was suspicious of him, and rightly so, it turns out,” the emperor said. “Remember, Adali is loyal beyond question. He had long ago promised Candra to protect you from all evil. It was not a promise he made lightly, my daughter.”

Yasaman nodded. “Is that why I was married in such haste to Jamal?” she asked her father.

“Yes. Your mother and I wanted to protect you, Yasaman. We believed such a marriage the answer to our problem.”

“I had known Jamal’s mother briefly,” Rugaiya Begum spoke up. “I had even seen the prince on one or two occasions. He was handsome and seemed kind. His reputation was spotless. I knew you would not be unhappy to remain in Kashmir. In Kashmir you would have been far from Salim’s eye and, we hoped, his thoughts. It would appear, however, that you are an obsession with your brother. He knows that your father is dying. He has acted to remove the final barrier to his possession of you.”

Yasaman’s world was unraveling about her even as they spoke. Jamal, her beloved husband, was dead by her beloved brother’s command; and Salim was preparing to … to … what did he really want of her? To possess her body, she understood, but what place was she to have in his life? She had loved Salim her entire life, but now she hated him. She hated him with as deep a passion as he obviously loved her.

“I will kill him if I have to face him,” she said finally. Her heart was gone and she was so cold.

“No,” Akbar said quietly. “You cannot.”

“How will you punish him, my father?” Yasaman demanded in a hard voice. “Will you replace him with Khusrau or Khurram? Will you have him garroted as you did his two hapless minions? No! He must bear a slow death. I want him to suffer!”

Rugaiya Begum looked at Akbar. How will you answer her? her mournful dark eyes asked of him. What comfort can you possibly bring to her?

“Khusrau is too volatile,” Akbar finally said. “He has inherited the worst traits of both his parents. As for Khurram, he is too young, I fear, though he shows great promise. I cannot live long enough to assure his safe ascent to power if I destroy his father, Yasaman. Khurram is only fourteen.”

“You were fourteen when my grandfather, Humayun, died,”
she reminded him. “You fought off uncles, cousins, and brothers to retain your throne.”

“Times were different then,” he protested. “I had not all of this land.”

“Yes, they were harder times, my father! The Mughals had little left after their wars with the Afghan tribes and Sher Shah. You had an empire to conquer and half a dozen aspirants to your throne eager to bring you down so that they could rule in your place! Our world is nothing like that now!”

“No,” he agreed, “it is a far more subtle and deadly world, my daughter. I have conquered almost all of this land by the sword and by the alliances I have so cleverly forged by virtue of the marriage bed. A boy of fourteen could not hold
this
empire together. India needs a man. Unfortunately there is but one son of my loins fit to rule. Your brother Salim.”

“What of Daniyal?” she replied furiously.

“Daniyal is too often in his cups to function successfully, I fear, my daughter. No, Salim is India’s only hope. He may have tried me sorely over the years with his eagerness to fill my boots, but he is an able administrator and a fine warrior. The people fear him, and they respect him.”

“How long would they respect him if they knew of his desire to commit incest with his sister?” Yasaman said bitterly. “How long would they respect him if they knew he had ordered his brother-in-law’s murder in order to clear a path to my bed?” Her voice was beginning to rise as her grief began to overcome her. “You say you are dying, my father. How will you protect me then from Salim? I will kill myself before I will allow him to violate me! But if it comes to that, I will kill him too!”

“Be silent, my daughter!” Rugaiya Begum said sharply, and both Akbar and Yasaman turned to look at her, startled. “I will hear no talk of killing. We have but one course in this matter, but in order to take it, we must not let Salim know that we are aware of his perfidy. Your father is correct, Yasaman. There is no one who can follow him but Salim. That is unescapable fact. Nothing you say or do can alter it. Trust me when I tell you that no one would come to your aid if Salim forced you to an incestuous relationship. You are only a woman. Any cleric who protested would be killed to silence his chatter. We must, therefore, protect you from Salim and protect Salim from himself. There is only one way. You must leave India.”

“
Leave India?
” Yasaman was horrified. “Where would I go, Mama Begum?”

“You must go to Candra’s land; to your other grandmother. It is the only place where you will be safe. Your brother will not know where you are, and therefore cannot send after you. Obviously your fate is not here in India, my daughter. Before your marriage, your father’s astrologer saw both happiness and tragedy in your stars, as well as several children. If you remain here, Salim will not permit you to have another husband to father those children.”

“I cannot leave India,” Yasaman said. “It is my home.”

“Yes,” Akbar said as if a sudden revelation had been presented to him. “Yes, Rugaiya, my wife, it is the only way! Why I did not think of it myself, I do not know.
England!
You will be safe in England, my beloved daughter. And Candra’s family will surely protect you.”

“You were not so certain of Candra’s family when you permitted her to return to her own land without me,” Yasaman said.

“I did not know them then, but over the years your other grandmother has corresponded with me. I believe her to be a woman of great morality and good sense. She will not refuse to shelter you,” Akbar said.

“Yes, she has corresponded with you, my father, but never have you corresponded with her! What will she think when I suddenly appear upon her doorstep?”

“We will consult with Father Cullen,” Akbar said. “He is one of them, a European. He will know; but I believe England is the safest place for you, Yasaman.”

Before they might continue the conversation, however, Yasaman suddenly doubled over and cried out in pain.

“What is it, my daughter?” Rugaiya Begum said, frightened.

Yasaman looked up at her mutely, her eyes filled with anguish. “I think I may be with child,” she managed to gasp.

Akbar scrambled to his feet. Hurrying over to the door of the chamber, he opened it and called to the guardsman outside, “Fetch the lady Juliana immediately! Quickly! Quickly!” When he turned back, Rugaiya Begum was cradling Yasaman in her arms.

Yasaman’s eyes were closed and she was very pale. Tiny drops of perspiration beaded her forehead and upper lip.

They sat silently until finally the door to the room opened and Juliana Bourbon hurried in. “What has happened?” Seeing
Yasaman, she knelt by her side and looked at Rugaiya Begum questioningly.

“She may be with child,” Rugaiya Begum told the doctor.

“Not any longer,” Juliana Bourbon replied, pointing to the ooze of blood staining Yasaman’s clothing. “I am sorry, my princess,” she told Yasaman, whose eyes fluttered open at the doctor’s words. “How long since your last show of blood?”

“Eight, nine weeks,” Yasaman murmured weakly.

“It will be all right, my child,” Juliana Bourbon reassured the girl. “You are young and healthy. You will have other children.”

Yasaman began to weep wildly.

“Jamal Khan has been murdered this day,” Akbar told the doctor.

“Ahh,” she replied, “then that is what has brought about this sad event. Sometimes a terrible shock will do that to a woman, and the princess is very young. Let me call for a litter. She will need immediate treatment.”

“Take her to my quarters here in the fort,” Rugaiya Begum told Juliana Bourbon, “and can you give her something to quiet her before you move her? I do not want this event to become a public scandal, under the circumstances.”

“Of course,” the doctor said. “Give me some water, my lady Begum,” and she removed a gilded pill from a pouch that hung from her belt. Gently she inserted it between Yasaman’s lips, the sobbing girl choking slightly as Rugaiya Begum forced some water from a goblet down her daughter’s throat. Yasaman swallowed, and a few short minutes later her sobs died as she fell into a deep sleep.

The litter was brought and the young princess gently put upon it.

“Take my daughter directly to her mother’s apartments,” Akbar instructed the bearers. “Go with them,” he told his wife, and Rugaiya Begum accompanied the doctor from the room. When she had departed, Akbar told the attending guardsman, “Find Father Cullen and send him to me.”

The priest came and Akbar told him of all the events that had transpired this day, concluding, “I know that you know the real reason we married Yasaman off so quickly, Father. Now, however, all our plans to keep her safe from Salim, and Salim safe from his own wicked desires, have gone astray.”

“What are we to do then, gracious lord?” the priest asked.

“Rugaiya Begum and I have discussed it, Father. Yasaman must leave India. There is no other way. She must go to England to Candra’s family. I will, of course, want you to escort her. Will the Church allow you to leave your post here, I wonder?”

“My post is with the princess, gracious lord,” the priest answered. “My instructions, which came from my bishop, were to remain with her always. If she goes to England, then I must, of necessity, follow her.”

“Is the Church so interested in the welfare of a single soul that it would assign a priest to its keeping?” Akbar mused aloud.

Cullen Butler laughed softly. “Has it never occurred to you, gracious lord, that perhaps the Church was not quite as involved with my coming as you assumed? That perhaps there were other factors involved in my being assigned to the princess’s household?”