It occurred to Salim then, watching Dara write, how young the prince was.
After a long wait, Dara pursed his lips, muttered, “I think I have struck the proper tone…”
“Pardon, Shehzada?”
“What? Oh, yes…Apologies…Writing the eulogy for Mian Mir proves a challenge. A man whose spirit and teachings changed the lives of so many defies easy description…”
“I would imagine so,” Salim said, feeling the loss all over again. It was one thing to know a loved one has ascended to Paradise, quite another to avoid selfish feelings of loss and pain as you marked the days of their passing.
Cleaning it carefully, Dara set the qalam in its cradle. “I asked you to attend me because I have requests to make of you.”
“Where your father’s demands on my time and service permit, I am at your service, Shehzada.”
“These requests should not impinge on your Imperial service beyond your post as mihmandar to the ferenghi.”
Salim simply bowed.
“My servant, Talawat, wishes to talk to Rodney and John about their gunpowder weapons. He is most interested in their mechanisms.”
How had he learned…? Oh, of course—Salim’s kinsmen talked too much. They must have spoken of the attack where others could hear.
“I will ask them. I doubt they will refuse you, but I must beg your pardon, Shehzada: does the emperor know of this request?”
The prince frowned momentarily. “I do not think so. I will inform him of the request, as I expect you to report it.”
Salim bowed his head, “I am sorry to question you so, Shehzada, but—”
Dara spoke over him, waving him down: “But you must, and I understand completely. Father may wish to keep such a resource to himself, and that is his prerogative as emperor. You do him good service as one of his amirs by asking.”
“Thank you for your understanding, Shehzada.”
“Think nothing of it. Now, I would have your opinion on Hargobind Singh.”
“Shehzada?”
“Sorry, I am not being clear: I would have your opinion on how his presence at Mian Mir’s funeral will be received.”
“By whom, Shehzada?”
“Father and the…wider court.”
“Surely your advisors have given you their learned opi—”
“The advisors Father provided me have rendered their opinions. I ask yours.”
“The emperor will surely see, and approve of, the reasoning behind your decision to include the Sikh.”
“And?”
“Difficulty with the more conservative and orthodox Muslims will likely follow Hargobind Singh’s attendance, but it is not such an outrage they will be moved to rebel, given our teacher’s tolerance for the Sikhs.”
“Meaning Mian Mir had already driven away those who would be offended.”
“Yes, Shehzada.”
“And the rest, the non-Muslims?”
“I am not experienced enough with courtly politics to know, Shehzada.”
“Your best guess, then.”
“Most Hindus are reasonably friendly with the Sikhs, and will likely see the guru’s attendance as a sign of improving relations between all non-Muslims and Muslims.”
“So, you do not think it a bad idea to invite the guru?”
“No, Shehzada, though I do worry that someone may attempt an assassination of him while he is here.”
Dara smiled and rubbed his shoulder pointedly. “You have not seen Bhidi Chand and the rest of the guru’s bodyguard fight. I assure you that anyone wishing to slay Hargobind Singh will have a hard time of it.”
“I bow to your greater experience there, but even if unsuccessful, such an attempt will certainly cause the solemn occasion to erupt in riots and violence, potentially spreading such discord throughout the Punjab.”
Dara nodded. Seeming to come to some conclusion, he looked up at Salim. “Would you agree to the move if I were to petition Father to have you assigned to me as an advisor?”
Salim didn’t bother to conceal his surprise at the offer. “Of course, Shehzada, though the emperor may not grant the move purely because of my duties as mihmandar to the foreigners.”
“True. I shall make the request anyway. I will have need of men of experience I can trust.”
“Surely you can trust those men the emperor has assigned you already?”
“I can trust them insofar as they will assist me in making decisions Father approves of. On matters they may have a personal interest in, they may seek advantage at my expense, reporting falsely or omitting information in their reports to sow distrust between myself and Father. Nur Jahan did exactly that when she infected Jahangir with poisoned words against my father by controlling the information my grandfather received on the goings on in my father’s princely court.”
“Surely the bond between you and the emperor is stronger than that?”
“Now, yes. But who can say what will happen in a year, or ten? Especially if I am given a governorship someplace distant. Beyond that, the law, as you know, is not something even emperors can ignore: every true-born son shall inherit the same share as his brothers, being twice that of his sisters.
“Father allots me a much larger stipend than my brothers. But since my failure at Ramdaspur claimed the lives of so many that I had come to rely on, I possess a great deal of ready cash but lack trustworthy men I can swear into service, not to mention men I can trust to command them on my behalf.”
Unsure what to say, Salim ventured: “You face many difficulties, Shehzada.”
Dara shook his head. “I complain too much.”
“Given time, I know I can gather trustworthy men willing to serve you, Shehzada.”
“But first we must persuade Father to place you with me.”
“I will write to him tonight, Shehzada.”
“Good. I will be sure to do the same.” He picked up the thick, spotless paper, “once I am done with this. Will you listen to what I have written thus far?”
“Certainly, Shehzada.”
Lahore
“I don’t think we should get any closer,” Angelo said.
“No, probably not,” Gervais agreed, lifting his borrowed binoculars to watch the funeral procession come to a staggering, bunching halt at the burial site. The mausoleum Dara had decreed would be a shrine to Mian Mir was a simple, attractive building cited at the center of the quadrangle of gardens. The mob began to overflow the gardens, surrounding the grave site in row after row of mourners. One group, far smaller than the main body and separated from the rest by a mutually agreed-on space, formed a thin wedge point on to the tomb. Gervais blinked, then focused at the point of the wedge. Their turbans were tied differently, and their leader was…
Hargobind Singh had come. He must have been waiting for the procession at the tomb. A brave and possibly provocative move.
After a moment he could hear Dara Shikoh’s voice rising and falling from the heart of the crowd. Gervais, unable to distinguish individual words at this remove, instead observed the audience. Based on the strong emotion evident on every face, the eulogy was a powerful one.
He’d decided to try to observe the funeral from a safe distance, in case something untoward happened. Not that he could stop it, but even a few minutes warning could prove the difference between capture and an easy escape.
Bored, Angelo dismounted and sidled into the lengthening late-afternoon shade of the upright wheel of a Persian well that had been abandoned to a slow desiccation in the dry, relentless heat.
Following suit, Gervais squatted next to his old friend and asked, “You happy?”
Angelo snorted. “What kind of question is that?”
Gervais shrugged. “I know it’s not a question we commonly ask one another, but these Americans, they chase after happiness like you and I chase wealth, setting great store by it. When I bought your contract from the diwan in Surat, I knew you were in a bad way and needed help, but I never asked if you wanted in on this. Later, I
never really asked if you had other plans, just set you to work.”
“I hardly call translating hard labor. And translating for these people is far less dangerous than trying to skim enough from transactions in the port to pay down my debt.”
Gervais shrugged again. “I just don’t want to have made things worse for you.” He gestured at the crowd of mourners. “There are risks, big risks, in dealing with the up-timers. Without even meaning to, they can spark sweeping, violent change.”
“Of course there are risks, but I am happy to get a chance to return to the centers of power and the rewards such proximity provides. I had thought such opportunities beyond me.” Angelo smiled. “And they were, until you bought my debt.”
“Opportunities?”
Angelo winked. “Don’t worry, nothing that puts us at risk.”
Gervais looked a stern question at him.
“Your friends have generated quite the stir at court, and I’ve had a number of invitations to serve with nobles who would not receive me before, simply because of my association with the up-timer physicians who saved Dara Shikoh. When the mission’s work is done, I will have no lack of places to make my fortune.”
“I see.”
“Any idea when that will be?”
“What, when we’ll leave?”
Angelo nodded.
“Not sure. At least another two years.”
“Careful, India may claim your soul, as it has mine.”
Gervais waved a fly away. “I thank you for the warning, but while it has its charms, I will take what I can from it and return…” he trailed off, unsure where—and what—he would return to.
Angelo, watching him, chuckled quietly. “You don’t know where you’d go, do you?”
“No, I don’t. I suppose I’ll leave it up to Monique.”
“She’ll likely say the same thing.”
“I don’t know. She’s got an eye for Bertram.”
“I thought I saw something there, but it’s difficult to pierce the veils.”
“Well, he doesn’t seem prepared to act on it, even if he knows she’s interested.”
“He isn’t an easy read.”
“No, he isn’t.”
“What about him?” Angelo punched his bearded chin in the direction of the funeral.
“Dara?”
“He’s doing better. The wounds are almost entirely healed and he hasn’t smoked in some time. I was worried he might be driven back to the pipe by this loss, but my daughter says Nadira Begum and Jahanara have joined forces to forbid the use of opium in Dara’s harem.”
“His sister has that kind of influence?”
Gervais shrugged. “Some oddity of Jahanara’s position in her father’s household, and the fact that Dara’s household and court have so recently been reconstituted using personnel from Shah Jahan’s establishment.”
“Ah.” Angelo lowered his voice. “You are aware of the rumors?”
“Which ones?”
“Those that indicate that Jahanara and Shah Jahan have an improper relationship, and that those relations are the true reason Shah Jahan refuses to let her marry.”
Gervais opened his mouth to rebuke Angelo for spreading such a vile rumor, but stopped himself. Angelo was just letting him know what was being said, not gossiping. “Do you place any credence in these rumors?”
“No, and I don’t think any of the rest of the royal family do, either. I just thought you should know.”
“Any idea who is spreading that story around?”
Angelo shook his head. “I first heard it while we were in camp.”
“From whom?”
“A minor noble, a commander of one hundred, in service to Shah Shuja. We were drinking.” He smiled. “Or rather, I was drinking, and he was drunk.”
“And did others confirm or contest this rumor?”
“Most treated the words as the ramblings of a drunk.”
“But not all.”
“No, not all.”
“How many were present?”
“Ten men of the same rank as the speaker, all in service to Shah Shuja.”
Filing that datum away for future thought, Gervais eyed the lowering sun. “Do they bury him by nightfall?”
“Usually, but you know as well as I that things are different for important people.”
Chapter 34
Shah Jahan’s column, midway between Lahore and Agra
September 1635
“Some privacy for my son and me,” the emperor commanded. Instantly, his personal guard angled their mounts away, sped up or slowed, taking up station in a wide circle just out of easy earshot. Once assured he would not be overheard, Shah Jahan spoke: “You acted wisely, my son.”
Dara nodded. “I am relieved to hear you say so, Father. I was most concerned that I not create discord between you and Hargobind Singh so soon after you reached accord.”
“Indeed, his letter was most complimentary toward your hospitality and regarding the eulogy you gave Mian Mir. It seems he has a great deal of respect for you.”
“Despite the manner of our meeting, I have found him a wise and thoughtful man, worthy of respect and honor.”
Father looked at him approvingly. “To make an enemy into a friend is the single greatest distinction of good leadership.”
Surprised at how emotional Father’s praise made him, Dara looked away in an attempt to hide his response. When he trusted his voice would be level, Dara said, “I will pray and hope that is what I have done, then.”
“Are you satisfied with the advisors I appointed to assist you?”
Deciding to answer Father’s question with another, Dara said, “Did you receive the letter I sent regarding Amir Salim?”
“I did,” Shah Jahan said simply.
Unsatisfied, Dara pushed: “Do you wish me to ask in person, now?”
Shah Jahan looked at his son sidelong. “I want you to answer the question put to you.”
“I am satisfied with their service, but have need of more men experienced at command.”
“Amir Salim has no experience at commanding armies. He’s barely been made an umara.”
“No, but he does have experience of war, is well-known and respected among the Afghans, and has proven himself loyal to our house. And that leaves aside his familiarity with the ferenghi and their ways.”
“The ferenghi, yes…Salim has nearly finished reading me the last and biggest work he secured for us in Grantville.”
Something about his tone sent a chill racing along Dara’s spine. “And?” he asked, cautious.
“That book—and they themselves—are the reason we ride for Agra just now.”
“Pardon, but they?”
“The English. I plan to revoke their firman and permanently bar them from trade in those lands under my control.”
Dara felt his brow rise. “Just the English?”
“For now. I do not think I could bear the wailing of the Hindu merchant caste if I were to curtail all trade with Europe, especially since that wailing would join with that of the Muslim umaras I’ve already offended with my recent actions, and result in denial of any restful sleep.”
Not to mention the devastation such a policy would wreak on their treasury. Jahanara said they were already far too reliant on imported bullion for specie.
“May I ask why?”
“Salim has not told you what the books contain?”
“Not in any detail, no.”
“Really?”
“When he first came to court, Salim presented us with the postcard and read me and Jahanara some portions of what he had, but that was naturally limited by the need for quick, quiet action. I concluded that he needed to present his evidence to you without all of the court learning exactly what he had in his possession.”
“And then I sent you off to fight the Sikhs.”
“Yes.”
“And then you were recovering from your wounds.”
“Yes.”
Shah Jahan sc
ratched his beard, letting the silence stretch a while before speaking. “According to the books Salim has translated, the English will, after Aurangzeb dies, take control of all of India.”
“Salim told us as much, though nothing of the particulars.”
“The book had maddeningly few details on the process, focusing on the time the English were already in control. I will not make it easy for them, regardless.”
“Playing the Europeans one against the other is the only way we’ve kept the sea lanes to Mecca open. If we lose the English, then the Portuguese and Dutch will be that much stronger, and the predations of the ‘pirates’ operating under their flags will, at best, continue unabated.”
The emperor shrugged. “Despite their reassurances and claims to the contrary, the representatives of the East India Companies of both the Dutch and English, as well as the viceroy of the Portuguese and Spanish in Goa, have repeatedly proven they are either incapable or unwilling to prevent acts of piracy against pilgrims.”
“But, Father, we’re also incapable of defending our shipping.”
“For now, yes. I plan to build a strong navy.”
“And in the meantime?” Dara asked, leaving aside the question of how, exactly, that would be accomplished.
Shah Jahan didn’t answer immediately. Looking off into the distance he eventually sighed. “In the meantime, the struggles and sacrifices of a pilgrim on Hajj only serve to make that pilgrimage all the more holy for each respective pilgrim.”
It was Dara’s turn to ride in silence for a time. Eventually, he broke it. “A hard decision.”
“Such are the decisions, the brutal calculations, of rule. Costs must be weighed, and accepted, and outcomes—even the unexpected ones—dealt with.”
“Like me at Ramdaspur.”
Shah Jahan nodded. “Like you at Ramdaspur.” He waggled his head after a moment’s quiet reflection. “Unlike Ramdaspur, you will often have more time to decide even more complex problems. Take that time, consider your options. Even then you will frequently need to examine precisely who is presenting you with those options in order to make the best decision. Regardless, weigh your choices fully. Pray upon them. When that is done, or when time truly presses, you must then decide, and stick to that decision, trusting in God to see you through.”