‘Again, I thank you. And tomorrow we will talk, Maldeo.’
‘Of course.’
Humayun woke next day to feel a warm breeze stirring the gauze curtains around the soft bed on which, exhausted, he had collapsed into a long dreamless sleep. For a few moments he just lay there, giving himself up to relief and satisfaction that he had brought his family and his men to a safe haven. For a while at least they could all rest, and most important of all Hamida would have the care and comfort she needed. Humayun got up and stepping out on to the wide balcony found himself gazing down the sweep of cliff that fell sheer to the sandy plain below. The sun, already high in the sky, seemed tinged with crimson around the edges, like the flesh of the blood orange.
After the hardships of the past few weeks’ journey, the desert held no charms for Humayun. Turning away, he summoned Jauhar to fetch Kasim, Zahid Beg and his other commanders.Word of this must have reached Maldeo because even before Humayun’s men arrived, the raja’s servants brought great brass trays piled with fruit, nuts and gilded sweetmeats, and golden ewers of chilled sherbet. They were still eating and drinking when Maldeo himself appeared. He was more soberly dressed today in pantaloons and tunic of dark purple and a curved dagger hanging in a plain leather scabbard from the thin metal chain around his lean waist.
‘I trust you slept well, Majesty.’
‘Better than for many weeks. Join us, please.’ Humayun gestured to the orange silk cushion next to him.
Maldeo made himself comfortable and helped himself to a gilded almond. For the sake of politeness, Humayun decided he must wait a while before raising the subject of Sher Shah, but his host was less squeamish.
‘You have not made this long and arduous journey simply to drink sherbet with me.’ Maldeo leaned forward. ‘Let us be frank. We face a common enemy. If left unchecked Sher Shah could destroy us both. He must be defeated.You already know that he has insulted me by threatening to invade Marwar, but in recent weeks he has given me yet further cause to wish to see his head in the dust.’
‘How so?’
‘He has dared to ask for my daughter in marriage. The blood of thirty kings of Rajasthan runs in her veins – I’ll not give her to the thieving offspring of a common horse trader.’ Maldeo’s eyes were narrow slits and his tone was laced with venom.
‘I have few men left but if you will give me an army and ride with me, others will take heart and follow. Like the Moghuls, your people are of warrior blood. Together we can sweep Sher Shah and his dregs into the gutters.And I promise you this, Maldeo – when I am again on my throne in Agra, you will be the first I shall recompense.’
‘Whatever is in my power I will do – not for reward but from respect and honour, both for my own heritage and for yours.’
‘I know, Maldeo.’ Humayun took the raja by the shoulders and embraced him.
Eight weeks later, Humayun watched the raja and his escort ride out of the fortress, disappearing across the dry plains in the direction of the desert city of Jaisalmer where Maldeo planned to raise more troops for the campaign against Sher Shah. In the gathering dusk, the shrill cries of the raja’s pet peacocks pierced the cooling air as they sought a roost for the night on the battlements. As he contemplated the future Humayun felt more relaxed than for many months. Maldeo was an attentive host. A day seldom passed without either some entertainment – camel races, elephant fights or displays of fire-eating and martial Rajput dances – or the presentation of a gift. Only yesterday, Maldeo had sent him a jewelled bridle and Hamida a necklace of translucent amber beads. Pleasing though this was as a sign of Maldeo’s friendship, far more important was that he and the raja had nearly finished planning their campaign against Sher Shah. Soon Humayun would be riding at the head of an army again.
‘Majesty . . . ’ He turned to see one of Hamida’s attendants, Zainab, kneeling before him. The girl was badly disfigured by a birthmark that covered the right half of her thin little face and when her mother had died of a fever during the harsh journey to Marwar, her father, a foot soldier with other children to feed, had left her to fend for herself. Touched by her misfortunes, Hamida had taken her as her attendant.
‘What is it?’
Still kneeling, Zainab spoke rapidly. ‘Majesty, her imperial highness asks you to come to her as soon as possible.’
Humayun smiled. He had been planning to visit Hamida tonight. Now that they were in comfort and safety and Hamida was feeling well again, his mind turned frequently to the joys of love-making, although with Hamida’s rapidly swelling belly he must soon learn to curb his passion for her. Nothing must damage the child. But when, finally, Zainab lifted her eyes to his, they looked troubled and he knew something was wrong.
Without stopping to question Zainab, Humayun swiftly descended two floors to the passage connecting the Hawa Mahal to where Hamida and her women had been given apartments adjoining those of Maldeo’s women. Ignoring the members of his bodyguard posted by the sandalwood doors leading to Hamida’s rooms, Humayun himself pushed them open and strode in.
‘Humayun . . . ’ Hamida ran to him and putting her arms round his neck clung to him. Her body was trembling and he could feel her hectic, shuddering heartbeat beneath her thin silk tunic.
‘What is it? The child . . . ’
Hamida said nothing but waited until the doors had closed and they were alone. Stepping back from Humayun, she folded her hands protectively over her belly. ‘Our son is safe inside me . . . for the moment at least. But if we’re not careful we may all soon be dead.’ Her voice was low and as she spoke she glanced around as if eavesdroppers might be concealed behind the fluttering hangings.
‘What do you mean?’
Hamida came close to Humayun again. ‘I have learned that the raja has never been our friend. He has always planned to betray us. Even now he is riding to a secret meeting with envoys sent by Sher Shah from Agra at a fortress deep in the desert. His story about going to raise troops in Jaisalmer was just a blind to conceal his true purpose.’
‘But he is my ally and my host and has treated us with honour. We’ve been in his power these past two months. He could have killed us a hundred times . . . ’ Humayun stared at Hamida, worried that her pregnancy had addled her wits.
‘All that has saved us so far is the raja’s greed – he has been negotiating his price. Now he has gone in person to question Sher Shah’s envoys to satisfy himself that all his demands will be met. As soon as he returns . . . sooner if he sends a messenger ahead of him . . . he will have us murdered.’
Hamida’s face was taut with fear though her voice was calm. He took her hand, feeling its marble coldness.
‘How do you know all this?’
‘A woman – her name is Sultana – came to me from the raja’s haram. She is one of our people – an Afridi from the mountains of Kabul. After her father was killed at Panipat, she and her mother joined a caravan returning to Kabul but as they were attempting to cross the Indus brigands attacked them. Sultana and the other young women were taken to be sold in the bazaars. She was a great beauty. One of the raja’s nobles bought her and sent her to Maldeo as a gift.’
‘What else did this woman tell you?’
‘That in his heart he despises the Moghuls. He thinks us barbarian raiders with no right to Hindustan.The story about Sher Shah wishing to marry the raja’s daughter is a lie. As soon as Maldeo knew we were definitely on our way here, he wrote to Sher Shah gloating that he would soon have us in his power and asking what Sher Shah would give him in return for us. For some time there was silence. But finally – two days ago according to Sultana – envoys from Sher Shah reached the outskirts of the kingdom of Marwar and sent a message to Maldeo telling him of Sher Shah’s response.What Sher Shah said . . . it was terrible . . . ’ For the first time her voice seemed to fail her.
Humayun caught her against him and held her close. ‘Hamida, go on. You must tell me everything . . . ’
After a moment Hamida continued, face against his che
st, voice muffled. ‘Sher Shah has promised Maldeo that if the raja sends him your head . . . and the unborn child I am carrying . . . he will reward him not only with money and jewels but with new lands and cities that he will hold independent of Sher Shah. When Sultana told me this I was sick . . . for a while I couldn’t think, but I knew I must be strong . . . for us and for the son I carry . . . ’
As he thought of Maldeo’s smiling face, of all his smooth-tongued lies, such anger and disgust took hold of Humayun that he felt he might choke with rage. ‘Does Maldeo mean to accept Sher Shah’s offer?’ he managed to ask.
‘Sultana says the raja is cautious. That is why he has summoned the envoys to meet him in the fortress in the desert – so he can question them himself. But if he believes Sher Shah means what he says, Maldeo will not hesitate to have us killed. That is why as soon as he left this evening, Sultana found a way to come to me . . . ’
‘Are you sure this Sultana is to be trusted? Why should she run such a risk for us?’
‘She hates Maldeo for his callous treatment of her . . . He calls her his savage from the steppes. But her reasons go deeper than that. I saw her distress as she laid her hand on my belly . . . She told me that when she bore Maldeo a son, he said the child was not worthy to be reared in the palace and he sent it away. She does not even know if he is alive. She came to me for the sake of our unborn child and for mine as a mother, I’m sure of it. She called herself my blood-sister and I believed her.’
Humayun gently released Hamida. With her anxious eyes upon him, a cold determination was replacing the heat of his rage at Maldeo’s treachery and violation of all the rules of honour and hospitality at the heart of the Rajput code. If he was to save the lives of his family and his men he must push emotion aside and focus his mind on one thing only – survival.
‘I promise you this – no harm will come to you or our child. I married you to make you my empress and that is what you will be. And our son will be emperor after me. Maldeo’s wickedness will not alter this.’
At Humayun’s words, Hamida drew herself up. ‘What must we do?’
‘Have you talked about this to anyone? Khanzada or Gulbadan?’
‘Not to anyone.’
‘What does your waiting woman Zainab know?’
‘Only that my meeting with Sultana had upset me . . . ’
‘Can you summon Sultana again?’
‘Yes. Her rooms are close by and she is free to move about the palace.’
‘I must leave you for a while for appearance’s sake. Some of Maldeo’s commanders are to eat with me and my officers to discuss the campaign against Sher Shah. I must do nothing to arouse suspicion. But summon Sultana two hours from now and I will join you as soon as I can. I must see this woman for myself.’ Bending, he kissed Hamida’s full soft lips. ‘Courage,’ he whispered, ‘all will be well . . . ’
As soon as he was able but a little later than he’d hoped, Humayun hurried again to his wife’s apartments. The light from hundreds of wicks burning in brass diyas and the torches in sconces on the walls softened the harsh stone outlines of the place Humayun had thought of as a refuge but – if Sultana was speaking the truth – was not only a prison but a place of execution. All during the meal – though appearing polite and attentive to Maldeo’s men – he had been turning over and over in his mind what he should do and he had formed a plan, bold and desperate . . .
‘Majesty.’ The woman knelt before him as he entered Hamida’s chamber.
‘Rise.’ Humayun appraised her closely as she stood up and waited, hands folded, before him. Sultana was about thirty years old but – with her pale, high-cheekboned face, typical of the Afridi people – still beautiful and her black hair was untouched by silver. Her clear, hazel eyes were fixed anxiously on his face as if wondering whether she was standing up to his scrutiny.
‘The empress has told me your story. If it is true we owe you a great debt . . . ’
‘It is true, Majesty. I swear it.’
‘Why should the raja have confided his plans in you?’
‘He has spoken openly of them in the haram – out of conceit and a desire to gloat. Even as you were approaching over the desert, Majesty, when he knew you had little food or water left, he said he was tempted to attack you. But it pleased him better to lure you on with soft words and fine promises. He is a master of deceit and enjoys spinning a complex web . . . he wanted to make sure he had you fully in his power.’ Sultana’s voice trembled, ‘Truly, Majesty, he is a monster . . . ’
The horror and revulsion that he read in Sultana’s eyes told Humayun that she was no liar.
‘God sent you here to save us,’ he said as Sultana fell silent.
‘I hope so, Majesty. I will do all I can to help you.’
‘Then let me tell you my plan . . . Since I have been Maldeo’s guest I have been out hawking several times. What could be more natural than that I should wish to do so again? Tomorrow, just as dawn is breaking, I and my courtiers and commanders lodged here in the palace will dress as if for a day’s chase. I will order litters prepared for our women, saying that I wish them too to enjoy a day’s sport. They have accompanied me before so there should be nothing strange in this. Once we have descended from the fortress we will head east into the desert.
‘But of course, I also need to get my forces away. Tonight I will send my attendant Jauhar to Zahid Beg, who commands our camp outside the town below. Jauhar often carries messages from me to Zahid Beg, so again there should be nothing to rouse suspicion. He will tell Zahid Beg to say nothing to the men at present but that early tomorrow morning he must lead them out westward, making it look as if they are going on a military exercise. They will have to leave much of the camp equipment – including our cannon – behind but that cannot be helped. Once out of sight of Marwar, they are to circle round and rejoin the rest of us.’ Humayun paused. ‘What do you think, Sultana? Will the guards permit me and my entourage to ride from the fortress in Maldeo’s absence?’
‘If it looks as if you are going hunting, they can have no reason to prevent you. As far as I know, Maldeo has given no orders for you to be kept within the fortress – he would not wish to do anything to make you suspect.’
‘But you, Sultana?’ Hamida touched the woman’s arm. ‘You must come with us . . . it would be dangerous for you to remain. Maldeo will guess what you have done . . . ’
To Humayun’s surprise, Sultana shook her head.
‘But this is your chance to rejoin your own people . . . ’
‘After what has happened to me here at the hands of Maldeo, I can never go back . . . That part of my life is over. But when I see his ambition, his greed thwarted, that will be my reward . . . ’ A sad but also triumphant smile briefly lit her face. ‘And I doubt he will suspect me . . . he does not think I have the brains or the courage to do what I have done . . . ’
‘I will never forget you, my blood-sister. And when I am empress in Agra, I will send for you . . . and if you wish to come you will be treated with the greatest honour.’ Hamida kissed Sultana’s cheek. ‘May God protect you.’
The sky was only just paling to the east when Humayun, dressed in hunting clothes like those around him, rode slowly through the concentric walls towards the gatehouse that was the only exit from the fortress. A fine black hawk given him by Maldeo was on his wrist, bright eyes concealed beneath a jewelled and tufted cap of yellow leather. Behind him, surrounded by Kasim and his other courtiers and commanders, were the litters carrying Hamida, Khanzada, Gulbadan and the rest of the women. After leaving Hamida last night he had gone straight to his aunt and his sister to tell them of the peril and of what they must do. True Moghul princesses, they had at once grasped the situation and obeyed him calmly and unquestioningly.
Humayun’s blood was pumping as hard as if he was riding into battle as he led his party nearer to the gatehouse. In the soft morning light he could see that the metal grille was still lowered. His eyes flicked left and right, seeking any si
gn of an ambush. Though he had believed every word Sultana had said, he had been deceived before in this place. Also, Sultana herself might have been betrayed, perhaps by an enemy within the haram curious about her meetings with the Moghul empress. But all seemed as it should be. No arrow tip, no musket protruding from a slit in the gatehouse. Just the usual guards.With seeming casualness, Humayun gestured to Jauhar who called out in ringing tones, ‘Raise the gate. His Imperial Majesty wishes to go hawking.’ The captain of the guard, a tall man in orange tunic and turban, hesitated. Humayun felt sweat trickle down between his shoulder blades and glanced down at Alamgir, hanging at his side. Across his back was a full arrow case. But there was no need for force. After barely a second or two, the Rajput captain shouted, ‘Raise the grille.’
The men above the gate began turning the windlass to draw up the thick black chains from which the grille was suspended. Agonisingly slowly – or so it seemed to Humayun – creaking and shuddering the heavy iron grille rose. With every foot, so too did Humayun’s hopes, though he kept his expression distant and slightly bored.
Even when the grille was fully up, Humayun did not hurry but spent a moment or two adjusting the hawk’s leather hood. Then, with a wave of his hand, he and his little entourage trotted forward. Slowly, so as still not to rouse suspicion, they rode down the steep ramp curving along the side of the outcrop that only a few weeks ago they had ridden up with such high hopes, out of the ceremonial arched gatehouse at its foot and then through the quiet streets of the town where the people still slept. Soon they were heading eastward, the seeping golden light of the rising sun before them, and into the sandy wastes that though so hostile were their best protection.
Chapter 13
Demon of the Sands
Humayun signalled the small scouting party with whom he had ridden ahead of his main column to halt. He swallowed a single mouthful of the precious water in the leather bottle at his side then patted his horse’s neck, which was flecked with creamy patches of sweat. Around him, the blistering, shimmering desert stretched away, silent, endless and all-engulfing.
Empire of the Moghul: Brothers at War Page 22
