Just as he had known they would, Mahabat Khan’s officers had given his bold and impulsive plan their immediate and unanimous support despite the obvious risks and dangers. So too had his entire loyal battle-hardened army of Rajputs. Moving at more than eight times the speed of the imperial caravan they had quickly gained ground on it. The few officials on the way who had queried their haste or their mission had easily been satisfied by Mahabat Khan’s assertion that he wanted to report in person to the emperor on another successful campaign. Nevertheless he was glad that the pursuit was over and the time to put his plan into action was at hand.
‘Does the camp have outlying pickets posted to its rear?’ Mahabat Khan asked.
‘No,’ replied the scout. ‘There are sentries, of course, but only a few of them and they’re close around the perimeter of the camp itself and seem very relaxed. The only patrols I saw set off were those fanning out on the opposite side of the river presumably scouting the way ahead.’
Mahabat Khan smiled. Circumstances were conspiring in his favour. All he would have to do in the morning was wait until even more of the imperial troops had crossed, burn or block the bridge and then swoop on the camp and capture the emperor, the empress and Khurram’s two sons. For safety’s sake, though, he and his men would pull back a mile or two for the night and light no cooking fires which might betray their presence.
The night was a cold one in the shadow of the hills and mountains surrounding the Jhelum river valley. When Mahabat Khan led out his mounted horsemen just after dawn a thick chill mist still enveloped the landscape. Luck was certainly on his side. The mist would allow him to approach the crossing unseen, he thought. But he must not rely on luck alone. He must stay calm and take nothing for granted. He had seen too many generals defeated because they thought everything was so much in their favour that they did not plan well or take sufficient care in their attack. Therefore he reminded his officers once more of the orders he had issued the previous night.
‘Ashok,’ he said to the young Rajput mounted on his chestnut horse at the head of his troops. ‘Your task is to secure the boat bridge so that no imperial troops can return. Burn it if you have to. You, Rajesh’ – he turned to an older, bushy bearded man who had a scar running diagonally across his face from hairline to beard and a flap of skin falling over the empty socket where his left eye should have been – ‘you and your men surround the camp and make sure no one can escape south with news of our action. I will lead the rest of the men to capture the imperial family.
‘Remember, all of you, avoid casualties if you can, not just of course to our men but also to the imperial troops. We will need as many of them to cooperate with us as possible. Above all, make sure that the imperial family come to no harm. Alive they are worth several times more to us than their weight in gold. Dead they will be weights dragging us down to hell, turning everyone against us and rendering compromise impossible. Do you understand?’ His officers nodded. ‘Now, let’s take maximum benefit from this mist.’
Wheeling his horse, Mahabat Khan led the way into the enshrouding greyness. The next few hours would be crucial to his future. He would either be in effective control of the empire or, if his audacious bid failed, suffer a slow death – the emperor never allowed a traitor to die quickly or easily. He shuddered at the memory of those he had seen impaled or buried up to their necks in sand to die in the hot sun, or even while still living having their intestines pulled out inch by inch and wound around sticks by cold-eyed torturers. For his own sake and that of his men he must succeed, and he would. Grim faced, he urged his tall black horse forward.
Within an hour and without any incident or obvious sign of detection he and his men were breasting some low mud hills by the Jhelum river and looking down on the boat bridge. Though the mist persisted it had become thinner and patchy. Amid the gaps Mahabat Khan could see that more imperial troops were crossing the bridge together with some pack elephants whose weight and lumbering gait made the boats bob and sway in the swift-flowing waters, which were grey-green from the rock and silt they carried down from their source in the mountains and glaciers. Through another gap in the drifting mist Mahabat Khan saw that the scarlet imperial tents remained on his side of the river and that cooking fires burned adjacent to them – perhaps the emperor and empress were taking a leisurely morning meal. He knew from his appearances at court that the emperor, befuddled from his excesses of the previous night – whether opium, liquor or more usually a mixture of the two – often rose late and remained half comatose and not entirely coherent until midday. Pray that he did so today, but he could not rely on it.
Turning to his officers, Mahabat Khan commanded, ‘No time to lose. Act now and act quickly. Make sure your men maintain their discipline. Have them unfurl our banners so that the imperial soldiers know who we are and we keep them uncertain of our intentions until the last possible moment.’ With that he kicked his heels into the flanks of his black horse, which responded willingly and sent up clods of dirt as it rapidly descended the mud hills towards the camp.
Five minutes later Mahabat Khan was galloping hard through the sparsely defended perimeter of Jahangir’s camp. The first few guards seemed too confused to react until it was too late, and they were swamped by his own far more numerous men before they could draw their weapons. As he rode on towards the river he looked round and saw Rajesh’s men wheeling to throw up an encircling cordon of their own around the camp and Ashok’s horsemen heading at the gallop towards the bridge of boats, scattering cooking pots and other loose camp equipment as they went. He heard no shots and saw no arrows rise, so he pushed on towards the imperial tents. Soon they were before him and as he thundered down upon them several men scattered in panic. From their beardless faces and soft, brightly coloured garments they seemed to be the eunuchs who attended the haram. Pulling so hard on his reins that his horse almost reared, Mahabat Khan brought his mount to a standstill and jumped from the saddle to fling himself on one of the eunuchs, a lithe young man who struggled and wriggled for a moment in an effort to twist himself from Mahabat Khan’s grip, but, finding it futile, made no further resistance. Quickly, Mahabat Khan grabbed him by his shoulder and shook him. ‘Where’s the emperor?’
The eunuch said nothing but swung his head towards an area about ten yards off which was screened by wooden panels intricately painted with hunting scenes and laced together by leather thongs. Water was seeping beneath the panels. That must be where he was, in the hammam tents – the bath tents – washing away last night’s debauch, Mahabat Khan thought. Throwing the eunuch aside, he ran over to the screened area and kicked down some of the panels.
The smell of rosewater filled the air. Steam was rising from the great stone bath carved from a single block that the emperor always carried with him on his travels, but the bath was empty of anything but hot water and the only people Mahabat Khan could see were two attendants, alarm and fear etched into their smooth faces. Suddenly he heard volleys of musket shots crackle out from the direction of the riverbank. Where was the emperor? Was everything going to go wrong? Even, heaven forbid, had one of his own men found an opportunity during the long journey to betray him, allowing Jahangir to set him a trap? Mahabat Khan turned and, heart thumping, ran from the hammam. ‘Find the emperor!’
Shouts and the crash of steel on steel rose and fell in Jahangir’s dreams. But then, coming suddenly nearer, they woke him. Trying to collect his scattered thoughts he rose to his feet, and when there was no answer to his call to his qorchi he made his way towards the entrance of the tent.
Mind set on reaching his horse and riding for the riverbank Mahabat Khan didn’t see the tent flap rise and only just prevented himself from colliding with the frail but straight-backed figure who emerged, still dressed in his night-clothes. He immediately recognised Jahangir, thinner and more hollow eyed than ever.
The emperor spoke first. ‘What is all this commotion, Mahabat Khan?’
Mahabat Khan was lost for words for some moments
, but finally answered, ‘I have come to take you into my custody for the sake of the empire.’
‘Custody for the sake of the empire? What rubbish! What do you mean?’
‘The empress and your current advisers act in their own interests, not in yours. I am better placed to guide you than they are,’ Mahabat Khan said awkwardly.
‘How dare you!’ Jahangir spoke with some of the old fire and temper in his eyes and his hand went to his waist where if his dressing had been complete his dagger would have been. Finding it absent he looked around for his guards, but the few he could see were squatting on the ground, hands already tied behind their backs, while Mahabat Khan’s men were everywhere, swords drawn and glinting in the early morning sun. He let his hand fall back to his side and asked, ‘Do I have a choice in this supposed change of counsellors?’
‘In due course, Majesty, when you see how much better I can perform than the existing ones.’ Despite his opium-dilated eyes, to Mahabat Khan the emperor seemed to be calculating his options. At last he nodded as if he realised that for the present resistance would be futile, and slowly turned and ducked back beneath the scarlet awning of his tent. Mahabat Khan looked at his men. ‘Guard the emperor’s tent but treat him courteously. He is our emperor.’
Inside the tent Jahangir struggled to make sense of what had just happened. What did Mahabat Khan think he could achieve? For the moment Jahangir knew he could do little. Where were Mehrunissa and his grandsons? He soon learned the answer from a shouted conversation outside.
‘General, we have Khurram’s children,’ he heard. ‘We found them under close guard in a tent set a little apart from the others. Dara Shukoh keeps asking when we will return them to their parents, insisting that we will be well rewarded when we do. I’ve told him not quite yet and to be patient. Aurangzeb has said little but I see defiance in his eyes.’
‘That’s good, Rajesh,’ Jahangir heard Mahabat Khan reply. ‘Khurram at least will be pleased to negotiate with us, then. Look after the boys well but keep them under close supervision. I wouldn’t put it beyond them to attempt to escape. Where is the empress?’
‘I don’t know. Our men are searching everywhere in the camp but so far with no success. One of the eunuchs we found in the haram quarters spoke of her grabbing bow and quiver, flinging on a dark cloak, jumping onto a horse and riding off astride. But no woman would behave like that, General.’
‘You have never encountered the empress. The heart of a tigress beats beneath her woman’s skin.’
Jahangir smiled. Mahabat Khan was no fool. With Mehrunissa free all was not lost.
Outside, Mahabat Khan, his brow once more furrowing with tension and worry, turned quickly to remount his horse and set off for the bridge of boats. If the empress had indeed fled his plan had only half succeeded. It was no distance to the river and within only a couple of minutes he was dismounting again. There was no sign of life around the bridge, which was unburnt, but some of his musketeers were sheltering behind upturned wagons not far away. They had their weapons primed and ready on their tripods and were looking down the long steel barrels which were aimed across the river. Others including Ashok were bent over, tending what looked like musket wounds in two of their comrades. Elsewhere two bodies sprawled on the riverbank, clothes soaked in blood. It was clear now to Mahabat Khan where the sound of shots had come from, and with a heavy heart he could guess the cause. ‘Ashok, what happened?’
‘All went well at first. We secured the approach to the bridge. Those on it obeyed our instructions to continue their crossing on pain of being shot down if they resisted, turned back or even stood still. Those waiting to cross – mostly muleteers with their charges – surrendered readily enough although this officer supervising their transit drew his sword.’ Mahabat Khan followed the direction of Ashok’s pointing arm to see a stout figure with his hands tied behind his back guarded by two of Ashok’s men. ‘Before he could be restrained he wounded one of my junior officers but only slightly, thank goodness.’
‘But then how did these other men come to be injured and killed?’
‘It couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes later when I heard pounding hooves behind me and a cloaked figure came galloping at top speed towards the bridge. I shouted, “Stop, or we will fire!” The hood of the cloak flew back from the rider’s head and I saw long dark hair stream out. For a moment I thought it was a woman but then I dismissed the idea. No woman would ride astride like that, urging the animal on with hands and knees. I was about to give the order to fire when I realised that I had been debating with myself so long that the rider had knocked two of our men guarding the entrance to the bridge out of the way, sending one tumbling into the water, and was already halfway across the bridge, which was swaying wildly under the impact of the galloping horse’s hooves. Mindful of your order not to harm people who might have influence I decided to let the rider go. I couldn’t but admire his courage. After his arrival upon the opposite bank the muskets started to open up and the first fusillade was the one that caused the casualties. We’ve been exchanging fire off and on since then.’
‘You did well not to shoot. You don’t realise whom you might have killed,’ Mahabat Khan said. Then, thinking it strangely appropriate to his situation, he added, ‘Burn the bridge so no one can return.’
Chapter 22
River of Blood
‘You have disgraced yourselves before God, the emperor and the people. Through your negligence the unimaginable has happened. The emperor has been captured!’ Mehrunissa raged as she paced up and down before the senior officers of Jahangir’s bodyguard, entirely disregarding the rules of purdah. When she looked directly into their eyes it was they who looked away, face down like meek maidens. ‘How are you going to redeem your honour? How are you going to rescue the emperor? You stood by while Mahabat Khan’s men burned the boat bridge immediately after I escaped over it. Now how will we cross back? Cross we will even if we have to swim our horses and elephants over the river. Come on, answer me.’
A long pause followed. ‘Majesty.’ A tall, hawk-nosed Badakhshani eventually spoke, still contriving to avoid Mehrunissa’s blazing eyes. ‘When I was leading the advance party searching for the best way to cross the Jhelum four or five days ago we found a possible fording place about a mile upstream from here. We rejected it because the water was too deep for men to wade through without risk of being swept away by the current. Only horsemen and elephants could cross that way and even then the bed was uneven and rock-strewn. It was an easy decision to avoid the potential dangers and to build the boat bridge here where – although the water is deeper – the force of the current is abated as the river bends round the small hill on this side of the bank. However, if there is no alternative we could consider mounting an attack over the ford, Majesty.’
‘Have any of the rest of you anything better to suggest?’ Mehrunissa asked. There was no response beyond a silent shifting of feet and exchange of dismayed looks.
‘Well then, the ford it must be – I cannot and you cannot leave your emperor in the hands of that renegade Mahabat Khan. How long will preparations to attack take?’
‘A few hours to check what weapons we have and what has been left on the other bank, to tie muskets and powder in oiled cloth bags to give them what protection we can from water, to fit the few remaining war elephants with their armour – that sort of thing . . . We could be ready before dusk, but the morning would be better.’
‘Won’t Mahabat Khan move off rather than stand by while we make such preparations?’ A slight young man with a neatly trimmed beard – one of the youngest officers – found his voice.
‘No. Whatever else he is, Mahabat Khan is less of a fool than you,’ Mehrunissa said. ‘He knows that even if he has the emperor, having failed to seize me he has failed to seize power. Don’t fear – he will wait to see my next move. We will attack in the morning so none of you incompetents can have any excuse that you had insufficient time to prepare. In the meantime,
keep up occasional fire over the river so that Mahabat Khan’s men have a disturbed night. Also, send out patrols in all directions to keep him guessing about our intentions.’ Mehrunissa smiled grimly. She was almost enjoying herself. Mahabat Khan had given her the power to act directly and not as before through an intermediary. ‘Have my elephant and its howdah prepared for war. Tomorrow I will lead you to redeem your honour and to rescue our emperor. Cowards though some of you may be, you will not dare hang back if a woman leads.’
‘Majesty, Mahabat Khan permits your grandsons to join you,’ said a tall Rajput, sweeping aside the velvet entrance curtain.
Dara Shukoh and Aurangzeb entered hesitantly. None of what was going on would make any sense to them, Jahangir thought. Once they were alone, he knelt and took each by the hand. ‘Don’t be afraid. No one is going to harm you. I am here and will protect you. And it won’t be long before the empress rescues us. She escaped from Mahabat Khan and even now will be rallying our troops on the other side of the river.’
Aurangzeb said nothing but Jahangir felt Dara Shukoh pull away. ‘The empress isn’t our friend – she’s our enemy. That’s what I overheard my father say.’
‘He is wrong. Mehrunissa is your great-aunt and is concerned for your welfare. She will find a way to help us . . . help you . . .’ Jahangir released Aurangzeb and stood up.
‘My father says she only cares about herself,’ Dara Shukoh continued. ‘That’s why she makes you so drunk – so she can give all the orders. He told me never to trust her . . . and I don’t. My brother and I want to go home!’
‘Enough! I asked for you to be brought to me because I was worried you might be afraid, and this is how you reward me. When we’re free again I will try to forget what you said, Dara Shukoh. But I’m sad to find that my son has taught you to be as insolent and ungrateful as himself.’
Empire of the Moghul: The Tainted Throne Page 29
