by Farzana Moon
"No, Your Majesty, Yes, I mean the girl died, but I am not guilty." Muqqarab Khan murmured low. "The judges have proclaimed me innocent—have discovered the truth. The truth, which I have been telling all along—" He was becoming flustered. "The judges are right here, attesting to the facts, that's why I? My attendant is found guilty of that crime, Your Majesty, and he is sentenced to death. The judges are here to—" He could not continue against the flash of rage in the emperor's gaze.
"And yet you are an accomplice to that crime?" Jahangir flashed him a quick rebuke. "You kept that young girl in your own house, didn't you? Had not that widow, the much-wronged mother of that young girl sought the Chain of Justice, the emperor would have been kept ignorant of that heinous crime. Death for your lout of an attendant is not a punishment, but kindness! He would be tortured, feeling the agony of his own corrupt flesh, before his soul could be delivered into the hands of death. The emperor would look into the verdict of the judges, later. But as for now, you stand guilty as an accomplice. Yes, Muqqarab Khan, the emperor's justice is quick to bestow a just reward. Your salary would be cut into half, and that part of your income would be allotted to the widow. Though, nothing could compensate her loss of her daughter. Begone, Muqqarab Khan, begone, before the emperor does injustice to the justice proclaimed by the judges." He raised his arm, his eyes flashing regret and reproof.
"Your Majesty." One mute protest trembled on Muqqarab Khan's lips.
Muqqarab Khan stood hugging his arms, as if clutching something warm and alive to his breast. But if he was hoping to find the feathery bird into his arms, he was sadly mistaken, for his turkey was relinquished into the care of Mukhlis Khan long since, who had departed straight toward the aviary.
"Don't look so stricken, Muqqarab Khan. At least you are not to die on the gallows as the emperor feared?" Jahangir intoned rather gently. "The emperor's justice may yet reinstate you to his favor? The blood is drained from your very lips. Before your strength returns to hurl you to obedience, inform the emperor if our ship Rahimi has entered the port of Cambay?" He paused, murmuring, as if to himself. "The emperor is hoping that his mother, Mariam-uz-Zamani, might be able to join him for the Nauroz celebrations. Such a long journey back from Mecca, even to fathom that distance takes time and courage. My spiritual needs suffer neglect against the material ones as I sit burdened by the weight of my royal duties, and no time for a pilgrimage to Mecca. But I remain a pilgrim at heart, taking not the long roads, and savoring the journeys in my head to lands holy and incorruptible." He paused again. “Has your tongue expired, Muqqarab Khan? Speak, lest I cut it and feed it to that rarity of a big bird?"
"No, Your Majesty, I didn't hear anything about the ship." Muqqarab Khan attempted one quick response. "Mariam-uz-Zamani is traveling in Rahimi, I have been assured." His look was dazed and pleading.
"Mahabat Khan." Jahangir shot one abrupt command at his vizier, who was appointed to parade the embassies before the emperor. "Summon the next embassy, and make it short and a happy one. The emperor is wearied of cruelties and tragedies."
A small group of Englishmen stepped forward, curtsying as best as they could, after Mahabat Khan presented them, retracing his steps. Jahangir sat watching the alien faces, while sipping his wine slowly and thoughtfully. His eyes were lighting up with amusement all of a sudden, as he espied Thomas Best amongst the Englishmen, his curtsy most impeccable. Almost a year ago, the emperor was recalling, he had granted permission to Thomas Best for a free trade between India and England.
"Your Majesty." Thomas Best was the first one to step forward. "It's my privilege to present two envoys from England. They are to represent the trade treaties between India and England. Thomas Aldworth and Paul Canning." He indicated the two tall men beside him with a flourish of his arm. Two more young men were standing behind him, bashful and flustered.
"Treaties don't grow on the trees, Thomas! Even if they did, the emperor has no mind to climb one to explore the intricate patterns of greed woven inside the very veins of those leaves, exposed to the gluttony of foreign dreams." Jahangir laughed. "Didn't the emperor grant you permission for trade in Gujrat not too long ago?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Your generosity has not been forgotten. And we hope to achieve more." Thomas Best smiled affably. "Paul Canning here, Your Majesty, has brought two musicians with him to present before you." He nudged Paul Canning, as if urging him to make a signal impression upon the emperor.
"Musicians are always welcome in the Moghul court. Not the traders! And certainly not the traitors!" Jahangir exclaimed mirthfully. "Paul Canning. Such a heavy, swollen name. Reminds me of pears and peaches. Don't ask the emperor, why? Well, Paul, introduce your musician friends.”
"With all due respect and great delight, Your Majesty." Paul Canning curtsied, requesting the two young men to step forward. "Lancelot Canning, Your Majesty, is my cousin, and he plays the virginals. This young man here is Robert Trully. He plays the coronet." He introduced with the profusion of a cavalier.
"Welcome to our court, and you would play for the emperor tomorrow along with our own singers and musicians, who would most certainly vie with you both." Jahangir’s gaze was shifting to Man Singh. "Man Singh, summon Hafiz Had Ali to court tomorrow, he is to sing before the emperor. Right now, the emperor is longing for the gaiety of the Mina Bazaar." He was about to rise to his feet when his attention was caught by a rude rider galloping toward the throne most boldly.
This rude rider was no other than the governor of Delhi, Zulfiqar Khan himself. He had been entrusted with the duties of a sole messenger concerning ship Rahimi's safety and its safe arrival at the Indian ports. His fiery steed was claimed by the emperor's attendant, Sharif, he himself charging toward the throne as if whipped by the breeze of urgency.
"Your Majesty." Zulfiqar Khan bowed low, gasping for breath. "The Portuguese have captured Rahimi. And all seven hundred people on board at port Goa are their prisoners. Mariam-uz-Zamani refuses to leave the ship until all the prisoners are released." He could speak no further. Fear and consternation choking his thoughts.
"How dare they capture the ship of the emperor's mother?" Jahangir thundered, his eyes flashing rage and disbelief. "The emperor's wrath would rain fire on them for this outrage." His gaze was turning to Muqqarab Khan. "Step closer to the emperor, Muqqarab Khan. This outrage of the Portuguese has reinstated you to the emperor's favor. Your fortunes would rise in exchange for the downfall of the Portuguese. And downfall it is, for the Portuguese." He prophesied. Allowing a pause, before his vizier could raise himself up from his lengthy curtsy. “A grand army would be entrusted under your command. You are to march to Daman and to reduce this evil city of the Portuguese to ruins. Also, order Iradat Khan to repair to Surat to chastise these wicked intruders."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Muqqarab Khan could barely murmur.
"Abdullah Khan." The smoldering rage in Jahangir's eyes was falling on his next vizier. "You are in charge of sealing off all the churches of the Portuguese in our empire. Father Xavier too must share the ill rewards wrought by his own countrymen, though the emperor loves him dearly. He is banned from proselytizing until further orders." He got to his feet slowly and ponderously. Dismissing all with an impatient wave of his arm.
Jahangir's restless gaze was arrested to Madho Singh as he dismounted his throne. Madho Singh, cradling two beautiful pigeons into his arms, was scaling the length of the imperial carpet unrolled all the way from the throne to the garden entrance where the Mina Bazaar bustled with teeming festivities. He was edging closer. His eyes shining with anticipation were seeking the emperor’s attention.
"More rarities from the lands evil and alien, Madho Singh?" Jahangir smiled.
"The rarest of breeds, Your Majesty, all the way from Benares." Madho Singh chirped happily. "May I present these pigeons to you, Your Majesty? They can sing and somersault and you would be delighted by their tricks."
"The rarest of the treasures, indeed!" Jahangir claimed the pigeons eagerly
. "They would delight the royal ladies more than they would the emperor. Adding charm and novelty to the opulence of Mina Bazaar." He strolled away, the silken carpet under his feet his guide toward the gate of Mina Bazaar. "Man Singh and Abdur Rahim, you are welcome to keep the emperor company." He murmured over his shoulders.
2
Empress of the Emperor’s Heart
The silken city of Mina Bazaar was unfolding before the emperor's gaze like a dream distant and opulent. It was welcoming him with jewels and perfumes in flowers, but comforting not the ocean of rage and sadness inside his heart. He could feel their surge, much like the stealthy turbulence in waves and tides, carrying the burden of past regrets, and billowing forth with warnings to disfigure the face of the present. The ocean of rage within him was for the Portuguese, exploding forth to annihilate all who had dared seize the imperial ship of the Moghuls. His sadness, apart from this ocean of rage, had a life of its own, hovering over one lone chamber at Agra palace where Prince Khusrau sat imprisoned. His thoughts swooping down to explore the tides of rage and sadness deep within, were but discovering only ache and yearning for his Beloved. Anarkali, each throb within his heart was murmuring and pleading. Somewhere, from within and without, an alien ripple of joy was making its presence known. It was curling and uncurling its lips into the promise-bloom of love and union with his beloved. His eyes were gathering mirror-reflection of the blue, blue lakes.
The colorful stalls of the ladies were boasting all the treasures to be purchased by the emperor and by the family and friends of the royal household. The young princess', to vie with the emperor's wives and aunts, had decorated their stalls with damasks and tapestries, and with gold and silver friezes. They had not succeeded though, for the stalls of the emperor's wives were the most opulent and attractive. Displaying a precious variety, from jewels to vessels in gold and silver, from cloths of silk to velvet and brocade! The larger stalls were housing rosewood furniture of exquisite pattern and craftsmanship. Some of the pieces were carved in semblance of flowers, and the others inlaid with lapis lazuli and mother-of-pearl.
Jahangir was fluttering from stall to stall with the ease of a butterfly, his aesthetic senses draining cups of beauty from the lovely eyes of the ladies as well as from the eyes of the jewels so artistically wrought in silver and gold. He was attracting more attention than usual due to the docile pigeons, either perched on his arms, or luxuriating on the palms of his hands, depending upon his royal whim. These tamed birds appeared to be swooning with pleasure, as if aware of the royal favors bestowed upon them by the sheer indulgence of the emperor. The emperor too seemed happy, no traces of rage or sadness surfacing in his eyes, his wit as well as his gaze sharp and sparkling. He was getting expert in haggling. The emperor's attendants were claiming the royal loot purchased by the emperor, and carrying them to the emperor's tent furnished with carpets and paintings. Jahangir was ecstatic, his heart drunk with the wine of joy from the very goblets of coquetry in the lovely eyes of the ladies of his harem. Besides, the real goblets of wine offered to him at each stall, were soaring his spirit to a verge of giddiness. Man Singh and Abdur Rahim were keeping their own purchases to a minimum, and urging the emperor to buy more.
The Camellia tree under which Jahangir stood admiring the large ruby, was boasting its own rosy blooms. The emperor had just purchased this ruby from his wife, Khairunnisa and had relinquished his pigeons into the care of Abdur Rahim. Now, he was standing there, admiring this walnut-size ruby with the intensity of an artist and a jeweler. One connoisseur standing opposite the emperor was Man Singh, rather devouring this jewel and assessing its worth in his mind, and unable to tear his gaze away from the glowing gem in the emperor's hands. Abdur Rahim was simply delighted with the company of the pigeons, not even noticing Man Singh's rapt silence.
Man Singh and the emperor were completely absorbed in the glow and warmth of this fiery gem, its beauty alive and alluring. But Abdur Rahim, not interested in jewels, was left free to let his gaze and thoughts wander. He was becoming aware of the graceful approach of the emperor's wife, Sahiba Jamali. She was dressed in an opulent gown of silk, the color of citron. Her round, white face with large almond-shaped eyes seemed to glow with some inner warmth of joy and love. She had a slight figure with a tiny waist and ample bosom. Abdur Rahim could not help noticing a mysterious smile kindling her eyes and lips, as she floated closer to the emperor, nimble and soundless. Her smile was radiant all of a sudden, spilling songs if not protests.
"Your Majesty, you didn't buy anything from my stall today!" Was Sahiba Jamali’s mirthful complaint.
"Ah, my Mistress of Beauty, how you spy on the emperor!" Jahangir joined her in her mirth. "Do you have anything more precious than this ruby, my dear? This ruby, the size of a plum!" He looked into her dark eyes adoringly.
"Only large emeralds and diamonds, Your Majesty, if you are to judge the worth of these pebbles by size?" Sahiba Jamali's eyes were shining with mirth and raillery.
"The diamonds in your eyes, my sweet, are cutting emperor's heart to pieces." Jahangir retorted mirthfully.
The mirth of the royal couple was ebbing and surging. They appeared to be riding in tides upon tides of light-hearted gaiety. Jahangir was the first one to notice the slow approach of Prince Perwiz. He was holding a goblet of wine in one hand and a jeweled scimitar in the other. On the verge of twenty-three springs, he was tall and handsome. Some sort of drunken mirth was shining in his eyes as he approached the emperor.
"I bought this from the stall of Nurunnisa Begum, Your Majesty." Prince Perwiz held out his scimitar proudly. "This is an exquisite piece of art, Your Majesty, won't you agree?" He drained his cup thirstily.
Laughter faded from Jahangir's eyes as he stood watching his son intensely.
"And you neglect to visit the stall of your own mother!" Sahiba Jamali chided. "Your mother, whose love and jewels you receive with ingratitude." Her very gaze was teasing. "Loosen your purse, my gallant Prince, and buy some trinkets for your wives, from your mother's stall I suggest?"
"My wives, Mamma, have enough trinkets to open up one continent of a bazaar." Prince Perwiz chanted with good humor, though his heart was constricting by mute intensity in the emperor's eyes. "Besides, you are forgetting, I bought a jeweled hookah from your stall just yesterday!"
"That too an exquisite piece of art, a jeweler's dream, you said." Sahiba Jamali's mirth was dwindling, as if slashed by the pensive expression of her husband. "The jewels on that hookah are worthless, my Prince, I must tell you now that you have bought it. A jeweler's nightmare, I should say." She confessed.
"You need to part with your gold cup, my gallant Prince. Its color is rubbing on your cheeks." Jahangir broke his silence, his eyes spilling reproof.
"I don't drink much, Your Majesty. Only when there is an occasion to celebrate." Prince Perwiz sighed, a quick protest shining in his eyes. "And Nauroz is a festive occasion to be royally celebrated with wine and music, and with—" His thoughts were left unuttered as the twin brothers, Prince Jahandar and Prince Shahryar stormed into view with the swiftness of a hurricane.
"Mamma told me you bought a scimitar for me." Prince Shahryar was the first one to plead his case by tugging at the arm of Prince Perwiz.
"Mamma didn't say that. She said Shahzada Perwiz would hold a contest for us and whoever wins gets the scimitar." Prince Jahandar spirited his brother away from the arm of Prince Perwiz.
Before the six year old twins could gain any sober attention from their big brother, their older sister Bihar Banu bounced into the circle to claim the prize for herself.
"I am taking lessons in archery, Shahzada Perwiz, and fencing. Mamma said I can have this scimitar." Bihar Banu, a year older than the twins, stood smiling.
A volley of laughter escaped Jahangir's lips, watching this scene of royal scuffle and intrigue. Sahiba Jamali was smiling too, her eyes brimming with love and adoration. She could not help admiring the handsome twins and this beautiful daughter of Karama
si Begum, her gaze embracing them all as if they were her own royal children. Princess Bihar Banu was bobbing her curls up and down, the flaxen tinge in them bright and silken. She was dressed in crimson silks, broidered with silver stars, looking more like a life-size doll than a young princess. Karamasi, the mother of twins and of this doll-princess was not far behind, sailing toward her royal brood with the air of an avenging goddess. The emperor was smiling, as if admiring his brave warriors with little scimitars of their own hung loose from their jeweled belts. Karamasi was quick to snatch them away from their belts, her gaze alone, flashing reprimands at Princess Bihar Banu.
"Such rude behavior! It doesn't become the royal princes—and my heedless Princess. You have fed your manners to the winds?" Karamasi Begum's voice was choking with royal indignation. "Your indulgence, Your Majesty, makes our children neglect their royal manners. They should be curtsying and standing in awe of the emperor. How you spoil and cosset her, Your Majesty, she utterly forgets her manners?" She exclaimed, her eyes flashing.
"They are royally spoiled, the emperor admits." Jahangir's look was warm and ardent. He swept the defiant princess into his arms. And planted two kisses on her rosy cheeks, before returning his gaze to his wife with a flash of mock accusation. "And yet, didn't you mislead them all?" His gaze was arrested to the emerald décolletage on her robe of silk, all green and shimmering. "Didn't you raise their hopes, individually, I am sure, that they would receive from Prince Perwiz the gift of this scimitar?”
"Your Majesty!" Karamasi Begum protested sweetly. "I only mentioned to Prince Jahandar that Prince Perwiz might make him a gift of this scimitar which he purchased!" Her light-brown eyes were glinting disbelief.
"And yet, Nauroz gives license to our princes to behave like the street urchins." Jahangir's gaze was turning to Prince Perwiz. "Do you intend this scimitar to be a gift, my generous Prince? And if so, who is going to be the fortunate claimant?"
