The Crows of Agra

by Sharath Komarraju

  ‘No, I did not.’

  She held his gaze for a moment, then wavered and looked away, out of the window.

  He turned to Ruqaiya Begum. ‘Your Highness, when you first entered Bairam Khan’s chambers with all of us, what was it you saw beneath the weapons cabinet that you came back to retrieve the next day?’

  Ruqaiya Begum’s pink cheeks lost its colour. ‘What–’

  ‘I shall make this easier for you, my lady.’ Mahesh Das took a step toward the empress and turned to face her fully, so that he could look her in the eye. ‘You found a piece of cloth under the weapons cabinet, did you not?’

  Ruqaiya Begum’s lip trembled. She shook her head.

  ‘It was a piece of dark brown silk, perhaps the lining of kurta?’ Mahesh Das looked in Gulbadan Begum’s direction, down at her green kurta, and then back at Ruqaiya Begum.

  She spoke in a calm voice, ‘I do not know what you speak of.’

  Mahesh Das bowed. ‘I think you have both given me the answers I needed. Your Highness, Lady Gulbadan Begum, I shall now take your leave.’

  And before either of them could say a word, Mahesh Das turned and walked out of the room.

  Thirty Three

  MAHESH DAS WENT straight to his chambers, called for a heavy lunch, and treated himself to a luxurious bath, with scented oils and soaps. After cleaning himself up and eating the meal that had been assembled for him, he instructed his guards to turn back any visitor not bearing the emperor’s seal for the rest of the evening.

  Then he slid into the bed and sunk into the cushions. Almost immediately, his eyes closed, and his mind shut down.

  He woke up four hours later, just as the sun was about to set. He had not dreamed of anything. His mind was clear and fresh, like dewdrops sliding of a flower’s petal.

  He summoned three servants and sent them with messages to Ruqaiya, Gulbadan, and Salima Begum. The emperor had already been informed. He shall be at the gazebo at the appointed time.

  The gong struck six times.

  Mahesh Das got up. He splashed water on his face, looked at himself in the mirror. It was only a matter of time till he was going to cut off his plait, he thought.

  Before he would become the person he had dreamed of becoming.

  * * *

  It had come full circle. Here they were, in the very place the problem had begun. There was a half-moon out that night and it washed the courtyard in silver. Mahesh Das stood in the centre, his feet sinking into the soft yellow velvet carpet.

  The firelight illuminated their faces. Mahesh Das scanned each one. There was fear, uncertainty and worry in each one of them, especially the women. Akbar seemed curious in an amused sort of way.

  ‘Why have you called us here, Mahesh Das?’ he said, holding the edge of the tunic out on his arm. The grief that had riddled him that very morning in Maham Anga’s room had disappeared.

  Mahesh Das bowed, and cast a quick glance at Salima Begum, who appeared the calmest of them all—easy in her dress and appearance, shorn of all jewels but for the one sapphire that hung of a golden thread on her neck, resting against the smoothness of her chest..

  ‘I have called you here, my lord,’ Mahesh Das said, ‘because it is my belief that I have found Bairam Khan’s killer.’

  A small laugh came from Akbar. He looked away at the gurgling fountain. ‘Khan Baba’s killer! Why, I found him too, yesterday, and had him punished.’

  ‘Adham Khan killed Atgah Khan, Your Highness,’ said Mahesh Das. ‘But it does not mean that he killed Bairam Khan too. We have no evidence that he did.’

  ‘And I suppose you have the evidence?’

  Mahesh Das kept his head bent for a moment. Then he nodded to himself, as though making up his mind. ‘I have plenty of small facts that may, as a whole, count as evidence, my lord.’

  ‘That does not sound very encouraging, my man.’

  ‘Nonetheless, I pray that you will humour the fancies of your humble servant.’ Mahesh Das turned his back to them. ‘The emperor asked me a question on my first day at the palace. It was quite instructive, and it helped me arrive at the solution to this little problem. He asked me how many crows there were in Agra.’

  He narrated the story of that night when Mahesh Das and Akbar had spoken of crows. The ladies listened with interest. Gulbadan Begum and Salima Begum smiled at the end, when Mahesh Das told them of his answer to Akbar’s question. Ruqaiya Begum did not change the cast in which her face had been set all evening.

  ‘What I did not think at the time,’ said Mahesh Das, holding the shawl down to his chest, ‘was that there are some crows that do not get counted no matter what. For instance, in the first scenario, where there are more crows than what was counted, the visitors do not get counted because they will be leaving soon. In the second scenario, if there are fewer crows than counter, the visitors that have left are again not counted, because we do not know if they will ever come back or not. So depending on our mood, we choose whether or not to count certain crows.’

  He looked Akbar, who had his hands folded across his chest, and continued, ‘In this palace, too, there were some crows that were not counted because they did not seem to have any motive to kill Bairam Khan. The emperor was one of them. Since he is the king, if he wanted to kill Bairam Khan he could easily punish the regent through official channels. No one would question him. When he had the power to kill someone in plain view, why would he go through the trouble of killing him with such great planning and effort?’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Akbar. ‘Why would I?’

  ‘The other crow that I never took seriously was Gulbadan Begum,’ said Mahesh Das. ‘She had perhaps the strongest motive of all—that of revenge—but she had not left her chambers at all that night. Or at least, she had not been seen outside her chambers after the tenth stroke of the gong. That is a bit strange, for the servants in the palace were quite used to seeing Gulbadan Begum walk about the courtyard in the dead of the night, so much so that she is often referred to as the ghost of the Mughal court.’

  Gulbadan Begum smiled.

  ‘And what of Salima Begum?’ continued Mahesh Das. ‘She entered her husband’s room at the stroke of eleven. She was seen by two of Gulbadan Begum’s servants, who had been cavorting in the garden, and she says that she had seen the servants herself too. Did you not, madam?’

  ‘Indeed, I had.’

  ‘But the curious aspect of this is that the meeting place of the lovers is—as you would expect—secret. It is not in plain sight, and one has to veer off the corridor and walk a few feet along a bent path to come to the clearing where the fountain sits. It is at the top of this clearing that Salima Begum saw the two servants, and you do not enter it unless you know that it is there. Did Salima Begum wish to be seen entering her husband’s chambers, and did she know that she would meet the servants by the wall?’

  ‘Why would I need servants to watch me enter my own husband’s room, sir?’ Salima Begum appeared irritated at the suggestion. ‘I heard voices and I went to investigate. That is all there is to it.’

  ‘I do not think so,’ said Mahesh Das, ‘but I suppose we can move on. Salima Begum enters the room and finds her husband dead. She screams and then faints.’

  He turned to face Ruqaiya Begum, giving her a warm smile, only to get a cold stare in return. ‘The empress Ruqaiya Begum, what could she possibly have against Bairam Khan to wish to kill him? Yes, there was that murmur that Bairam Khan did not consider her a worthy queen and wished that Akbar would not “waste” time with her, but was that a strong enough motive for murder? Also, Ruqaiya Begum was also not seen outside of her chambers that night, which does not mean she did not venture out, of course, but just that the likelihood was small.’

  Ruqaiya Begum directed her reply to Akbar, ‘I did not leave my room that night. I swear on all the names of Allah that it is so.’

  ‘Who are we left with, then? The volatile Adham Khan, the manipulative Maham Anga, and the quiet schemer, Atgah, who seemed to h
arbour much resentment towards his colleague and good friend, who had not only leapfrogged him in the army, but was now acting king of the whole kingdom. I suspect there was some envy between them.’

  ‘And all three of them are now dead, bless their souls,’ said Akbar, ‘which means that we have punished Bairam Khan’s killer—regardless of who among them did it.’

  ‘But Jahanpanah,’ said Mahesh Das, ‘I do not think that any of them did it. I believe that the killer is among us now, standing in this very gazebo.’

  ‘And what have you got to support that wild claim?’

  ‘Let us take Maham Anga first, because she could be easily struck off the list. Much like Ruqaiya Begum and Gulbadan Begum, no one saw Maham Anga leave her room that night. Indeed, many of her servants would vouch for the fact that she was bed ridden for most of the night. She is known to have returned early from the dinner, though, so she could have—if she had wanted—ventured out and killed Bairam Khan.’

  ‘Maham Anga, killing a soldier?’ said Akbar, frowning.

  ‘Exactly. Not likely,’ agreed Mahesh Das, ‘Besides, she had an able-bodied youth of a son who would do her every bidding. So it would have been easier for her to leave the murder to her son, Adham Khan.’

  ‘Maham Anga has always had an eye on your throne, Jalal,’ Gulbadan Begum interrupted, ‘It is your stupidity that you still do not see it.’

  Akbar began to shake his head, but before he could say a word, Mahesh Das intervened, ‘So I never considered Maham Anga as a potential killer. As a planner and a schemer, yes, but as a killer? No. Which leaves us with Adham Khan and Atgah Khan. The servants, Nazneen and Ahmed, confirmed that both men were seen visiting Bairam Khan that night.’

  ‘And Adham Khan’s appointment was found in Bairam Khan’s pocket,’ said Gulbadan Begum.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mahesh Das, nodding. ‘But curiously enough, there was no corresponding letter for Atgah Khan. Does that mean that the general was not expected to visit Bairam Khan that evening? Could it be that Adham Khan took Atgah Khan along without Bairam Khan’s knowledge? I did not know.

  ‘But the sequence of events was such: Atgah Khan arrives, and then Adham Khan. Atgah Khan leaves, followed by Adham Khan a few minutes later. They were perhaps the last people to see Bairam Khan alive, outside of the killer.’

  Akbar folded his arms across the chest. ‘From what you say, it seems to me that one of the two must have killed Khan Baba.’

  ‘But they could not have, my lord,’ said Mahesh Das, ‘because of the curious case of Bairam Khan’s window.’

  He thought he saw a shadow pass Akbar’s face.

  ‘The window?’

  Mahesh Das nodded. ‘Just so. Both Nazneen and Ahmed heard the three men talk to one another during the meeting. Since the door was closed during their meeting, the only way they could have heard the voices was if the window was open. After Atgah Khan left, they still heard the voices.’

  ‘So the regent must have been alive after Atgah Khan left him,’ said Gulbadan Begum eagerly.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Mahesh Das. ‘If the window was open and the servants could hear voices, surely they would have heard it if one of them stabbed Bairam Khan? Even a soldier would not have sunk to his death silently with such a deep knife wound.’

  Salima Sultan Begum spoke up. ‘But it could be that the two of them killed Bairam Khan as soon as they entered, and opened the window afterward, and kept talking to keep up the appearance of the regent still being alive.’

  ‘I had thought of that, Begum,’ said Mahesh Das, bowing in her direction. ‘But both of them distinctly heard Bairam Khan’s voice throughout the conversation, right till the end, right up to the moment when Adham Khan left the room.’

  ‘And no one entered the house after these two men left, is it not?’ Akbar asked.

  ‘Quite,’ said Mahesh Das. ‘Not until Salima Begum came to call on her husband.’

  Akbar’s face acquired the blackness of gathering anger. ‘Mahesh Das, are you saying what I think you are saying?’

  ‘I am not saying anything yet, Your Majesty,’ said Mahesh Das. ‘But hear this! After the lady Salima Begum entered the room and closed the door behind her, the two servants heard nothing…no sound. Not the sound of her footsteps, not the sound of her collapsing to the ground, nothing at all. For two minutes, Your Majesty, the servants hear nothing, no sound at all. And they think nothing of it, for why should any sound come from the regent’s chamber? But after two minutes, they hear Salima Begum scream. We all know the story after that.’ Mahesh Das paused for a moment, his eyes twinkling at Akbar. ‘But the strangest thing is, my lord, that when the servants arrive, the window is shut. So how did they hear Salima Begum’s cry?’

  ‘Perhaps the door was open slightly?’

  Mahesh Das shook his head. ‘Both servants maintain that when they arrived at the door, they found it to be fastened shut, my lord. They had to push it open.’

  Akbar opened his arms out and sighed. ‘So are you saying that after entering the room, Salima Begum opened the window for some reason, and then, having yelled in shock at the sight of the body, she bolted the window from the inside and then fell to the ground? That does not make any sense!’

  ‘I tested the theory myself and that is exactly what happened.’

  ‘That is the most foolhardy thing I have ever heard. Why would Salima Begum do something as nonsensical as that?’

  Mahesh Das did not immediately respond. He looked at Salima Begum, but she would not look him in the eye. Only Akbar met his gaze defiantly. Then Mahesh Das said, ‘Because Salima Begum was playing her part in the plan to kill Bairam Khan, Your Highness.’

  Gulbadan Begum inhaled sharply. Ruqaiya Begum dropped her glove, but did not bother to pick it up.

  Akbar threw his head back, looked at the ceiling and laughed. ‘You babble more and more as the night goes on, Mahesh Das. How silly are your ideas! Who could Salima be plotting with against her husband?’

  Mahesh Das looked straight at Akbar and said, ‘You, Jahanpanah.’

  Thirty Four

  MAHESH DAS HAD played this scene in his mind many times during the day. He had thought Salima Begum would cry out and curse him; that Gulbadan Begum would swish her finger at him and call him stupid; that Ruqaiya Begum would scold him in that tender voice of hers; that Akbar, the Shehenshah, would draw his sword and slit his throat with the same anger that had seen to Adham Khan’s end. Of them all, he was the lowliest, without title or name, without royal blood flowing in his veins. How could any of them react otherwise?

  But they did.

  They welcomed his sentence with absolute silence. It was perhaps no more than a minute that they stood in silence, but it seemed much longer to Mahesh Das.

  ‘I beg your pardon, my lord,’ he said to Akbar, bowing low. ‘I know full well that all of you come from the first family of royals. You, my ladies, are princesses in whose veins runs the blood of Pathans from Kabul. Who am I but a mere Brahmin? Even if I were to prove to you that one of you killed Bairam Khan, you shall not be punished. I know that.’ He looked up at Akbar. ‘But the emperor gave me this task, and I suspect he intended it as a test to the prowess of my brain.’

  ‘I did, Mahesh Das,’ said Akbar, his face still grim in the moonlight. ‘But you did not place an accusation on just about anybody. You accused me, the emperor himself. Now I shall hear you explain yourself.’

  ‘Yes, Your Highness,’ Mahesh Das said, ‘The first thing that struck me as odd was that you commenced a search of the regent’s body without hesitation and produced a piece of paper that confirmed that Adham Khan was to meet Bairam Khan. It seemed…well…orchestrated, too eager. And later, when I found out that even Atgah Khan had been there to meet him, I wondered why a piece of paper about him had not been found with Bairam Khan. Had he forgotten, perhaps? Or as I said before, had Atgah Khan dropped in for a surprise visit?

  ‘But on thinking for a while, a third possibility struck me. What if you, Y
our Highness, had held the piece of paper in your hand, concealed, all the time? So that after the search, it would seem as if it had come from Bairam Khan’s pockets? I examined the note, and it had been folded many times, over and over, as it would have needed to be in order to be concealed between one’s fingers.’

  ‘And you say I did all this to frame Adham?’

  Mahesh Das nodded. ‘It seemed to me that you were quite eager to point suspicion in Adham Khan’s direction. In our conversations you would often allude to Adham’s cruelty, his natural ability for violence, and his greed for your throne.’

  ‘All of which was true,’ said Akbar.

  ‘Indeed. The second thing which made me think was the broken candle stands. When carrying out my little experiment, I noticed that a part of the room was shrouded in darkness because of the broken candle stands. Where the tin soldiers stood. And it is very possible for a person to conceal himself among those tin soldiers, especially if the person is trained in the arts of guerrilla warfare and can hold the position of a statue for a period of time without being revealed.’

  ‘Akbar’s smile hardened just a touch.

  ‘The third thing that struck me as odd was that you did not tell me of overhearing the conversation between Maham Anga and Adham Khan until I told you that Salima Begum told me so. That indicated that you were eager to embellish whatever it is that Salima Begum said about the murder. That was when it first struck me that perhaps there was not just one killer, but two.’ Mahesh Das looked at Salima Begum, who was still looking down at her hands.

  ‘I also checked the time at which Maham Anga and Adham Khan retired to their rooms that night. Maham Anga had come back very early, much before the half-hour gong after the ninth. And since Salima Begum told me that she had heard Maham Anga and her son talk to one another around the tenth gong, it meant that either Maham Anga or you, my lady, Salima Begum, had been lying.’ Mahesh Das paused. ‘I chose Salima Begum, because I sensed the emperor and she were too eager, once more, to ensnare the mother and son.’