Empire of the Moghul: The Tainted Throne (49 page)

Anger welled up in him as he looked at his impassive half-brother, the cause of all this suffering, and he drew back his hand to slap him. But then he stopped. What good would that do? He should not act in anger. ‘You will be taken to the dungeons of Burhanpur. There you will await my decision. I will not decide your punishment or those of your officers in anger as our father once did.’

‘I cannot promise not to be a threat to you. I know myself. While life remains within me so will ambition . . . I am ready to die,’ Khusrau replied, still impassive, but after a few moments he asked in a more supplicatory tone, ‘May Jani accompany me to Burhanpur?’

Khurram was about to deny the request when he remembered Arjumand and his feelings for her. His love for his own wife meant he could not deny his half-brother. ‘Yes. However little you deserve her, I grant your request for her sake, not for yours.’

Mehrunissa was sitting deep in thought on a low velvet-covered divan in her apartments on the second floor of the palace overlooking the banks of the Ravi river. Beside her were the latest reports from the vassals converging on Lahore with their forces in answer to her summons. The summonses had of course been issued in the name of Shahriyar, who had been proclaimed emperor in Lahore’s Friday mosque four months previously, and the replies were similarly addressed to him, but he took even less interest in them than his father would have done. At the recollection of Jahangir Mehrunissa felt the sorrow and grief which since his death had never entirely left her rise again. The depth and persistence of this emotion had surprised her until she came to realise how much his love had meant to her. Despite her pride in her independence she had depended on him just as he had
depended on her. She had loved him as well as his power because of it.

Shahriyar was proving even weaker as a ruler than she had anticipated, surrendering himself completely to vanity and outward show. He spent most of his days either choosing ornaments and garments to adorn his admittedly handsome figure or hunting and indulging in frivolous entertainments with companions as empty headed as himself. He did not trouble at all with affairs of state. This should have been pleasing to Mehrunissa but was in fact less than satisfactory. When he sat in council with his advisers his ignorance of both government and military matters was so starkly and woefully obvious that it damaged adherents’ trust and confidence in him. Either he did not pay sufficient attention to the briefings and suggestions that Mehrunissa provided to him, repeating them to him in the simplest way possible with Ladli’s help, or what intellect he had deserted him under the nervous stress of being before his council.

Mehrunissa once more deeply regretted the restrictions her female sex placed upon her. If only she could attend the council meetings . . . but she knew she should not, must not, waste time in futile regrets or despair. Despite Khurram’s defeat of Khusrau and his seemingly remorseless advance on Lahore, many of the leading nobles and rulers of vassal states were refusing to commit themselves to his side until they could be more certain of the outcome of the succession struggle. Indeed, if the letters from her supporters were to be believed, many more contingents would soon be joining her army here in Lahore. She had deployed the contents of the extensive treasuries of Lahore to provide substantial and immediate payments to those who had already joined her, with the promise of
much more when Khurram was defeated. Although Lahore had no encircling walls, under her guidance Shahriyar’s officers had done excellent work in fortifying the palace by the river, building palisades of mud and wood all round it and constructing emplacements for the large number of cannon of all sizes available to them. Food supplies were high, as were those of powder and other equipment necessary to withstand a siege. Provided she could restrain Shahriyar and his generals from sallying out to face Khurram on open ground they would stand a good chance of repulsing his forces when he first chose to make an assault and subsequently wearing them down before launching a decisive attack of their own. Her prime task would be to instil in Shahriyar, and through him his officers, sufficient confidence and determination to withstand a siege in the belief that they would triumph in the end. Fortunately, she possessed enough confidence and martial spirit for an army.

She realised also that her possession of Dara Shukoh and Aurangzeb gave her a further advantage. In one of his many rebellions against his half-brother the Emperor Humayun, Kamran had exposed Humayun’s young son, the future Emperor Akbar, on the walls of Kabul during a battle to force Humayun to desist from his attack on the city, which had been about to succeed. She would not necessarily go that far – at least not until a time of direst emergency – but she knew the thought that she might would play on Khurram’s mind, knowing as he did the story of Akbar even better than she. However, the children had already served another purpose – that of binding Shahriyar closer and destroying any chance of his attempting to conclude a separate peace deal. Using Ladli – who fortunately showed no sign of deviating from her absolute loyalty to her mother – as an intermediary, she
had convinced Shahriyar that the two young princes were so charismatic and attractive that their presence around the court might detract from his own position, arousing memories among his courtiers of their father whom both closely resembled. She had also suggested that they might either try to escape or be subject to a rescue attempt. Consequently Shahriyar had been only too eager to order them to be closely confined in two small rooms in a distant part of the palace under guard twenty-four hours a day.

Bolstered by the knowledge of the strengths of her position, Mehrunissa began to ponder again some diplomatic initiatives she had in mind. Should she – or formally Shahriyar – send emissaries to bordering states offering territorial concessions if they would intervene on Shahriyar’s behalf against Khurram? The Shah of Persia might be only too pleased to do so for the concession of Kandahar and surrounding lands. The sultans of the Deccan might well respond to an offer to restore some of their forfeited territories – they could soon be reconquered when her position was stronger – and their general Malik Ambar, still vigorous in his old age, might lead an army on their behalf. He and Khurram had unfinished business. Perhaps the Portuguese or even the English would send some of their sailors equipped with the deadly modern cannon from their ships in return for trading concessions. There were so many possibilities. Despite Shahriyar’s shortcomings she would keep him on the throne. After all, she had ruled for Jahangir for years.

Khurram sat with Asaf Khan and Mahabat Khan around a low table in his scarlet command tent. Through the tent
flaps, tied back with gold cords, he could see the Ravi river glinting in the evening sun and beyond it the Lahore palace, now snug within encircling palisades and fortifications. He looked across at Mahabat Khan sitting relaxed and sipping a concoction of herbs infused in water he had said was popular as a restorative in his native Persia. The first meetings between the two men had been stiff and formal, not to say mutually suspicious, as might have been expected between commanders who had led opposing forces for many years. Mahabat Khan had shown himself duly respectful and kept in the background until, helped by the emollient presence of Asaf Khan who had joined up with Mahabat Khan some time before the rendezvous with Khurram, the atmosphere had relaxed. Now the two were able to discuss professional matters without inhibitions, even quoting examples from their time as adversaries when advocating particular strategies. That was just as well, thought Khurram. He had been rash in his assault on Khusrau’s forces and only his men’s courage had prevented his defeat. The forces deployed by Mehrunissa and Shahriyar in Lahore were much stronger and their skilfully constructed defences far superior to those thrown up in haste by Khusrau. He must restrain his eagerness and plan carefully, leaving as little as possible to chance.

‘Mahabat Khan, we’ve previously agreed that a frontal attack would be too costly, involving as it would a river crossing under fire, but where do you advise that we go over the Ravi?’

‘I suggest we make two crossings, one upstream and one downstream of Lahore so that we can attack the city from both sides at once. We’ve already assembled sufficient boats and wood planking to be able to construct two bridges.’

‘Your idea is a good one, Mahabat Khan, but how quickly can we put it into action?’

‘Overnight.’

‘You mean if I gave the order now we could attack in the morning?’

‘Yes. Our men are well drilled and the supplies and equipment we need are already being unloaded from the baggage wagons.’

‘Well then, let tomorrow be the day. If I command the downstream crossing, will you command the upstream?’

‘Of course.’

‘But Khurram, should you hazard yourself by leading one of the assault forces? Wouldn’t you be better here taking overall command and supervising our artillery?’ Asaf Khan interrupted.

‘In normal circumstances you might be right, but these aren’t normal times. I’m a father as well as emperor. Mehrunissa and Shahriyar hold two of my sons. I want to reach them as soon as possible myself. I trust you completely to command the artillerymen, making sure that they concentrate their fire on the palisades and gun emplacements and avoid anywhere that Shahriyar might be holding my sons – your grandsons.’

Early the following morning Khurram stood on the banks of the Ravi river two and a half miles downstream of Lahore as parties of his men began to clamber into some of a small flotilla of boats they had commandeered from local fishermen with promises of large rewards. Quietly the soldiers began to lower the oars into the water and to raise the single
patched and darned cotton sail with which most of the vessels were equipped. The mission he had given the men was first to cross the river and secure a landing site against any resistance from Shahriyar’s forces and then to tow a section of the partly constructed bridge across and anchor it securely to the far bank ready to be joined up to the portion already extending from the bank beneath him. His men had encountered no opposition during the night as they had moved down the river and begun work on the initial construction of the boat bridge. Nor as the sun had risen – an orange ball in the misty morning sky – had there been any sign of Shahriyar’s men on the far bank among the low mud hills dipping down to the shore. However, this did not mean they might not be lurking undercover waiting to ambush the landing party. The monsoon had been a poor one, so at least the level of the river was low for the time of year and it was no more than two hundred feet or so wide.

As Khurram watched, the first of the boats began to push off from the bank, the rowers bending their backs to the oars. Each had two or three musketeers lying in the bow, their long-barrelled weapons loaded and levelled at the opposite shore. Despite the effects of the current, which was still quite strong, after a couple of minutes the first boat – one of the larger vessels with a red-painted hull – was nosing ashore still having not met any opposition. Some of the soldiers were balancing on the side, ready to jump into the shallows to wade ashore, when Khurram heard several musket shots. One of the men crouched on the side of the boat fell forward with a splash into the water, to be followed by three others from the boats behind.

Just as Khurram had suspected, the shots came from behind one of the mud hills about a hundred feet from the shoreline. They were followed by a volley of arrows but, his mind working quickly, Khurram was relieved to see that there were no more than about thirty of them. Clearly no large enemy force lurked on the opposite bank. His own men were now running as fast as they could, swords in hand and legs pumping, up the exposed shore towards the mud hills. When they had covered nearly three quarters of the distance more musket shots crackled out in a ragged volley from behind the protection of the hillocks and several of Khurram’s soldiers collapsed including the foremost – a green-clad giant of a man brandishing a curved scimitar. However, he was soon back on his feet resuming his charge, but before he or anyone else could reach the top of the mud hills Khurram saw a group of horsemen – perhaps forty strong – emerge from behind the hills and ride hard for Lahore. They had obviously been an outlying picket and had not received reinforcements even if they had requested them.