Chapter 5
Aurangzeb’s army
The Deccan
“We must move faster,” Aurangzeb said, teeth gritty behind dry lips.
“Shehzada, the horses have had no good grazing, the men very little food since we set out. All are tired,” Sidi Miftah Habash Khan said.
Aurangzeb looked across at his newest noble. “I share their fatigue and hunger. Tired as I am, there will be time enough to rest when we overtake Shuja’s army.”
The Habshi clan leader waved a hand to encompass the vast column of tired riders. “Forgive me, Shehzada, but may I ask a question?”
Aurangzeb considered denying the chieftain’s request, but he had included the man in his immediate company to show his favor for Habash Khan and his followers. Such accommodations had to be made. The Habshi were a new and valued addition to his forces as well as close allies of the Maratha chieftains who had come over to him with Shahaji. His treasury was shrinking like a watering hole in the heat of the dry season and when it was completely gone he would have only promises of wealth and position to offer as coin for his troops. That being the case, Aurangzeb counted answering the man’s questions a low price to pay, and waved permission.
“As loyal and God-fearing as this host is, will we not be too exhausted to fight, Shehzada?”
“Did I say we would fight?”
“What other reason, this forced march northward, if not to crush all opposition and secure the throne for you, Shehzada?”
“You do not know?”
“No, I do not.”
“Good. It stands to reason my brother will wonder as well, and perhaps listen to my message.”
“And what message is that, Shehzada?”
“It is for his ears alone.”
A flash of white teeth behind the impressive beard.
“You smile?”
“I do, Shehzada.”
“Why?”
“Forgive my impertinence, Shehzada, but I think I will enjoy learning if Shah Shuja will allow you close enough to speak your message.”
Aurangzeb declined to comment directly, saying instead, “Have you given any thought to why you and the rest of my army continues to address me as Shehzada?”
“I assumed it is because you have yet to win the throne, Shehzada.”
The prince waggled his head. “The throne is but a symbol of the wealth and power of the empire, and a minor one at that. The prince who causes prayers to be said at all the mosques under his control and has fresh coins struck in his name has made clear his claim to the empire.”
“Yet, you have done neither of these things, Shehzada.”
Aurangzeb nodded, watching Habash Khan from under hooded eyes.
“And why not, Shehzada?”
He had attempted to think of all the paths Shah Shuja’s reasoning might take his elder brother down, and decided it would do no harm to try the various narratives out on the chieftain. “Perhaps I do not want to be emperor.”
Another wave at the army around them. “Your many armed friends would indicate otherwise.”
“Shah Shuja will see my arrival as a threat however many messages I may send to the contrary. Of that there can be no doubt.”
“Just so, Shehzada.”
“Perhaps I would have us return to the old way? Each prince a sultan in their own right, carving the carcass of my forebear’s empire into petty sultanates and ignoring the inheritance laws Akbar set down for the dynasty.”
Habash Khan’s smile dimmed slightly. Petty sultanates and their many, many wars would mean easier pickings for some, but such unrest had already cost the Deccan untold lives and treasure, and was the reason the Mughal armies were in the Deccan in the first place.
“Or perhaps I will hand this army to Shah Shuja so that I might realize my long-held dream and retire to a life of study and contemplation of the Quran.”
The deeply religious Habshi’s smile disappeared entirely as he intoned, “A life would be well spent in such pursuits.”
“Indeed it would.”
“But yours will not, I think.” The man said it quietly, so quietly his prince could ignore it if he wished.
He chose not to: “Let us hope that my brother does not see through me as easily as you.”
* * *
“I am summoned?”
“Yes, mistress,” Tara said.
“Quickly, then: my best robe,” Nur said, getting to her feet. She swayed slightly, exhaustion weighing on her like a millstone. It was a well-earned exhaustion: she’d spent the better part of the last two months in motion. Not since the last days of Shah Jahan’s rebellion had she been forced to ride so hard or so often. Pride kept her standing as much as the rest she’d snatched at every opportunity.
She mastered herself while the few servants she could afford busied themselves with her commands—showing fatigue was one thing, but showing concern and worry would be entirely unacceptable.
Within moments she was presenting herself before her grand-nephew.
Aurangzeb was as alone as any prince could be, his personal guards the only ones in earshot. He waved her forward with one hand, the other holding a sheaf of dispatches.
“You requested I attend you, Shehzada?”
“I did. Sit.”
She did as he commanded.
He continued reading, ignoring her, the slave who lit the lanterns nearly an hour later, and those others who entered bearing platters of food.
Nur did not take it personally, his ignoring her. Though she would have wished for more rest before being summoned to the stifling warmth and quiet stillness of the tent, decades of power had given her an abiding appreciation for the techniques, trappings, and challenges of its employment. If he was making her wait to render her off-balance and unsure, that boded well. And if he was instead applying his thought to thorny problems of state, so much the better. And finally: if he was doing both these things at once, then she had every confidence that the prince she had chosen to back would defeat his siblings and rise to be the greatest Mughal ruler since Akbar.
“What do you think of the Portuguese?” He asked the question quietly.
“In what context, Shehzada?” she asked immediately, glad she had not given in to fatigue and dozed off.
He held up a news writer’s slip. “Their viceroy wished to convey to me his hopes that I prevail over my enemies.”
She smiled. “You can be sure he sends such messages to each of your brothers.”
He looked at her, expression unreadable. Such a youth should not be so proficient at hiding his thoughts. “Can I?”
“He does well to remember what happened at Hugli when your father took his vengeance for their refusing to aid him against my husband.” Something about his attitude gave pause. “Though your question makes me believe I am not in possession of all the pertinent facts.”
The faintest hint of a smile cracked his masklike expression. “What would you deem significant enough an event to make the viceroy of Goa sing solely for me?”
Put off by his reference to music, she hesitated. Aurangzeb’s opinions on song and dance as unseemly and improper were well known, even to those who—unlike her—had not been responsible for his early education. “I merely hazard a guess at your command, but perhaps we are closest to the lands and people under his care and such proximity makes him fear you will decide Goa would serve as a base of operations?”
He cocked his head. “Setting aside the stupidity of marching farther from the sources of men and horses that make up the backbone of any army in the empire, fear is not outside the realm of possible reasons he would have to treat with me alone. Right below significant bribes.”
Knowing how much silver he had been required to put in play to attract the allies that made his speedy victory in the Deccan possible, Nur knew that his treasury was much depleted, despite taking several small treasuries of the petty sultans and chieftains on the campaign south. There were only so many men Aurangzeb could finance out of his personal establishment, especially without additional fresh infusions of cash from the imperial treasuries at Agra, Surat, and Lahore, all of which were out of reach and under Dara’s control.
That was another of the pressing logistical concerns underpinning their rush northward: Aurangzeb and the men of the army he’d marched south with were remunerated by jagirs—proceeds from land grants—in the north and east of the country. Jagirs allotted by Shah Jahan, and with the pretender Dara Shikoh sitting astride the imperial administration, any claims to those jagirs not already assigned were unlikely to be heeded until a clear victor emerged. All the brothers could issue new ones, but Shuja and Aurangzeb were not in possession of the paperwork, much less the coin, to make good on them.
“I might have suggested bribes, Shehzada, but did not think the ferenghi’s power worth such notice this far inland.”
“No, aside from their gunnery expertise, which is easily purchased without his approval, the viceroy has no significant military power inland.”
“Then…perhaps he has some inkling of the histories that came to your father’s notice?”
“Likely. He has a number of Jesuits in his company, and they carry news”—he hefted the papers in his hand—“for their pope.”
“And so the viceroy makes certain the prince he has been told will win the war is content with his ferenghi neighbors,” she said.
He nodded in seeming agreement, returning his attention to the many reports and messages spread before him.
Nur did not fully believe it: their conversation had the air of someone not so much exploring a thought but more of presenting facts already evident. She puzzled over it for a moment but made no headway. Her resources—mental and physical—were well and truly depleted.
“Have you eaten?”
“No, Shehzada.”
“Please do. I will have more questions for you once I have finished reading.”
“As you wish, Shehzada.”
Nur ate sparingly, but as much as she could stomach, knowing she had to keep her strength. The camp around them slowly grew quieter as the men bedded down for the night.
Easing a cramp in her leg, she sighed.
He turned his head to regard her. “You are in some discomfort?”
“I find I am old for the rigors facing us,” Nur said, instantly regretting it. Do not provide truths to your enemies they might use to cut you, fool.
He put one paper down and unfolded another without looking at it. “Why, then?”
“Whatever do you mean, Shehzada?” she asked, suddenly very alert.
“Why do you ride with me? You know I would see you well provided for should you decide to stay behind.”
So you—and history—can conveniently forget me?
Not.
This.
Woman.
She smiled, hiding her anger. “What prompts the question now?”
“An idle question, but one I would have you answer.” He looked at the paper in his hands, but his eyes did not move as they do when one is reading.
“I bear some small conceit that I might prove of assistance to you, much as your great-grandsire Akbar’s aunts worked on his behalf.”
Aurangzeb grinned, looked up at her. “I see. Should I expect you to find me a wife, then?”
“Not until you proclaim yourself emperor.”
The smile disappeared as quickly as a snuffed-out candle. “I have made no claim to the throne.”
“And you have been wise to avoid doing so, Shehzada. Not while Shah Shuja can destroy your army simply by stopping your supplies.”
It was Aurangzeb’s turn to sigh. “He need not even stop all of them reaching us, just a fraction.”
“So again: I see the wisdom in your decision, just as I know you cannot persist in that position.”
He refused to answer the implicit question, said instead: “Two weeks from now both our armies will be out of supply. Dara has already shut them off at the source.”
Allowing him to deflect her question was easy; given the importance of the subject he offered instead: “Is Shah Shuja aware of that?”
“I assume nothing, but my brother’s rate of advance—or, retreat, I suppose—from the Deccan is too slow to get out of the drought-afflicted area before he starts losing men and horses.” He retrieved a chalice from the tray and drank, as if speaking of the drought made him thirsty.
“And even should he decide to give battle, such a fight would cost the victor too many men.”
Nur nodded. “Your men wonder, Shehzada, what you will do when you meet with Shah Shuja.”
He smiled. “My men?”
Sensing a trap, she proceeded carefully. “Yes, my servants say there is much wonder and consternation among the men.”
“But you do not experience this consternation?”
She cocked her head and said, “You will do what you must, Shehzada.”
“And what is it you think I must do, Nur Jahan?”
“Dissemble.”
It was his turn to regard her sidelong. “All the world knows I am no good at that. Too devout, they say. Too rigid, they say.”
I can almost hear Gargi’s urgent whisper: “Careful, old girl, he has many spies, and he listens to them.”
Nur leaned forward. “That you have made others believe such is why you will rise to rule them all, Shehzada.”
Aurangzeb met her gaze with eyes steady, still, and dark as the deepest tank. “You will carry my words to Shah Shuja and negotiate our first meeting.”
Nur bowed her head. “You honor me, Shehzada.”
“You may now go and find your rest. I will have specific instructions and letters for you tomorrow.”
It was only later, as she woke from a few hours of restless sleep, that she realized how thoroughly he’d made certain he would not have to answer her question.