“And the women?”
“Begum Sahib has been unstinting in providing all Murad’s teachers access and time with the little prince since she took responsibility for the affairs of the harem.” He paused, then went on, a bit breathlessly, “That she also allows him to be taught false science and perverse philosophy I must blame on her own time as a student to Mian Mir.
“Shehzadi Roshanara was an excellent student, but I haven’t had cause to interact with her since she completed her studies and as she has no responsibilities that touch upon my own, I know very little about her. Similarly, Guaharara Begum is too young for teaching.”
Thinking Mullah Mohan was done, Aurangzeb opened his mouth to speak but Mohan continued, “Nur Jahan told me that she wishes to render every assistance to your cause, that we should be allies in this. I must confess I find it hard to fathom why you would make common cause with that woman.”
Aurangzeb wagged his head. “My great-aunt possesses a wealth of experience, something I lack.”
The best lie is not a lie.
“Is it true that you were the one to bring her back from Lahore?”
“I moved Father on her behalf, yes.”
“I see. So you wish me to make common cause with her?”
“Indeed I do.”
“And if she should get the bit in her teeth, and act counter to your desires?”
“Then I will direct you how best to deal with it.”
“And if you are not present?”
“Where am I going that you are not?”
“With your blessing, Nur Jahan and I will move to ensure you have the very best five thousand sowar, dedicated to you, personally, when your father names you to that rank. As a commander of such a substantial force, you will likely be assigned important tasks, some of which might carry you some distance from the court, even as it travels with the Sultan Al’Azam.”
“You have given considerable thought to this, then.”
“Nur Jahan broached the subject shortly after your last visit to my home, Shehzada.”
“She did?”
“Yes.”
“Yet you do not seem convinced of her usefulness.”
“If you say she is useful, Shehzada, then she must be.” He raised a finger and wagged his head. “But Nur Jahan’s lust for power is unseemly in a woman and dangerous to the unwary, be they ally or enemy.”
All of which make her a better lodestone for blame than you, who actually has men to commit to my cause.
“I will be wary, Mullah Mohan.”
Chapter 23
Agra, Red Fort
November 1634
John stepped out from their quarters into the harsh morning sunlight and found the boys standing in a knot, grousing about something. He missed a step, memories of similar warm mornings, a crew ready to lay some road, and a job of work to do momentarily overwhelming his senses.
Shaking free of the memories and a homesick desire for baseball caps, chewing tobacco, and a styrofoam cup of black coffee to start his day, John joined his team.
“What’s up, boys?”
“We thought we’d made it, John. That we were done having the ground move under us, you know?” Bobby Maddox said. Both Ricky and Randy were nodding agreement.
“I don’t know what to say, boys. I’d like to spend a little time letting my frank and beans drop instead of crushing them in the saddle again,” he shrugged, keeping a straight face as the younger men grinned, “but these guys are traditionally nomads, and the emperor is one pissed-off chief nomad. Come to that, I would be too if it was my kid got killed.”
“Salim said something about an ambush?” Randy asked.
“Yeah, a battle against the Sikhs.”
“And now the high muckety-muck himself’s riding out against them?”
John nodded. “With ten thousand men this time.”
“Against how many Sikhs?”
“Dunno.”
“Weren’t the Sikhs like a big part of India’s army, back up-time?” Ricky asked.
“Almost all of it, if I remember right. And under the English they were up there with the Gurkhas for hardasses,” Randy agreed.
“Salim says they’re a small minority just now.”
“But India’s enormous, so…”
John tossed his head. “I trust his take on it.”
“And didn’t they just have an army of five thousand horse wiped out?” Bobby had that look going, the one that told his friends, “Be careful, I’m about to blow.”
“Good point. We’ll just have to watch things and be ready to fight or run.”
“We don’t like it, J.D.”
More nods from the rest of the boys.
“Neither do I, guys. But we can’t leave now. The emperor accepted us as envoys to his court, so we’re obliged to stay until he says we can go.”
“We know, it’s just, you know: we’re here to lay some rail, and we ain’t seeing when, hell, even if, that’s gonna happen.”
“A bit early to start worrying about that, Bobby.”
An angry shrug. “Never too early to worry, man.”
“You’re right. Shouldn’t have tried to blow you off. Sorry.”
Ricky chimed in, trying to smooth over the uncomfortable moment, “Well, we were looking for people who had money to blow on paying for some up-time wonders, and we damn sure found ’em. I’ve seen more gold and silk here in the last two days than I ever imagined existed.”
“Damn straight. Even the guys are dripping with gold.”
“Did you see that throne?” Bobby asked.
Nods of agreement from all around, “Yeah.”
“Don’t look like a peacock, though.”
“That’s cause it’s not that throne.”
“Thought that’s what their throne was called?”
“Not yet. Salim got that look when I asked, then said Shah Jahan ordered it built this year. It’s supposed to be delivered next.”
“What look?” Rodney asked, coming up behind John.
The team smiled as John explained, “You know: that look, the one down-timers get when you talk about something that’s common knowledge to us but just happened or is about to happen here and now.”
Nods and chuckles all around.
“Got any words of wisdom for us?” John asked, looking up at Rodney.
“Stay healthy. Stay away from their women.”
Rodney laughed with the rest but went on more seriously, “I know which of those is going to be easier: the nobles and their servants keep their women well hid. Angelo showed the guys where to go for…paid companionship…but once we leave, there won’t be any of that…”
The guys all looked uncomfortable at mention of the brothels they’d visited, so John decided to take pity on them and change the subject. “Did you see the conditions in their cities? I can only imagine how bad conditions will be in camp, with all the horses and men shitting everywhere.”
“And elephants,” Randy added, playing along, “can’t forget them, not with the size of them pats.”
John snorted. “Nope.”
* * *
Salim, worrying he’d missed something, ran down the list of things he, as mihmandar, was required to provide them on the march.
He thought he’d covered everything…So why did he feel like a man about to ride into an ambush?
Merciful God! The women! I forgot to check on their needs.
He asked a passing servant Firoz Khan’s whereabouts, learned the eunuch was in his quarters, and made his way there.
As mihmandar to the newest delegation, the diwan had granted him access without challenge to his chambers. Salim stumbled to a surprised halt just past the guards. The eunuch was lounging in his darkened antechamber, one arm thrown over his eyes.
“What now?”
“Respectfully, Diwan Firoz Khan, but how do you find time to nap?”
A wave of the arm covering his face. “Excellent subordinates, Amir.”
“
That’s it?”
“Well, that…and the court is long accustomed to moving on short notice. We are nomads, after all.”
“Still…”
The heavy little eunuch sat up with a groan. “All right, I haven’t slept at all the last two days. In fact, I only stopped issuing orders because I ran out of messengers.”
Salim snorted. “Really?”
“Would I lie?”
“Of course you would. We are at the sultan’s court, after all.”
A tired smile, barely visible in the dimness. “I would, too.” He scrubbed his face. “I suspect some of the messengers are simply avoiding me because they’re footsore.”
“Is the harem ready, though?”
“It is.” He sighed. “Merciful God, it finally is.”
“And the ladies of the diplomatic mission?”
“Up quite late last night with Begum Sahib.”
“And their discussions were…?”
“A good eunuch never delivers the secrets of his harem into the ears of another.” Firoz said, waggling his head. “Of course, I am not a good one, at least not in this case.”
Salim chuckled. “They went well, then?”
Firoz heaved himself erect. “Yes. Begum Sahib is deeply interested in them. I had not thought she would be drawn from mourning for some time, but your up-timers accomplished it.”
“Only the one woman is from up-time. The giant, Rodney’s, wife.”
An expansive yawn, “Yes, Priscilla. Such odd names.”
“Indeed.”
“Not to be rude, but why are you here, interrupting my sleep?”
Salim bowed with a smile. “I had forgotten to check on the arrangements for the women, and was seized with sudden worry.”
Firoz puffed his chest. “Never fear, this eunuch has already fought that battle and emerged victorious.”
“Knowing such a warrior protects my reputation, I shall retire in confidence, then.”
“Good. I will resume watching the insides of my eyelids.”
“Rest well—” He was interrupted as a messenger entered at the trot and came to a sudden halt behind him.
The young boy bowed at Salim, then again to Firoz. “Diwan?”
“Speak.”
“The Sultan Al’Azam has ordered the van to march.”
That meant they had until about mid-day before the harem and his charges would mount up and depart.
“I have heard the message. Get something to drink and rest a short while. I will have work for you.”
“Yes, Diwan.” The boy fled.
“It seems there will be no rest for me until we ride.”
“Indeed. I am sorry to have interrupted your nap.”
“I understand what drove you, and take no umbrage.”
“See you on the trail, then?”
“Perhaps. I hope to sleep most of the afternoon in the howdah.”
“Then I will look for you the next day to check on my charges.”
“Oh, about that: did the husbands make you aware of their plans as to when they’ll wish to visit their wives?”
“Not yet, no. I will inquire.”
“I would have thought to ask, but…” he trailed off into another yawn.
“Understandable. I leave you to your deserved rest.”
Agra to Ramdaspur
“This is almost worse than being at sea,” Ilsa muttered. The swaying of the howdah was making her look a bit green about the gills. “It wouldn’t be so bad if we could get some air.” She fingered the first of the layers of curtains that obscured the outside world and trapped any breeze before it reached them.
“Purdah,” Priscilla drawled with a shrug.
That had been a common refrain the last few hours. She’d barely been able to see Papa—and the other women their husbands—before being bundled aboard the howdah at around noon, and they’d been on the move since then. Monique didn’t really find being separated from Papa all that great a hardship, but found herself missing Bertram.
“I suppose that we’d be choking on the dust, were it not for them,” Monique said.
“So instead we stifle.”
“Then why not turn our minds from misery to something else? For instance: I think our first audience with Begum Sahib went well.”
“I agree,” Ilsa said.
“She sure wore me out with questions,” Priscilla said, tapping her teeth with one fingernail. “Intelligent ones, too.”
“You say that like you were surprised. You even sound a bit like a down-time man—surprised to find a brain behind pretty eyes,” Ilsa said.
Looking at Priscilla, Monique couldn’t help but nod agreement. Some of the things the up-timers thought about women of her time were just plain stupid. I mean, why would you think a lack of equal legal power equates to powerlessness?
“Well, I suppose she shattered more than one of my expectations. Before meeting her, I sure wouldn’t have thought to meet a well-educated woman in a harem.”
“Those wealthy enough make their own rules,” said Monique, running a finger along the gilt woodwork of the howdah, “and these people are certainly rich.”
Ilsa nodded. “True, she has resources others lack, but she also seems genuinely interested in anything that might be of benefit to her people.”
“That, from just one meeting?” Monique asked.
“And why not?” Ilsa asked.
“She’s been brought up amid harem politics, so I doubt she showed us any feeling or motive she did not want us to see.”
“Now you sound like Don Francisco, Monique.”
Priscilla grinned and waved down Monique’s nascent protest. “You do, Monique!” Her white teeth quickly disappeared as she continued, “Even so, we do need to be cautious. It’s too early to get a good grasp of either her motives or the politics that surround Begum Sahib.”
“Right.”
They lapsed into silence for a few sways of the howdah.
“What about the girl?”
“Sahana?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t imagine what her childhood was like, a slave.”
“Me neither, but who do you think she’s loyal to?”
“I couldn’t guess.”
“At the risk of sounding like Don Francisco again—there are slaves and then there are slaves. Here the eunuchs and harem slaves have opportunity to advance to high position,” Monique said.
Priscilla’s expression soured. “But no choice in where they begin, no control over their own bodies. Anything short of that kind of control over your own fate is just making excuses for a despicable practice, one the USE hopes to crush.”
“I’m not disagreeing, Priscilla, I’m just…reminding everyone that this society, their rulers, even their very religions, condone and perpetuate slavery. We forget that at our peril. At the very least the mission may be ignored or ostracized if we get a reputation for speaking out against things as they stand. At the very least.”
“Oh, I know.” Priscilla shook her head. “I don’t like it, but I know.”
“None of us like it!” Monique immediately regretted snapping at Priscilla. “Sorry.”
“No problem, Monique. I know you’re trying to make sure we stay realistic.”
“Now I’ve made us all more miserable with this topic.”
“What do you think of Salim, Monique?” Ilsa asked, changing the subject.
“Handsome, under that beard.”
Both women smiled at her.
She ignored their expressions—both had showed mild interest in getting her married off to someone, just as all married women of her acquaintance were wont to do—and continued. “Dangerously competent, though he didn’t look nearly as comfortable in Agra as he was on the road.”
“Rodney called him a man to walk the hills with,” Priscilla said.
“He and John seem to get on, as well,” Ilsa agreed.
“I think he’ll do what he can to keep us safe and comfortable, but I wonder j
ust how powerful he is. He certainly doesn’t seem to have the hangers-on the other court functionaries surround themselves with.”
“I hadn’t thought about it in that light,” Priscilla said, “I just thought he was making sure to appear more approachable to us.”
“There were some sour looks cast his way,” Monique added.
“From who?”
“No one we’ve been introduced to, but there was at least one fellow in the last few rows before the throne that was giving Salim the Evil Eye the entire time we were in the audience hall. Skinny man, long beard with a fair degree of salt in it.”
“Really?”
Monique nodded emphatically. “One of the most murderous looks I’ve seen, and I’ve seen some good ones.”
“Maybe someone should tell our host?” Priscilla said.
“I’m sure he’s already aware, but I’ll tell John to let him know, and to spread that information around the men.”
Priscilla nodded. “Can’t hurt his impression of us.”
“When are you going to see your husbands again?”
“Good question. I need to ask Begum Sahib what’s normal, especially on the road.”
“Did she seem sad to you?” Priscilla asked.
Ilsa shrugged. “She just lost a brother.”
But Monique noticed something in the woman’s voice, wanted to encourage it. “Why do you ask, Priscilla?”
“I know she’d lost him, but this was…something else. When we were talking, there was a moment she just seemed…I don’t know…Down.”
“You remember what we were talking about when you noticed it?”
“You were talking. Something about your experiences in the court of the Duke of Florence.”
Ilsa snapped her fingers. “I remember now, you were telling that funny story about the baron and said, ‘and then Papa turned to me and asked me what we should do.’”
“I missed that,” Monique said, “But thinking back on it…I see what you mean.” She tossed her curls, “So her father’s a touchy subject…Something to think about, anyway.”
“I wish we’d had a chance to get to know the court better before getting underway.”
“Oh, I don’t know. From the looks of things, the whole damn court pulled up roots and came with us,” Priscilla said.