The Twentieth Wife (49 page)

A
AOONGH!
T
HE LOUD DEEP-THROATED ROAR
swept through the imperial palaces and courtyards at Agra, jerking the royal family out of sleep. In the
zenana,
the women clutched one another or their children, listening as the sound echoed around the walls before dying down to a low rumble. Then it came again.
Aaoongh!

Emperor Jahangir sat in front of the cage where the tiger paced, watching its loose-limbed stride. It walked the forty-foot length of the cage in unhurried, measured steps, muscles rippling under its gold and black fur. It turned, tail whipping in the air, looked at him, and opened its mouth, baring its teeth.
Aaoongh!

A shiver passed through him, bringing goosebumps up his arms. The roar seemed to rattle his bones. He sat close, just four feet from the cage; only slim iron bars separated him and the tiger. It was the mating season, and the tiger roared at night, every night, in quest of its companion. Jahangir had ordered a pair of tigers captured alive because the creatures fascinated him. Tigers had intrigued him ever since that ill-fated adventure with the tiger cub long ago. The cages were built
and hauled inside the fort at Agra, on the western end near the Delhi gateway. They were erected side by side: the tiger in one, the still unimpressed tigress in another. Torches burned around him, lighting up the beaten mud expanse in front of the cages and the forty guards, armed with matchlocks and muskets. If either tiger escaped, it would wreak ruin in the fort. And these were known to be man-eating tigers, captured from the periphery of the forests around Agra, where for months they had terrorized neighboring villages. Once a tiger killed a man, it could never go back to killing wildlife, for humans were easy prey. They were weak, and if unarmed, they rarely fought back.

Jahangir waited in silence for another roar, waited for the tigress to respond. He sat on a wooden crate near the cage, his chin resting in the palm of one hand, meeting the tiger’s passing golden gaze unflinchingly. It seemed to pay little attention to him as it paced, its nostrils quivering every now and then at his scent, the scent of a man, of food, even though it had just been fed.

He smiled to himself, a wry, mocking smile. He, Emperor of Mughal India, could command a man-eating tiger and its mate captured and caged, but he could not bring to himself the woman he loved. With Mehrunnisa, it seemed there were no rules.

For two weeks now he had lived in a kind of stupor. He went to the
jharoka
balcony and the daily
darbars
as usual, but paid little heed to what went on. Why did she refuse? Why couldn’t she see that his plan would be the best solution for her?

In his brief saner moments, he wondered what his fascination was for Mehrunnisa. He tried to think about it logically, but it, she, thwarted all logic. He had wanted her longer than he had wanted the throne. It was not just that she was a beautiful woman. Beautiful women he could command at the snap of his fingers, the merest inclination of his head. He admired her fierce independence, her deep sense of self, her convictions about her actions. She scorned the rules, trod on them.

One day he had been preoccupied during his visit with Mehrunnisa. “Tell me,” she had coaxed, “let me take the burden.”

“The Jesuit fathers are unhappy about the English ambassador William Hawkins’s presence at court,” Jahangir said.

“Why?” Mehrunnisa asked. “They have come here to proselytize; Hawkins is here for a trade treaty. There can be no conflict.”

“Hawkins promises security for our trading ships in the Arabian Sea.”

“Ah,” Mehrunnisa said, eyes gleaming. “And that encroaches on Portuguese domain, because they now protect our ships. The Jesuits grow too arrogant. As long as they are the only ones offering us protection, with no competition, the empire will be under their sway. You cannot let Hawkins go, your Majesty. Use him.”

Jahangir rubbed his chin. “It is not that easy, Mehrunnisa. Muqarrab Khan writes of the ill behavior of the English soldiers in Surat, how they loot and plunder and beat up our people. And Hawkins, much as he styles himself an ambassador, is just a merchant—with dirt under his fingernails, his coarse laughter, his ill manners, and his lack of etiquette.”

“Then why have you kept him by your side for so long?”

“Because he entertains me. He talks Turki fluently; I don’t need an interpreter with him. Have you listened to him at court? He is like a monkey taught tricks.”

Mehrunnisa agreed. “Then teach him new tricks, your Majesty.” She put a hand on his arm. “Tell me, hasn’t Muqarrab Khan recently converted to Catholicism?”

“I heard a rumor to that effect,” Jahangir said slowly. “That he now calls himself John. Do you think he acts under the influence of the Jesuit priests?”

“It is possible that he bends the truth, your Majesty. He would not dare lie to you—not openly, in any case. If Hawkins promises safety for our ships, then you should consider his offer.”

Jahangir had gone back to the royal palace that night deep in thought after his conversation with Mehrunnisa. He had already known what she had told him, already thought about it long and hard. What surprised him was that she knew, that she—merely a woman—would be interested in the affairs of the empire. It thrilled him to be able to talk with her about it. Unlike his ministers, she was a safe counsel; she had no personal agenda, no wish other than what
he
wanted. So he did what she said, what he had already mulled over in his mind, and watched with amusement as the Jesuits scrambled for better gifts and toys with which to please him.

Mehrunnisa was wrong in thinking that he had had no knowledge of her for these past four years. Jahangir had known her whereabouts and kept an eye on her. He sent an armed escort for her from Bardwan to Agra. He asked Ruqayya to look after Mehrunnisa—a request she had easily acceded to, for the Dowager Empress was fond of her. Within the walls of the
zenana,
even though Mehrunnisa was employed by Ruqayya, she had been under his protection, for the harem—with its palaces, courtyards, gardens, and the various people who lived in it—was his property.

The tiger stopped and faced Jahangir. They stared at each other, man and beast, conqueror and conquered. He put out a hand to touch it and then drew back hastily. It looked benign, like a large adorable cat. It almost deceived him. The tiger bared its teeth with a hiss, then moved disdainfully away to pace again, the scent of the tigress filling the air.

Jahangir sighed and bent his head. Sleep was impossible at night. Only for a few brief hours did his body give him rest, but Mehrunnisa obsessed him in his dreams. Perhaps he should have gone to her earlier, not let her be, not wondered and feared that she would hold Ali Quli’s death against him. That was his weakness, perhaps.

The tiger roared again, throwing back its massive head.
Aaoongh!
The sound set the bars of the cage clattering, and Jahangir shuddered.
Then, finally, he saw the tigress lie on the floor of her cage and moan slowly and softly in response.

The Emperor rose and went back through the night to his apartments, not seeing the guards bow low to the ground as he passed. He knew he could not lose Mehrunnisa again. He had wanted the crown with an intensity that had frightened him, for any other alternative would have been unimaginable. Now he wanted Mehrunnisa even more, and he could not imagine life without her.

•   •   •

“T
HE
E
MPEROR IS
coming! The Emperor is coming!” Ladli rushed into the room, waving her little arms in excitement.

Mehrunnisa looked up from her book at her daughter with a delighted smile. “Did you see the royal barge?”

“Yes,” the child replied breathlessly. “Oh, Mama, what do you think he has brought for me today?”

“
Beta,
you must not ask for gifts so shamelessly. Now go and wash your face and hands. We must not appear before the Emperor like this—and remember, perform the
konish
as I taught you.”

Ladli promptly performed the
konish.
“Is that right?”

“Yes,” Mehrunnisa said. “Go now.” She shut her book of Firdausi’s poems as Ladli ran off. Then she rose and ran out into the balcony.

The afternoon sun drenched the balcony, and Mehrunnisa put up a hand to shade her eyes. She could make out the royal barge coming down the Yamuna, the Emperor’s flag with the crouching lion in front of a rising sun glowing gold against red silk. She leaned weakly against the ledge, her legs suddenly giving way. Why did he come?

The last two weeks had passed slowly, miserably, every moment filled with Jahangir, with memories of their meetings. Bapa and Maji left Mehrunnisa alone for the most part. Bapa came to her once, two days after the Emperor had left in anger. In front of them, for them,
she tried to look normal. It was difficult to smile, to eat, to sleep, to pretend nothing was wrong. But she had to do it. The hardest task was to pacify Ladli. Jahangir always brought her a little gift: a box of marbles, a wooden horse, a set of tiny brass pots and pans. So when he did not come, Ladli asked after him and Mehrunnisa said, “He is the Emperor,
beta,
a big man. His other duties call him away.”

The barge neared, cutting silver streaks through the calm waters of the Yamuna. The Emperor stood forward, watching for her eagerly. When he saw her, he waved with all the ardor of a lover at least fifteen years younger. Mehrunnisa raised her hand; even the sight of him sent shivers down her spine. Did he come back merely to torment her? Would there be another unpalatable offer, another overture she would have to refuse?

Mehrunnisa turned away. She had not allowed herself to think of what might have been, or what might be these past two weeks, even though the Emperor had indirectly made a gesture of goodwill the day after she had driven him away.

Jahangir had invited her father and her brother Abul Hasan to the
Diwan-i-am.
There, in front of the entire court, he had increased Ghias’s
mansab
to eighteen hundred horses. Her brother was likewise honored with the title of Itiqad Khan and an increased
mansab.

And that evening, Ghias spoke to her for the first time about the Emperor. After the disagreement about the chaperoning, Mehrunnisa and her father had talked little; she was too full of Jahangir to talk with anyone, even Bapa.

He came into the room where Mehrunnisa was helping Ladli with the Turkish alphabet. Ghias watched his daughter as if he were seeing her for the first time. He noted her graceful movements, her calming presence, and her melodious voice as she corrected Ladli’s mistakes. It was easy to see why the Emperor was so enamored.

But Ghias Beg held no illusions about his Emperor. Jahangir was notoriously fickle in his love affairs. He was surprised that
Jahangir’s infatuation had lasted so long, and practical enough to realize that although his daughter was beautiful and looked younger than her years, the Emperor had a harem filled with much younger women, whom he could have at a moment’s notice. Ghias shook his head. He adored Mehrunnisa with a father’s passion for his child, but what was this hold she had over Jahangir?

At that moment she caught her father’s eye. “Enough for now, Ladli. Go to your Dadi. I want to talk to your Dada.”

Ladli obediently closed the book and went out of the room. Mehrunnisa folded her hands in her lap and waited for Ghias to speak.

“The Emperor has increased my
mansab,
and he has also honored Abul.”

“I know.” Mehrunnisa allowed a triumphant smile to flit across her face briefly. It
was
a distinction for her family, thanks to her no doubt. And Jahangir had done this after their fight. When she remembered that, her smile faded. What use were honors if he was not here?

“Mehrunnisa, you must know why the Emperor honors us thus. Is it wise to refuse him so long? There is no shame in being a royal concubine.”

Mehrunnisa raised surprised eyes to him. “How do you know?”

Ghias smiled. “He is the Emperor,
beta.
Everyone knows what he does, where he goes, what he says. The news came to Maji from the imperial
zenana.
You have lived in the harem; you must be aware that little is secret. But is this wise, what you are doing? Many women would die for such favor from the Emperor.”

“I know that, Bapa,” Mehrunnisa said slowly. “But you do not know the Emperor as I do. Oh,” she waved away his protest, “you know him as a king, an Emperor, but I know him as a man. A man in need, not of another concubine—he has plenty of those—but of a woman with a loving hand to guide him, to be with him always.
Do you remember, Bapa, when the Emperor wanted to marry me seventeen years ago?”

“It was not possible then, Nisa.”

“Then, I wanted to marry him too. I always have wanted that—when he was a prince, and even,” she hesitated, “when he was Emperor. Why would I give it up to be a mere concubine now?”

Mehrunnisa let her words sink in as she opened Ladli’s book and riffled the pages without seeing the printed words. If she was to be his wife, she would be everything to him, not just an Empress, but a lover, a friend, a
wife.

“I did not know,” Ghias said, his face tormented. “I always thought it was the prince who desired you. . . . I did not know you too . . .”

“That was why I balked at marrying Ali Quli. But it was so long ago; too many things have happened since.”

Ghias sat down heavily. How could he have been blind to this? Perhaps if he had known, he might have had the courage to talk with Emperor Akbar. His request, even if it was to be denied, would have been listened to. But Ghias knew that the man he was then, seventeen years ago, would not have asked Akbar for his daughter’s happiness for fear of falling into disfavor with Akbar. He thought of himself as a deeply fallible man, one disgraced through his own doing, and one yet blessed with forgiveness from the people in his life. Jahangir had condoned his embezzling from the treasury; his children had overlooked the troubles that had beset them as a result of that one act. And Asmat—she had never doubted him. Her faith in him was more unwavering than his faith in himself. And now that he had been thus blessed, he too would repay his benefactors. The man he was today would not stand in the way of his daughter’s wishes. He looked at her.