Wild Jasmine (11 page)

The door was opened by Rugaiya Begum’s chief serving woman, Laili. “She has already retired, Adali,” Laili said irritably. She, herself, had been sleeping.

“Nonetheless, I must see her,” he replied. This was Princess Yasaman’s house, and he was the princess’s high steward. Laili could not refuse him.

“Come in, then,” she said, and grumbling beneath her breath, went into her mistress’s bedchamber, returning a few moments later to wave him into the room.

“You may go to your bed,” Adali instructed her. “My lady Rugaiya Begum will not need you again this night.” He closed the door firmly behind the serving woman, pressing his ear against it until he was certain she had gone off.

Rugaiya Begum was seated in her bed, her silver hair
braided into one thick plait. “Sit here,” she told him, patting the side of the bed. “If she comes back to listen, she will hear nothing if we are close.” Rugaiya Begum knew that if Adali would seek her presence at so late an hour, the matter was indeed urgent. “Now tell me what it is,” she finished as he sat beside her.

“Tonight,” he said without further ado, “I secreted myself in Princess Yasaman’s room. Do not ask why, my lady, for I am not even certain myself. Some deep instinct, perhaps, warned me to be there.”

Rugaiya Begum nodded, but said nothing, listening with growing horror as he described what he had seen in Yasaman’s bedchamber. “Princess Yasaman responded with innocent ardor to the prince’s overtures,” Adali concluded. “She is a most passionate young girl who shows promise of becoming a very passionate woman. It is to be expected. Her father is a passionate man, and Candra a passionate woman.”

“But that passion must not be directed toward Salim!” Rugaiya Begum exclaimed. “Ohh, he is wicked, Adali! He knows that he is wrong, but he attempts to seduce Yasaman, who really knows no better.
What can I do?
If anything happens to my lord, how can I protect Yasaman from her brother?
I cannot!
”

“You cannot wait to marry her off, my lady Begum,” Adali said bluntly. As an old and valued servant, he was permitted to freely speak his mind. “The princess must be married before the onset of winter. She must not return south again to Lahore.”

“You know the law, Adali, as well as I do,” Rugaiya Begum said desperately. “No girl below the age of fourteen, or boy below the age of sixteen, may be married. Yasaman is only thirteen.”

“You are allowing your maternal fears to overcome your own good sense, my lady Begum,” Adali scolded her. “You have said yourself that the emperor made the laws and that he can amend them if he so chooses.”

“But what possible reason can I give Akbar for wanting to press ahead so quickly with Yasaman’s betrothal and marriage?” Rugaiya Begum was beginning to look haggard with her worry.

“There is only one reason that will sway him, my lady Begum,” Adali told her. “
The truth.
”

Rugaiya Begum grew pale. “I cannot tell him such a thing,” she protested.

“
You must!
” he insisted. “The Mughal is no fool, lady, and
he is, Allah forgive me my words, dying. Who knows when the black camel of death will arrive to take him away. It will be sooner rather than later, as we both know. When he has left this world, who will protect our princess? Neither you nor I have the power.”

“
Will a husband?
” Rugaiya Begum responded. “Once Salim is the Grand Mughal, who is there more powerful than he?”

“Prince Salim is capricious in many of his actions, I will admit, my lady Begum,” the eunuch replied, “but he knows his lust is wrong, no matter how he may rationalize it. If the princess is married and happy, I do not believe he will attempt to spoil her happiness, for he loves her. If she is a mother, so much the better.”

“But does he love himself more, I wonder?” Rugaiya Begum mused. “Even I have never been certain of just how far he would go. This murder of Abul Fazl truly surprised me. Salim always used to pride himself on his self-discipline where wine and opium are concerned. He saw what they have done to his brothers, Murad and Daniyal. Yet I have heard disturbing stories of late about Salim’s excesses and drunkenness. When under the influence of wine and opium together, he does things he would not otherwise dare. I am told he recently had a young page who offended him castrated; and a servant beaten to death. This instability of character frightens me, Adali.”

“Then you must certainly tell our lord Akbar the truth, my lady Begum. The prince will obviously stop at nothing. The princess must be protected at all costs. When you spoke with our lord tonight, did he have any suggestions for a husband for our little lady?”

“Of course,” Rugaiya Begum said, “but none were suitable. There is but one prince for Yasaman. Jamal Darya Khan.”

Adali raised his eyebrows slightly in approval of Rugaiya Begum. “An admirable choice, my lady Begum,” he said. “If our princess weds a Kashmiri prince, she will be well out of her brother’s sphere of influence. Excellent! When will you discuss this with the Mughal?”

“Let him sleep the night, Adali, although Allah knows I will not! My lord and I will settle this matter in the morning before he returns to his own palace. There can be no delay in Yasaman’s wedding. Ahh, my poor daughter. She is so young!”

“She is also strong like Candra, my lady Begum,” Adali said. “Whatever fate life has in store for her, she will meet the challenge and triumph.
This I know in my heart.
”

Chapter 3

T
he emperor awakened early, as was his custom, and bathed. He spent several minutes in spiritual meditation, but when he arose from his knees expecting to find his breakfast being served, he instead saw his first wife, Rugaiya Begum, enter the room. He thought that she was showing her age for the first time. There were purple patches beneath her fine eyes.

“A word, my lord, before your meal, I pray you. It is most important, or I should not disturb you. Will you walk by the lake with me?” She slipped her arm through his, looking into his face with a silent plea.

He nodded but said nothing, realizing that her unspoken request meant they should go somewhere they could not be overheard. The morning air was sweet and cool. The sun was just rising over the mountains, and mist hung above the placid, mirrorlike waters of Wular Lake.

“My words will shock and certainly anger you, my lord,” Rugaiya Begum told him as they strolled along the shore. A mewling gull swooped low over the water looking for a meal. “You must swear to me on the soul of your father, Humayun, that you will not retaliate against the guilty.”

“What is so terrible that you must seek to extract such a promise from me, my wife?” he asked her.
Salim
. It had to be Salim. The source of most of his pain was Salim; but never before had Rugaiya taken his part. Interesting.

“I will say nothing more unless you will swear to me, my lord,” Rugaiya Begum insisted stubbornly.

“Then I must so swear,” Akbar replied. “I cannot remember ever having you ask such a thing of me, my dear. It must be very serious. It is Salim, of course, but it is not like you to defend him. Why?” It disturbed him to see her looking so distraught, as if she had not slept the entire night.

“Yes, it is about Salim, my lord. But it is about Yasaman too,” and then she told him in careful and minute detail exactly what Adali had told her.

Akbar listened, his wheaten complexion growing darker with his rising anger. By some supreme strength of will he managed to remain silent until she had finished her horrific tale; and then he said, “I should have killed him last year when he murdered Abul Fazl. Prince Khusrau is sixteen, old enough and certainly more than competent to be my heir. Was I not myself younger when I became the Mughal, Rugaiya? Everyone has constantly excused Salim his rash ways throughout his life because of his charm; and I have forgiven him time after time because he was my firstborn surviving son and so dear to my heart.

“One year ago he murdered my best friend, for he was jealous of him, always jealous of him. He constantly complained I favored Abul Fazl over him, which was not true. Abul Fazl was my friend, Salim my son and heir. It was our friendship Salim was jealous of, Rugaiya. Now he attempts to involve his innocent sister in an incestuous relationship. He lusts after her as if she were not of his own blood! He must die, Rugaiya. There is nothing else for it but that he must die!” Akbar’s face was anguished as he pronounced the words.

“No, my lord,” Rugaiya Begum calmly told him, putting a comforting hand upon his hand. “Salim has good qualities as well as evil ones. He has trained his whole life for the future that will one day be his. In time he will be a good ruler. Abul Fazl’s murder was a terrible act. I cannot excuse it, but I understand why the prince acted as he did. You must not have your son’s death upon your hands, my dearest lord! Not now.

“The solution to our problem is really most simple. Let Yasaman be married now to the son of Yusef Khan. Let her remain here in Kashmir. Send Salim south and keep him there. Mewar has never been fully subdued. Let Salim work his abundance of energy off there. With a young, ardent husband, it is likely that Yasaman will quickly have children. She will be content and happy. Her brother will be happy for her and forget his evil intentions.”

“That he has touched her in so intimate a manner enrages me, Rugaiya!” the emperor said angrily. “He had not the right! Allah! Yasaman is barely past childhood!”

“Yes, and it angers me as well, my lord, but there is nothing that we can do to change what has already happened,” she told him sensibly. “Imagine our good Adali, forced to remain in the shadows watching as Salim worked his seduction of Yasaman. He remained silent despite his outrage so that he might save Yasaman from any further assault. If Salim had known he was
there, he would have killed Adali himself. Adali kept his head in order to fight Salim another day. We must be as brave and as clever, my husband. Salim must not know that we are aware of this dark passion he harbors for his sister. Right now he believes he
must
have Yasaman. If he learns we suspect him, he will do what he has to do to fulfill that desire.”

“But he will have to know of Yasaman’s marriage,” Akbar said. “He will ask why I am permitting her to wed at thirteen when the law most clearly says a maid may not marry until she is fourteen. What am I to say to him, my good wife? To say I simply desire it will not be enough for Salim.”

Rugaiya Begum smiled. “It is quite simple, my lord. You will tell Prince Salim that you fear for Yaqub Khan’s loyalty despite his father’s faithful service to you. Tell Salim that you wish to ensure Yusef Khan’s family’s future trustworthiness by an immediate marriage between Yasaman and his younger son. Tell him that you may eventually make Prince Jamal Darya Khan governor of Kashmir, binding him, his family, and the Kashmiri people even closer to our family. It is a logical and statesmanlike act, and worthy of you, my dearest lord.”

Akbar smiled slowly. “I had forgotten how wise and clever you are, Rugaiya. You have spent too many years away from me raising our daughter to womanhood.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I will speak with Yusef Khan this very day and arrange matters.
And
I will send the lady Juliana to examine Yasaman to be certain that Salim has not violated her innocence.”

“Adali shares our secret, my lord, but there must be one other to bear this burden. The priest. Yasaman has been raised within the Christian faith, as her mother would have wanted, but like you, she is eclectic in her religious tastes. Still, we will need the priest’s cooperation in preparing her for this very great change in her life.”

They swung about to return to the palace.

“Very well, Rugaiya, I will leave it to your good judgment. Let me eat now and then get about my business. Yusef Khan is here visiting his family, so the matter of Yasaman’s marriage may be concluded swiftly.”

Making obeisance to her husband, Rugaiya Begum sought out Father Cullen Butler, the priest attached to Yasaman’s household. He had just finished his morning prayers and, as she had with Akbar, she invited him to walk with her along the lakeshore.

“I need your help, Father Cullen,” she said.

“You know you have but to ask, my lady,” he assured her in a voice soft with the lilt of his native Ireland.

He was a tall, slender man approaching his middle years. He kept his dark brown hair cropped close and simple in style. His fine blue eyes, however, were always lively and inquiring. He had come to them when Yasaman was in her second year, for Akbar had requested a priest for his daughter’s household from the head of the Jesuits in India. Although it had caused a mild stir at the time, the fuss quickly died down. Akbar was known to be interested in all religions, and each of the princes had had priests for tutors at one time or another. Cullen Butler had fit easily into the household. He was fascinated with Indian life and, unlike other priests, did not condemn or criticize. It was quickly discovered that he had a ribald sense of humor, which quite endeared him to the servants.