Free Empire of the Moghul: Ruler of the World by Alex Rutherford Page A

too. In the
haram
he felt free of court cares. At the thought of fresh pleasures ahead he quickened his step.
    The elderly
khawajasara
was waiting for him and smilingly led him to a room hung with brilliant silks and ornaments of coloured glass that were also a gift from Akbar’s new ally. ‘The girls have been made ready and are eager to serve you. You have only to choose the one who pleases you the most.’ She clapped her hands and a door in a side alcove opened. Three young women entered, dressed identically in tight-fitting bodices and wide trousers fastened at their waists with pearl tassels. Their dark hair, pulled back from their faces with jewelled clasps, gleamed with henna. Two were tall and voluptuous while the third was short and delicately formed. She was exquisite but something more than her beauty held Akbar’s attention. She was standing very still and breathing rapidly like a deer that knows the hunter is there and is too afraid to move. Her vulnerability moved him and he felt a strong desire to show her she had nothing to fear from him.
    ‘This one’
    ‘She is called Shayzada. You have chosen well, Majesty.’
    ‘Leave us, please.’ As the keeper ushered the other girls from the room, Akbar saw Shayzada’s eyes shining with tears. ‘Don’t be afraid. If you are not willing, say so. I would never force any woman.’
    ‘I’m not afraid of you, Majesty.’ She spoke the old Moghul language, Turki, but haltingly and with a strange accent Akbar had never heard.
    ‘Then what is it?’ He came closer, noting the delicate oval of her face and the unusual vivid blue of her eyes that for a moment reminded him of Bairam Khan. She looked so achingly beautiful he wanted to reach out and touch her. She hesitated, and when finally she spoke he could tell she was choosing her words with great care. ‘When I was told I was to come to your court, it was a great honour and I was happy. So were my two elder sisters.’
    ‘The two young women who were with you just now?’
    ‘No, they are not my kin.’
    ‘Then where are you sisters?’
    Her face tightened. ‘When our party was still two days from Agra, a group of Moghul soldiers stopped us. They said that they were an advance guard sent by you to inspect us and take the most beautiful to you at once. They said you were impatient and took my sisters away. When we reached Agra, I asked the keeper of the
haram
where they were but she said she knew nothing of any other women. Please, Majesty, I am frightened for my sisters . . .’
    ‘I gave no orders for any advance guard. Who was their commander?’
    ‘I’m not sure, but I think I heard one of the soldiers address him as Adham Khan.’
    Akbar’s head jerked back in surprise. ‘Did you see any of their faces?’
    ‘It was evening, and anyway the men had face cloths pulled up to their eyes.’
    The tears were running down her face now and she made no effort to wipe them away, but Akbar, overcome with anger, was no longer attending to her. ‘Wait here,’ he said.
    A few minutes later he was striding towards his milk-mother’s apartments. Waving her attendants aside, he flung the silver doorsopen himself and burst in. Seeing the expression on his face, Maham Anga, who had been writing in a book, at once closed its ivory covers, fastened the gilt clasp and rose to her feet.
    ‘Akbar, what’s the matter?’
    ‘Where is your son?’
    ‘Away hunting. I haven’t seen him for nearly a week.’
    ‘Have him found – wherever he is – and tell him to return to the court immediately.’
    ‘Of course. He is yours to command. But why?’
    ‘A woman newly arrived in the
haram
– sent to me with several others as a token of respect and friendship by a new ally – accuses him of abducting two of them – her sisters.’
    Maham Anga paled. If her son had committed such a crime she certainly knew nothing about it.
    ‘The accusation is very serious,’ Akbar said more gently, ‘but let my milk-brother answer