Free Empire of the Moghul: Brothers at War by Alex Rutherford

trumpets and cries of ‘ Padishah salamat ’, ‘All hail the emperor’, he entered the many-pillared durbar hall where his leading subjects – his officers of state, his commanders, his courtiers and the Hindustani rajas who had acknowledged his supremacy – were waiting. As they prostrated themselves, touching their foreheads to the ground, they looked in their bright robes like a field of flowers tossed down by a sharp gust of wind.
    ‘You may rise.’
    The scent of rosewater, cascading down a tiered fountain at the far end of the hall into a marble pool carved into the shape of a lotus leaf, mingled with the spicy incense smoking in four tall golden burners shaped like slender-legged cranes with rubies for eyes. Beneath Humayun’s feet, the carpets of red and blue spread over the stone floor felt thick and soft as he advanced slowly towards the green velvet, gold-fringed canopy erected over a raised platform on which stood giant golden scales – two great saucers, their edges set with lozenges of pale pink quartz rimmed by pearls, suspended by gold chains from a stout wooden frame.
    Directly in front of the scales was the largesse to be weighed against him – carved ivory boxes of unset gemstones, gilded wooden trunks filled with silver and gold coins that had each taken eight men to carry into the chamber, bales of pashmina goat’s wool so soft and supple a length six feet wide could pass through a tiny golden ring, rolls of silks in rainbow colours and brass trays piled with spices.
    Humayun surveyed his audience, grouped around the front and sides of the dais, among them his grandfather Baisanghar and his white-bearded vizier Kasim. The two elderly men were watching him approvingly and for a moment Humayun thought of Babur whose early reign they had also guided . . . but this was not a moment for grief and regrets but for pomp and ceremony. He had an imperial pronouncement to deliver.
    ‘Nine years ago I fought by my father’s side at the battle of Panipat. God granted us a great victory and a new realm. It was also God’s will that my father did not live long to enjoy what he had won. This is the third anniversary of the reading of the khutba proclaiming me Moghul emperor of Hindustan. My empire is still young but it will grow . . . indeed it will become great, surpassing that of the Persian shah or the Ottoman sultan. The Moghuls’ magnificence will blaze like the noonday sun, blinding those who dare gaze into its heart. Already, I have shown my power to defeat those who threaten our borders. Bahadur Shah and the Lodi pretender Tartar Khan skulk in the mountains and their once great wealth now fills my treasuries. But you who are loyal to me and to my house, you will share in the glory and the riches, starting today.’ Humayun nodded. ‘Kasim, let us proceed.’
    Just as they had carefully rehearsed, Kasim gestured to the trumpeters who delivered a further long blast that reverberated around the chamber. Humayun approached the scales. Stepping on to one of the golden saucers, he felt it dip to the floor beneath his weight. At a clap of Kasim’s hands, attendants began to pile box after box of gems on to the other saucer until slowly, to the sonorous beating of drums, Humayun began to rise off the floor. When, finally, the scales were in equilibrium, the trumpets sounded once more.
    Opening a book bound in red leather, Kasim began to read. ‘His Imperial Highness, Humayun, has in his infinite generosity decreed that these gems be shared among his courtiers and loyal subjects who are listed here.’ Slowly, portentously, he intoned name after name. Humayun saw the smiles of gratification – greed even.
    And so it went on. Next Humayun was weighed against the bags of gold and silver to be distributed as a further reward to his commanders and then against the silks, brocades and spices to be sent to leading officials and subjects in other cities and provinces. Finally he ordered grain and loaves to be