‘Are they yet betrothed?’
‘No, Majesty.’
‘And Hamida. What are her wishes?’
‘I do not know, Majesty. I’ve never spoken to her of such things and I have no wife who could have done so. . Hamida’s mother died of a fever soon after she was born.’
‘You have been honest. I respect that but I repeat that I wish to wed your daughter. Give me your answer within a week from now. And Shaikh Ali. . my brother told me that the blood of a great seer who could foretell events runs through your veins. . If you, like him, have the power to see into the future, use it. You will see that greatness — and happiness — await your daughter if you will give her to me.’
‘Majesty.’ But Shaikh Ali Akbar’s face still looked anxious and unhappy as he turned to leave. Shafts of sunlight came pouring into the tent, dazzling Humayun for a moment, as Shaikh Ali Akbar pushed the entrance flap aside and vanished.
That day, needing space to think, Humayun decided to leave the main column and gallop alone. As the rhythmic thud of his horse’s hooves filled his ears, he was still trying to come to terms with these feelings so unexpected, so overpowering, so sudden. No other woman had roused such sensations in him. Something darker was also lurking in his heart — guilt that he wanted to take a woman loved by his half-brother. But he could not get Hamida’s exquisite face, her shining personality, out of his mind. He would make her his empress however much he bruised Hindal’s feelings.
That evening, Humayun was splashing his face with cold water brought to him in a brass ewer by Jauhar when he heard raised voices outside his tent. Then Hindal burst in, still in his riding clothes, soiled and dusty after the day’s journey.
‘Is it true?’ Hindal’s voice was quiet but his eyes were burning.
‘Is what true?’ Humayun gestured to Jauhar to withdraw.
‘Shaikh Ali Akbar tells me you wish to marry Hamida.’
‘Yes. I want her for my wife.’
‘She. . she is the daughter of my vizier. I watched her grow up. . My claim to her is stronger than yours. . ’ Hindal seemed almost hysterical.
‘I did not want to cause you pain, but it will pass. You will find another woman to please you. . ’
‘These last few months I thought we had come to understand one another. I trusted you. I gave you my support when — like Kamran and Askari — I could have sought my fortune elsewhere and perhaps fared better.What reward have I had for following you? Nothing! We fled Lahore with our tails between our legs. In Sind we fared little better — fed like little lapdogs by Mirza Husain until we took ourselves off. Still I remained loyal and worked to keep my force of men together in the hopes that soon you and I would be fighting shoulder to shoulder against Sher Shah. Instead, like a thief in the night, without a moment’s thought, you have decided to abuse your position as head of our family to steal the woman I love. . ’
‘Believe me, I didn’t know that you cared for her until I spoke to her father.’
‘But it didn’t stop you when you found out, did it?’ Hindal came closer. ‘Kamran and Askari were right.You are the self-appointed centre of your own universe. For years you ignored us, leaving us to fester in our provinces while you played the great emperor. It was only because you needed us against Sher Shah that you began to speak of fraternal duty, of bonding together against a common enemy.’
Hindal’s voice was rising to a shout and he was shaking with pent-up fury. Instinctively, Humayun glanced to the chest on which a few minutes earlier Jauhar had placed Alamgir in its jewelled scabbard. He still had his dagger and could feel its hard metal hilt pressing against his ribs beneath his sash.
‘Be careful what you say, brother. . ’
‘Half-brother only.’
‘You forget why I sent you and the others away. You plotted against me. I could have had you executed. . I gave you back your life.’
‘I was just a youth, easily led. If you’d shown any interest in me it would never have happened. But all you ever wanted to do was stare at the stars. . You still have no desire to know what I’m really like, what my hopes and aspirations are. You just want my unquestioning loyalty and obedience so you can realise your own ambitions. . ’
Humayun had never seen or heard his half-brother so animated. He was breathing heavily. His face was flushed, his nostrils were dilated and a vein throbbed at his temple.
‘We must not quarrel over this, Hindal. Believe me, this isn’t just some whim or momentary lust for a new woman. I didn’t plan it — it happened. When I saw her at the feast I knew. . ’
But Hindal didn’t seem to be listening. Without warning he launched himself at Humayun who, taken off guard, didn’t move quickly enough. Hindal’s powerful hands grabbed him by the shoulders and the next thing Humayun knew, he was crashing into a tall iron incense burner.
Hearing the noise, Humayun’s guards rushed into the tent. ‘No!’ he shouted, waving them back. Hindal was closing in on him again and Humayun felt his half-brother’s leather-booted foot slam into his ribs, knocking the breath from him. But from the days of his youth Humayun had been a good wrestler — quick and strong — and the skills hadn’t deserted him. Instinctively he grabbed at Hindal’s foot as his brother tried to kick him again and twisted it sharply. Thrown off balance, Hindal’s heavy body tumbled sideways and he hit his head on the edge of the metal-bound chest where Humayun kept his most valued possessions — the Koh-i-Nur and his father’s diaries.
With blood trickling from his temple and looking dazed, Hindal hauled himself to his feet. Before he could steady himself, Humayun ducked forward, pitting his speed and momentum against Hindal’s bulk. Hooking his right foot behind Hindal’s left leg, he succeeded in pushing him backwards, falling with him and landing on top. He seized Hindal’s head with both hands, raised it up then brought it smashing down on the ground. Hindal writhed beneath him, trying to dislodge him, but Humayun’s fingers were pressing on his windpipe. Hindal’s breath was coming in great, rasping sobs as he thrashed wildly, almost sending Humayun flying. However, gripping as hard as he could with his thighs, Humayun stayed uppermost and pressed harder on his brother’s throat.
He felt Hindal slacken beneath him and looked down at his face — it might be a trick, one that he’d used many times himself in wrestling contests — but Hindal’s eyes were closed and his face was purpling. Humayun relaxed his grip and rose cautiously from his brother’s prone body, eyes never for an instant leaving him.
Hindal was taking great gulping mouthfuls of air as he struggled to breathe and his hands were clutching at his neck which Humayun could see was already darkening with bruises. After a few moments, he got shakily to his feet, looking like a great bear that had just been worsted in a fight. The cut on his temple was bleeding even more profusely, so that blood was dripping on to the front of his tunic. But the eyes he turned on Humayun were clear, bright and defiant.
‘Take her then. You are the emperor as you never tire of reminding me. But do not expect to see me again. Our alliance is over. Tonight I will take my men and ride from here.’
‘I didn’t want to hurt you. You forced me to. Don’t act rashly. . I never schemed to take Hamida from you. . but when I saw her I knew it was meant to be. . ’
A sneer spread across Hindal’s bleeding face. ‘Meant to be. .? You still don’t understand the minds of men, do you, not even your own brother’s. You inhabit a different world in which you confuse fate or destiny with your own desires and much good may it do you. Goodbye, brother.’ Drawing himself up, Hindal spat slowly and deliberately on the carpet, sending a gob of bloody saliva to land just in front of Humayun’s right boot. Then, without a backward glance, he walked slowly and painfully but straight-backed towards the entrance of the tent, looking to neither right nor left as Humayun’s bodyguards parted to let him pass.