Without pausing for reflection which might dampen his resolution, Salim pushed his way through the assembled courtiers lingering around the doorway of the room to debate the move to Lahore. As soon as he was out in the courtyard, he ran past the fountains bubbling and glinting in the noonday sun to his father’s private quarters. Once through the carved wooden doors that the guards opened immediately to him, Salim saw his father unbuckling his ceremonial sword. Suddenly he felt his confidence dip and hesitated, uncertain what to say or indeed whether to leave as quickly as he had come. However, his father had seen him enter and asked, ‘Salim, what do you want?’
‘To know why we are leaving Fatehpur Sikri,’ Salim blurted out.
‘It is a good question and a fair one too. If you sit on that stool over there and wait a moment while I change my clothes I will give you the answer you deserve.’
Salim sat on the low gilded stool, nervously twisting a gold ring given to him by his mother which he habitually wore on the index finger of his right hand. His father completed his change and washed his hands and face in a gold bowl of rosewater held out by one of his young attendants before dismissing them with a wave of his hand and sitting down on another stool near his son.
‘Why do you think I decided to move the court to Lahore, Salim?’
For a moment Salim was lost for words as if overcome by his temerity in questioning his father about a major decision. Then he stammered, ‘I don’t know. . I was so surprised that you wished to leave a city that you yourself had built only recently at such cost to honour the great seer Shaikh Salim Chishti as well as to celebrate the birth of my brothers and myself and your great victories in Gujarat and Bengal. . I could not think why. That is why I came to you. . to find out. . I heard one of the courtiers say something about the water supply. .’
‘It’s not the water. That problem can be solved. And put out of your mind any thought of the cost of this city. Our empire is now so rich that money spent in the past should not and does not play any part in decisions about the future. I intend the consequences of my move to be greater power, greater wealth for the empire — enough to build ten, even a hundred Fatehpur Sikris.’
‘What do you mean, Father?’
‘Your great-grandfather Babur wrote that if a king does not offer his followers the prospect of war and plunder, their idle minds will soon turn to thoughts of rebellion against him. I have myself come to realise that if a monarch doesn’t fix his mind on conquest, neighbouring rulers think him weak and it’s only a matter of time before they contemplate invading his lands. The reason for the move to Lahore is that I intend to broaden the boundaries of our empire once more.’
Exhilaration mingled with relief in Salim. His father’s thoughts were on conquest and external wars, nothing else. ‘You must mean to expand our northern dominions if you base our command centre in Lahore. But in which direction?’
‘In all directions in due course. The rulers of Sind and Baluchistan have long been a threat to us and it wounds my pride that the Shah of Persia seized Kandahar during the time Bairam Khan was regent and I have yet to recover it. Nevertheless a wise ruler, however powerful, takes on only one enemy at a time and I have decided that my first campaign should be in Kashmir.’
‘Aren’t the rulers relations of ours?’
‘Yes. Haidar Mirza, a cousin of my father, seized the land in Sher Shah’s time and later ruled it as a vassal of my father. But his descendants — perhaps presuming on our shared blood — have refused to pay us homage or tribute. Now they will learn that there can be only one head of a family and that if he is to preserve his authority, not to say his throne, he must treat disrespect with equal severity, whether shown by those like the Uzbeks whose ancestors were long foes, or those closer to him.’ Akbar paused and Salim saw an icy look in his eyes. Then his father went on, ‘Indeed, the latter may merit harsher treatment given their disregard of their obligations. Think only of your grandfather Humayun. He would have saved himself much trouble if he had dealt more severely with his half-brothers when they first showed him disrespect.’
Even though he knew his father’s words were aimed at the rulers of Kashmir, not at any closer relation, Salim felt an involuntary shiver.
Salim looked out from the swaying howdah on the large elephant that was plodding at the end of the line of imperial elephants upwards through the Vale of Kashmir. Now that the early morning mists had lifted, Salim could see, over the heads of the line of horsemen flanking the elephants, glossy green-leaved rhododendron bushes bursting into pink and purple flower on the rolling hillside. Spring came late to Kashmir but when it did its beauty made the wait worthwhile. Scattered among the emerald-green grass, red tulips and mauve and purple irises stirred in the gentle breeze.
The move to Lahore had gone smoothly. Even his mother had found little to complain about in her new quarters, which were as airy as those she had left in Fatehpur Sikri and had the added advantage of overlooking the Ravi river. Taking his courage in his hands once more, he had asked his father whether he might accompany the expedition to Kashmir since at nearly fourteen years of age he wished to learn something of military matters. To his great joy and a little to his surprise, Akbar had agreed, even suggesting that he should choose one of his companions to accompany him. He had picked Suleiman Beg, one of his milk-brothers. Almost the same age as Salim, he had just returned from Bengal with his father who had been deputy governor there for some years. His mother had died in Bengal and Salim had little memory of his milk-mother. Suleiman’s strength belied his slight frame and he was always ready to join Salim in trials of skill or in hunting expeditions. His ready sense of humour could always coax a laugh from the other boy, even in Salim’s darker moods when he was preoccupied with what the future might hold for him.
Despite agreeing to his accompanying him, Akbar still rarely invited him into military council meetings. However, unusually, the previous evening he had done so. When he had entered his father’s great scarlet command tent, he had found Akbar already speaking and the council’s discussion well under way. Scarcely pausing, his father had gestured to him to take a seat at the left-hand end of the circle of commanders sitting cross-legged on some rich maroon and indigo Persian carpets in the middle of the tent.
Even before Salim had sat down, Akbar had continued, ‘. . so from these reports from our scouts and spies we can clearly expect to encounter a vanguard of the Sultan of Kashmir’s army in the next day or two when the valley broadens out a little. We must be ready for them.’ Turning to Abdul Rahman, the tall, muscular officer who several years ago had taken over from the ageing Ahmed Khan the role of khan-i-khanan, Akbar had said, ‘Have the officers check their men’s weapons this evening. Double the sentries round our camp tonight. Deploy a full screen of scouts about our column when we move out in the morning, which we will do much earlier than usual — an hour after dawn. You yourself will command our leading troops, which should include some of our best squadrons of horsemen and mounted musketeers.’
‘Yes, Majesty. I will treble rather than double the number of sentries. And I will ensure that each sentry post has trumpets and drums to warn of any attack under cover of the mist which usually comes up in the morning. I will also order officers to make their rounds of the posts every quarter of an hour.’
‘Do so, Abdul Rahman.’
‘So that I can ensure your protection, Majesty, in what part of the column will you take your place tomorrow morning?’
‘I will lead the war elephants, but the greatest protection should be given to the rear of the elephant column. My son Salim will ride there. It will be his first battle. He, and of course his brothers, are the future of the dynasty, the guarantee that our empire will continue to prosper. I have asked him to join us today so that he can hear us make our plans.’ Salim had felt the eyes of his father’s commanders swivel towards him as Akbar asked, ‘Perhaps you have something to say to the council, Salim?’