Empire of the Moghul: Ruler of the World by Alex Rutherford

Author:Alex Rutherford
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2011-05-11T22:00:00+00:00

‘I am curious. What did this man Ghiyas Beg look like?’ asked Hamida.

‘He was tall and thin and the robe he was wearing was too small for him. His big, bony wrists were sticking out,’ Salim replied.

‘And he is a Persian?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why has he come here?’

‘To seek my father’s help.’

‘What did he ask for?’

‘Employment in the service of the Moghuls.’

‘Tell me exactly what he said.’

Hamida listened intently, and when Salim had finished was silent for a while. ‘Life is a strange thing,’ she said at last. ‘So much that happens to us appears random, yet – like your grandfather, my husband Humayun – I have often discerned patterns running through our existence as if at the hand of a divine weaver at the loom . . . You know that a seer’s blood runs in my veins. I thought that the power to see into the future had left me long ago, but while you were speaking I suddenly thought that one day this Ghiyas Beg might become important to our dynasty. There are strange parallels between his story and some of what previously befell our own family . . . You say that he has come from Persia with his fortunes in the dust after nearly abandoning his newborn child. As you know, a similar desperate plight once forced your grandfather and me to go to Persia to seek the shah’s help. We too were nearly destitute. But far worse than that, your father, then just a baby, had been stolen from us.

‘Picture the scene when we crossed into Persia . . . We had barely eaten for weeks and had no idea whether Shah Tahmasp would even let us remain in his kingdom. But when he learned of our arrival he sent ten thousand cavalrymen to escort us to his summer capital. Servants dressed in purple silk embroidered with gold walked ahead of us sprinkling the road with rosewater to keep the dust from rising. At night we slept in brocade tents on satin couches scented with ambergris, and attendants served us over five hundred different dishes as well as delicate sherbets chilled with ice brought down from the mountains and sweetmeats wrapped in gold and silver leaf. After every meal, we were presented with some fresh gift – singing birds with jewelled collars in cages of solid gold, an image of Timur in his summer palace in Samarkand painted on ivory that I still possess. But though we wanted the shah’s assistance, we refused to behave like suppliants. Your grandfather made him a great gift – greater than anything ever presented to him before. It was the Koh-i-Nur diamond, the “Mountain of Light”.’

‘Why did my grandfather give the diamond to the Shah?’

Hamida smiled, a little sadly, or so it seemed to Salim. ‘You must understand how it was. Indeed, it’s a good lesson for you. Think how hard it was for him to throw himself on another ruler’s mercy. By offering the shah the Koh-i-Nur diamond he redressed

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