Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The emperor awakened early, as was his custom, and bathed. He spent several minutes in spiritual meditation, but when he arose from his knees expecting to find his breakfast being served, he instead saw his first wife, Rugaiya Begum, enter the room. He thought that she was showing her age for the first time. There were purple patches beneath her fine eyes.

"A word, my lord, before your meal, I pray you. It is most important, or I should not disturb you. Will you walk by the lake with me?" She slipped her arm through his, looking into his face with a silent plea.

He nodded but said nothing, realizing that her unspoken request meant they should go somewhere they could not be overheard. The morning air was sweet and cool. The sun was just rising over the mountains, and mist hung above the placid, mirrorlike waters of Wular Lake.

"My words will shock and certainly anger you, my lord," Rugaiya Begum told him as they strolled along the shore. A mewling gull swooped low over the water looking for a meal. "You must swear to me on the soul of your father, Humayun, that you will not retaliate against the guilty."

"What is so terrible that you must seek to extract such a promise from me, my wife?" he asked her. Salim. It had to be Salim. The source of most of his pain was Salim; but never before had Rugaiya taken his part. Interesting.

"I will say nothing more unless you will swear to me, my lord," Rugaiya Begum insisted stubbornly.

"Then I must so swear," Akbar replied. "I cannot remember ever having you ask such a thing of me, my dear. It must be very serious. It is Salim, of course, but it is not like you to defend him. Why?" It disturbed him to see her looking so distraught, as if she had not slept the entire night.

"Yes, it is about Salim, my lord. But it is about Yasaman too," and then she told him in careful and minute detail exactly what Adali had told her.

Akbar listened, his wheaten complexion growing darker with his rising anger. By some supreme strength of will he managed to remain silent until she had finished her horrific tale; and then he said, "I should have killed him last year when he murdered Abul Fazl. Prince Khusrau is sixteen, old enough and certainly more than competent to be my heir. Was I not myself younger when I became the Mughal, Rugaiya? Everyone has constantly excused Salim his rash ways throughout his life because of his charm; and I have forgiven him time after time because he was my firstborn surviving son and so dear to my heart.

"One year ago he murdered my best friend, for he was jealous of him, always jealous of him. He constantly complained I favored Abul Fazl over him, which was not true. Abul Fazl was my friend, Salim my son and heir. It was our friendship Salim was jealous of, Rugaiya. Now he attempts to involve his innocent sister in an incestuous relationship. He lusts after her as if she were not of his own blood! He must die, Rugaiya. There is nothing else for it but that he must die!" Akbar's face was anguished as he pronounced the words.

"No, my lord," Rugaiya Begum calmly told him, putting a comforting hand upon his hand. "Salim has good qualities as well as evil ones. He has trained his whole life for the future that will one day be his. In time he will be a good ruler. Abul Fazl's murder was a terrible act. I cannot excuse it, but I understand why the prince acted as he did. You must not have your son's death upon your hands, my dearest lord! Not now.

"The solution to our problem is really most simple. Let Yasaman be married now to the son of Yusef Khan. Let her remain here in Kashmir. Send Salim south and keep him there. Mewar has never been fully subdued. Let Salim work his abundance of energy off there. With a young, ardent husband, it is likely that Yasaman will quickly have children. She will be content and happy. Her brother will be happy for her and forget his evil intentions."

"That he has touched her in so intimate a manner enrages me, Rugaiya!" the emperor said angrily. "He had not the right! Allah! Yasaman is barely past childhood!"

"Yes, and it angers me as well, my lord, but there is nothing that we can do to change what has already happened," she told him sensibly. "Imagine our good Adali, forced to remain in the shadows watching as Salim worked his seduction of Yasaman. He remained silent despite his outrage so that he might save Yasaman from any further assault. If Salim had known he was there, he would have killed Adali himself. Adali kept his head in order to fight Salim another day. We must be as brave and as clever, my husband. Salim must not know that we are aware of this dark passion he harbors for his sister. Right now he believes he must have Yasaman. If he learns we suspect him, he will do what he has to do to fulfill that desire."

"But he will have to know of Yasaman's marriage," Akbar said. "He will ask why I am permitting her to wed at thirteen when the law most clearly says a maid may not marry until she is fourteen. What am I to say to him, my good wife? To say I simply desire it will not be enough for Salim."

Rugaiya Begum smiled. "It is quite simple, my lord. You will tell Prince Salim that you fear for Yaqub Khan's loyalty despite his father's faithful service to you. Tell Salim that you wish to ensure Yusef Khan's family's future trustworthiness by an immediate marriage between Yasaman and his younger son. Tell him that you may eventually make Prince Jamal Darya Khan governor of Kashmir, binding him, his family, and the Kashmiri people even closer to our family. It is a logical and statesmanlike act, and worthy of you, my dearest lord."

Akbar smiled slowly. "I had forgotten how wise and clever you are, Rugaiya. You have spent too many years away from me raising our daughter to womanhood." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I will speak with Yusef Khan this very day and arrange matters. And I will send the lady Juliana to examine Yasaman to be certain that Salim has not violated her innocence."

"Adali shares our secret, my lord, but there must be one other to bear this burden. The priest. Yasaman has been raised within the Christian faith, as her mother would have wanted, but like you, she is eclectic in her religious tastes. Still, we will need the priest's cooperation in preparing her for this very great change in her life."

They swung about to return to the palace.

"Very well, Rugaiya, I will leave it to your good judgment. Let me eat now and then get about my business. Yusef Khan is here visiting his family, so the matter of Yasaman's marriage may be concluded swiftly."

Making obeisance to her husband, Rugaiya Begum sought out Father Cullen Butler, the priest attached to Yasaman's household. He had just finished his morning prayers and, as she had with Akbar, she invited him to walk with her along the lakeshore.

"I need your help, Father Cullen," she said.

"You know you have but to ask, my lady," he assured her in a voice soft with the lilt of his native Ireland.

He was a tall, slender man approaching his middle years. He kept his dark brown hair cropped close and simple in style. His fine blue eyes, however, were always lively and inquiring. He had come to them when Yasaman was in her second year, for Akbar had requested a priest for his daughter's household from the head of the Jesuits in India. Although it had caused a mild stir at the time, the fuss quickly died down. Akbar was known to be interested in all religions, and each of the princes had had priests for tutors at one time or another. Cullen Butler had fit easily into the household. He was fascinated with Indian life and, unlike other priests, did not condemn or criticize. It was quickly discovered that he had a ribald sense of humor, which quite endeared him to the servants.

"For some time now," Rugaiya Begum began, "I have noticed that Prince Salim's interests in Yasaman appeared to be more that of a man attracted to a woman, and less of a brother for his sister. I attempted to thrust these wicked thoughts from my mind. I did not want to believe what my own instinct was telling me. It was totally unthinkable!"

"You have changed your mind, however," the priest said to her, "haven't you, my lady? Why?" His blue eyes were now serious.

"Last night," she told him, "Salim began a campaign of seduction. He entered Yasaman's bedchamber, and … and … Oh! I cannot tell you the wickedness! Had it not been for Adali …" She stopped, unable to continue for the moment.

"Adali caught them?" the priest inquired, striving to get the whole story before the poor woman dissolved into tears.

"Adali had become suspicious of Prince Salim," Rugaiya Begum said, regaining a strong hold on her distress. "He secreted himself in Yasaman's chamber last night and observed all that went on between them.

"The lady Jodh Bai brought Yasaman a Pillow Book yesterday. It had belonged to Candra. She was naturally curious. She was looking through the book when her brother arrived. He suggested that together they might emulate some of the paintings in order that she not be totally ignorant of lovemaking when she marry. He told her that there were ways in which a virgin could obtain great pleasure without losing her virginity."

"Christ's bloody bones!" the priest exploded, much to Rugaiya Begum's shock. She had never before heard him swear so volubly. Cullen Butler looked so fiercely at the older woman that she almost drew back in fright. "Did he breach her maidenhead?" he asked bluntly.

"No! No!" Rugaiya Begum assured him. "Adali swore he did not. Speak with him yourself, Father. He believes the prince waits for a more propitious moment to ravish her completely."

"Something must be done to stop the devil from his wickedness," Cullen Butler said. "What is it you propose, my lady, and how may I help you?"

"I have suggested to my lord Akbar that Yasaman be married immediately. Certainly Salim will desist in his evil if she is happy with a husband."

"And who is the prince you have chosen?" the priest asked.

"Jamal Darya Khan, the younger son of Yusef Khan," Rugaiya Begum said.

Cullen Butler nodded, thoughtful. "A lusty young man, I hear, but loyal to our lord Akbar, like his father. She would stay here in Kashmir," he said almost to himself. "Aye! It is a good choice, my lady. You will want me, of course, to prepare Yasaman for a quick marriage."

"Yes," Rugaiya Begum told him. "She will not be pleased by the news, I fear. We have let her be a little girl for so long, and now suddenly, before she has the chance to be a young girl, we are telling her she must become a woman. You know how Yasaman prizes her freedom. It will be difficult for her to curb that part of her nature, but she will have to once she is married.

"She is still really too young, but we cannot find another way to protect her from Salim. I tell you this in confidence—the emperor is not very well. The events of the last year have taken a great toll upon his health, although he strives not to show any weakness. When he is no longer here, I will not be able to protect my daughter from Salim. None of us will except a husband."

"Aye," the priest agreed, but he was not certain that she was right. Salim was a determined young man who let little stand in the way of his carnal desires. Several years ago he had fallen violently in love with Nur Jahan. Akbar had opposed such a match, not believing that Zain Khan Koka's daughter was a good consort for a future Mughal, despite her beauty. The girl was far too clever to suit Akbar, and outspoken as well. She openly reciprocated Salim's passion. Indeed, she encouraged it, as did her mother.

Zain Khan Koka was one of Akbar's cleverest and most successful generals. Their families had been close for generations. The girl had been half raised in Akbar's house. He had always thought her like a sister to Salim. The emperor felt there was an impropriety in such a marriage, but finally he was prevailed upon to give Salim his way.

"After all," as Zain Khan Koka himself explained to his master, "there is no blood tie between our children, my gracious lord."

Even Salim's beloved first wife, Man Bai, and his second wife, Amara, the Princess of Bikaner, had petitioned the Mughal to give Salim his way in the matter. The marriage had taken place. Now Salim's lusts were directed toward his youngest sister, and Akbar was a dying man. It is not good, the priest thought worriedly.

"How should we approach the princess, my lady?" he inquired of Rugaiya Begum.

"We must wait until my lord Akbar has concluded the match with Yusef Khan," she told him. "He will send for him this very day, as the general is here in Kashmir to visit with his family. I think that if the marriage is a happy one, and the young Jamal proves himself, that the emperor might give him charge over Kashmir in his name."

"Is Prince Jamal not Yusef Khan's youngest son, my lady? What will the others think of such a thing?"

"Surely they must understand that they have not been faithful," Rugaiya Begum answered him. "Besides, only three of Yusef Khan's four sons are still living. Yaqub, the eldest, who cannot be trusted; Haider, the middle son, whom my lord does not trust, believing him to be like Prince Yaqub; and Jamal, the youngest, who has proved his loyalty. Ahmed, the second son, died fighting in a civil war against his uncle several years ago. If my lord puts Kashmir into the keeping of any man, it will be Prince Jamal, providing he continues to be loyal."

Even as Rugaiya Begum and the priest spoke together, Akbar had returned to his apartments. He ate a quick meal consisting of wheat bread and a custard apple, washed down with a cup of hot, sweet black tea. Finished, he rose from his table and, without even seeing his daughter, he called for his horse. Escorted by his bodyguards, he rode back to his own palace nearby on the lake.

Wular Lake. He remembered the first time he had seen it, how he had known instantly that Candra would love this land of cool waters and high mountains. He chuckled to himself remembering how she disliked the heat of the plains and the dust of Lahore; but she had tried so hard not to complain. For Candra, he had built the palace in which his daughter now lived; hiring twice the number of workers ordinarily needed on such a site, paying them twice what they were used to receiving, all in order that the palace be ready for his beloved young wife when she gave birth to their child. It had been here that Yasaman had been born, and she grew up loving Kashmir every bit as much as her mother had. Now he was going to give her in marriage to a prince of this land. She would remain here always, and that was good. Rugaiya was correct. Jamal Darya Khan was the perfect match for their daughter.

Akbar rode up to the royal palace, giving orders to one of his aides as he arrived. "Find Yusef Khan. Bring him to me at once. I will be in my private reception room."

It was early in the day still, and yet the moment it was known that the emperor had returned, officials immediately started besieging him with problems of one kind or another.

"Not yet! Not yet!" he told them, and his dark eyes twinkled. "You are like ants in an anthill, scurrying about filled with your own importance. Are we being invaded in any part of the realm?"

"No, my lord," the officials chorused.

"Is anyone of import ill or dying?"

"No, my lord."

"Then leave me be until after I have spoken with my friend, Yusef Khan," he told them. "And someone bring tea and honey cakes. Is the Grand Mughal to appear niggardly and inhospitable?" He waved them away, and they went. Akbar chuckled. Bureaucrats! It seemed to be impossible to run a government without them; or perhaps bureaucrats were like a parasitic growth developing upon a government instead of on a tree or rotting wood, sapping its strength and vitality until it could no longer function properly. It was an interesting thought.

His private reception room was a cool and pleasant place, its walls decorated with wonderful paintings of court life done in bright, fresh colors. Furnished simply and sparingly, it looked out upon the lake. It was quite remote from the rest of the palace. The only entry to the room was from the terrace, and the other three walls were solid. It was a difficult place upon which to eavesdrop. A servant soon arrived with boiling tea and a plate of freshly made poppy-seed cakes.

"I will serve my guest when he arrives," the emperor said, and the bowing servant departed.

Yusef Khan came without an escort as he knew his way about the palace and its grounds quite well. He had once lived here. "My lord." He knelt and placed the emperor's foot upon his head.

Akbar accepted the obeisance and then told his general, "Rise and sit with me."

Together the two men sat down upon the pillows strewn about a low table. The emperor poured them cups of tea and shoved the plate with the poppy-seed cakes into the center of the table. The amenities observed, he stared directly at Kashmir's former ruler and spoke.

"You have proved your loyalty to me many times over these last few years despite our difficult beginnings. Now I will reward you in a manner you will not have expected. I want your youngest son, Jamal Darya Khan, for my youngest daughter, Yasaman Kama Begum. What say you to that, my good Yusef Khan?"

Kashmir's previous ruler was truly stunned by the Mughal's words. When his own father had died, his uncle had attempted to usurp the Kashmiri throne, but the Mughal had helped him to regain his rightful inheritance. Akbar had asked in return only that Yusef Khan swear his fealty to the Mughal Empire. Yusef Khan had quickly agreed; but then he had reneged on his promise, until finally Akbar had come into Kashmir and taken it away from him.

Nonetheless, he had been forgiven. He had eventually proved his worth as one of Akbar's most reliable generals, but his place in the emperor's court was constantly being endangered by his eldest son, Yaqub. His son Haider was equally rebellious, but he was also a coward.

His youngest son, Jamal, however, had become the joy of his father's life by virtue of his noble behavior. Now both he and the boy would profit by it. Akbar's words, in effect, told him that Kashmir would eventually be ruled by his family again, although as a vassal state. It was enough!

"My lord! There are no words that can possibly express the joy your words have given me! I am astounded that you would honor my family so. I swear to you on my son's behalf that the princess Yasaman will be treated like the young queen she deserves to be!"

"I am told your son has a small zenana, but no consort, Yusef. Is this true?" Akbar asked, coming directly to the point. "Yasaman must be her husband's first consort; the mother of his heir. No Imperial Mughal princess can accept a lesser portion in life."

"Jamal has no wife, and only five women in his zenana, sire. None has been with him for very long. There are no children yet," Yusef Khan told his lord.

"Is there any one woman who holds his heart?" Akbar demanded. "Tell the truth, for I will learn it eventually. I do not want Yasaman unhappy. She can adjust as long as she understands what is involved. I would like it if your son could love her, but I realize that such a thing may not be possible."

"Jamal is a charming young man, very much like his late mother," Yusef Khan said. "To my knowledge, no one woman enthralls him. The reason his zenana is so small, and the women in it of recent purchase, is that he becomes easily bored with his maidens."

"Is he not virile, then?" the emperor inquired. Frequently a man had difficulties and blamed his women for the problem.

"He is, I have heard, quite virile," Yusef Khan replied. "I believe his restlessness stems from boredom. I do not think that any woman has ever intrigued him enough to win his heart. I cannot guarantee that he will love your daughter, my lord. You know as well as I do that arranged marriages are usually nothing more than alliances for land, or gold, or power. Your daughter is young. Why not just allow her the opportunity to fall in love? She is the last of your children and not important dynastically."

Akbar sighed deeply. "If such a choice were available to me, Yusef Khan, I should gladly take it; but alas, it is not. I must take you into my confidence, my friend. I have not been well for several years now. Indeed, I believe I may be dying. I want to see my daughter wed, and perhaps I may even see one of her children before the thread of my life is snapped. I dare not leave her fate to her brother. Salim adores Yasaman and, indeed, has often stated that no man is worthy of her. Such an attitude, while charming, is, I am sure you realize, very impractical. Yasaman could easily end up an ancient maiden. No, Yusef Khan. My daughter is meant to marry and have children, and if God so wills it, a husband who loves her. She has been raised away from my court. While she realizes her place, her life has been a simple one, and she is happiest here in Kashmir.

"A union between our children could cement relations between our families for generations. It would make Kashmir truly an important part of my empire. What greater gift can I offer your people than my own dear daughter? Tell me, Yusef Khan, do you believe your son Jamal is capable of ruling Kashmir in my name?"

"He is intelligent, my lord," Yusef Khan answered, the blood singing in his ears, "and he knows how to be loyal."

"Then perhaps if the marriage between our children is a happy one, and if it prospers, Jamal Khan could find himself governing here for me," Akbar told his general calmly. "Shall we begin the marriage negotiations then, Yusef Khan?"

The general nodded. "I will this very day obtain my son's consent to this marriage, my lord."

When Yusef Khan had departed, Akbar considered his own position. During the years of his rule he had been responsible for a number of civil reforms. Unwilling participants could no longer be simply bartered off in marriage by greedy families. The consent of both the bride and the bridegroom, as well as that of the parents, had to be obtained before a settlement could even be discussed. There was a tax for the license, the cost of which depended upon the financial status of the parties involved. He would charge himself twenty muhrs for Yasaman's marriage tax; double that of a rich man. But first he had to convince his youngest daughter that this marriage was in her best interests, and that she could be happy with Prince Jamal.

He suspected it would not be an easy task. Yasaman, overly protected by them all, was not really ready for marriage. And Salim would have to be sent away, lest he make some attempt to thwart his father's plans for his sister. Akbar had no fear that Prince Jamal would not consent to the match. At twenty-three the young man would fully understand the great opportunity being offered to him. He was intelligent, if his father was to be believed.

The prince would have surprised his overlord greatly if Akbar had been privy to the conversation between Yusef Khan and his son later that morning. Kashmir's former ruler had been rowed across Wular Lake to his son's palace. There he found Jamal Khan having a late morning meal upon the terrace. Yusef Khan forced himself to move slowly, with the dignity expected of his station.

"Dismiss your servants," he ordered Jamal Khan, and when they were finally alone, he said, "The Mughal wants you as husband for his youngest daughter!" His voice was pitched higher with his excitement than it normally would have been.

"No," said the prince, and helped himself to a bowl of pomelos that had been peeled and sectioned.

"No?" His father looked astounded.

"No," Jamal Khan repeated, and popped a piece of the juicy fruit into his mouth.

"Why?" demanded Yusef Khan. "Have you fallen in love with another woman?"

"There is no woman who claims my heart," Jamal Khan told his father, "but I am not of a mind to marry the daughter of the man who stripped my family of its inheritance—the man for whom you go to war, not in your own interest, my father, or in that of Kashmir's, but in the interest of the Mughal Empire."

"Listen to me, Jamal, my son. I have never admitted this aloud to a living soul, although it has eaten at my heart these many years. I dishonored the name of this family, may Allah forgive me. In the year in which you were born, my father, Ali Khan Chak, died. My uncle, Abdal Khan, sought to usurp me. I fled to the Mughal court to seek the emperor's help; and he gave it to me because I swore that once I regained Kashmir, I would be his most loyal vassal.

"So I was restored to my throne, my uncle driven away, but I did not do Akbar the homage I had promised him. He sent for me several times, and although I promised I would come, I did not; nor did I have any intention of coming. I believed Kashmir too far from the Mughal court for Akbar to be further bothered with us; but he persisted.

"Finally I sent your brother Haider to the Mughal court, but the emperor, who was now in Panjab and practically at our back door, summoned me once again. This time I sent your eldest brother, Yaqub, but it was still not enough. Yaqub fled the emperor's court without his permission. Akbar had frightened him by venting his outrage at my behavior before him. The emperor then sent an army to Kashmir, and we lost our lands. Perhaps my eventual obeisance would have restored our family's fortunes, but your brother Yaqub spent several years rebelling and fighting with the Mughals, to atone, he believed, for his former cowardice. They sent a harsh governor to rule over us in retaliation. You surely remember how hard a time that was.

"All of this came about because of my dishonorable actions. I had given my word to Akbar that I would accept him as my overlord. I broke that word. Now, however, our family has the opportunity to regain what was once ours. Akbar has said plainly that if this marriage is a successful one, he will appoint you to govern Kashmir in his name."

"But what if this match you two old men propose is not happy, my father? What then? Must I spend the rest of my life dancing attendance upon some spoilt Mughal princess so that Kashmir be ours once more? Let my brother Yaqub, who was once your rightful heir, or my middle brother Haider, marry the girl and regain Kashmir for us."

"The emperor wants you, Jamal. He did not ask for one of my other sons. He named you specifically. Besides, both Yaqub and Haider are too old for her and have grown children. Yasaman Kama Begum must be her husband's first consort, and the mother of his heir," his father told him firmly.

"I am unhappy to disappoint you, my father, for I honor you above all men," Jamal Khan replied.

"You will not disappoint me, my son," Yusef Khan replied calmly. "You will remember how well I did my duty twenty-four years ago when I married the daughter of one of my minor officials who was dying, as the poor girl had no family to care for her."

The prince flushed at this mention of his mother's marriage.

"I did not need another wife, my son, but my duty bid me to honor a dying man's wish. To my surprise, your mother proved a delightful companion, and then she bore me you. I did not really need another son, Jamal, nor would you be here this day had I not honored my obligations. Not honoring another obligation cost me Kashmir. Be reasonable, my son. You must have a wife. It is past time for you to settle down and give me grandchildren. An Imperial Mughal princess! Think on it, Jamal! You will have an Imperial Mughal princess for your wife."

"I am thinking on it, Father. It fills me with dread. What if this girl is ugly? Or bad-tempered? Or worst of all, stupid? I cannot be a stud for the emperor's favorite little mare, even for Kashmir! What am I to do if we do not like each other?"

"You will do what all men in that position do, my son," Yusef Khan told him wisely. "You will make a compromise with yourself. You will be mannerly and gallant to your wife, and once you have produced a son or two, you will take another wife; always remembering to honor the good woman who is the mother of your heirs. It is not necessary to like a woman to couple with her. I have never particularly liked Yaqub's mother, but I have always honored her with my respect."

"I want to love my wife," Jamal Khan stubbornly told his father.

"You are a true Kashmiri romantic, my son," was his father's smiling reply. "Do not despair over this marriage, Jamal. I have never heard anyone say a bad word about the princess. Indeed, I am told she rewarded a local fisherman with exclusive rights to fish the waters by her palace because he saved her cat from drowning. A selfish or spoiled girl would not have done such a thing. It shows thoughtfulness on her part. It is very possible that you will learn to love your bride.

"While you are thinking of what all of this will mean for you, Jamal, think of Yasaman Kama Begum. She is not, from what I have heard, a stupid girl who will blindly accept a marriage to just anyone. Do you not believe her doubts and fears over this marriage are similar to yours? A marriage is between two people, and can only be successful if they both want it to be. Nor is one person alone responsible for the happiness or the tragedy that befalls a marriage. I think your women have spoiled you into believing you are a special fellow," Yusef Khan concluded.

"I really have no choice, have I, Father? I must give my consent to this match," the prince said gloomily.

Yusef Khan nodded. "You must, but it is not, I suspect, a fate worse than death, Jamal. I will send to my lord Akbar immediately. Together you and I will visit the palace. Shall we decide now what presents will be part of the sachaq? I realize this is my responsibility as the father of the bridegroom, but I thought perhaps you would like to have a hand in selecting the articles we will send to Yasaman Kama Begum."

"The princess follows Islam?" Jamal Khan was surprised. "So many of the Mughal's wives are Rajput that I assumed this princess would be also."

"There is some mystery about Yasaman Kama Begum's mother. She has been raised by the lady Rugaiya Begum, the Mughal's first wife, who is of Islam, so I assume the girl follows the Prophet's way. I do not think my lord Akbar would object if you asked him about the princess's true mother, my son. He will understand you seek to learn about your bride's heritage so you may understand her."

Yusef Khan dispatched a messenger to the palace with the news that the prince Jamal Darya Khan had given his consent to a marriage between himself and Yasaman Kama Begum. The messenger returned with an answer. The emperor would see Yusef Khan and his son late that afternoon. Together father and son began the process of selecting betrothal gifts for the royal bride.

Akbar was elated to receive the consent of the Kashmiri prince—not that he thought for a moment that the young man would not give his consent. No man in his right mind would dare to refuse the Grand Mughal's daughter as a wife. Akbar called for his horse and, with his bodyguard beside him, rode back to his daughter's palace, which was but two miles distant.

Rugaiya Begum greeted him, looking distressed. "Salim is here, and he is with Yasaman," she told her husband.

"They are not alone?" Akbar replied anxiously.

"No. Rohana and Toramalli have been given strict instructions," she said.

Akbar put a comforting arm about Rugaiya Begum. "Jamal Khan has given his consent to a marriage between himself and Yasaman. We must now gain Yasaman's consent, and quickly! Take me to her, my dear."

"What will you do, my lord?"

"Wait and see, Rugaiya, and do not be surprised by anything I do. Salim thinks he is ready to step into my boots, but I am a far better tactician than he will ever be, though I am old and ill." The emperor followed his wife through the little marble palace and out onto the wide terrace that faced the lake. There he saw his son and daughter seated upon a couch, their dark heads together as if they were plotting some mischief. "My children," his voice boomed out genially, as always.

"Papa!" Yasaman pulled away from her brother and, rising, ran to kiss her father.

"Good day, my rosebud!" Akbar said gaily. "I bring you the most wonderful news!"

"Father." Salim arose, quickly wiping the surprise from his features, but not before Akbar had seen it. Coming to his father, he knelt, putting the emperor's foot on his head as a sign of homage.

"Shaikho Baba, my beloved son!" Akbar said, and, bending, lifted his son up and kissed him upon both cheeks. "It is good to see you. Your mother told me that you were here. Why did you not join us last night for your sister's birthday celebration?"

"Forgive me, Father, but I was not certain how I would be received by you. I did not wish to spoil Yasaman's birthday," Salim answered honestly.

"I have pardoned you, Shaikho Baba, and what is past is past," Akbar replied, sounding, to Rugaiya's surprise, as if he actually meant it. "I am glad you are here because I have wonderful news for Yasaman. You are to be married, my daughter! I have found you a lusty young prince to be your bridegroom. What think you of that, my rosebud?"

I am to be married! They have found me a prince!For a moment her heart soared with delight, and then Yasaman grew afraid. "What if the prince doesn't like me, Papa?" she said.

"How can he not love you, my darling?" her father reassured her. "Even now his heart is beating faster with the knowledge that you will soon be his; and I know that he, too, is wondering if you will love him. He is a young man, Yasaman, and you will be his first consort. The mother of his sons. Will you give your consent to this match, my daughter? You will be so happy, I promise you!"

"Who is this prince?" Salim demanded, unable to keep the jealousy from his voice. Yasaman could not marry. She was his!

"He is Yusef Khan's youngest son, Jamal Darya Khan, Shaikho Baba. When he weds with Yasaman, I shall give them Kashmir to rule in my name and yours. What think you of that, my son? I have secured our northern flank most effectively for generations to come. I can attain security and happiness for both my beloved children with one stroke. Tell your sister she must give her consent, for I know how she values your opinion, Shaikho Baba. This handsome man will make her very happy."

Salim felt the rage welling up within him, and for a moment he actually saw a red haze before his eyes, so great was his anger. Yasaman! His Yasaman! She was being taken away from him! He wanted to shriek with frustration, but he could not. The marriage would make no difference between them. When his father died, Yasaman would be his, and no one, not even a Kashmiri prince, would prevent it.

With a supreme effort he forced his fury back deep within his soul, and smiling at his sister, said, "This is a fine thing our father has done for you, little monkey! By all means accept this prince for a husband. When I think on it myself, I can think of no prince better suited to you. You love Kashmir, and now it will be yours. You will remain here forever, which I know will please you, with your dislike of our dusty plains and hot summer weather."

Her nerves made her hesitate. She begged her brother once more, "Are you certain I should accept this marriage, Salim?" Her heart-shaped face looked up at him anxiously.

"Of course he thinks you should," Akbar said jovially, "don't you, Shaikho Baba?"

"Yes, of course you should accept," Salim said heartily through gritted teeth. His lips were turned up in a smile, but his eyes hid his angry thoughts. Somehow, he realized, his father had maneuvered him like a puppet to cooperate in this business. He had had no other choice. Helplessly he swallowed his fury.

"I am so happy for you, my daughter," Rugaiya Begum said, adding her voice to the discussion. Yasaman turned, and Rugaiya's heart cried out to her child.

"Mama Begum, oh please tell me what I should do."

Rugaiya Begum shook her head. "My daughter, this decision must be yours alone. Remember, however, that it is a woman's fate to marry. Your father has chosen a mate for you whom he believes will make you happy. I knew Prince Jamal's mother briefly in the years before her death. This young man loved and honored that lady. He is good-hearted. I believe him to be a perfect husband for you."

"I know you would not lie to me, and so I will accept this prince for a husband; but I need to have you near me. Will you stay here in Kashmir with me, Mama Begum?" Yasaman begged.

Rugaiya Begum cast Akbar a look that plainly told him she would acquiesce to her daughter's request; and then she said, "Do you think I intend being in Lahore and Agra when my grandchildren are in Kashmir? Of course I will remain here, Yasaman!"

The joy in the girl's young face almost broke her parents' hearts. How they loved her! Salim's face was not quite as happy, although he continued to smile. Yasaman turned to her father. "I will accept Prince Jamal Darya Khan for my husband, my lord father," she said formally.

Akbar kissed his daughter on both of her cheeks, relief pouring through him. Although he had pretended confidence to assure Rugaiya, he had not really been certain that he could pull off this coup. Salim was so unpredictable—but then he caught his son by surprise, allowing him no time to think up excuses for Yasaman not to marry Prince Jamal. Now he must get Salim out of Kashmir so that he could engineer a quick wedding ceremony between his daughter and her intended husband. Seeing the dark, lustful looks his son was casting in his sister's direction, Akbar thought the quicker the marriage was celebrated and consummated, the better. Yasaman was really in jeopardy.

The Grand Mughal returned to his own palace to meet with Yusef Khan and his son. He wanted to talk seriously with this young man who was to be his son-in-law. Jamal Khan must understand how very precious Yasaman was to him and to the future emperor. He must not think he could mistreat her. Suddenly the Mughal found himself worried at the haste with which this marriage must be accomplished.

Akbar was encouraged, however, by his first glimpse of Yusef Khan's son. Jamal Khan was tall; indeed he was at least two inches taller than the emperor himself. His skin was pale gold and fresh-looking, and he had the body of a man accustomed to regular exercise. Good! Akbar thought. He is obviously not one of these effete princes, like so many in the south. The young man's hair was black as night, and his doe eyes a meltingly romantic deep brown, typical of the Kashmiri men. His features, Akbar noted with pleasure, were excellent. He was, in fact, extremely handsome; his forehead and cheekbones high, his nose slim and classic, his lips full, his chin oval in shape. The children of this union should be gorgeous, the emperor considered, and he was pleased.

"My gracious lord!" Yusef Khan knelt, touching his head to the floor before Akbar's feet.

Jamal Khan, however, looked Akbar directly in the eyes before emulating his father's behavior. He said nothing.

Proud, Akbar thought to himself. He is proud. I can see that although he has given his consent, he is not happy with this situation. That was interesting. Any other young prince would be falling all over himself to become the Mughal's son-in-law. I will have to know why he is so reticent, Akbar decided.

"Arise," the Mughal told his guests. "Let us sit and talk."

The three men settled themselves around a table upon which servants placed a large bowl of fruit and cups of steaming green tea from China, The tea had the fragrance of peaches. The servants withdrew.

"Introduce me properly to your son, Yusef Khan," Akbar said, and the general complied.

Jamal Khan greeted his overlord politely, but cautiously.

Never one to beat about the bush, the Mughal said, "You have, your father tells me, given your consent to this marriage; yet I sense you have reservations. Tell me what disturbs you. I will answer all your questions truthfully and try to soothe your fears. This is a good match for you and my daughter, Yasaman, as well as for Kashmir."

"So it would appear, my lord," Jamal Khan said quietly. His voice was musical and in the medium range tonally. "But you are correct. I am hesitant."

"Would it be the natural hesitancy of a lusty young man about to take a wife, Jamal Khan?" the emperor said, and his dark eyes twinkled.

Jamal Khan laughed. "Perhaps, my lord, it is. To be frank with you, I am not sure I am ready to be a husband."

"No man ever is," the emperor replied with a chuckle. "What else troubles you?"

"Nothing really troubles me, my lord, but I should like to know a little more about the princess. I know the lady Rugaiya Begum has raised her, but it is said that she is not the lady who gave life to Yasaman Kama Begum. Is this so? Who did give birth to your daughter, and why did she not raise her own child?"

"Yasaman's mother was an English lady of a wealthy and noble family." Akbar sighed deeply, and then continued with his tale. He spoke quietly, but the sorrow was visible in his fine dark eyes as he did so.

"A day has not gone by since Candra was taken from me that I have not thought about her. I loved her. My love for her has never changed, though fate parted us," he sadly concluded. Then Akbar paused, and looking at the prince, asked, "What else do you wish to know, Jamal Khan?"

Yusef Khan sent his son a beseeching look. He was frankly embarrassed to have been allowed this very private glimpse into his lord's secret soul. Cease! the look begged, but Jamal Khan ignored his father and instead said, "What faith does the princess follow?"

"Like her father," Akbar replied, "she has been taught the tenets of every known religion. She takes what she deems good from each, but such a faith has no name unless you would call it tolerance. She has also been taught scholarly subjects by a priest, Father Cullen Butler. He will remain with her household as long as it pleases her."

Jamal Khan nodded and said, "You say she has been taught scholarly subjects. What are they?"

"Languages, for one," Akbar answered. "She speaks Arabic; Hindi; the dialect of Kashmir; her mother's tongue, English; Portuguese and French—the Western tongues having been taught her by the priest who also instructed her in a language called Latin, which is not generally spoken today in Europe except in the Church. It amused him, however, to teach her. She can read and write in all those tongues. She knows mathematics and astronomy. She plays several instruments and dances beautifully." He smiled. "Although she is young, she is an amusing conversationalist. You will never be bored with her."

"My son." Yusef Khan had finally regained his voice. "I think you have asked our lord Akbar more than enough questions."

"He has not asked me the most important question of all, Yusef," the Mughal teased, seeing his general's distress, but impressed by Prince Jamal's determination to learn what he felt he needed to learn. Akbar looked at the prince and asked, "Do you not wish to know if she is beautiful, Jamal Khan?"

"It would not, I think, make any difference, my lord," the prince replied honestly. "This is a political match, is it not?"

"Most matches among our class are, Jamal Khan," was Akbar's equally honest answer. "I have forty wives and most of them were foisted upon me. One of my brides I lusted after in my youth, and forced her husband to divorce her so I might have her. Unfortunately, the passion faded quickly. Too often passion does, and if there is nothing else there, it is sad for both parties involved. But there was always something to like, I found, in each woman. I sought it out and concentrated upon it. Rugaiya Begum, Yasaman's foster mother, is very dear to me. She is my cousin and we grew up together. Prince Salim's mother, Jodh Bai, the Amber Princess, was a delightful surprise. I fell in love with her, and I have never stopped loving her. So, too, with Candra."

"Does the princess look like her mother?" Jamal Khan inquired.

Akbar thought for a long moment, and then he said, "Yes and no. Candra had beautiful hair that was rich, red-brown in color. I had never seen anything like it before, nor have I since. Her eyes were green, and her skin fairer than any I have encountered in a lifetime. The English are not sallow folk like the Portuguese women. My daughter, however, has night-black hair, and her eyes are the color of line turquoise. Her skin is fair, like heavy cream, but not quite as fair as her mother's. Her face is shaped like a heart, unlike Candra's and mine, but she does have her mother's full mouth and long, slim nose. She has my look in her eyes, which are almond-shaped; and the mole I bear between my upper lip and left nostril, although the mark upon her is, of course, smaller, more feminine."

"Is she beautiful?" Jamal Khan asked, now frankly curious.

"You will judge for yourself, my young prince," the emperor told him and arose from his seat. "We will go secretly to Yasaman's palace, where you may observe her without her knowing you are there." Akbar walked swiftly from the room, giving orders as he went.

Both Yusef Khan and his son, surprised, scrambled to their feet and followed their overlord. Horses were brought, and the distance between the two palaces was quickly traveled. The emperor sent a mounted messenger ahead to warn Rugaiya Begum of his coming. She met them at the entrance to Yasaman's palace.

A most handsome women, Yusef Khan thought, as Rugaiya Begum salaamed to her guests, her large hands together in a gesture of obeisance. "My dear lord, you come at a most inopportune time. Yasaman has just gone to her bath," she told her husband and his companions.

Akbar smiled, obviously not in the least disturbed by her announcement. "Excellent!" he said. "The prince has come to see for himself if Yasaman is beautiful. What better place than her bath to discover this?"

"My lord!" Rugaiya Begum was frankly shocked.

"Once," the emperor said, boldly ignoring her and addressing his companions, "I observed Candra in her bath. It was before we came together as man and woman. I must admit that despite my great experience with women at that time, it still whetted my appetite for her fair flesh." He turned back to his wife. "You will lead the way, my dear, and then see that one of Yasaman's serving girls encourages her mistress from the bath, that Prince Jamal may observe our daughter in all her natural beauty. She will ravish his heart, I am certain, for all her youth."

Adali came to greet the emperor, and Rugaiya Begum instructed him of Akbar's wishes. The eunuch's eyebrows twitched just slightly, to the Mughal's amusement. Adali was a very proper fellow, and the overeagerness to serve he had possessed in his youth had, in his middle years, given way to just a touch of pomposity.

The high steward of Yasaman's household was a half-caste, the product of a liaison between an Indian mother and a French seaman father. He had been gelded in his youth when a famine made it necessary to sell him into slavery. His bilingual abilities had made his fortune when Candra had been introduced into the zenana of the Grand Mughal. Candra spoke neither Arabic nor Portuguese, but she did speak French. Adali's French, although a cruder version of his mistress's, allowed Candra to assimilate into the zenana with the eunuch acting as her translator. When Candra had been returned to her native land, Adali had been appointed high steward of Yasaman's household. He watched over the princess scrupulously, and, Akbar thought, if a eunuch could feel paternal, Adali's feelings toward Yasaman Kama Begum were certainly that of a father for a beloved child. The Mughal could not be jealous, though. It pleased him to have his youngest child surrounded by such caring people.

"There is a wall of jasper carved like a screen that faces the steps leading down to the princess's bathing pool, my lord," Adali said. "It is possible for you and your guests to secrete yourselves behind it without being observed, yet you will be able to see the princess. My lady knows the way. I will go ahead and instruct Rohana in your wishes." He bowed politely and, turning, glided smoothly off.

"Adali is the high steward of my daughter's house. He and all her servants will stay with Yasaman," Akbar said. "I think you will be quite pleased with Yasaman's dowry."

"My household could use someone with discipline," Jamal Khan noted, looking about him at the cleanliness and order of this place. The housekeeping in his own palace left a great deal to be desired, but that was because since his mother had died there was no one to instruct the servants. That was a wife's duty, but the prince had no wife. He was beginning to see advantages to this marriage that he had not seen before.

"We must speak softly lest Yasaman hear us and be embarrassed," Akbar instructed them.

"It is not really necessary that I go with you," Yusef Khan said. He was very uncomfortable with the situation, although he realized that the emperor was cleverly overcoming his son's reluctance by showing him the princess as only a husband should see her. Still, he would never be able to look his daughter-in-law in the eye if he saw her so. "Princess Yasaman's beauty and goodness are well-known," he finished lamely.

"Apparently not to your son," Akbar replied, amused. He fully recognized his general's discomfort and respected his sensibilities. Still, he could not resist teasing him a bit further. "Do you not want to see that the girl is perfect, Yusef?"

"No, my lord," came the agonized reply. "I accept your word in this matter, as I do in all things."

Akbar chuckled. "Go through there," he said, pointing to a wide arched opening. "You will find a cool breeze upon the terrace, and we will join you shortly, my friend."

Yusef Khan gratefully complied.

"Well now, my son," the Mughal said, his voice heavy with unspoken meaning, "shall we go observe your bride in all her glory? You will not be disappointed, Jamal Khan."

"Her beauty will be appreciated, my lord, but I am not so young or so unfamiliar with women that I am not aware there must be more between a man and wife for the marriage to be happy. My father took my mother as a favor to a dying friend. He thought her beautiful and sweet, but she was, in fact, quite clever. She caught his interest immediately, and she held that interest her entire lifetime as his wife."

"You loved your mother," Akbar said, as a statement of fact, not a question. "It is good for a man to love and respect his mother. It is the woman who gives a man life; who nourishes the man in his early years; from whom he learns his first, and perhaps most important lessons. Love and respect my daughter who will be the mother of your sons, Jamal Khan, and you will be a contented man. My own mother has often been a thorn in my thumb, but she is wise. She loves me above all others, and I love and honor her above all others."

Rugaiya Begum now led them through a door, her fingers going to her lips as she warned them to silence. The room into which they entered smelled heavily of jasmine flowers. They stood motionless behind the carved jasper screen, allowing their eyes to become used to the filtered sunlight and the rich perfumed steam rising from the bathing pool.

"Look," the emperor said softly, and then he discreetly turned away.

Jamal Khan stared intently at the girl who rose up from the water, walking halfway up the flight of stairs that led out of the pool, pausing a moment to grasp her long black hair and wring it free of moisture.

"Let me, my princess," a pretty young serving woman said, coming forward to help her mistress. She quickly pinned the girl's hair atop her head with several ivory pins.

Yasaman stood facing the carved screen, totally unaware she was being observed. She gracefully raised her arms above her head, as was her habit, when Rohana came to sponge her off. Her breasts, quite breathtaking for one so young, thrust forward, their nipples pert and rosy.

She was tall, Jamal observed, with wonderful long legs and slender, high-arched feet. None of his women were tall. If he held her in his arms, where would her head reach? Her waist was so tiny, he thought, he could probably span it with his hands, but her hips were wonderfully voluptuous. Her smooth thighs were firm-fleshed, and the mound between them plump, the groove separating her nether lips a deep slash of mauve shadow. To his surprise he felt his own body responding to her, and he flushed. She was only a virgin, he told himself. But what a virgin! his inner self replied.

She smiled at something her servant said, and he was treated to a glimpse of even, white teeth, not yet stained with betel, as were the teeth of so many women. He had thought her beautiful as she stood there, but when she smiled she was extraordinary. If there had been any doubts in his mind about the match, they were now swept away by his sight of the exquisite girl standing so artlessly before him in her innocent nudity.

Akbar watched the series of emotions as they were exposed so unconsciously upon the handsome face of Jamal Khan. His eyes met those of Rugaiya Begum, and she nodded so slightly that had it been anyone else, he would not have noted her approval. Akbar put a firm hand beneath the prince's elbow and guided him from the room.

"You are satisfied, Jamal Khan? As you can see, my daughter is flawless and without blemish."

The prince nodded, struggling to find his voice. "When?" he finally managed to ask.

"As soon as it can be arranged," the emperor told him.

Jamal Khan's senses now cleared. He was once again filled with questions. "Why the haste? The girl is only thirteen, and the law says she cannot be wed until she is fourteen."

"The haste," Akbar said smoothly, "is because my daughter has a suitor—she is not aware of him, of course—among the Afghan tribes. There are some who think I should marry her off there for the sake of peace. But the northern tribes are a contentious lot. It would not be of any use to give them my precious daughter. Once she had gone through the Khyber Pass, she would be lost to me. She is gently bred and would not survive in such barbaric surroundings.

"My son, Salim, has only recently brought me word of a plot to kidnap Yasaman for this tribal prince. The conspirators are men of Islam, however. If Yasaman is married elsewhere, they will give up their pursuit of her.

"Your father and I will give it out that this was a match made between us several years ago, with the wedding scheduled now because you cannot wait to claim my child, so great is your love for her. I can waive the law. As you saw, Yasaman already has the body of a woman, even if she has yet to know a man."

Jamal Khan nodded. "She is beautiful," he said, almost to himself. "It would not be far from the truth to say I cannot wait to possess myself of her loveliness, my lord."

"Then we may proceed with the formalities, Jamal Khan?"

"Yes, my lord! The sooner the better!"

"Then let us go and tell your good father, for he is a man who worries constantly. I would not want to be the cause of sending him to an early grave. He will be as eager as I to enjoy the grandchildren this match will bring for both of us." They exited out onto the terrace, and Akbar said enthusiastically, "Yusef, my friend! We are to have a wedding!"