Empire of the Moghul: Ruler of the World by Alex Rutherford Read Free Book Online Page A

above all others, an insidious thought had begun squirming in his brain – that perhaps his regent had become so enamoured of power he couldn’t bear to relinquish it . . .
    Akbar was still musing when later that night, returning to his apartments, he saw an old woman waiting outside with his
qorchi
. ‘Majesty, this woman has been appointed the
khawajasara
, keeper of the
haram
here in the palace, and she wishes to speak to you,’ said the squire.
    The old woman’s raisin eyes were still bright in her wrinkled face and there was a smile on her lips. ‘I served your father, Majesty, and I tended his concubines when he was a young prince,’ she began. Then she paused, and it seemed to Akbar that she was scrutinising him with some interest.
    ‘Have you something you wish to say to me?’ The night air seemed hot and heavy, and Akbar was tired. For a reason he couldn’t quite fathom, he felt uneasy under her penetrating gaze.
    ‘Majesty, you now have many women in the
haram
here, sent in recent weeks by chieftains and rulers wishing to win your favour.You have a physique that is the envy of many grown men and admired by every woman. I thought you might wish me to send one of the girls to you, or perhaps you would prefer to choose one for yourself?’
    Akbar stared at her, blushing and shifting from foot to foot. It was a standing joke of his milk-brother Adham Khan that although nearly fifteen Akbar hadn’t yet lost his virginity. Plenty of young women – even his mother’s attendants – had tried to catch his eye in recent months. Each time he had felt bashful. He wasn’t quite sure why. Was it because as emperor he didn’t wish to appear inexperienced or foolish in front of anyone, even a concubine? Yet time was moving on. He had fought his first battle as emperor and was becoming a man. It was time to enjoy a man’s pleasures and also to satisfy the curiosity that Adham Khan’s endless smutty jokes and boasts of his own sexual prowess had roused in him. The
khawajasara
’s eyes were still fixed on him and he sensed that she too knew he’d not yet been with a woman.
    ‘Let me choose for you, Majesty,’ she said.
    Akbar hesitated, but with pulses racing and a hardening in his groin, only for a moment. ‘Very well,’ he said in what he hoped was a measured, experienced manner.
    ‘Will you come to the
haram
, Majesty?’
    Akbar thought about all the eyes and ears that would be watching and listening if he did. The
haram
here in the Lahore palace was where all the women of the imperial household were lodged, including his mother, his aunt and his milk-mother. At the thought of their amused speculations, however affectionate, he flushed again, ardour cooling. Then he made up his mind. Now was the time. ‘No. Send her here, to my apartments.’
    The old woman padded briskly away down the long corridor, torchlight from sconces on the walls lighting her way. Perhaps she had been a beauty once, maybe even one of his father’s concubines. Akbar had often heard that before his marriage to Hamida, whom he had loved to the exclusion of all others, Humayun had been a great lover of women, with many concubines.
    Dismissing his attendants, he waited alone, pacing his apartmentsgripped by a mixture of excitement and apprehension. As the minutes passed his nervousness began to get the upper hand. He would send word to the
haram
that he had changed his mind, he decided. He was just moving towards the tall double doors of polished mulberry when they opened and his
qorchi
stepped inside. ‘Majesty, the girl is here. The keeper of the
haram
says she is a former concubine of the Raja of Talkh who prized her greatly and sent her hoping she would please you also. Her name is Mayala. Shall I send her in?’
    Akbar nodded. A moment later a tall, slim form wrapped in a hooded dark purple robe slipped in through the doors, which closed behind her. The hood was pulled low so her face was in shadow as she came towards him and