Empire of the Moghul: The Serpent's Tooth by Alex Rutherford Read Free Book Online

strength and cunning.

    ‘Look at those kites circling over there,’ Mumtaz said to Shah Jahan as they stood with their arms around each other on one of the screened balconies of the Burhanpur fort, watching the sun set orange through the dust haze on the horizon. ‘Some poor animal must be dying out there on the plain.’ Shah Jahan nodded. It was becoming a common sight. The monsoon rains had still not come. The trees silhouetted against the sunset were stark and leafless. There was scarcely a blade of grass to be seen and all the crops had withered. The normally broad Tapti river was reduced to a muddy trickle. Man and beast struggled to get precious water from the stream and its few surrounding green slime-fringed puddles. Domestic beasts as well as wild ones were dying now, their carcasses dried husks of skin and bone on the dry earth.
    According to reports from outlying villages people too were beginning to die, most from starvation, others killed by tigers driven by hunger from the mountains and jungles to gorge empty bellies on human prey. Some country people, hollow-eyed and skeletal, had made their way to Burhanpur, babies sucking at their mothers’ shrivelled, and milkless breasts. He had ordered them to be given what food could be spared from the commissariat’s limited supplies but his soldiers had to be his first priority with the rebellion still unquelled. Perhaps the latest sweep of the country on which he was embarking the next day with a division of his horsemen would succeed in bringing more of his enemies to battle on his terms than he had done previously. By changing his tactics and leaving his heavy weapons and infantry behind, he would enable his column to move faster and respond more flexibly to the feints and raids at which his enemies appeared so proficient. What’s more, the very mobility of his new force might allow him to approach closer to the rebels before being detected.
    As if divining the direction of his thoughts, Mumtaz broke into his introspection. Looking up into his face, she asked, ‘Why must you lead the troops tomorrow? After all, most of the army will remain here and you have competent commanders enough. Why can’t you trust them with the task?’
    Shah Jahan smiled. It was a question he had debated with himself, so he had a ready answer. ‘I must go because my presence will hearten our men and I believe overawe many of the country people, some of whom may sympathise with the rebels, who are making them extravagant promises. I will wear my grandfather Akbar’s gilded breastplate and helmet. He always told me that an emperor must project an image of power and authority beyond that of an ordinary man and that his people would love him for it. He proved the wisdom of his assertion time and time again.’
    ‘But there is a risk in making yourself so conspicuous, isn’t there? Don’t forget you are as susceptible as anyone to weapons and wounds.’
    ‘I know that I am as mortal as any man. To delude myself otherwise would be a first step to disaster and perhaps madness, but I must bear the increased risk for the sake of the empire and our dynasty.’
    Looking down at Mumtaz in the gathering dusk he saw from her expression that she was not fully convinced so he added quickly, ‘Besides, I will take care, and my equipment and bodyguard are the best there could be.’ As he spoke the last rays of the sun dipped beneath the dusty western horizon. He bent and kissed Mumtaz. How much he had to lose.

    Rai Singh flung himself from his horse and hurried towards Shah Jahan. ‘Majesty … we surprised a small group of Bijapuran horsemen as they rested after their midday meal. They were sheltering from the heat in the shade of a deserted herdsman’s hut. Two got away – one who was guarding their horses and a second who had wandered off to relieve himself and somehow reached his mount – but we captured the rest. Look, they’re coming now.’
    Shading his eyes against the metallic