Empire of the Moghul: Brothers at War Read Free

instigator. The plot was his idea and he persuaded the others to join him, but then he and Askari came almost to blows over which of them was to have the richest provinces. Their men had to pull them apart.’
    Humayun sat down again. Baba Yasaval’s words rang true. His half-brother Kamran, just five months his junior, had made no secret of his resentment that while he had been left behind to govern as regent in Kabul, Humayun had accompanied their father on his invasion of Hindustan. Fifteen-year-old Askari, Kamran’s full brother, would not have been hard to persuade to join in. He had always followed worshipfully where Kamran led despite being both bullied and patronised by him. But if Baba Yasaval’s account was accurate, now he was almost a man Askari wasn’t afraid to challenge his older brother. Perhaps their strong-willed mother Gulrukh had encouraged them both.
    But what about his youngest half-brother? Why had Hindal become involved? He was just twelve years old and Humayun’s own mother, Maham, had brought him up.Years ago, distressed at her inability to bear any more children after Humayun, she had begged Babur to give her the child of another of his wives, Dildar. Though Hindal had still been in the womb, Babur – unable to deny his favourite wife – had made Maham a gift of the child. But perhaps he should not be so surprised at Hindal’s treachery. Babur himself had been just twelve when he had first become a king. Ambition could flare in even the youngest prince.
    ‘Majesty.’ Baba Yasaval’s earnest voice brought Humayun back to the present. ‘My son believed the plot had been abandoned because the princes could not agree. But last night they met again, here in the Agra fort. They decided to bury their differences until they had you in their power. They plan to take advantage of what they call your “unkingly desire for solitude” and attack you when you next go riding alone. Kamran even spoke of killing you and making it appear like an accident. It was then that my son came to his senses. Realising the danger to Your Majesty, he told me what he should have confessed weeks ago.’
    ‘I am grateful to you, Baba Yasaval, for your loyalty and bravery in coming to me like this.You are right. It is a terrible thing that my half-brothers should plot against me, and so soon after our father’s death. Have you mentioned this to anyone else?’
    ‘No one, Majesty.’
    ‘Good. Make sure you keep it to yourself. Leave me now. I need to consider what to do.’
    Baba Yasaval hesitated, then instead of departing threw himself on the ground before Humayun. He looked up with tears in his eyes. ‘Majesty, my son, my foolish son . . . spare him . . . he sincerely repents his errors. He knows – and I know – how much he deserves your wrath and punishment, but I beg you, show him mercy . . .’
    ‘Baba Yasaval. To show my gratitude to you not only for this information but for all your past services I will not punish your son. His actions were the indiscretions of a simple youth. But keep him close confined till all this is over.’
    A tremor seemed to pass through Baba Yasaval and for a moment he closed his eyes. Then he rose and, shaven head bowed, backed slowly away.
    As soon as he was alone, Humayun leaped to his feet and seizing a jewelled cup flung it across the chamber. The fools! The idiots! If his brothers had their way, the Moghuls would quickly return to a nomadic life of petty tribal rivalries and lose their hard-won empire.Where was their sense of destiny, their sense of what they owed their father?
    Just five years ago Humayun had ridden by Babur’s side as they swept down through the Khyber Pass to glory. His pulses still quickened at the memory of the roar and blood of battle, the odour of his stallion’s acrid sweat filling his nostrils, the trumpeting of Sultan Ibrahim’s war elephants, the boom of Moghul cannon and the crack of Moghul muskets as these new weapons cut down rank after