Empire of the Moghul: The Serpent's Tooth by Alex Rutherford

year older.
    His children were so young, so vulnerable, thought Shah Jahan as slowly they made their way from the garden. Though tragedy had overtaken his family he must protect them from its consequences. For the first time since Mumtaz’s death, his mind returned to the war he was fighting. Though he had suffered a mortal wound he must conceal it from his enemies, who would already be scheming how to exploit his misfortune. They might even expect him to leave the Deccan and return in mourning to Agra.
    Shah Jahan frowned. The Bijapurans’ treachery had forced him south. If they hadn’t risen up, he would still be in Agra. Mumtaz would have stayed in the comfort and security of the
haram
to give birth instead of enduring an exhausting journey to this desolate part of his empire. She might have lived … His enemies would die repenting their foolhardiness.

    Shah Jahan looked up reluctantly from the drawings spread out before him. His master builder had followed his guidance but the result looked wrong. The tomb itself seemed dwarfed by its position in the middle of a large square garden. Yet he’d intended the garden as merely the setting for the flawless jewel that would be Mumtaz’s mausoleum. ‘I know the effect I want but I can’t see how to create it … This looks too ordinary. What do you think, Jahanara?’
    ‘I’m not sure … it’s not easy to tell.’
    He looked broodingly at the drawings once more. ‘I asked not to be disturbed. Why are you here, Jahanara?’
    ‘Because I must speak to you. It’s six weeks since my mother died yet I and my brothers and sisters still hardly see you. Neither do your courtiers or your counsellors. I mean no disrespect but I know that my mother would say the same thing if she were still alive. You must not neglect your duties because of your grief for her.’
    ‘How am I neglecting my duties? My commanders have their orders and are in the field against the rebels. We are driving them back. What more do you expect of me?’ He saw Jahanara flinch and softened his tone as he added, ‘Please understand. I can find no rest until I have decided the plans for the mausoleum.’
    ‘I know how much that means to you, but you still haven’t seen your new daughter. You haven’t even given her a name. And now I hear that you intend to send her to Agra to be brought up in the imperial
haram
.’
    ‘You don’t understand. I wish the child to be well cared for, but the thought of her is painful to me.’
    ‘She’s not “the child”. She’s your daughter. At least look at her once before you send her away.’ Without waiting for his answer Jahanara clapped her hands. At the signal Satti al-Nisa entered the room. Cocooned in a soft woollen blanket in her arms was the baby. ‘Majesty.’ She bowed her head, then held the bundle out to him.
    Shah Jahan hesitated. He was on the point of ordering Satti al-Nisa to withdraw, but something stopped him. Slowly he stepped closer and with a hand not quite steady drew back the blanket. The baby was sleeping, one curled fist pressed against her mouth. How could he feel animosity towards such a tiny, innocent creature … Yet he felt no fatherly tenderness. It was as if he had lost the power to feel anything much at all.
    ‘Majesty, the empress often talked about the names you and she might give the child if it were a daughter. There was one name in particular she was fond of,’ Satti al-Nisa said.
    ‘What was it? I don’t recall …’
    ‘Gauharara.’
    ‘Then let it be so.’
    Gauharara suddenly woke and began to thresh about in Satti al-Nisa’s arms, then to wail.
    ‘Take her back to the
haram
.’ Shah Jahan turned away as Satti al-Nisa carried his daughter swiftly from the room.
    ‘Don’t send Gauharara from us, Father. Satti al-Nisa wishes to care for her.’ For a moment Jahanara rested her hennaed fingertips on the coarse-woven cotton of his tunic. Since Mumtaz’s death he had decreed that all the court should wear only