Empire of the Moghul: The Tainted Throne by Alex Rutherford Page A

as one of Parvez’s milk-mothers. Parvez followed close behind but Khurram held back. The woman was garrulous and he wasn’t in the mood for long stories about himself and his brother as children. His tight-fitting coat was heavy and uncomfortable. He flexed his broad shoulders beneath the stiff cloth and felt a trickle of sweat run down between his shoulder blades.
    Instead of following his father, Khurram wandered towards a quieter part of the courtyard where he guessed the more junior women had their stalls. Perhaps there would be a pretty face among them, though for the moment a round-hipped, high-bosomed dancer from the Agra bazaar was absorbing most of his energies. Then Khurram noticed, almost in the shadows of a luxuriant sweep of white-flowered jasmine growing on the courtyard wall, a small stall on which were displayed some pieces of pottery. Behind the stall stood a tall, slender girl. He couldn’t make out her face but he caught the gleam of pearls and diamonds in the long, thick hair that swung around her as she rearranged her goods. Khurram came closer. She was humming to herself and wasn’t aware of him until he was standing just a few feet away. In her surprise her black eyes widened.
    Khurram had never seen such a perfect face. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. What are you selling?’
    The girl didn’t answer but held out a vase painted in vivid blues and greens. It was pretty enough but ordinary. However, there was nothing ordinary about those sparkling, thickly lashed eyes shyly watching him. Khurram felt stupid and tongue-tied and fixed his gaze on the vase, trying to think of something to say about it.
    ‘I painted it. Do you like it?’ the girl said. Raising his eyes to her again he saw she was looking a little amused. She must be about fourteen or fifteen, he thought. Her skin had the soft sheen of the pearls brought to the court by Arab traders and her wide lips were soft and pink.
    ‘I like it. How much will you take?’
    ‘What will you give?’ She put her head on one side.
    ‘Anything you ask.’
    ‘You are a rich man, then?’
    Khurram’s green eyes flashed in surprise. Hadn’t she seen him enter the courtyard and stand by the dais while his father spoke? Even if not, surely everyone knew the emperor’s sons . . . ‘I’m rich enough.’
    ‘Good.’
    ‘How long have you been at court?’
    ‘Four weeks.’
    ‘Where were you before then?’
    ‘My father Asaf Khan is an officer in the emperor’s armies. He was serving in the Deccan until the emperor promoted him to command the Agra garrison.’
    ‘Arjumand . . . I hadn’t meant to leave you on your own for so long . . .’ A woman elegantly dressed in honey-coloured robes whose fine-boned face bore an unmistakable resemblance to the girl’s came hurrying up. She was a little out of breath but when she saw Khurram she drew herself upand inclined her head, saying quietly, ‘Thank you for visiting our stall, Highness. Our goods are simple but my granddaughter made them all herself.’
    ‘They are very fine. I will buy them all. Just name your price.’
    ‘Arjumand, that is for you to say.’
    Arjumand, who had been studying Khurram earnestly, looked uncertain, then said, ‘One gold
mohur.
’
    ‘I will give you ten.
Qorchi,
I need ten
mohurs,
’ Khurram called to his squire, standing a few feet behind him. The
qorchi
came forward and held out the money to Arjumand. ‘No, give it to me.’ The squire poured the stream of gold coins into his right palm. Slowly Khurram raised his hand and offered the money to the girl. The breeze was rising and Arjumand looked as if she were bathed in every colour of the rainbow from the glass globes swaying all around. She took the coins from him one by one. The feel of her fingertips brushing against his skin was the most sensual thing he had ever experienced. Shocked, he glanced at her face and saw in her black eyes the proof that she felt the same. When the last coin was gone he lowered