The Crows of Agra

by Sharath Komarraju

  Perhaps.

  Salima Begum herself, trapped in an unhappy marriage to a man so much older than herself, in love with the emperor for seven long years, knowing that if she were to follow her husband—as she must—she would never see Akbar again. Did that push her past the edge?

  Perhaps.

  What of Atgah Khan? He who admits to being jealous of his old friend. If at all Bairam Khan had enlisted Atgah Khan’s help to spark yet another revolution against the emperor, and if he had promised him a plum place—as vizier, maybe—then they would have met at Bairam Khan’s room that night.

  Certainly the fact that Bairam Khan asked all his servants to leave suggested two things: one, that he was not scared of his guest, and two, that he wanted the meeting to be private, out of hearing range of prying servants. If Atgah Khan had indeed gone to visit Bairam, then could it be that the meeting turned for the worse, enough for the two men to draw arms?

  Perhaps.

  Ruqaiya Begum, the kind, soft-spoken empress. The woman with the sweet smile. The only person in the palace who addressed him as Mahesh Das ji.The woman with the stained fingertips, painter of carpets, the childless one. Why did she return to Bairam Khan’s room? What did she find on her first visit that she thought she should remove from the scene? And when she got caught, she artlessly lied to him. If he could find out what she had come back for—or better still, if he could find it before her—then he would be closer to the truth.

  Mahesh Das ran a light fingernail over the pink spots on his cheek. Another thought struck him. Could it be that Ruqaiya Begum had not come to retrieve something from the room but to add something to it? He thought about it, his long, dark fingers snaking and wriggling on the skin of his cheek.

  Perhaps.

  Another thought struck him.

  There were six crows in all, each one as dark as the other. Akbar had said there were seven, that he, Mahesh Das, was one of them too. He smiled, a hint of malice appearing on his lips. If he had been capable of wielding a weapon, he would have been a thief that no one could ever catch. He examined his hands. In texture they looked like those of a woman, but in size they belonged to a giant.

  No, he told himself. There were only six crows. A seventh, or even an eighth or a ninth, one might emerge in the future sometime, but for now, there were only six.

  Six was puzzling enough!

  A knock sounded on the door.

  A servant announced, ‘Guard Govindram is here to see you, sir. He says that he has taken your permission to visit your chambers at noon.’

  ‘Let him in.’

  * * *

  His guess had been right. Nazneen was indeed the brown-eyed girl he had seen at Gulbadan Begum’s chamber. Govindram walked a step behind her, his spear clutched under the crook of his arm, pointing out to the front. He held his helmet in one hand, and Mahesh Das saw that the man was not as young as he had seemed in the morning. He had a balding head, thinning black hair that was going grey at the ends, and wrinkled, spotted skin, especially around the eyes.

  The girl, too, did not look as beautiful as she had the day before. Yes, she was bright of gaze and light of foot, but her arms had no shape to them, logs of wood they were. She had high, defined cheekbones, though, with pink spots.

  She bowed to him and said, ‘Salam-alaikum, sahib.’

  He nodded at them both. ‘Govindram tells me that you have been gabbing about Khan sahib’s death. Is that true?’

  ‘Gabbing about, sire?’ She turned to look at Govindram accusatorily. ‘I do not say anything that I do not believe to be true. Govindram knows that, I am certain.’

  ‘Perhaps your belief of truth has nothing to do with the truth itself,’ said Mahesh Das, and suddenly realized that he had been speaking to her as a master to a slave. Three days in the palace had changed him. In a softer voice, he said, ‘I was telling Govindram that I am one of you people, a mere villager. I am not a royal.’

  Suspicion clouded her eyes. ‘You certainly speak like one.’

  ‘I must beg for your forgiveness,’ said Mahesh Das, ‘I’ve had a lot on my mind the whole morning. I pray that you allow me to take back my words.’ He did not bow to her—that would be taking it too far—but he did bow his head slightly, enough for her features to soften.

  ‘I am but a lowly servant maid, sir, for you to ask for my forgiveness.’ She held her head high as she said this.

  Mahesh Das waved her to a chair.

  She sat without the grace of a lady, but in her own way, she had poise in the way she rested her hands on her lap.

  Mahesh Das stood on the other side of the table between them, forcing her to look up at him. ‘Now tell me what it is that you saw, Nazneen.’

  She began at once. ‘I saw Adham Khan and Shamsuddin Khan both enter Khan Sahib’s chambers that night.’

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what was the time then?’

  ‘Right on the tenth gong,’ she said without blinking. ‘I had just heard the gong when I saw Shamsuddin Khan arrive, and a few minutes later, Adham Khan came. They both went into Bairam Khan’s room.’

  Mahesh Das frowned at the girl. ‘What were you doing there at that hour, may I ask?’

  A hint of hesitation flickered on her brow. ‘I went there to meet one of the stable boys.’

  ‘Can you give me his name?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Nazneen. ‘His name is Ahmed.’

  Mahesh Das thought about it, and for the moment decided not to push. He would, of course, ask Govindram to find the boy, just to see if Nazneen was speaking the truth.

  ‘Go on. You saw them both enter the regent’s room. Did you, by any chance, see what happened inside?’

  ‘No, my lord,’ she said, ‘but I heard their voices.’

  ‘Words?’

  ‘No. Voices.’

  ‘They were not exchanging pleasantries?’

  ‘Not at all. They spoke quite passionately. Once or twice we heard Khan Sahib yell at the top of his voice.’

  ‘And you did not hear either of the others yell back at him?’

  Her eyebrows were knit into a frown and her fingers curled around the edge of her green kurti. ‘They…did not yell, sir, for sure. But I still heard their voices. It was as though they were trying to placate Khan Sahib. They spoke in softer, lower tones; at least that was how it seemed from the other side of the wall.’

  ‘That would have been a queer conversation. Bairam Khan yelling and Adham Khan being the voice of reason.’

  Nazneen smiled. This is a woman who had never been outside the protective walls of the harem, thought Mahesh Das. She knows nothing of outside world, nothing of the streets and the battlefields, of blood and sorrow. Only such a person could smile this way.

  ‘I thought the same too,’ she said. ‘I have seen Adham Khan pay visits to the harem now and then, sire, and he has a cruel gaze. Even Gulbadan Begum, she tells me, “Nazneen, you can crawl into bed with any man in the palace, but keep away from that one.”’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘My lord?’

  ‘Do you crawl into the bed with any man in the palace whose name is not Adham Khan?’

  Nazneen narrowed her gaze at Mahesh Das, and her ruby-red lips spread in another smile, this one less innocent than the last. ‘Not even the emperor takes Gulbadan Begum’s waiting women against their wishes, sir. You are new here at the palace, perhaps you did not know.’

  ‘Continue,’ he said, lowering his gaze. ‘How long were they there for?’

  ‘Not too long,’ she said. ‘Perhaps until the eleventh gong. Shamsuddin Khan walked out first, and then about ten minutes later, Adham Khan left.

  ‘And they, of course, did not see you.’

  ‘No, sir, of course not.’

  ‘After they left, did you hear or see anything else around Bairam Khan’s room?’

  ‘No, sir,’ she said, doubtfully. ‘But then, a man would not speak to himself in a loud voice, would he?’

>   ‘So you heard nothing from the room after Adham Khan left.’ Mahesh Das pulled back the chair and sat on it, leaning forward to look Nazneen in the eye. ‘And you left immediately after Adham Khan left?’ he asked.

  ‘I…was about to, sir. But then, Salima Begum came there, just before the half-gong after the eleventh. She ordered us to return to our chambers and went to Khan Sahib’s room.’

  Mahesh Das sat back and folded his arms.

  ‘And then? Something happened in a few minutes, did it not?’

  ‘Yes, sahib.’ For the first time that morning, something akin to fear clouded Nazneen’s fair face. ‘We…we heard her scream. It was a scream straight from hell. We rushed to the room. The door was shut. We pushed it open and then we saw what had happened. I sent the boy to get help. Salima Begum was lying next to Khan Sahib’s body. And…and Khan Sahib was…dead.’ She looked at him. ‘It scared the daylights out of me, sire, and all I could think of was running away, but I took Salima Begum in my arms and checked for her breath. Inshah Allah, she was still breathing.’

  Mahesh Das fell silent for a while. Finally he asked softly, ‘Now tell me, how much time passed between Salima Begum entering the room and you hearing her scream?’

  Nazneen looked uncertain. ‘Perhaps two minutes, sire, no more than that.’

  ‘What happened after that?’

  ‘The boy returned after sounding the gong with a shawl of some sort, and we covered lady Salima in it and carried her to the courtyard.’

  ‘Do you remember the order in which people came to the corridor?’

  Nazneen frowned. ‘No, sir, but I think the ladies came first, Maham Anga and Gulbadan Begum. The emperor was the last to arrive, I think.’

  Mahesh Das felt his head begin to pound. He turned to Govindram, ‘Ruqaiya Begum has not returned to the room, has she?’

  ‘No, sahib.’

  ‘And neither has anyone else sought to enter?’

  ‘No, sahib.’

  ‘I presume you have placed a guard there in your absence.’

  ‘I have, sahib, a trusted associate of mine.’

  There was something about the Begum that made his brain churn. He remembered the scent of lilies when he had stood by the window in her room. What was it about that should bother him so? That tingling memory told him that if he could run after it and grasp it, if he could tear it open and look under the shell, it would tell him more than anything else. The truth was still tangled in a fine latticework of questions.

  ‘Thank you for telling me all that you saw, my lady. You have given me much to think about.’

  She coloured at the way he addressed her, and looked down at the floor.

  ‘From now on, do not tell anyone about what you have just told me. I warn you for your own sake, Nazneen.’

  ‘Yes, sahib.’

  ‘Take the lady back to her quarters,’ he said to Govindram.

  Nazneen bowed and followed Govindram out of the room.

  Mahesh Das sat motionless, staring after the closed door for a long time.

  The mind of a fox.

  Bah, he spat.

  Twenty Five

  ‘OUR PREVIOUS CONVERSATION was interrupted, sir,’ said Salima, showing Mahesh Das to one of the cushioned cane chairs.

  ‘That is precisely why I came back, Begum,’ said Mahesh Das. He did not bother to extract the emperor’s seal. They all knew him by now.

  He bowed and took his seat. After a moment, Salima Begum took hers too, opposite him, and waved away her servants.

  ‘And today, you shall ask me about that night.’

  ‘As you would be, I am certain, eager to tell me,’ he said. ‘But I have a couple of questions to ask you about Bairam Khan’s room, my lady, if you permit.’

  ‘Yes. Go on.’

  ‘I found a smattering of black iron dust at the base of the cabinet, under the weapons. Have you noticed it?’

  Salima Begum’s face seemed to go blank for a second. Then she nodded. ‘Yes, yes, of course. Bairam wanted to get the weapons sharpened the day before, and the sharpener had come with his file. But you know how it is, sir, they do never finish the job without spilling something, whether they are chefs, servants, or blacksmiths.’

  Mahesh Das smiled. ‘I see. And there are the two broken candle stands. Have you noticed them?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Salima. ‘They were broken just a few days ago by one of our servants. Aseem is his name. He was scrubbing them clean one moment and the next he had dropped them. We were going to get them repaired, but as you know, we were meant to go away, so we saw no reason to do so since we were not going to live here.’

  Mahesh Das looked around him. The room was spotlessly organized, nothing seemed to be out of place in this chamber, and yet Salima Begum could tolerate living with ugly, broken candle stands for a few days.

  ‘You were telling me about the night before, my lady,’ he said.

  Salima Sultan Begum pursed her lips. ‘Perhaps we should let dead people lie in peace, sir, and not rake up the past.’

  ‘But my lady, if Bairam Khan’s killer is not caught, the emperor’s life will not be out of danger.’

  ‘You know as well as I that the emperor is in no danger whatsoever.’ She trained those cat-like eyes on him, and held his gaze for long enough to embarrass him and make him look away. ‘So what is your game, Mahesh Das? The emperor knows you, likes you. You have what you want. Why are you still running around, asking questions of the royal family?’

  The tone had changed. There was no ‘sir’ at the end of her questions any more. He was once again just ‘Mahesh Das’.

  ‘The emperor wishes that the killer be caught, Begum,’ he said, ‘I merely do his bidding.

  If you could tell me what happened after you left the Imperial rooms. It was at the eleventh gong, was it not?’

  ‘A bit after the eleventh gong,’ said Salima. ‘Just before the quarterth actually.’

  ‘And by the time you reached the regent’s chambers, it was nearer the half gong?’

  ‘Just so.’ Salima cleared her throat. ‘I was delayed because I stopped at the entrance of the corridor, when I heard two of the servants canoodling with each other.’

  ‘These were the same servants who attended to you, were they not?’

  ‘Yes. I ordered them back to their chambers because it was getting late.’

  ‘And then?’

  Almost as if struck a physical blow, though, her face changed. ‘I…I walked down the corridor... and as I approached the door, something struck me. There are no guards, I told myself. And when I stepped in…’

  Her face had drained itself of every bit of life. She looked like she was going to waste away in front of him.

  ‘My lady!’ he said softly, springing to his feet, and signalling to the waiting girl frantically.

  But Salima went on, like a ghost. ‘The door was open. I entered and the first thing I see…is him…face down on the ground.’

  She reached for the goblet of water the girl had brought in. A couple of gulps improved her appearance.

  ‘I…I do not know how long I stood there, watching him, waiting for him to just get up and talk to me.’ She bit her trembling lower lip. ‘But he did not get up. And I don’t remember anything after that.’ She brought her hands to her face and let out a cry of anguish.

  Two waiting women came and sat on either side of her, one whispering soothing words into her ear, the other pressing her hand. Both looked at him with disapproval. You have made her cry, they seemed to say, now leave her alone.

  But Salima Begum recovered quickly enough to Mahesh Das’s relief. ‘I do apologize for my state, sir,’ she said, ‘but my husband of seven years has been taken away from me. I trust you can understand if I appear in a state of bother.’

  ‘I understand, Begum, I do.’

  ‘What was I saying?’

  ‘You were telling me that you don’t rem–‘

  ‘Yes. Yes. The next thing I remember is waking up
in the gazebo.’

  ‘Was the emperor already there?’

  ‘No, sir. Maham Anga and Adham Khan were the first to arrive. Gulbadan Begum came next. Then Shamsuddin Khan and the emperor came. Then Ruqaiya Begum. And then you, of course.’

  Can you tell me anything else that happened that night? Did you see anyone, find anything that made you wonder?’

  She began to shake her head, but stopped.

  ‘Yes, my lady?’

  ‘It was something I heard in passing at the dinner.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘I did not mean to, of course, but I had just finished eating, and went out to the balcony to catch some fresh air, and just ahead in the garden, amid the bushes, I heard them speaking to one another…no, more like arguing.’

  Mahesh Das edged forward in his seat. ‘Whom did you see, Begum?’

  ‘Maham Anga and her son, Adham Khan. They seemed to be at odds with each other. But then again they are at odds with each other all the time.’

  ‘You heard some of their words, perhaps?’

  Salima Begum nodded. ‘I did. I only caught a few words, and I cannot be certain that my ears have got them right. I have been thinking over it, and with Adham Khan’s note found in Bairam’s coat pocket, it just feels terrible.’ Her eyes welled up again. She pushed the veil to one side and dabbed them with a handkerchief. ‘Maham Anga was telling Adham Khan that Bairam was not planning to leave for Mecca the next day. Adham Khan seemed a bit agitated, as he generally is. He got angry at his mother a few times. I could not hear all his words but he distinctly said, “then we must finish the job tonight.” I, of course, could not tell then understand what job they were referring to.’

  ‘And now you are certain?’

  Salima Begum thought about it with her head cocked and then shrugged. The breakfast card had just been wheeled into the chamber. The aroma of steamed potatoes and garlic wafted through the room. Mahesh Das involuntarily grimaced. Garlic was one of those things that he could not stand, whether here in a royal chamber or out on the streets of Agra. It had been the one arguing point between him and Bihari. The bandit loved it in everything.

  ‘Is it not obvious that they were referring to killing Bairam Khan?’ she said.