Alex Rutherford - Ruler of the World

He rose to his feet and spread his arms, as if taking every man in the room into his embrace. All around the pillared hall rose cries of ‘Long life to Jahangir!’ Such sweet music to his ears.

‘Leave me,’ Jahangir ordered his treasurer and the attendants who had accompanied him down the long flight of stone steps to the iron-bound wooden door leading into the treasure chamber concealed beneath one of the stables in the Agra fort.

‘Are you sure, Majesty? It is very dark inside the chamber until the lamps are lit and the ground is dank and slippery.’

‘Give me your key and leave me a torch, but I wish to be alone here.’

The treasurer handed over an intricate iron key on a leather thong while a servant passed Jahangir his burning torch of rags dipped in oil. Jahangir waited until the footsteps had receded back up the staircase and he was indeed alone in this dank, earthy-smelling place. He could still scarcely believe the extent of his wealth. The lists of imperial jewels that his treasurer had prepared for him amounted to nearly three hundred and fifty pounds in weight of diamonds, pearls, rubies and emeralds alone. ‘Over six hundred and twenty-five thousand carats of the most precious gems, Majesty,’ the man had pointed out, running his practised finger down the columns, ‘and semi-precious gems too numerous to count, never mind all the gold and silver coin.’

It was childish of him, but Jahangir had hardly been able to contain his eagerness to visit one of his treasure houses. He turned the key in the solid, well-oiled lock, pushed the heavy wooden door open and, holding the torch high in his left hand, peered inside.

The chamber was very dark but as Jahangir entered something glimmered in the purple shadows. He held the torch yet higher and on the wall to the left of the door noticed a double row of arched niches where oil lamps had been placed. He lit the lamps from the torch, thrust the torch in a sconce, then looked around him. The chamber was larger than he’d anticipated — some thirty feet long — and the ceiling was supported by two handsome carved sandstone pillars in the middle.

But what caught his attention were four giant domed caskets on trestles against the back wall. Advancing slowly, he opened the lid of the first to find a mound of blood-red rubies as big as duck eggs. He took a handful and stared at them. How magnificent they were — the queen of gems. For a moment, he saw Mehrunissa’s face as she had dropped her veil. Rubies would suit her and now he was emperor he could give jewels to whoever he chose. . indeed choose anyone for his wife. . Tipping them back in, he closed the lid and moved on. The next box contained dark green emeralds in all shapes and sizes, some cut, some uncut. The third box held sapphires and diamonds from the world’s only mine in Golconda in the Deccan, while the fourth was filled with loose pearls. Plunging in his arms up to his elbows, Jahangir felt their lustrous coolness against his skin.

To the right of the trestles, Jahangir saw open sacks of corals, topazes, turquoises, amethysts and other semi-precious stones heaped casually on the ground. Even just these would be enough to finance an army for a year. . Suddenly he was laughing aloud. This treasure house held just a tiny fraction of his wealth — it was nothing compared with those in Delhi or Lahore, the treasurer had assured him. Still laughing, Jahangir seized a sack and tipped its contents on the floor, then another, then another, mingling the different coloured gems promiscuously. Then when he had accumulated a great pile he flung himself down on them, rolling from side to side. He was emperor now. A Hindu sage had written that nothing was more disappointing than achieving your heart’s desire. Well, he was wrong. Jahangir flung a fistful of gems into the air and watched them flash like fireflies in the lamplight.

An hour later, Jahangir emerged blinking into the bright April sunlight, still as light-headed as if he’d been drinking wine or taking opium, but the sight of Suleiman Beg’s anxious face drove all frivolous feelings from him.

‘What is it?’

‘Treason, Majesty.’

‘What do you mean? Who would dare. .?’

‘Your eldest son. As you know, three days ago Prince Khusrau rode out of the Agra fort.’

‘I know. He told me he was going to spend some time at Sikandra superintending the construction of my father’s tomb. I gave him instructions for the builders.’

‘He was lying. He never meant to go to Sikandra. He’s riding north for Lahore, rendezvousing with his supporters as he goes and bribing new ones to join him. He must have planned this weeks ago. Aziz Koka is with him. The reason I know all this is that Aziz Koka tried to induce your brother-in-law Man Singh to join the rebels but he had the sense to refuse and to bring me word of the plot.’

Jahangir was barely listening as his mind raced. ‘We can overtake them. Have a detachment of my fastest cavalry prepared. I myself will lead them. I have waited so long for what is mine that I’ll let nobody seize it from me. Those who defy me will pay in blood, whoever they are. .’