1637: The Peacock Throne, стр. 18
Gervais gave her a long look. “My lovely daughter: always encouraging her father to ever-greater accomplishments.”
Bertram tried to head off their banter before it made a darker turn. “Perhaps later, Monique?”
She favored him with a smile and let it go. “As you wish.”
“Right, now we’ve established you aren’t hungry or thirsty, what news?”
Bertram leaned on the table with both hands, examining one of the maps Gervais had commissioned. “Dara has ordered the Banjaris to stop transport of all supplies to the armies of his brothers.”
“Finally,” Monique said. She’d been present when Jahanara had begged him to do just that—nearly a month ago.
Both men looked at her, but it was Papa who spoke: “A new monarch needs to avoid giving orders that will not be obeyed. Just because an order is given does not mean it will be followed.”
“If they want to be paid, Dara holds the purse strings.”
“Dara has access to the largest treasury, not all of it. His brothers have incomes and war chests of their own, saved against this very moment. Not only that, they have experienced and loyal courts full of warriors ready to fight for them.”
When she didn’t seem moved by those arguments, Gervais went on. “Besides, a great number of the Banjaris are strung out between here and Dara’s brothers. What happens to them, and those actually in camp with Aurangzeb or Shuja, when the supplies stop?”
“Historically, the dynasty has proven very lenient toward those serving a princely master who subsequently loses, especially when those people really only declared for the losing prince because they had no choice, being in their power.”
“But—”
She cut Gervais off. “This is not any of the courts of Europe, Papa. Princes here are expected to vie for control even before the succession comes to question, and so long as no one outside the dynasty tries to take power for themselves, changes of allegiance are seen as acceptable, even expected. It is yet another advantage Dara has—if he’ll just use it! His treasury is massive, and neither of his brothers have anything comparable to the fortune at his fingertips. He also has all the imperial bureaucrats standing by, ready to do his bidding…”
Bertram cleared his throat. “Not all, Monique. Some have left the city. He has had the khutba said in his name, but only just ordered coins minted in his name, and was slow to confirm or remove the people in high positions under Shah Jahan. In the uncertainty, some left for greener pastures they imagine they’ll find with either Shuja or Aurangzeb.”
Papa crossed his arms across his chest and cast a knowing look at her, a good sign he was struggling to find some way to refute her points.
Bertram was looking at her with clear admiration. “I take it Jahanara is an excellent instructor on court politics?”
She nodded, smiling. “And I, an excellent student.”
“Without question.”
Despite herself, Monique blushed.
“Stop that, you two,” Gervais said, glowering.
“Stop what?” they asked, in near unison.
Papa threw up his hands. “Just get it over with!”
“Get what over with?” she asked.
Gervais directed his words at Bertram, though: “You clearly wish to court my daughter.”
“Papa!” she cried, so loudly she nearly missed Bertram’s far quieter response.
“I do.”
“You do?”
Bertram nodded, emphatic.
“Of course he does, girl! And now that I formally accept his designs on you, we can all get on with business without you two failing—miserably, I might add—to pretend you are not interested in one another.”
“Damn you!”
Genuine shock flashed across Papa’s face. She rarely cursed him.
“The one time I manage to upstage you with my education, you steal my thunder entirely!”
In a flash, Papa’s infuriating smile returned.
She hugged him and leveled a stare at Bertram. “I am a woman of means, now, Bertram Weiman. You will need to win me.”
He met her eye. “I shall endeavor to do so, Monique Vieuxpont.”
Gervais cleared his throat. “Very well, now we have that out the way, may we return to discussing the present strategic situation?”
“Certainly…in a moment,” Monique said.
“What?” Papa asked.
“Jahanara is…” She thought how best to describe the princess’s mental state, sighed, and continued blandly, “The princess is at the ragged edge of her patience, ability, and power. She needs help covering for Dara’s lapses. I offered ours.”
Both men went silent.
Bertram was pale under his tan, but it was Gervais who eventually broke the quiet with, “To borrow an indelicate, yet precise term from John: shit.”
Monique nodded. “Yes. Lots of opportunity to make a mess of things. Lots of opportunity to do a great deal of good.”
“She agreed, then?”
“Readily, yes.”
“Well, we shall have to prepare a few methods to make good on your offer to conceal his condition.”
“And how do we do that, Gervais?” Bertram asked, a little sharply.
Gervais answered without rancor, “To begin with, we’ll invert some of the swindles we’ve used in the past: while the one person feigns illness, the other accomplishes certain tasks while attention is focused on the supposedly sick person.”
Papa’s answer made Bertram look thoughtful, and perhaps a bit rueful as well.
“I will run possible ruses by you before Monique presents them to Jahanara. I’m sure you’ll have a role to play in them, and that wicked sharp mind of yours will find embellishments we haven’t considered.”
“I’m not so sure about that, but it’s probably a good idea to include anyone who will be in on it to be as knowledgeable as possible on the plan,” Bertram said, pulling his lower lip in the way that told her he was worrying over something.
“What?”
“We need to run Jahanara’s request past John, Priscilla, and Rodney, at minimum. More likely we need to bring everyone in all the way so that there’s no surprises on our end…”
“Of course,” Gervais said, though Monique was half-certain he’d not thought to ask. Papa could be very single-minded when he believed the stakes high enough. Single-minded to the point where he did not stop to consider the thoughts, let alone feelings, of others.
“I’m not sure Priscilla will like the