1637: The Peacock Throne, стр. 23

Jadu paused on the stair. “He was the emperor’s personal secretary, yes.”

“I had no idea you were related! Mian Mir admired his talented pen a great deal, and gave us his works to read. Such poetry! A great many scribes and poets were greatly saddened to hear of his passing.”

“He rose high, and quickly,” Jadu said, looking away. But not before Salim saw tears in his eyes.

“Friend Jadu, I do not wish to make you uncomfortable or bring up painful subjects…”

Jadu waggled his head and resumed climbing to hide his expression. “I am too sensitive. Tomorrow marks the anniversary of the day of his death. It is an emotional time because some of the family, including our father, believed Sundar overstepped the bounds of proper custom and caste when he took employment with Shah Jahan.”

Salim placed a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Even so, I am sorry to have upset you, old friend.”

Jadu covered the hand on his shoulder with his own and stopped, still not looking at Salim. “My thanks for your concern. He was a good man and an even better brother. Our father was blind to those qualities, and a good many other things as well.”

“Were any of your sons or nephews trained by your brother?” Salim asked. In the weeks since his return from Lahore, he’d learned through Firoz Khan’s spies that the other nobles of court thought him uncouth, a man of the hills and mountains rather than a respectable man of education and learning. While his Persian was precise, Salim had no knack for the poetry and alliteration common to those educated at or aspiring to positions at the imperial court.

A munshi trained by one of such repute and fine education as Sundar Das would show the rest of the court that if Salim had not the skills himself, he was at least capable of recognizing and rewarding talent. It was a time-honored tradition at the Mughal court: newcomers, often strangers to the Persian literary inheritance of proper nobility, purchased the services of a munshi, a learned man of letters, poetry, and extensive managerial training, to assist them in their duties. The finest munshis also served as an ornament to the reputation of the courtier with their letters, histories, and manuals on subjects as varied as natural science and proper management.

Salim had considered approaching Jadu on the subject of hiring one of the merchant’s family to manage his property but hadn’t wished to impose on him for yet another favor. But now it seemed he might do Jadu a service that would also protect some of the wealth that was flowing to him as a result of his recent elevation at court…

“My nephews were, indeed.”

Jadu continued after a moment’s consideration. “For their part, my sons were too young and, frankly, more interested in mercantile pursuits like their father than in putting in the hard work to learn the skills of a proper munshi.”

“I have need of a munshi to handle my correspondence and report the daily affairs of my estate. If you would write those of your nephews you deem properly trained and suitable for employment in my household?”

He paused and then added, “Indeed, if you or your brothers can spare a son or two, I might make use of their services in managing my estates. I am also looking to invest, as I have an inordinate amount of cash to spend, given the emperor raised me to five thousand zat last month. Having no wives, I have scarcely any expenses to speak of, and there are only so many horses and fine robes a man can buy.”

Jadu turned toward him, eyes still shining. “I would be honored to present my nephew Ved Das, son of Sundar Das, as a potential munshi.”

“And I know he shall prove more than worthy to serve,” Salim said, finding himself inordinately excited at the prospect.

“As to diwans to assist in managing your growing portfolio, I have two sons of suitable age and training that I might spare for the work, provided you ensure they receive some education in the ways of the court.”

“It is settled, then!”

Another waggle of Jadu’s head was not—quite—disagreement. “My friend, you should be warned: no relative of mine will be paid less than appropriate to their talents, whether or not they are employed by my greatest friend. Especially when the potential employer just finished telling me how much loose cash he has to spend on fripperies.”

“I would have it no other way!” Salim said, startled by the strong surge of affection, relief, and gratitude that rose up in him.

It required a moment’s reflection to determine the reasons for it:

Firstly, he had not been comfortable handling such huge sums as he now had access to, never having had more personal wealth than could be carried on horseback or invested in a small herd, and the idea that any unscrupulous person he hired could take advantage of him had weighed on his mind more than he’d been willing to admit, even to himself.

Secondly, he hated the idea that his lack of courtly refinement might be a detriment to Dara’s reputation. As his princely establishment had not been sufficient to staff the imperial apparatus on its own, Dara had been made to affirm many nobles that his father had raised to their positions. Nobles who, if things had been different, would have otherwise been shown the door. While Salim gave not a single fig for their views on his character, he wanted to forestall any whispers of, “Look at the uncouth louts the emperor surrounds himself with,” at court if he could possibly avoid it.

* * *

“They’re on their way up,” J.D. said from beside the balustrade overlooking the courtyard.

“About time he got here,” Bobby said from his seat among the cushions across from Ricky.

Ricky, seizing on his apparent distraction, tossed a date at Bobby.

Without seeming to look, his target raised a hand and snatched