1637: The Peacock Throne, стр. 31

John looked alarmed.

“They are treated well and respectfully, John,” Salim said, hoping to forestall an angry outburst. “We are not barbarians, and the keeping of wives, sisters, mothers, and children of those who support your opponent is considered a sacred obligation. They are almost never used as hostages unless that is their agreed-upon status before being brought into the harem. Akbar started with peace, and his descendants have kept it.”

“Almost?” John asked, seizing on the qualifier as Salim had known he would.

He shrugged. “There are those who have done wrong, certainly.”

Patting his horse’s neck, Salim continued thoughtfully, “The men, of course, receive less mercy from the victorious. But even then, being stripped of rank and incomes is the norm, imprisonment uncommon, mutilations even more unusual, and executions rare. Admittedly, Shah Jahan was more…comfortable with bloodletting than his predecessors. At least, Asaf Khan was never punished for doing away with Shah Jahan’s potential rivals.”

“Seems like it’s all been thought out,” John said, irony twisting both tone and expression.

Salim chose to ignore his friend’s tone. John was an up-timer, with an up-timer’s strange ideas about some things. He answered carefully, trying to explain his own convictions on the matter. “The empire has had some recent experience with succession struggles. The dynasty that stagnates is soon to perish, and the way they’ve done it here tends to leave the common folk more or less alone relative to what I know of similar succession wars in Europe and elsewhere. Of course, our emperor and his siblings are relatively young. Why, Aurangzeb is nearly as young as Babur was when he started the empire, if I recall correctly.”

“So, Salim, I really don’t want to be rude, but why do you keep saying ‘they’ when you refer to the empire?” He hiked a thumb at the cluster of messengers and servants. “Looks like you are an integral part of this empire’s machinery by now…”

“I do, don’t I?”

Seeing that he’d never had to explain it to someone else, he spent a moment collecting his thoughts before speaking further. “You may recall Shah Jahan informing you that he was Sultan Al’Azam of many peoples, not just one?”

“Sure do.” John nodded. “Can’t forget his angry look when I made that particular mistake.”

“He got angry because it’s important. The Mughals themselves are a mix of Turco-Mongol, Persian, Rajput, and other bloodlines. Your wife can tell you how many languages she hears daily in the harem. The Timurids rule over hundreds of different peoples, each with distinct dialects if not utterly different languages, differing religions and practices thereof, not to mention the entirely different lives the nomads, farmers, and the city-dwellers live. So many different languages are spoken that the very language of the empire’s northern sowar is translated into the other languages as ‘camp tongue’ because it’s a combination of so many local tongues.

“All bow before Timurid power. Some are happier with that state of affairs than others, but all recognize that the Timurids are, historically, excellent overlords who have, on the whole, improved conditions for everyone under their rule, not just Muslims, or Rajputs, or a particular caste. Everyone. And, in the successions the old order, those that supported the last emperor, are joined by those outsiders who threw in their lot with the victorious prince. My own people are not a bad example: Shah Jahan fought the Yusufzai when a young prince, and we have since fought for the empire against the Safavids under his command.”

“I get it, it’s a melting pot.”

“No, it’s not, not really.” Salim struggled to ignore the dismissive tone and explain for his friend. “The Timurids themselves are, I suppose. They’ve assimilated so much of what it means to be Indian, in that they have more in common with the people here than many of their central Asian ancestors.

“Akbar’s Sulh-i-kul, or ‘peace with everyone,’ is a fine example: rather than force all these people, with their different laws and customs, through the needle’s eye of Mughal custom and legal precedent, Emperor Akbar chose to invite the religious leaders, the lawmakers, and the lore keepers of India to discuss what was fair and righteous for all. He wasn’t trying to make everyone melt together, just provide them with a framework in which to prosper without tearing the empire apart or unduly repressing one group or another.

“The following generations have lived up to that ideal with greater or lesser success, so the lives and customs of the peoples within the empire are allowed to continue as they always have done, so long as they pay homage and taxes and offer no violence to their neighbors. That last is especially important, as it was not something that was common practice before Mughal rule. Beyond that, each person has their place in India, but the Mughal system allows the best talent to rise, and rewards those talented people who work within the framework of Mughal rule.”

“For most people, anyway.” John’s smile was more honest this time, and took the sting from the words.

Salim returned the smile, adding, “I do believe your up-time democracies benefitted most people, most of the time. We can scarcely do better without the benefit of the three hundred and more years of experience your predecessors had.”

“Lot of blood shed to learn from those mistakes,” John said. He shook his head. “Don’t mind me, Salim. I’m just some hillbilly from a small town in West Virginia.”

“If I had a hundred rupees for every time I have been called a simple hillman by some fop thinking it an insult, I would be a—well, I would be even more rich than I am.”

John chuckled. “You do dress better than any hillbilly I ever met.”

“Or at least more expensively, my friend?” Salim said, knowing the up-timers thought the khalats and robes of distinction handed out by the emperor and eagerly sought after by courtiers garish and overly opulent.

The pair shared a moment of laughter, clearing the air between them.

Salim, careful with