1637: The Peacock Throne, стр. 38

As the pride of lions, or in this case, perhaps, a pack of jackals examines prey before the hunt, the eyes of all those present turned on him.

Aurangzeb stood tall under their collective gaze, glad that those who observed could not see the heart beating hard in the cavern of his chest.

With a pride bordering on the unseemly, he reflected that whatever reputation for austere habits, religious piety, and personal bravery he had obtained in his short life would certainly be enhanced by today’s events, regardless of the outcome God had decreed.

“Brother!” Shuja called. The sun’s rays scattered from jewel-studded sleeves as he raised his arms in welcome. That Shuja did not rise from his seat—Aurangzeb could not, in the privacy of his own mind, call it a throne—before the tent was not lost on anyone present.

Aurangzeb least of all. Of course, Aurangzeb had planned for these petty aggravations and, with the exception of the drums, Shuja had failed to act outside of his younger brother’s expectations for the meeting.

Judging his moment to again gather all eyes, Aurangzeb approached his elder brother on steady feet, posture erect and perfectly proper. He stopped just short of the distance Shuja’s kokas would be expected to order him disarmed in the presence of the emperor.

“Sultan Al’Azam,” Aurangzeb said with a deep, respectful obeisance.

A collective sigh ran through the assembled courtiers as, with his first words, Aurangzeb publicly acknowledged Shah Shuja’s claim on the Peacock Throne. Aurangzeb could not decide if it was relief or pleasure that made them exhale so, and quickly decided it did not signify.

Hoping to forestall some wise courtier among his brother’s advisors ordering him taken prisoner now that he’d played what appeared to be his best gambit, Aurangzeb waited scarcely a heartbeat before continuing: “I wish to serve you, my brother. You, Sultan Al’Azam, are one I know will stand in righteous opposition to that misguided, irreligious fool, Dara! He, who knows neither respect nor grace, honor nor amity, and was unable to protect our father from his enemies must be returned to his proper place! He must be prevented from corrupting our storied lineage with error and idiocy! Kept from defiling your great empire with misrule and disharmony!”

Shuja was sitting forward and nodding as his younger brother finished. Belatedly realizing his error in showing interest—let alone affirmation—for what his brother had to say, Shuja sat back as silence descended.

Aurangzeb tried to gauge the effect of his speech without appearing to, and failed to find a friendly face among those closest to him.

The wazir fidgeted, drawing the eyes of both brothers.

As if the sight of the man brought him back to some prearranged script, Shuja looked again at Aurangzeb. “What then, brother?”

Aurangzeb bowed once more before replying. “All present here today know that I desire nothing more than a life of quiet contemplation, an opportunity to focus on pursuing a deeper understanding of the Word of God—” Some among the gathered nobles muttered. Aurangzeb, expecting it, seized upon their skepticism to fuel the fire of his tongue. “I would happily live out my days engaged in only these holy pursuits, but I cannot!”

The atmosphere of the crowd was changing, those closest hanging on his every word. “No, not so long as our feckless brother preaches of accord with all religions even while he reaches for bang and honeyed wine then rallies to his banner those ‘up-timers,’ men who profess no faith at all! These things he does in hopes of gaining some technical advantages over you, the rightful Sultan Al’Azam!”

The crowd was now, if not held entirely in thrall to his words, then approaching it.

Shuja’s wazir seemed on the verge of advising Shuja to silence his brother before they realized they might have chosen the wrong son to back.

Aurangzeb did not allow him time to speak, however. “Why, he even allows our sister to rule his harem instead of the wife that should! That Jahanara is a wise and intelligent woman, I have no doubt, but my regard and respect for her quality does nothing to remedy this breach of tradition. Indeed, under her influence, Dara has not sought wives of his leading nobles as a Sultan should! The nobles of the court are left without the traditional guarantor of their sovereign’s trust and love! Instead the influence traditionally wielded by the collective women in the harem is not even left in the hands of his lone wife—but rather, our sister!”

Many courtiers were nodding—the older among them, those with daughters of marriageable age—in particular.

That Aurangzeb had not taken a wife was one of the few things that made this interview possible. Had he wives, or worse yet, children, he would be too obviously a threat to Shuja’s claim for his dissembling to have any chance at success. Every event was an opportunity, every crisis a lever to move the world.

That Shah Shuja himself had entered into negotiations for several wives in the last weeks had not been lost on Aurangzeb as he prepared this moment.

Indeed, Nur had served both brothers well in this regard: her rank and seniority making her the natural choice as go-between for Shuja and the families of prospective wives, and then duly reporting her observations from those meetings to Aurangzeb.

That she was also cautiously vetting several of Shuja’s more prominent nobles regarding marriage prospects for Aurangzeb went without saying. The nobles she’d chosen were to be kept in the dark a little while longer, as it was not yet safe for her to approach them, regardless of how carefully they were selected for discretion as well as clear indications that they had joined their cause to Shuja’s more because of proximity to his power rather than any earnest desire to serve Aurangzeb’s older brother.

Even ordering Nur to assess such nobles had been a risk. But, while Aurangzeb must allay Shuja’s fears, the end game also required that he had allies in place to secure a smooth transition of power. Marriage alliances