The Feast of Roses Read Online Free PDF Page A

So Jagat Gosini would not forgive Ruqayya.
    The Dowager Empress stared unblinking at Mehrunnisa, then her face cracked into a smile. “You are wicked, Mehrunnisa. But no matter, I think I taught you to be wicked. Here is another debt you owe me. And be wary of Jagat Gosini; she is still the Padshah Begam.”
    “I know that, your Majesty. Today, I went to the jharoka. Tomorrow, who knows, perhaps even that title will be mine. Only time will tell.” Mehrunnisa picked two cashews from a silver bowl from the Dowager Empress’s side and popped them into her mouth. “But this is what you have always wished for, isn’t it?”
    Mehrunnisa watched as Ruqayya leaned back and drew on the hukkah, spinning lazy circles of smoke in the air above her. This was what Ruqayya had recently wanted. But once, the Dowager Empress had supported Emperor Akbar’s decision to give Mehrunnisa to Ali Quli, even though Jahangir, then a prince, sought after her. One word from Ruqayya might have changed the shape of things . . . but there was a streak of cruelty in the Dowager Empress that made her sometimes turn even on those she loved.
    But when Mehrunnisa had come back to the capital, widowed after Ali Quli’s death, Ruqayya had taken her into the zenana as a lady-in-waiting, against Jagat Gosini’s wishes. And it was Ruqayya who had engineered the meeting between Jahangir and Mehrunnisa at the Mina Bazaar. This was what the Dowager Empress wanted her to remember. She was saying, in effect, Don’t forget who put that crown on your head, Mehrunnisa—if it wasn’t for me, you would still be a maid in the imperial zenana.
    Which was why Ruqayya called her by her old name, Mehrunnisa.
    But she was here for another reason.
    “Your Majesty, tell me Mirza Mahabat Khan’s story,” Mehrunnisa said.
    Ruqayya sat up. “Ah, you angered him at the jharoka. ”
    Mehrunnisa nodded. “Why is he against me? I can be no threat to his position. Yet I hear he was opposed to my marriage to the Emperor. Why?”
    “I am not sure,” Ruqayya said slowly, chewing on the tip of her hukkah. “But I have heard it comes from Jagat Gosini. She has never wanted you in the zenana, this you must know. I wonder if it is possible she enlisted his support in the matter. But what argument did she use to convince him? That she was apprehensive of your intelligence? Of your beauty? Would a powerful minister listen to such reasoning? Hmmm . . .”
    And so the two women sat and talked late into the night. The Dowager Empress’s memory was almost perfect. She recalled for Mehrunnisa incidents from the Emperor’s childhood when Mahabat had said or done something unusual. She told her of his hold over Jahangir, of the deep affection the Emperor had for Mahabat that sometimes blinded him to his faults. Mehrunnisa listened, wanting to know everything about him.
    As the night lengthened and the palace slept around them, Ruqayya suddenly said, “It is late, why are you not by the Emperor?”
    “He needs his sleep, your Majesty.”
    Ruqayya grinned. It was a knowing grin. She reached out to touch Mehrunnisa’s face. “You know this will not last.”
    Mehrunnisa moved away. “My face, or my relationship with the Emperor?”
    “Both, my dear. You have to have much more. So be wary. Watch your face for signs of aging, watch your mouth too. Emperor Jahangir does not like a woman who is too witty or too intelligent.”
    Jahangir’s Empress kept her expression immobile, but inside a sharp anger flared to life at Ruqayya’s words. She could have said much to Ruqayya about the Emperor, much she did not know or willfully ignored. The Dowager Empress was prejudiced for many reasons, most of which hinged on Jahangir’s rebellion against his father when he was a prince—a rebellion that in Ruqayya’s mind, had hastened Emperor Akbar’s death. Mehrunnisa did not say anything, because she was fearful also that perhaps, just perhaps, what Ruqayya said was true. No other woman in