Wild Jasmine Read Online Free PDF Page B

Candra’s uncle, a Christian priest, arrived at court. Candra’s first husband had not been killed as she had thought. Both he and her family wanted Candra back. I am told she refused to go, telling Akbar that she would sooner be the lowest of the low within his household than to be parted from him.”
    “But my son’s sense of honor would not permit such a thing,” Mariam Makani said knowingly. “Foolish man! He sacrificed his own happiness and Candra’s for his honor. Had it been me, I should have killed the priest and put an end to it then and there!” She snorted with impatience at her son’s past behavior. “Still, some good came of it. You are a good mother to my granddaughter, Yasaman. Her kismet is a fortunate one, I believe.”
    “So the astrologers predicted at her birth,” Rugaiya replied.
    Mariam Makani rose to her feet. “I have tarried with you a long time this day,” she noted. “It is past time I went to my own home.”
    “Your presence has honored our house,” Rugaiya murmured, standing politely. “I hope, Mariam Makani, that you will come again soon.”
    “Perhaps before you leave for Kashmir at the end of the month,” her mother-in-law promised.
    Rugaiya Begum escorted her guest to her elephant, waiting politely as Mariam Makani was helped into her gold and scarlet howdah, waving as the old queen mother’s small processionwended its way from her courtyard. Only then did she turn back into the little palace, hurrying up the staircase to the second level and down the hallway to her daughter’s bedchamber. Yasaman had already been bathed and fed. She was tucked into her small bed, her beautiful blue and gold parrot in his brass cage within her sight.
    Rugaiya Begum smiled and said, “I have come to bid you good-night, my child. Have you had a happy day?”
    Yasaman smiled sleepily. “Oh, yes, Mama Begum!”
    Rugaiya Begum bent down and kissed the little girl’s cheek. “May God give you sweet dreams, my daughter,” she said.
    “Tell me of Candra again,” Yasaman begged. Her eyes were heavy, but her tone determined.
    Rugaiya positioned herself on the edge of the child’s bed. To argue would be useless. Yasaman was very stubborn when she wanted something. She would fall asleep within five minutes if not thwarted. “Once upon a time,” Rugaiya Begum began, “there was a beautiful princess who came from many months’ distance away, over the vast seas to the land of the great emperor Akbar. She was the most beautiful maiden that the emperor had ever seen, and he immediately fell in love with her and made her his fortieth wife. He called her Candra in honor of the moon, for she was, he said, as fair as the moon. After several months a child was born from the love shared by Akbar and Candra. Candra loved her child with all her heart, and the infant princess was named Yasaman Kama. Yasaman for the jasmine flowers whose scent was Candra’s favorite, and Kama, which means love , for the little girl had been conceived and born of love.”
    Yasaman’s eyes suddenly widened. “Papa!” she cried joyfully, holding out her arms to her father even as Rugaiya Begum arose, bowing to her husband, her hands folded in a gesture of respect.
    “My little love,” the emperor said with a warm smile for this youngest of his children. He bent to kiss her, then sat down upon the edge of her bed. “What story does your Mama Begum tell you?” he asked.
    “The story of Candra!” the little girl replied excitedly. “It is my favorite story of all, Papa, except for its sad ending. How I wish it had a happier ending.”
    Akbar’s expressive dark eyes clouded for a moment with the painful memory and he sighed sadly, deeply.
    “My dearest lord,” Rugaiya Begum said, “I beg your forgiveness,but I have never thought it right that Yasaman not know the truth.”
    He looked up at her, and she almost cried out at the hurt she saw in his face. Then he took her hand in his and answered, “I gave you our