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background she saw Saliha, her face drained of color. But where was Maji?
    “I beg your pardon.” Asmat had come up behind Mehrunnisa. She put an arm around her daughter and pulled her away from the furious concubine. “She is just a child—”
    “Let her be!” a rich, imperious voice commanded.
    Mother and daughter turned to look at the speaker, Ruqayya Sultan Begam, Akbar’s chief Queen, or Padshah Begam. Sensing conflict, the ladies around them turned from the Diwan-i-am to the drama in the zenana balcony. Their faces were tinged with excitement. So rarely did Ruqayya interfere in squabbles that this child must be special. A path cleared from Mehrunnisa to the Padshah Begam, and all eyes turned to Akbar’s main consort.
    She was not a beautiful woman; in fact, she was quite plain. Her hair was streaked with gray, which she made no effort to conceal with a henna rinse. Inquisitive black eyes glittered out of a round, plump face.
    Ruqayya’s importance to Akbar was far more than the brief physical satisfaction his mindless concubines could provide him. He valued her quick mind, sharp wit, and comfortable presence. Her position in the zenana secure, Ruqayya made no further attempt to beguile the Emperor—a waste of time in any case, when every day a fresh, new face appeared at the harem. So she left the satisfaction of Akbar’s physical needs to the younger girls while she made sure that he came to her for all else. That security lent her a calmdemeanor, an arrogance, and a self-assurance. She was the Padshah Begam.
    Ruqayya beckoned to Mehrunnisa with a plump jewel-studded hand. “Come here.” Turning to the concubine, she said harshly, “You should know better than to hit a child.”
    The girl subsided mutinously to one corner, her kohl-rimmed eyes flashing.
    Her mouth suddenly dry, Mehrunnisa walked up to the Padshah Begam. She wiped clammy hands against her ghagara, wishing she were anywhere but here.
    The scent of ketaki flowers wafted to Mehrunnisa’s nostrils as the Empress put a finger under her chin and tilted her face. “So you like to watch the wedding celebrations, eh?” Ruqayya’s voice was surprisingly soft.
    “Yes, your Majesty,” Mehrunnisa replied in a low voice, head bent to hide the gap in her teeth.
    “Do you like Prince Salim?”
    “Yes, your Majesty.” Mehrunnisa hesitated and looked up with a smile, the gap forgotten. “He is . . . he is more beautiful than my brothers.”
    All the ladies around them burst out laughing, their laughter carrying down into the courtyard.
    Ruqayya held up an imperious hand. “This child thinks Salim to be beautiful,” she announced to the ladies. “I wonder how long it will be before she finds him handsome.” Laughter swept through the room again.
    Mehrunnisa looked around, bemused.
    The wedding ceremony had just been completed, and the Qazi was registering the marriage in his book. The ladies shifted their attention to the Diwan-i-am, and Mehrunnisa escaped thankfully into her mother’s arms. Asmat pushed her daughter toward the door, signaling Saliha to join them.
    As they were leaving, Ruqayya said, without looking in their direction, “The child amuses me. Bring her to wait upon me soon.”
    Mehrunnisa and Asmat Begam bowed low to the Empress and let themselves out.
    The wedding parties continued for almost a week, but Mehrunnisa, frightened after her encounter with Ruqayya, refused to go for the festivities. The concubine had merely made her angry; the Empress, with her glittering eyes and her aura of power, alarmed Mehrunnisa. Asmat Begam and Ghias Beg went every day to pay their respects to Akbar and his queens and to take part in the rejoicing.
    A few days later, Ruqayya sent an imperial summons commanding Mehrunnisa’s presence at the royal zenana.

TWO

    This Begam conceived a great affection for Mehr-un-Nasa; she loved her more than others and always kept her in her company.
    —B. Narain, trans., and S. Sharma, ed., A Dutch