The Trojan horse

Diary of Tansen, Fatehpur Sikri, 1st March 1586

The muezzin is calling for the Maghrib prayer with his husky yet melodious voice. The magpie robin, back from its seasonal migration, is twitting enchanting lullabies at my window. My quill is shrieking on the rough parchment, playing with the dancing shadows of the candle on the paper. These sounds, these notes are pure music to my ears. But today no music can bring its usual quietude to the great Tansen as the most shocking news came to the court: the death of the Grand Vizier Birbal on 16^th February of Anno Domini 1586.

Jahanpanah Akbar was profoundly affected, refused to preside at the Durbar and fasted for two long days. The circumstances of Birbal’s death are still obscure: Akbar sent Birbal to help Zain Khan protect the northwest frontiers of the empire and Birbal easily succumbed to the assault of the Afghans, caught like a rat in a trap. I was indeed surprised: Birbal, the greatest mind I have ever met, the most talented military strategist of the empire, must have been the victim of a betrayal! In the name of our friendship, I have decided to investigate. This diary will be my companion in this journey.

Diary of Tansen, Fatehpur Sikri, 2^nd March 1586

Maheshdas, who became Birbal, was my companion when I had the immense privilege to entertain the divine ears of His Highness the Maharaja Ramachandra of Rewa with my humble music. Birbal left the court of His Highness in circumstances I ignored, a few months after I had joined. I remember the day he departed for the royal court of Akbar the Great, the great patron of arts: I felt ill-at-ease and avoided the Maharaja’s eyes as Birbal displayed an indecent and incomprehensible joy.

Few years later, when the reputation of my talent crossed the frontiers of the kingdom of Rewa, I had to abandon the magnanimity of my noble king to join His Imperial Majesty Akbar. I was devastated by the perspective of belonging to the royal court of the Mughal enemy. The happy prospect of reuniting with my friend Maheshdas came as a consolation. My role as courtier was however pleasant, for the personality of Akbar the Great promptly charmed me. It would have appeared that the consideration was mutual: I soon entered the council of His Majesty, known as navaratna, the nine jewels, where Birbal also belonged. I had soon forgotten my allegiance to the maharaja of Rewa, converted to Islam and strengthened my bonds with Jahanpanah Akbar by marrying His daughter, the noble Meherunnissa.

As for Birbal, his wit, incommensurable wisdom and knowledge rapidly conquered His Majesty. He had created an irreplaceable role for himself as the most trusted minister of Akbar. His Majesty relied on him so much than even His servant Ajam had been warmly recommended by Birbal.

 

Diary of Tansen, Fatehpur Sikri, 3rd March 1586

I initiated my investigation by questioning the seven other jewels of Akbar’s council. At some point, all of them had envied the position of Birbal and endeavoured to conceal their jealousy. They nevertheless would never have risked the favours of Jahanpanah Akbar to plot the assassination of Birbal. But the court was teeming with a plethora of enemies. Among them, Zain Khan appeared as the ideal suspect: he had a motive, a golden opportunity to commit his crime and designed culprits as the Afghans. I however had no evidence to confound Khan. I thus decided to interrogate the surviving soldiers of the attack who had returned to Sikri. “In the name of Raja Birbal, I urge you, valiant warriors, to prudently answer my questions. Carefully describe the attack!” Although they were bound to some level of professional discretion, they expressed their pain and anger in unison.

“It was the darkest and coldest night of the year, Miyan Tansen! The wind aggravated the natural humidity of Lund Khwar. These circumstances would have deterred any sensible warrior but the determination of Birbal was inflexible. We progressed for several hours in the plains, hindered by our heavy weapons and thick jamas. The exhilarating three-beat gait of our galloping mounts faded into a palpable tension as we slowed down upon reaching Katlang. We were ascending the mountains step by step, blinded by the steam fuming from the nostrils of our horses. We startled as they sporadically snickered and whinnied in the silence. Suddenly, the most terrifying scream made our blood run cold. A hail of arrows and stones paralyzed us. We immediately tried to manoeuvre back but we failed as the narrowness of the passage and our confusion contributed to the chaos. The only possibility was to affront the intrepid Pashtun tribes. Birbal quickly understood it and ordered us to attack. He lead us, fiercely spurring his nervous and determined mount, and brandishing his tawar. A reckless Yusufzai, who had been hidden in the rocks, jumped on Birbal’s horse. With a disconcerting determination, he plunged his hand into Birbal’s boot, where his deadly katar was hidden. Birbal did not get the chance to react: the Pashtun warrior ruthlessly pierced him with Raja’s favourite weapon.”

“Why did Birbal decide to attack in the night in the worst conditions?” I shared the warriors’ incomprehension. “We heard him violently quarrel with Zain Khan the previous day. Zain refused to manoeuvre in the mountains. Birbal saw in Khan’s reluctance an opportunity to put Khan in a perilous situation with Akbar.” I decided to follow my intuition: “What was Birbal wearing?”“Miyan Tansen, he was wearing a silk yellow jama and a turban with a flamboyant peacock plume. Our turbans had a simple cock feather.”

Oh dear Birbal, why did you fail to foresee Khan’s ambush? Didn’t you realize that an opportunist Khan was well aware that you would always contradict him? I am now convinced that the Pashtun killer knew exactly what he was doing, who Birbal was from his distinctive attire and how to kill him, thanks to a providential and evil-minded informant. My doubts against Khan are now stronger than ever.

Diary of Tansen, Fatehpur Sikri, 4th March 1586

The reaction of Jahanpanah Akbar left me perplexed when I confided my doubts to His Majesty. He firmly ordered that I put an end to my investigation at once to allow the soul of Birbal to rest in peace. I was nonetheless unable to dry up the flow of questions erupting in my mind. Why would Jahanpanah Akbar refuse to avenge His favourite minister? Could His Majesty be protecting Khan? I also failed to understand why Akbar did not scatter the ashes of Birbal in Ganga River, preferring to immerse them in a well next to the river. This jigsaw puzzle was more intricate than ever.

I was restlessly pondering on the riddle, reluctant to admit my impotence. Someone could have helped me. I decided to tempt my fortune and penetrated into the dark labyrinth of alleys of the town where I promptly found Ajam. Interrogating Ajam was as difficult as making the sun rise from the west and for good reason: Ajam was mute, which made him the most discreet servant of His Majesty. Ajam obviously understood my questions, but I was incapable of interpreting his answers that seemed like agitated and ample gestures. I was deeply disappointed and about to abandon. I started humming this beautiful and powerful ballad that had always instantaneously put my senses at rest. Ajam was carefully listening, transfigured. As I sang the last note, my eyes closed to appreciate the quietude, Ajam jumped on his feet and exclaimed: “Miyan Tansen, your voice is divine!”. “Ajam, can you speak?” I frowned. The poor devil bit his lips and lay at my feet, looking miserable. “Miyan Tansen, I implore you, do not denounce me. It is all because of Raja Birbal!” “Ease your conscience at once!” I ordered.

What he revealed stupefied me: Ajam was Birbal’s faithful spy and dutifully reported him the merest movement and word of His Majesty! I was discovering Birbal’s true colours: his personality was not as luminous as it initially appeared to me. “Why, Ajam? Why did Raja Birbal order you to spy on His Majesty? And do you know what happened to your master?” “Miyan Tansen, my duty was only to report His majesty’s slightest actions. I am in total ignorance of Birbal’s great intents. His loss is terrible and I would dearly want to know who killed my master.” “Do you remember anything incongruous about Akbar’s behaviour that you did not have the time to report to Birbal?” “No, Miyan Tansen. His Majesty just pronounced few obscure words to a mysterious messenger the day before Raja Birbal was sent to the northwest frontiers: “God bless that imbecile guard! And remember I want the ring, that accursed Trojan horse!””

Immediately those words triggered some vague memories. Ring? Trojan horse? Why did this association sound so familiar? When and where did I hear them? These questions need to be answered. I am also eager to discover who the imbecile guard is!

Diary of Tansen, Fatehpur Sikri, 5th March 1586

Today I decided to present my condolences to Birbal’s son. His visage was inscrutable but his attitude was full of dignity. I believed it helped him to evoke his late father, so he accepted to satisfy my curiosity and recounted the circumstances of Birbal’s arrival at Akbar’s court.

“What? Miyan Tansen? I concede that you arrived at the court much later, but are you really unaware of the story? Let me tell you the words I have heard from my dear father about a thousand times. Birbal was a young boy when he first met Akbar as the king was hunting. Since his childhood, Birbal’s demonstration of wit had always bordered on impertinence. This enchanted Akbar as His Majesty was questioning Birbal. Akbar gave him His ring as recompense for his witty answer. The ring would help Akbar recognize Birbal when the later would be ready to join the former’s court.”

The ring!! A Trojan horse! Would Birbal have used this ring as a mean to enter the court and deceive His Majesty? Would the faithful courtier have hidden a reckless enemy? But what were his motives?

“Miyan Tansen, let me tell you the most amusing part of the story! When Birbal arrived at the palace wearing simple attire, the guard refused to grant him the access to the palace. Birbal then produced the ring earlier given by His Majesty. The guard was highly impressed as he recognized His Majesty’s seal but grabbed the opportunity to bribe Birbal: “My boy, I will help you. The price of my favour is ridiculous considering your current fortune: I want half of what the king gives you.” Birbal accepted immediately. When Akbar recognized the ring, he asked Birbal how he could fulfil his desires. “Huzoor, I would be delighted if Your Majesty could punish me with one hundred whip lashes.” Akbar frowned from perplexity but laughed heartily when Birbal recounted the incident and asked him to share his punishment with the corrupted guard.”

How could have I ignored such an interested story? Was Akbar referring to the same imbecile guard as Ajam mentioned? “My son, do you recall the name of the guard?” “I believe it was Sahl or Sehl.” “May the soul of your father rest in peace! And if you happen to have the ring, please choose the safest place to hide it.” I was convinced that the ring was an indispensable piece of the puzzle.

Diary of Tansen, Fatehpur Sikri, 10th March 1586

After five days of a relentlessly hunt, I have finally tracked down Sahl, the corrupted guard, in the deepest parts of the city. Akbar threw him out of the palace after the incident with Birbal. Sahl never recovered from the bitter humiliation he faced the day of Birbal’s arrival in Fatehpur Sikri. His stinging memories had been fuelling his resentment and he was delighted to hear about Birbal’s death.

“Miyan Tansen! It is one of the happiest days of my life! The scoundrel who ruined my existence is no more! I was well advised to send to His Majesty the missive I found!” His provocation was intolerable. But I was eager to know more! “What is this nonsense, Sahl? What missive?” “Oh, Miyan Tansen, don’t despise me. Your attitude will change at once! I had always been seeking revenge against Birbal and I had been spying on him since his arrival in Sikri, waiting for the perfect occasion. I soon discovered he was regularly receiving some letters by carrier pigeon, a beautiful bird with an iridescent plumage. Every time, he would withdraw into his residence to exit few days later looking as bright as the sun. This game piqued my curiosity: for several years I failed to intercept the bird. But the birth of my first grandson brought me luck, God bless him!  As soon as I saw the bird, I carefully chose the sharpest stone and adjusted my catapult! I swear to Allah, I never had the smallest drop of alcohol. But that day was special! The toxic potion performed a miracle: The pigeon dropped dead, few meters away from me. I rushed up to the bird and carefully untied the letter from its foot. My neighbour, a wise man, deciphered the message. I don’t remember the substance, but I could smell a rat: a big fat rat which might eat the smug Birbal alive if it were to reach His Majesty. You understand, Miyan Tansen! It was my duty to send it to the palace. Few days later, Birbal was sent to the front to never return!"

A wave of melancholy overwhelmed him: there was no denying that Birbal had tried to cheat His Majesty. And Akbar seemed to have discovered the traitor, whom He sent to the northwest frontiers. Birbal’s motives were the only missing piece of this intricate jigsaw puzzle.

Diary of Tansen, Fatehpur Sikri, 11th March 1586

I am so grateful! My investigation is coming to an end. Last night brought me one missing piece of the puzzle. The past few days had left me disoriented: a strong ague contributed to aggravate my delirious state as I was falling asleep. My dream transported me some years ago in the palace of the Maharaja of Rewa. It was one of the hottest days of the summer and I was wandering in the garden looking for some fresh air. I froze and hid behind a tree as I heard some voices. I recognized the high-pitched voice of His Highness enthusiastically saying “Maheshdas! This is our solution! This ring would be our Trojan horse!” The exact same words pronounced by Akbar!!! I now recall that I heard this mysterious phrase only few days before Birbal left Rewa to join Akbar. This sentence now makes complete sense in the light of these fateful events! His Highness, my estimated king, was also conspiring against Akbar.

I needed to know the content of the letter intercepted by Sahl. If, like he pretended, Birbal was regularly receiving and sending some correspondences through his pigeon, these letters might still exist. I decided to visit Birbal’s son one last time. “My dear son, please think carefully. Was your father the recipient of some missives sent by some carrier pigeons?” “Yes, Miyan Tansen, he isolated himself in his office for several hours upon receiving them and forbade anyone to enter.”

Birbal’s brave son obligingly granted me the access of his father’s office. A strong feeling of guilt assailed me as I was violating Birbal’s intimacy. But my curiosity was irresistible. The office was a typical interior with very few pieces of furniture. Only a large cabinet with occidental design drew my attention. I had seen these kinds of cabinets in Rewa. The servants were always pretending that they were magical and would swallow anything. My Cartesian brain was however suspecting a trick from the carpenter. I studied it for long minutes, opened the drawers, closed them, reopened them; but the cabinet was not ready to give up its secret. As I was closing the bottom drawer for the tenth time, I heard a distinctive clicking noise. I removed the drawer and found the key to open the secret compartment! A graph would better explain this ingenious mechanism. 

My heart was beating fast from exhilaration. The secret compartment revealed an abundant epistolary correspondence between the Maharaja of Rewa and Birbal: the ultimate proof of Birbal’s betrayal!

Diary of Tansen, Fatehpur Sikri, 12th March 1586

I have spent the entire night reading all the letters. Birbal’s vows of allegiance to the Maharaja of Rewa had always remained intact. His alleged loyalty to Jahanpanah Akbar was a clever cover to perpetrate his crime. Birbal preyed upon Akbar’s illiteracy and magnanimity to establish his potent influence with the ultimate goal of leading Akbar to His ruin and allow the Maharaja of Rewa and the other Hindu rulers to regain their majesty. The plan had been carefully prepared by the two. No wonder why Birbal was so joyful when he left Rewa: he was about to embrace his deadly mission.

Akbar must have been furious upon reading the letter: the person He cherished the most, whose intellectual superiority He admired, was a ruthless rival! How could the visionary Akbar the Great have been cheated by such a conceited character? Only the death of Birbal could quench His thirst for revenge. Jahanpanah Akbar could have publically chastised the criminal and set an example, but that would have revealed His incredible gullibility. Discretion was what His Majesty wanted. The war in Northwest offered Him a golden opportunity. He sent Birbal on a false pretext and intimated Zain Khan to eliminate Birbal.  Khan cheerfully obliged by plotting the ambush. The two mourning days were absolutely not the expression of His deep affection but the result of His bitterness against His former friend and His frustration not to have the ring.

I understand, yet deplore, that His Majesty refused to immerse the ashes of Birbal in the holy river Ganga. The Great Akbar could not have borne what He called His water of immortality to be polluted by some criminals. I sometimes regret my curiosity. The truth I discovered had casted a crude light over the betrayal and the cruelty of three persons I cherished. My beloved son, if you happen to find this diary one day, you shall pass on this missive to your lineage for the sake of the verity. But it shall always remain secret. The ugly truth should not conceal the utmost wisdom of Birbal’s teaching and the world shall enjoy the beautiful and bright legend of the fruitful friendship between Birbal and Akbar.