‘Salima, I’m sorry. I should not have used you in such a way. I felt thoughts of conquest mingling with my desire for you.’

‘No need for sorrow — your love-making filled me with pleasure.You were in another world and I was willingly serving you in that world as I do in this. I know you would never intentionally hurt me. Now make love to me again, this time more softly.’

Humayun gladly complied. Later, as he lay back exhausted and still dazed by opium, haram attendants came to sponge his body with cool scented water. Finally, wrapped in Salima’s arms, he found sleep. This time he dreamed of nothing at all, waking only when the soft light began shafting through the latticed window of the room. As he watched the strengthening rays play over the carved sandstone ceiling above him, he knew what he must do. His battle of wills with the tiger had told him. He was the ruler. He should not always be gentle. Respect was won by knowing when to be strong too.

‘Majesty. Your orders have been carried out.’

From his throne on its marble dais in the audience chamber — the durbar hall — with his courtiers and commanders positioned around him in strict order of precedence, Humayun looked down at the captain of his bodyguard. He already knew what had happened — the officer had come to him soon after midnight — but it was important that all the court should hear it and witness the scene about to take place.

‘You have done well. Tell the court what occurred.’

‘As Your Majesty instructed, I and a detachment of guards arrested your half-brothers last night while they were feasting in Prince Kamran’s apartments.’

As a collective gasp went up around him, Humayun smiled inwardly. He had chosen his time well. Since Baba Yasaval’s warning he had kept safely within the fort. Then a week ago a consignment of red wine from Ghazni, the finest the kingdom of Kabul could produce, heady and rich, had arrived by mule train — a timely gift from his mother’s father, Baisanghar.