The Great Moghul

By Randal Bablitz

A European gem trader documented the world’s largest diamond about 300 years ago. The trader, Jean-Baptiste Tavernier, described this enormous stone in his writings after a visit to the court of Shah Jehan, the Great Moghul, in India. The diamond was lost not long afterwards.

Although there are a number of theories about who currently might have custody of the diamond and which of the world’s larger diamonds are actually cut from the original Great Moghul, the true fate of the Great Moghul diamond has never been confirmed.

The Great Moghul provides a notional account of how the diamond was originally found in the mines of Golconda and follows the diamond through its exciting and bloody history. Finally, four American workers stumble on a lost treasure, including the Great Moghul diamond, in the Saudi desert. The Americans prove to be tough and resourceful. They are determined to hold on to their windfall, but are faced with extraordinary difficulties and pursued by a cunning adversary who will stop at nothing to reclaim his family’s treasure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Randal Bablitz
• Release date: Feb 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9780986870804

Randal Bablitz

Randal Bablitz was born in Edmonton, Alberta. He served in the Canadian Army with Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry and the Army Medical Services. In his retirement, Randy paints and writes.

Book preview

The Great Moghul

Randal Bablitz

Published by Randal Bablitz at Smashwords

Book cover image by Getty Images

Copyright - 2010 Randal Bablitz

http://www.thegreatmoghul.com/

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

CHAPTER 1

The heavy rain of the monsoon had started again. Akbar heard it rattling heavily on the palm roof of the smoky and dank hut. His mother, Mumtaz, didn’t budge. She was sleeping peacefully on her mat, exhausted from her long day as a kitchen worker in the fortress of Golconda.

Mumtaz was from the horn of Africa and had been transported to the harem of the royal household in Golconda about 12 years ago. She was a beautiful young woman when she arrived in Golconda. Abdullah Qutb Shah, the King of Golconda, had presented Mumtaz to one of his warlords, Mehbub, as a prize for his bravery in conquering a competing city-state. Mumtaz had been married to Mehbub in a short ceremony. In time, she fell in love with her husband. He was generous and kind. But it was the time of the great wars on the Deccan. There was always fighting somewhere, and Mehbub was absent for weeks, sometimes months, at a time. While Mehbub was away, Mumtaz would assist the headman of the kitchens in organizing the supply of fruit, vegetables and meat for Qutb’s feasts. And there were plenty of feasts, as Qutb often played host to traders of diamonds and precious stones. Golconda was a great commercial hub where the stones were traded to buyers from far-off lands.

Emir Gemla had been one of Abdullah Qutb’s most trusted warlords. However, during the last summer, Emir Gemla had betrayed Abdullah by convincing Aurung Zeb, the son of Shah Jehan, to march on Golconda. Emir Gemla was talented, ambitious and dangerous. He imagined himself managing the mines of Golconda. It was at the beginning of this campaign that word came of Mehbub’s death in battle. Mumtaz was left heartbroken, without means of support, and with a young son to feed. Fortunately, Abdullah Qutb continued to demonstrate his appreciation by looking after the young widow. He provided her with a place in the palace and never once attempted to extract any form of payment for his generosity. Meanwhile, frantic preparations were being made for the defence of Golconda. Two weeks later, the army of Aurung Zeb camped in the valley around Hyderabad. Every night, thousands of campfires could be seen. Each day, another great battle was waged on the outer walls of the city. Abdullah Qutb was in a panic.

After a lengthy siege, Abdullah Qutb surrendered the garrison. Once inside the walls, Aurung Zeb began his brutal extermination of the defenders. For two days, the screams of the dying echoed through the walled city. Bodies were thrown from the walls, dead or alive. When the invaders reached the King’s palace, the household guard tried to resist, but they were swept aside. Qutb was found cowering under a bed in the harem. The male members of the court and the surviving officers were beheaded. Aurung Zeb rolled their heads down the palace stairs until a large pile blocked the base of the stone stairway. Many women of the court were butchered; others were passed as entertainment to the officers and men of the invading army. Abdullah Qutb was one of the last to be put to the sword. But his death was prolonged as he was first disembowelled. Mumtaz waited in the kitchen to learn her fate. She had hidden with Akbar in the pantry behind bags of rice.

It was Emir Gemla himself who came upon this bloody scene and waded into the great hall across the silk carpets soaked and sticky with blood. He stopped the slaughter long enough to talk to Aurung Zeb and convince him to preserve what remained of the household staff. The Emir was moving into Golconda and he knew that he would need household staff to keep the necessary services in operation. The kitchen workers, gardeners, laundry staff, engineers and water carriers were saved, including Mumtaz. However, she was displaced from her room in the palace and forced to find a place to stay in the town. She traded some of her jewellery to her new landlord to move into her pitiful little hut until the end of the monsoons. After the monsoons, she worried that she would have to find another home.

Another rumble of thunder shook their little hut. Their new accommodations were pitiful and filthy. It was a significant step in the wrong direction. Akbar could hear two drunken men down the stone roadway arguing in the rain. It was a long way from the court of Abdullah Qutb Shah.

Mumtaz and her son had survived the fall of Golconda, but now, Mumtaz was required to work long hours, preparing meals for the officers of Emir Gemla. Aurung Zeb had taken one look at the local conditions in Golconda and immediately headed back down to Hyderabad where there was more water for his army. With so many rotting corpses around Golconda, plague would surely follow. He left the dishevelled, smoking fortress to Emir Gemla and his small garrison of mercenaries. Golconda stunk of death. It took many days to clean out the fort and make it safe for the occupants.

Akbar was lying on the floor of the hut. He looked over to his animals. Both of his mongooses were curled up in a bamboo cage in the corner by the door. No cobra would come near their small hut with the mongooses on guard. The rain continued and Akbar dozed off again. Since the age of eight, he had kept the mongooses in the staff quarters of the royal household. One of the old servants had given him the animals just after they were weaned from their mother. Food for the animals was easier to find then. Now, food for everyone was harder to come by. His mother was able to smuggle meat and bread out of the kitchen on some days. In order to help out, Akbar offered his mongooses to assist with pest control in the shantytown. There was no shortage of rats. Where there were rats, there were snakes. The diamond miners would call him every few days to bring his mongooses to eliminate a cobra. It didn’t pay much, but every bit helped. He scratched at a mosquito bite on his forehead. His left hand was missing the two smaller fingers—a constant reminder of how dangerous snakes could be.

He listened to the rain for a few minutes. In the sweaty heat, he stretched out and finally dozed off. After what seemed like only a few minutes, he awoke to the shouts of approaching men. Akbar! Akbar! Bring the mongoose!

His mother sat up and looked at him. She rose and pulled back the cloth door and after a short exchange of information, turned to her son. Akbar, go with them and take care of the snake. A man has been bitten, so be very careful. Akbar picked up the cage and followed the men. He looked back and waved to his mother who watched from the doorway. She waved back. A couple of the men carried torches. The group walked for a long time, going deeper into the rat-infested village of diamond miners’ shacks. It was very dark, but at least the rain had let up. Finally they came upon a small crowd. The headman was there and greeted them. He looked down at the 11-year-old with big ears and then smiled broadly. The old man crouched down and told Akbar where the snake was. One of the men had been bitten in his shack. The man had been stoking the small fire and the snake must have been hiding in the firewood. The snake and the man were both still inside the shack. Without hesitation, Akbar walked quietly up to the door and set his cage down. When he opened the cage door, the two mongooses put their noses in the air and approached the shack’s doorway. The fire inside the shack still gave a bit of light. The two energetic little hunters charged in. The snake started hissing.

Akbar heard the snake and turned to the others. It’s a big krait, not a cobra. Very nasty! Listen, my friends. The mongooses’ chatter and the snake’s hissing picked up. The struggle went on for a couple of minutes and then the shack fell silent. Akbar took one of the torches. Wait here. His payment would be based on him producing the dead snake. For him, this was the most important part of his task, and the most dangerous. He had lost two fingers when he tried to pick up a small cobra that he thought was already dead. Akbar survived the toxin, but the bite became badly infected and his two rotting fingers were amputated to save his life. As he entered the shack he saw the man on the ground. He was lying against the wall, shaking. There was a large discolored wound on his neck. The venom had paralysed the victim. His eyes were open, fixed in a steady gaze. Foam came from the corner of his mouth as he struggled for breath. It would not be long before he died, thought Akbar. Akbar looked towards the large blue-black snake. The mongooses had already started feeding on it. Akbar looked back to the man on the ground to see if there was anything of value that he could take. There was a small cloth satchel by the man’s head, but a quick inspection turned up nothing of value inside. Akbar looked at the man for a necklace or bracelet. Nothing again, but his hand was closed tightly around something. Akbar forced the fingers open. The man started to gurgle. He was upset, trapped inside his frozen body, and did not want to give up the secret. Akbar found a very large stone in the man’s hand. Without examining it, he quickly stuffed it into his own leather purse. Then he chased the animals off the snake’s body. He picked up the large krait and walked outside. Akbar threw it on the ground, in front of the small crowd. After he had coaxed the mongooses back into the cage, he locked it and stood up. Looking to the headman, he said, The krait is very bad, very poisonous. Your friend will die now. I must go. Can you pay me? The headman passed him a single small piece of silver. Akbar examined it by torchlight and weighed the silver in his hand. That is good. Thank you. He was a tough little businessman.

And thank you, Lord Akbar. You are a brave young man. Akbar went home quietly without betraying the secret he now carried in his purse. In time, he finally reached his shack. His mother was waiting for him. She had made some tea. His mother embraced him and asked what had happened. Akbar fed his mongooses and put them back at the doorway.

It was a krait, Mother—a big one. The snake killed a man. He sat before the small fire and passed her the piece of silver.

You are a good son. She smiled and passed him a mug of tea.

I have something else. I took it from the dead man’s hand. Akbar looked towards the cloth hanging across the door to be sure they were alone. He passed her the large stone. I don’t know what it is.

Mumtaz took the stone and, by the fire, could see right away that this was not an ordinary stone. The light shone through it, casting images of refracted light on the walls of their shack. She held it up to the light. It was enormous, filling her hand. And yes, it certainly was a diamond. Did anyone see you take this?

No, Mother. I was all alone. Akbar knew from his mother’s excitement that this was a great find.

This is very good, my son. I don’t know how the miner got it out of the pits, but this is very good. She gave him a hug. Certainly, it was a mystery. The miners would go to work at the mine naked so that concealing a diamond was more difficult. Guards inspected them when they left the pits before evening prayers. If a guard even suspected that a miner had swallowed a diamond to hide it from his master, the guard would not hesitate to split him open and examine the entrails for the stone. The miners had a very miserable existence. Mumtaz held the stone up again to the firelight. My darling son, we must find a way to trade this for our freedom and some money. She picked up a small rag, wrapped the diamond and then went about burying it in the corner of the shack. After their tea, Akbar and his mother went to sleep. In a couple of hours, Mumtaz would have to go to work in the kitchens.

CHAPTER 2

It was on that same afternoon that Mumtaz was told that they would be required to prepare for a great feast. Shah Jehan, the great Moghul, was coming to Golconda immediately after the monsoons. Preparations began. Roadways and fortifications were repaired, gardeners worked from morning to night, and Mumtaz assisted the head chef in determining where they would gather the very best of produce when the time came. They collected healthy animals and started to fatten them up for slaughter. Several days later, during these preparations, Mumtaz decided to ask permission to speak with Emir Gemla. It was in the evening, after the meal, that she was summoned before the Emir. Several officers of his court were there as she entered his chambers. He was reading from a scroll. The Emir looked up at her and, seeing her beauty, smiled. He waved, bidding the attractive ebony-colored woman to come closer. Mumtaz approached and knelt before the Emir. He spoke. So, young woman, I am told you have an important message for me.

Yes, My Lord. She sounded confident.

Then stand and tell me this news.

Mumtaz stood and began the story of how her son kept mongooses to help control snakes in the town. She told him the whole story, and despite it taking some time, the Emir listened patiently. Finally, Mumtaz started to speak of the stone that her son had recovered. The Emir leaned forward and listened intently. Mumtaz reached into her robe and withdrew the stone, wrapped in the same dirty cloth in which she had concealed it by her bed. She bent low, and said, My Lord, I return to you what was taken by the miner. She uncovered the enormous diamond. Officers of the court stepped forward to view the stone.

The Emir held out his hand and Mumtaz placed the heavy diamond in his palm. He held the diamond up to the light of the great chandelier and studied it. Slowly he turned the stone, over and over. A smile came over his face. It was the biggest diamond he had seen. He waved to his assistant to fetch the scales. Together they weighed the diamond. The assistant was taking down notes in a large book of paper. The Emir finally turned back to Mumtaz and smiled at her. Tell me about yourself, about your son. Mumtaz spoke truthfully about her life, the sorrow of her husband’s death, and her brave and loyal son. The Emir nodded with interest as she spoke. And you work in my kitchen?

Yes, My Lord.

Not any more. I am very impressed with your loyalty and honesty. Even though you have lost your husband while he fought against my men, you remain loyal and hard working. I command you to fetch your son and bring him here to this court. I will provide you with a place to stay, and you will work in my household staff. Your son shall bring his mongooses, and he will keep the court safe from cobras. You will hunger no more.

Thank you, My Lord. she bowed and left the court. Guards took her to her hut. Within the hour, Mumtaz and Akbar returned to their new home in the palace.

The Emir turned the stone over to his cutters who would clean up the diamond for a great presentation to Shah Jehan. Emir Gemla was sure that such a gift would ensure that Golconda would remain under his control as long as Shah Jehan was in power. The Shah would eventually pass his place on the peacock throne to a successor. The Emir knew that Aurung Zeb was not about to let this happen to anyone else. Aurung Zeb was evil and ambitious, and certainly capable of planning a murderous coup that would allow him to move from Hyderabad to Delhi and take his father’s place on the bejewelled peacock throne.

In three short weeks, Shah Jehan and his favourite son, Prince Dara, came to Golconda at the head of a large army. After a sumptuous banquet, the Emir Gemla—ever the enterprising opportunist—bought a place for himself in the court when he presented the great diamond to his guest, the Shah Jehan, calling it the ‘Great Moghul’ in honour of his benevolent master.

Shah Jehan returned to Delhi with the gigantic stone. Yes, it was enormous, estimated at 700 carats. The Shah’s jewellers recommended that the diamond be sectioned to remove a portion that included a flaw. The diamond was sent under heavy guard to Venice where the cutter Borgis cleaved the stone. It was polished and returned. But when the stones were returned, the larger of the two diamonds was now estimated at only 280 carats. The Shah was infuriated with this disappointing outcome. Borgis was lucky that he was far off in Venice.

Not long after the return of the ‘Great Moghul’, Aurung Zeb murdered his half brother, Prince Dara, and his young son. There would be no competitors left to contest his position on the peacock throne. The Shah’s guard was butchered, and the entire Royal Cortege was slaughtered. Aurung Zeb arrested the Shah. He spared his father, only to have the Shah clapped in irons at Agra where he finally died of hunger and abuse a year later. Aurung Zeb remained on the throne for many years, but it was a time of war and great hardship as the Persians pressed against them from the north. Despite the many wars in these violent times, Aurung Zeb died an old man in his own bed.

Aurung Zeb’s successors held the Great Moghul in the royal treasury until Nadir Shah Asfar extended his empire and, after subjugating Kandahar, moved southward to capture Delhi. Nadir Shah ‘rescued’ the Great Moghul diamond from Delhi in 1738 when he seized the Moghul’s treasures and returned with all of the glittering booty to Persia. It was Nadir Shah who had the diamond mounted in a magnificent necklace for one of his brides. At that time, Nadir Shah was also waging a brutal war against the Ottomans. Around 1745, a desperate Nadir Shah finally signed a peace agreement and was allowed to occupy Najaf on the Euphrates River. Nadir’s situation was worsening. He was in need of cash to bolster his forces so that he could retake what was his. It was then that he had sent a portion of the treasure, including the Great Moghul diamond, down the Euphrates to the port of Basra to be liquidated into more useful assets. During this transfer, bandits of the Saudi tribe seized the treasure and returned with it to their fort in Riyadh. The diamond was held in Riyadh for decades. Again, war decided ownership of the diamond. The clans of Saud and the Rashidi struggled over the central portion of the Arabian Desert. The Rashidi, based around Mecca and Jeddah, were allied with the Ottomans. When the benevolent Talal ibn Abdullah Al Rashidi seized Riyadh, he allowed the members of the Saud family, most mercifully, to depart with their lives for Kuwait in exchange for the entire treasury. It was in 1860 that the Rashidi family took control of the magnificent diamond necklace.

CHAPTER 3

Wadi Al Jamelah in the Arabian Desert, June 20, 1916

The Turkish Army officer was down to four cigarettes. He placed one in his lips, clipped the gold case shut and returned it to the breast pocket of his tunic. Mulazim (Lieutenant) Jousef Demirak was standing on the parapet of the railway fort at Wadi Al Jamelah watching the sun’s last minutes. As he lit his cigarette, he surveyed the Infantry Company that he commanded. The men hunched over their posts; the whole Company was at stand-to. They were dirty and looked tired. Many wore bloody bandages and occasionally waved at the ever-present flies. Some of these men had been garrisoned at this god-forsaken fortress, but most of them were the survivors of a Company assigned as security on the train travelling from Medina to Istanbul. Many men in the Company had been killed when the train was ambushed. Only a small miracle had allowed this group to continue on the last mile of their journey, pulled by the damaged engine, to Wadi Al Jamelah. The charred engine and six cars sat on the rails about 300 metres from the railway fort.

The Turkish Company had dragged their weapons, equipment and the wounded from the train while Bedouin snipers picked away at them. Soldiers who had disembarked the train on the western side of the track were cut down. Bedouins had been hiding on the higher ground to the west. Demirak had left the rail car to the downhill side of the railway bed and found cover there. Even with covering fire from the Maxim machine gun in the small fortress, it had been a terrible ordeal. What was left of Turkish corpses lay in the sand between the fort and the engine; it was a macabre sight for the first two days as they bloated in the sun. The dogs and vultures had fed for several days. Only piles of rags seemed to remain. In the quiet of the afternoon, the buzzing of flies on the nearest bodies could be heard from the fort.

The upper parapet measured ten metres square and was walled with heavy stonework up to a man’s chest. Smoking here on the parapet was an invitation to rifle fire from the surrounding desert, but Demirak was past caring. There were plenty of places for a marksman to hide in the rocks and low scrub that was scattered over the area. In the low ground below the fort, palm trees found enough water along the Wadi to survive even through the summer’s heat. After three or four rains in the early spring, the