Forgotten Cities: Fatehpur Sikri

By Lisa J. Yarde

In the Indian state of Uttar Pradesh, the vast ruins of a sandstone city reflect a fusion of Hindu, Jain, Persian and Muslim architectural styles. Fatehpur Sikri ('City of Victory'), built on the orders of the enlightened Mughal Emperor Akbar, rises on the ridge of a plateau, overlooking an artificial lake. It is 40 kilometers from Agra, site of the more famous Taj Mahal. Between 1572 and 1585, the number of buildings within the complex ranged over two miles long and a mile wide. Most of the building facades are covered in red sandstone, with pillars, beams and pavilions. The city's planners faced a great challenge in bringing water to such a rocky region, an insurmountable difficulty that partially led to the abandonment of Fatehpur Sikri.

In 1569, Akbar had no sons despite being married and surrounded by concubines. He made a pilgrimage to a renowned Sufi saint, who prophesied that Akbar would have three sons, the first from his wife Jodha Bai. Later that year, Akbar's first son the future Emperor Jahangir entered the world. At his birth, Akbar named the boy Salim after the saint. Two years later, Akbar initiated construction at Fatehpur Sikri in gratitude for his son's life.  The new ceremonial capital soon featured elaborate palaces, surrounded by reflecting pools and cool courtyards of stone. The Jama Masjid, Fatehpur Sikri's great mosque, could accommodate 10,000 people. The great mosque also housed the tomb of the saint who divined the birth of the emperor's sons. The city contained living quarters for the court, army, public servants and ordinary citizens. Governmental buildings included an audience hall, library and state archives.

Akbar was a pious and tolerant ruler. He wanted his city to reflect India's diverse heritage. Islamic-styled vaults and domes roofed posts and beams carved in Hindu and Jain designs. There were two main approaches. From the west, past the artificial lake, the elaborate Elephant Gate gave entry to the city. The Agra gate faced the east. Other entrances, such as the gates of Delhi, Lal, Birbal, Chandanpal, Chor, Ajmere and Tehra pierced the five-mile long wall surrounding Fatehpur Sikri, bounded by hills and the lake as barriers. The city was not fortified, like Agra and could not offer Akbar a stable base against incursions from the northwest. In 1585, the emperor moved his capital to Lahore. He returned once to Fatehpur Sikri in 1601.   


In 1619, Emperor Jahangir sought refuge at the site for three months, after a devastating plague took the lives of most of Agra's residents. Later, Emperor Muhammad Shah also visited, but the city never regained the grandeur it held during Akbar's occupation.    

Lisa J. Yarde writes fiction inspired by real-life events. She is the author of two historical novels set in medieval England and Normandy, The Burning Candle, based on the life of Isabel de Vermandois, and On Falcon's Wings, chronicling the star-crossed romance between Norman and Saxon lovers. Lisa has also written Sultana and Sultana’s Legacy, novels set during a turbulent period of thirteenth century Spain, where rivalries and ambitions threaten the fragile bonds between members of a powerful family. She has written contemporary fiction including her first novella, Long Way Home, in which a young couple learns valuable lessons about love, loss and forgiveness, just before tragedy strikes.

Great Loves in History: Shah Jahan & Mumtaz Mahal

By Lisa J. Yarde

In 1632, the Mughal Emperor of India, Shah Jahan commanded the construction of a fabulous, white marble mausoleum, inlaid with gemstones. The Taj Mahal is considered a tribute built in loving memory of Shah Jahan's favorite wife, Mumtaz Mahal.

Mumtaz Mahal

Mumtaz Mahal was born Arjuman Banu Begum, a member of the Persian nobility. In 1607, while at a marketplace, the 14-year old's beauty caught the attention of a vain, young Mughal Prince Khurram, who was a grandson of Emperor Akbar the Great. Khurram declared his intentions to marry the girl, but they would have to wait for an auspicious date from the court's astrologers. There was a year's difference in age between Mumtaz and her eventual husband. After their wedding took place in 1612, the young prince bestowed the title Mumtaz Mahal, "Ornament of the Palace" on his wife and they shared 19 years of marriage, despite the intrigues of his stepmother Nur Jahan (incidentally, a paternal aunt of Mumtaz Mahal).  Mughal succession did not always favor the eldest son. For a time, Prince Khurram was his father Jahangir's favorite and earned the title Shah Jahan for his prowess in battle against his father's enemies.

Shah Jahan

Although Khurram married two other women and dutifully sired children with him, he showed great devotion to Mumtaz Mahal. She remained at his side as the court traveled through India, on his military campaigns and hunting expeditions. Mumtaz Mahal might have also been forewarned of her husband's intention to murder his younger brother and rival claimant, Khusrau, and rebel against Jahangir in 1622. The rebellion ended in defeat for Khurram four years later. He had to send two of his sons, including the eight year-old child of he and Mumtaz, Aurangzeb, as hostages to their grandfather's court. Mumtaz Mahal would not see her sons for another two years. When Jahangir died and Khurram ascended to the throne of the Mughals in 1627 as Emperor Shah Jahan, Mumtaz Mahal gained further prominence as a trusted adviser to her husband . She gave birth to fourteen children, but only half of them survived to adulthood.

Taj Mahal

In June 1631, Mumtaz Mahal accompanied Shah Jahan on a military campaign to the Deccan Penninsula, despite being heavily pregnant. She died at the city of Burhanput after giving birth to their daughter. Official accounts describe Shah Jahan's grief-stricken state upon the loss of Mumtaz Mahal. Heartbreak "crumbled his mountain-like endurance." At first Shah Jahan interred his beloved wife's body at the site of her death for six months before he had her escorted to Agra six months later. He retreated from public appearances and when he finally emerged, the hair on his head had turned from black to completely white. Within several months, the construction on the Taj Mahal began. Another 22 years passed before it ended. Centuries later, the Taj Mahal still stands, its four minarets piercing the sky at Agra. It houses the remains of Shah Jahan and his beloved Mumtaz Mahal.

Lisa J. Yarde writes fiction inspired by real-life events. She is the author of On Falcon's Wings, a medieval novel chronicling the star-crossed romance between Norman and Saxon lovers. She has also written the medieval novels Sultana and Sultana’s Legacy, both set during a turbulent period of thirteenth century Spain.

            

Real Life Heroes: Sir Richard Burton

By Karen Mercury

Sir Richard Burton (born 1821) was a man a hundred years ahead of his time. A megalomaniac, brilliant, and brutal, he is mostly known for having the nerve to bring the Kama Sutra and the 1001 Nights to the civilized world. Even as a youth he was fearless and reckless. He once broke his trumpet over the head of his instructor because he wanted to play piano instead. He joined the army in India, where he became known for dressing in Arab garb and going into backwoods districts where no one else would dare tread.

He read prolifically, became an expert in all things Oriental, and by the end of his life spoke at least 20 languages fluently. He traveled to the Holy City of Mecca and was the first white man to write about it, being able to pass for Arab. He was nearly caught, certain death for a white man, when he lifted his robe to pee instead of squatting like an Arab. During some of his many leaves from the Army, he learned falconry and wrote The Book of the Sword, so detailed it is still used by fencers today.

But oddly enough he chose to marry an extremely prudish and upright woman, Isabel Arundel. His translation of the Arabian Nights took him years, and Isabel was extremely mortified about "those activities" of his, his interest in the Kama Sutra. Being a widely traveled ethnologist, most biographers posit that he tried all the techniques he wrote about, and with all of the tribes he visited.

Burton defended himself vociferously. "To those critics who complain of my raw vulgarisms and puerile indecencies, I can reply by quoting what Dr Johnson said to the lady who complained of naughty words in his dictionary: 'You must have been looking for them, Madam!'"

In India, he went undercover for General Napier to a brothel where English soldiers "frequented" young boys. His resulting incredibly detailed report caused a scandal and it was quickly buried--like so much of his "deviant" writing would later be buried by his prudish wife. Naturally everyone assumed Burton participated in the activities to obtain such details, but I guess we'll never know.

In 1854 he joined up with John Hanning Speke to travel to Somalia, backed by the Royal Geographical Society. Burton proposed to discover a large interior lake he'd heard about. Burton accomplished the first leg alone, and would set out on the second leg with Speke and two other lieutenants. Before they could leave they were attacked by Somali warriors. Speke was wounded in eleven spots by spears, one lieutenant was killed, and Burton had a javelin thrust through his jaw. Although Burton was cleared of culpability, it was another black mark on his army record. Soon after in the Crimea, his unit mutinied, another black mark that led to a lifelong frustration with being unable to advance in the army.

His most famous trip left out of Zanzibar to "discover" the source of the Nile. Speke amazingly agreed to accompany him--the two were like oil and water, but worked well together on expeditions. They set out in 1857 and suffered various travails--Speke was blind for several weeks and partially deaf due to an infection, and Burton was unable to walk and had to be carried on a litter which ruined his enormous pride. It was actually Speke alone who found Lake Victoria, and Burton refused to believe it was the source of the Nile, since he had been unable to see it himself.

Speke returned home before Burton and published his own account first, which led to one of the great debates of all time. Speke didn't know any African languages and didn't keep nearly as detailed notes as Burton. Speke had an Imperialist attitude toward Africans and Burton was appalled at the way he randomly killed animals and left the meat sitting there. All of this led to a great rift, and when Speke gave his lecture first at the Royal Geographical Society, breaking their promise to present their findings together, Burton challenged him to a debate. It was all-out war by then, with Burton being the most suspicious character due to his "going native." In 1864 they had a date to debate in front of a society, but the day before, Speke was found dead in a bizarre hunting accident. Many people believe he couldn't handle the stress of going up against Burton who was a superior public speaker.

Burton managed to obtain consul positions at Fernando Po and Brazil, bringing Isabel with him and spending much time traveling. He was sent to Damascus where once again he made many enemies, continuing to translate and write many more books. He died in Trieste in 1890--the cloud of another controversy surrounding him when his friends believed Isabel forced him to convert to Catholicism on his deathbed. She had always tried to protect his image, and one of the first things she did upon his death was burn many of his "pornographic" writings, including a final chapter of The Perfumed Garden on pederasty, leading many to term her "the most hated woman in literature."

Karen Mercury's first three historicals, including STRANGELY WONDERFUL were set in precolonial Africa. Her latest, WORKING THE LODE, due out in January 2011, is an erotic romance set during the California gold rush.

What Surprised Me: Ancient & Medieval Prostitution

By Lisa Yarde

Prostitution has existed for so long that it's often call the world's oldest profession. The sale of sexual services is considered taboo in most societies, but this view was not always held in the past.

One of the projects that I'm currently working on is The Rule of Love, about the origins of the Kama Sutra. How's that for an unusual historical? In fifth century India, my protagonist learns lessons of sensuality, life, and love at an exclusive brothel run by his aunt. The Kama Sutra is more than a manual of sexual positions. It teaches proper behavior, and instructs the reader on how attain fulfillment of every goal in life, including sexual ones. A large portion of the text discusses the role of prostitutes in society.

Illustration from Kama Sutra
Centuries of Muslim leadership and the puritanical British Raj have influenced the modern India republic's conservative views of sensuality, but the country's past is very different. I was genuinely surprised by the unabashed view of prostitution the Kama Sutra takes. The sixth part of the Kama Sutra is devoted to their proper conduct; a how-to guide on the ways by which they could attract and keep lovers. The author considered prostitution a natural part of civilized society, which prevented marital affairs, with prostitutes providing their services for the general good.

At the time of the Kama Sutra, prostitutes at every level played an important role in society, as its artisans and used their wealth to fund social and religious projects. The text notes, "Having temples and reservoirs built, setting up altars on raised platforms to Agni, the fire good, giving Brahmans herds of cows and covered vessels, arranging...offerings to the gods, bearing the expenses involved in the money they earn, this is the concern of high-ranking courtesans who reap large profits."

The early Catholic Church struggled with the role of prostitutes. In the fourth century, St. Augustine, one of its most important figures, stated "If you do away with harlots, the world will be convulsed with lust." He took the view that would influence society up through the Middle Ages, that prostitution was a necessary evil. Having had a mistress for most of his youth, St. Augustine understood the power of lust.

Eight centuries later, his thoughts on prostitutes would influence the opinions of St. Thomas Aquinas. In his Summa Theologiae, Aquinas argued for the toleration of prostitutes in society, as in the state should allow fornication and prostitution for the sake of the common good. "Prostitution is like a sewer in a palace. Take away the sewer and you will fill the palace with pollution."

St. Thomas Aquinas
When I have written in medieval settings, the constant influence of the Church in my characters' lives placed constraints on their actions. It was strange to find that in an age typified by priests preaching sexual abstinence, even in marriage, St. Thomas Aquinas took a practical approach to prostitution: it was "...filthy and against the law of God," but that a prostitute should always be fairly paid for her services. "It is lawful for her to keep it and also to give it to charity even though it is acquired by an unlawful action...." But he also stipulated that prostitutes were bound to pay their tithes to the Church, "...only after the individuals in question have done penance."

Brothels soon flourished in every major city. In Paris, le roi des ribauds (the king of the ribalds) regulated the services of the city's prostitutes. Queen Joanna of Avignon established a town brothel rather than allow wholesale prostitution to go unregulated. In twelfth century London, King Henry II brought the "stews" or public baths used for meeting prostitutes, under government regulation. The London streets where prostitutes could be found were known by names like, "Lovelane, Cokkeslane, Gropec*nt Lane, and Codpiece Alley." Later, the Bishop of Winchester owned most of the brothels that developed along Southwark, leading to "Winchester geese" as a common reference for the prostitutes there.

Guest Author: Sherry Thomas

This week we're welcoming successful new historical author Sherry Thomas as she celebrates the release of her latest romance, NOT QUITE A HUSBAND.

Their marriage lasted only slightly longer than the honeymoon--to no one's surprise, not even Bryony Asquith's. A man as talented, handsome, and sought after by society as Leo Marsden couldn't possibly want to spend his entire life with a woman who rebelled against propriety by becoming a doctor. Why, then, three years after their annulment and half a world away, does he track her down at her clinic in the remotest corner of India?

Leo has no reason to think Bryony could ever forgive him for the way he treated her, but he won't rest until he's delivered an urgent message from her sister--and fulfilled his duty by escorting her safely back to England. But as they risk their lives for each other on the journey home, will the biggest danger be the treacherous war around them--or their rekindling passion?

***

Who are you and what are you doing here?

Uhhh, sorry, wrong blog. Wait, wait, hold on a minute. This is the Unusual Historicals blog: I'm at the right place. Look, I even have an invitation. Oh, crap. Where's my invite?

Everybody here writes unusual historicals. Do you?

Well, umm, actually, I mostly write the usual stuff. Double-crossing heiresses, fallen femme fatale cooks, turn-of-the-century time period. You know, stuff that everybody does.

Everybody doesn't. There are very few romances set around the turn of the century.

You are kidding. It's an ab fab period. There were cool technologies: Telegraphy was the 19th century internet and having a private car is like having a private space vehicle today. There was globalization: You wouldn't believe how much international trade went on. (It all screeched to a halt in the first half of the 20th century because of the two wars and took decades to build back up to turn-of-the-century levels). And there were multiplying freedoms for women--they traveled, they worked, they obtained higher education in droves, they enjoyed rights to their own properties even if they are married.

Why aren't more books set in this period?

Beats us. So it says here you've a new book out, NOT QUITE A HUSBAND, set in India?

::looks around surreptitiously::

Actually it's set in--::clears throat nervously::--Pakistan.

Of course there was no Pakistan in 1897. It was all Imperial India, or the British Raj, if you will. More specifically, my book is set in the North-West Frontier, a rugged, austere, and beautiful country in the Hindu Kush mountains. It was the frontier not only in the sense of the difficulty of the physical terrain, which is similar to the terrain in Afghanistan that has proved such a headache for NATO (and the USSR in the 80s), but also in the sense that it was the end of the reach of British power. Beyond reared the roof of the world--the Pamirs, the Karakoram, and the Himalayas.

The British had been happy to hold the plains of India and Kashmir. But with Russia's relentless territorial growth in the 19th century, the British were increasingly alarmed that it was going to expand right to the gates of India--perhaps even into India itself. So the British countered by extending its own sphere of influence northward, to hold certain key positions which, if captured by the Russians, would give them strategy footholds for sweeping south into India Proper.

The Pashtun tribes of the frontier, however, did not like foreign overlords. And in the summer of 1897, tensions came to a boil.

An itinerant imam, by the sobriquet of the Mad Fakir, traveled the villages of the Upper Swat Valley. He performed miracles and invited the populace to follow him as he drove out the British from their land. He inspired a fierce rebellion that took the British military encampment in the Swat Valley entirely by surprise. They were surrounded and sieged in for a week, until relief columns arrived from the south.

(And if Swat Valley sounds familiar to anyone, it's because history repeats itself and Swat is again a dangerous place to be: it has been very much in the news in the past year as a fierce battleground between the Pakistan Army and the Taliban.)

Wow, cool! Did you set out to set NOT QUITE A HUSBAND in an in-the-news hot spot?

Nope, completely by chance. I sold my editor a book set somewhere in the deserts--I figured, broiling days, freezing nights, bandits, so romantic. But unfortunately I couldn't find a suitably sandy trouble spot at the end of the 19th century. Searched for colonial conflicts all around the globe and ended up in the North-West Frontier of India in the end.

My editor, however, still refers to "the deserts" even after we'd been going back and forth in revision a while!


And what were your characters doing in the North-West Frontier province to be caught in the cross hairs? Is he an officer in the army?

No, not at all. He is a mathematician. He's traveled all the way to the North-West Frontier to find the woman who used to be his wife--their marriage has been annulled--and to escort her back to England, because her father lies dying in London.

And what follows is a journey both physical and metaphorical. And though there be malaria--have I mentioned malaria yet?--dreadful terrain, and deadly rebellion, there is nothing as perilous as secrets of the heart.

Well, maybe you do belong here then, with other folks who write unusual romances. But sorry lady, your time's up. Good-bye and get moving.

Okay, okay, I'm going. But thanks anyway, for having me. You guys are really nice--and you smell good too!

***

Thanks, Sherry! I wear Chanel No. 5, if you must know.

Now dear reader, you're frothing at the mouth for this book, aren't you? Let us hear from you! Question? Comment? Sock them to us for your chance to win a copy of NOT QUITE A HUSBAND. I'll draw a winner next Sunday, so good luck!

Thursday Excerpt: Sherry Thomas

Thursdays on Unusual Historicals mean excerpts! This week we're featuring a sample of Sherry Thomas's latest release, NOT QUITE A HUSBAND, set in 1897 India! Sherry will be joining us on Sunday for a Q&A, where we'll be offering the chance to win a free copy. Be sure to stop back!

Their marriage lasted only slightly longer than the honeymoon--to no one's surprise, not even Bryony Asquith's. A man as talented, handsome, and sought after by society as Leo Marsden couldn't possibly want to spend his entire life with a woman who rebelled against propriety by becoming a doctor. Why, then, three years after their annulment and half a world away, does he track her down at her clinic in the remotest corner of India?

Leo has no reason to think Bryony could ever forgive him for the way he treated her, but he won't rest until he's delivered an urgent message from her sister--and fulfilled his duty by escorting her safely back to England. But as they risk their lives for each other on the journey home, will the biggest danger be the treacherous war around them--or their rekindling passion?

***

Bryony felt it in her stomach, the keen pitch of interest around the table, including her own--she had no idea what he could possibly say. But he was in no hurry to gratify the collective curiosity. With great leisure, he finished the remainder of the cake on his plate.

He reached for his glass of whiskey. Instead of lifting it, however, he only turned it a few degrees by its base. For the first time, she noticed the condition of his hands. When they'd been married, he'd had very fine, gentlemanly hands. Today his fingers were rough and chapped, with faint cuts and bruises along his knuckles.

But then he smiled at his audience and she forgot all about his hands, for it was a smile that conquered, as sweet as it was merciless. With that smile came a light in his eyes, an irresistible light: This was the Leo who had taken London by storm.

"It's a long story," he said, taking a sip of Mr. Braeburn's whiskey, "so I will tell only a very condensed version of it.

"Mrs. Marsden and I grew up on adjacent properties in the Cotswold. But the Cotswold, as fair as it is, plays almost no part in this tale. Because it was not in green, unpolluted countryside that we fell in love, but in gray, sooty London. Love at first sight, of course, a hunger of the soul that could not be denied."

Bryony trembled somewhere inside. This was not their story, but her story, the determined spinster felled by the magnificence and charm of the gorgeous young thing.

He glanced at her. "You were the moon of my existence; your moods dictated the tides of my heart."

The tides of her own heart surged at his words, even though they were nothing but lies.

"I don't believe I had moods," she said severely.

"No, of course not. 'Thou art more lovely and more temperate'--and the tides of my heart only rose ever higher to crash against the levee of my self-possession. For I loved you most intemperately, my dear Mrs. Marsden."

Beside her Mrs. Braeburn blushed, her eyes bright. Bryony was furious at Leo, for his facile words, and even more so at herself, for the painful pleasure that trickled into her drop by drop.

"Our wedding was the happiest hour of my life, that we would belong to each other always. The church was filled with hyacinths and camellias, and the crowd overflowed to the steps, for the whole world wanted to see who had at last captured your lofty heart.

"But alas, I had not truly captured your lofty heart, had I? I but held it for a moment. And soon there was trouble in Paradise. One day, you said to me, 'My hair has turned white. It is a sign I must wander far and away. Find me then, if you can. Then and only then will I be yours again.'"

Her heart pounded. How did he know that she had indeed taken her hair turning white as a sign that the time had come for her to leave? No, he did not know. He'd made it up out of whole cloth. But even Mr. Braeburn was now spellbound by this ridiculous tale. She had forgotten how hypnotic Leo could be, when he wished to beguile a crowd.

"And so I have searched. From the poles to the tropics, from the shores of China to the shores of Nova Scotia. Our wedding photograph in hand, I have asked crowds pale, red, brown, and black, 'I seek an English lady doctor, my lost beloved. Have you seen her?'"

He looked into her eyes, and she could not look away, as mesmerized as the hapless Braeburns.

"And now I have found you at last." He raised his glass. "To the beginning of the rest of our lives."