The messenger clambered into the silent court and found confused faces staring at him. He didn’t care. He had an important message. It had to be delivered. “All hail the mighty Emperor!” he cried, and fell to his knees. “Rise and speak, young one.” said the Emperor. “Thank you, my lord. The sepoys from Meerut have reached Delhi and seek refuge. They will soon fight against the foreigners. They would be forever indebted to you if you were so kind as to provide some extra troops.”
The Emperor turned to the mir bakshi. “Arrange for them to stay at the barracks. They will march into battle tomorrow morning with hundred of my men. Make it so.” he then turned to the messenger and asked, “Anything else?”
“Nothing, my Lord. I thank you for your time.”
With that, the messenger tore out of the court and left the Mughal Emperor in deep thought. Bahadur Shah sat, thinking of the best way to asses the situation. He knew that he needed his wife and children safe. Especially Bahadur Shah II. He was the heir to the Mughal throne. His ancestors would have never wanted the throne to fall to the unworthy hands of the British. Should he sit back and watch the sepoys hunt the British down, or should he join the fight? He had been hearing for a few days now, that many places were rising up in revolt of this foul power. The Rani of Jhansi was probably also planning something, seeing what had happened to her four years ago. What was the best thing to do?
Suddenly, the doors blasted open, the blood of the guards staining them. The guns cocked and shot. Chaos prevailed. The Britishers had come, and a massacre had unfolded. Blood splattered on every wall of the court. Bahadur Shah pulled his sword out, but he realized quickly how stupid it had been. “No!” yelled the leader of the brutes. “Don’t shoot him. Let him realize his treason.” But Bahadur Shah wasn’t going to come quietly. He threw a small knife across the room, which impaled one of the guards. A loud scream ensued. “Seize him!” cried the leader. The Emperor readied his sword. “Don’t kill him!” yelled the scum. He swung his sword, which collided with one of the guns. He jabbed at another guard, who blocked it. The guard whacked him with the butt of his gun. He was forced to his knees. The chaos had subsided. The Emperor was in the arms of filth. “Now,” said the leader, kneeling down to Bahadur Shah’s face. “I’m going to ask you one very simple question. And you’re going to answer it, or get everything you worked for taken from you, you understand?”
“I answer only to God.” hissed the Emperor.
“Where are the sepoys?”
The Emperor was silent.
“You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? Where are the traitors? If you don’t answer, you’ll be treated like one yourself. You want that? No? O.K., then. Where are the sepoys?”
The Emperor gathered up saliva in his mouth and dispatched it onto the leader’s face. One of the guards advanced and smashed the butt of the gun into Bahadur Shah’s stomach.
The Mughal let out a loud scream. “O.K.” said the Britisher, wiping the spit from his face. He turned to a guard after pointing at five. “Search the palace. Find any children in it and bring them here.” He turned to the Emperor. “Let me give you a little extra incentive.”
The Emperor cursed the Britisher loudly. The leader merely laughed. It was an evil laugh. The laugh of a demon.
Bahadur Shah had heard what the Britisher had said. They would find his sons. What would they do? He hated to think about it, but he couldn’t push it from his mind. He knew what was going to happen. Information for the life of his children. He knew he couldn’t betray his country – his motherland. But could he do that to his children? Could he betray his children against the country? Could he betray his country for his children?
In they came. “Get your hands off me!” yelled Bahadur Shah II. “Do you know who my father -”
He caught a glimpse of his mighty father, Britishers holding him down, a look of worry and surrendered defeat on his face. “F-f-father?” his second son had also seen it. The sons exchanged looks. Their strong-willed, big-hearted father had been subdued.
“Now, Bahadur.” said the British leader, “Tell me where the sepoys are, or your sons get it.”
Bahadur Shah’s mind was racing. He couldn’t just let them kill his sons, nor could he betray the sepoys. “Alright, then,” said the leader, “Mr. Anderson, shoot this one -” he pointed to the elder son, “on the count of two.”
The guard roughly pushed the elder son to the ground. Bahadur Shah II screamed and kicked, but he was no match for Anderson. “One.” said the leader. “No, please! Not him! Shoot me instead!” yelled the Emperor. The leader scratched his chin in mock consideration. “No,” he said, thoughtfully, “That wouldn’t be as much fun, now, would it?”
“Please!” yelled the Emperor.
“Where are the sepoys?”
The Emperor was desperately searching his minds for things to say.
“Two.”
Bahadur Shah II looked into the Emperor’s eyes, tears streaming through them. “Fa-Father?” said the boy in Persian, before a loud Bang! filled the court, and Bahadur Shah II crumpled to the ground.
There was a moment of complete silence. The Emperor was to shocked to say anything.
“Now are you willing to talk?” said the leader, kneeling in front of Bahadur Shah. “I’ll ask you once: where are the damn sepoys?”
The Emperor once again spit in the leader’s face. “I won’t even count, this time!” yelled the Britisher. He whirled around and shot the younger son square in the face.
Everything stopped. The Emperor didn’t remember anything after that, except waking up in prison, and spending the rest of his life in there. He didn’t remember being taken to prison. His world, as he knew it, had stopped.