have been, he kept them to himself. It is possible that as yet he did not know them, but was led on by the hazard of events. At any rate he played a waiting game. He knew the impetuosity of Dárá, the sluggish inertness of Shujá', and the careless, happy-go-lucky disposition of his truculent youngest brother. He let them push themselves forward, and waited for the upshot. He did not declare himself even when he heard that Dárá had seized his house and imprisoned his agent at Delhi. But he must have known that the accession of any of his brothers meant death or captivity for himself, and his mind must soon have been made up. In self-defence he was bound to make his bid for power, and once this was determined, only remained to choose the line of action. Others, like Murád-Bakhsh and Shujá', might strike boldly at their quarry: Aurangzíb ever loved to stalk it by circuitous paths. His genius lay in diplomatic craft, and his approach to the throne was made by roundabout curves and zigzags.
Dárá was prompt in asserting his authority. He lost no time in sending out the imperial armies to chastise Shujá' and Murád-Bakhsh. In December, 1657, he despatched his own son, Sulaimán Shukóh, under the tutorship of Rája Jai Singh, to suppress Shujá'; whilst the Mahárája Jaswant Singh of Márwár, assisted by Kásim Khán, marched to meet the advance of Murád-Bakhsh, with instructions to cut the line of communication between the rebel viceroy of Gújarát and his wary brother of the Deccan. Dárá was
