Lachmi Bai, Rani of Jhansi: The Jeanne D'Arc of India

by Michael White

  Chapter XVI

  _JHANSI BESIEGED_

  High above the city and the plain, from the loftiest pinnacle of thefortress, the banner of the Rani waved in proud defiance. The citygates were still open to admit a few stragglers fleeing to swell theovercrowded caravansaries. The incessant bleating of goats and sheep,mingled with the lowing of cattle, that rose above the human turmoil,proclaimed forethought in sweeping the country bare of all live stock,available as food for the advancing enemy. With similar prudence, thealready arid coloring of the land had been hastened and intensified bythe action of the Rani, in setting fire to the scrub jungle for milesin all directions. By this means the horses and baggage animals of theinvading force would be deprived of local sustenance.

  By the eastern gate a group of horsemen were held in momentaryreadiness to dash forth upon an urgent mission.

  From a commanding point on the walls of the citadel, the Rani, AhmadKhan, Dost Ali, and others of her officers, anxiously scanned theuneven horizon to the southward. Her arms rested on the parapet fromwhich the rock fell away in a sheer precipice to the plain below.To the east of the city beyond the lake, the waters of the Betwa,gleaming in the afternoon sunshine, wound a sinuous course northward.Directly beneath, the ruined bungalows of the Foreigners, thedismantled Star Fort near the cantonments, and temples amid shadingclumps of tamarind, were indistinctly visible through the haze restinglightly upon the surface of the land.

  The decision had been taken to defend the city instead of givingbattle in the open. As a consequence the whole of the troops had beenwithdrawn from the cantonments to the walls. The latter presented ananimated appearance, manned at all parts ready for the advent of theForeigners.

  The Rani gazing upon this scene, suddenly raised an arm and pointingafar off to a defile in the broken country, engaged Ahmad's attention.

  "Look, my Lord," she cried. "Dost thou not make out some horsemenadvancing yonder"?

  Ahmad shaded his eyes with his hand, and for a few moments lookedintently in the direction indicated.

  "Aye," he replied at last. "They come on the Chanchanpur road. It mustbe the vanguard of the enemy."

  He leaned over the parapet as if by a more earnest gaze to make sure ofhis opinion, then drew back with confirmation written on his face.

  "Undoubtedly they are of the Foreign Sahib's army, my Lady Rani," hesaid. "I can tell by the action of their horses."

  The Rani turned to a soldier standing to a gun near by. She raisedher hand as a signal. Immediately a tongue of flame and a puff ofwhite smoke shot forth from the muzzle of the cannon. The report thatfollowed was borne above the city and echoed amid the crevices of therock.

  It had scarcely died away when similar reports boomed from rampartto bastion along the circuit of the walls, a prearranged warning ofthe Foreigners' approach. Commotion was manifested on the defenses asthe soldiers hurried to their stations. Instantly the troop near theeastern gate clapped spurs to their horses' flanks and dashed forwardon the road to Charkari. They bore a message to Tantia Topi, thatJhansi had been invested, and again called upon him for assistance.Behind them the gates swung back upon their hinges, drawbridges wereraised, the siege of Jhansi had commenced.

  The watchers on the citadel beheld the troop race for life along theCharkari road. They also beheld, with consternation, a flank movementby a detachment from the main body of the Foreign cavalry to interceptthe messengers' escape.

  "See, my Lord," the Rani cried anxiously, "the Foreign cavalry are inpursuit of our horsemen."

  Ahmad glanced quickly in their direction.

  "Aye," he replied, "but I doubt if they can reach the Betwa first."

  The Rani's troop evidently perceived their danger for their horses wereurged on to greater speed. Could the Betwa be reached they would besafe from further pursuit, but it was yet a good five miles distant.

  Thus pursuers and pursued raced across the plain in full view of thosewatching from the fortress. The Foreign cavalry gained ground steadilyin spite of the freshness of the others' horses.

  "Ahmad," suddenly exclaimed the Rani, as if an idea had flashed uponher mind, "do thou go forth with my bodyguard and seek to draw off theForeigners; but enter not into any rash engagement as we need everylife in the defense of Jhansi. Hasten, good Ahmad, for Tantia Topi mustnot remain in doubt of our position."

  Ahmad obediently hurried from her side, while the Rani anxiouslyawaited the outcome of her order.

  Presently from the eastern gate she beheld Ahmad sweep forth at thehead of a body of Valaiti troopers with the object of, in turn, cuttingoff the Foreign cavalry.

  This the Foreigners quickly noticed and wheeled about to meet the newforce.

  The Rani clapped her hands joyfully, for the manoeuvre enabled herflying mission to gain an unrecoverable advantage. She beheld themplunge to safety through the waters of the Betwa.

  Those on the walls also watched the movement and cheered loudly uponits success.

  In the gathering darkness Ahmad Khan then withdrew his detachment tothe shelter of the walls.

  A sleepless night was spent by those in authority within the threatenedcity. To a late hour the Rani sat in council discussing final plansfor the defense. A mandate was issued calling upon every male able tobear arms to repair to the walls, and in her name, the Rani especiallyappealed to the women and children to render assistance, not in vainlamentations over the slain, but by carrying food and water to thoseunable to leave their posts.

  At daybreak the enemy's cavalry was reported to have completelyinvested the city, and before night again came round, the main bodyof their army had arrived and were busily engaged erecting batteriesfrom which to bombard the walls. It was evident their intention was tocapture the entire garrison as well as the capital of the state.

  A suggestion that the Rani should make her escape while there might yetremain an opportunity, was received by the fair defender with scorn.

  "Fear not," she retorted with animation, "that I will suffer theindignity of capture at their hands. My dead body they may find, butthe spirit of the Rani of Jhansi will have carried more than one ofthem to an accounting before the great tribunal of justice."

  In two days the enemy's batteries were completed, then the storm ofwar burst with full violence upon the city. The garrison spiritedlyreturned the fire shot for shot with many to the good, breacheswere made in the walls to be repaired by the hands of the women andchildren, animated to heroic actions by the presence and inspiringwords of their beautiful queen, who seemed oblivious to any form ofdanger. At all hours she visited the ramparts to encourage her soldierswith stirring appeals.

  Day by day, for seventeen in number, the duel of cannon shot was keptup on both sides, while watchers on the Jhansi citadel cast theirvision with anxious eagerness across the Betwa to the north and west.Was Tantia Topi going to abandon them to the mercy of the Foreigners?The question forced itself upon their minds.

  The situation was fast becoming desperate. Great rents had been made inthe solid masonry at strategic points that could not be repaired. Thedead and dying numbered hundreds. The besieged began to fight not withthe hope of victory, but with the courage of despair.

  At last the mamelon itself was reduced by the furious cannonade, itsguns silenced. A hand to hand conflict seemed imminent. It was then theRani performed an act of sublime courage which inspired admiration evenin the eyes of her enemies.

  Messenger after messenger had arrived at the palace bearing on theirfaces expressions of dismay that told without words of the terrorseizing upon their hearts. One at length brought the worst news yetreceived.

  "My Lady Rani," he spoke hurriedly. "The parapet of the mamelon is shotaway, the breach momentarily widens, Ahmad Khan who, although badlywounded, still fights like ten thousand tigers, sends word that it mustshortly be abandoned. Alas! the troops are becoming disheartened, andhesitate to obey their orders."

  The spirit of the Rani rose upon the instant to confront the impendingcalamity.

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bsp; "No," she cried, "the mamelon shall not be captured, while I have avoice to summon men to its defense."

  She repaired quickly to her private apartments and arrayed herself inmagnificent attire so that in the act she contemplated there might beno doubt concerning her personality. Then she called for a horse androde swiftly to the threatened spot.

  As she approached the ramparts, evidences of the terrible devastationwrought by the shell of the enemy confronted her gaze. Broken walls,bodies horribly mangled where they had fallen, the forms of themortally wounded writhing in their death agony, terrified facescowering behind any shelter that could be obtained. A wide gap in theoutworks of the mamelon proved that the fire of the besiegers had doneeffective work.

  A feeble cheer greeted the Rani's arrival. She allowed it to passunheeded. She dismounted, and without a moment's hesitation, strodefearlessly, past ghastly forms and over shattered blocks of masonry,toward the most exposed part of the walls.

  Panic-stricken men turned their eyes upon her in wonder. A pulseof renewed courage began to throb in their hearts on beholding herpresence among them. What was she about to do? they asked of each otherin undertones.

  Overhead the shot continued to rain a hail of destruction, but shepressed onward to the broken summit of the bastion. A shell struck theground a few yards in advance, sending a cloud of dust into the air andscattering stones in all directions, but it did not cause her to swervea foot from her path.

  Ahmad Khan perceived her danger and hurried to her side. Hisappearance told of the severity of the last few days of combat. Oneof his arms was suspended in a sling, his turbanless head bandaged toclose the wound caused by the flying splinter of a rock, his sternvisage dirt begrimed, his beard matted with congealed blood.

  "Where goest thou, fair Rani"? he asked anxiously. "Turn back thysteps, I beg of thee. It is certain death to go forward."

  She waved him back imperiously.

  "I am not afraid," she cried above the din of the bombardment. "Thisscene is mine as a birthright. Did I not tell thee, I was a trueMaratha."

  He fell back and stumbled after her at a little distance.

  She lightly passed over the remaining obstacles and mounted the brokenparapet of the bastion. There in full view of the besiegers, in fullrange of their guns, she stood, a dauntless, defiant, superb figure ofinspiring courage to all beholders. A gentle breeze played with hersilken draperies. With a contemptuous smile she gazed serenely towardthe enemy's battery. Fire, if you dare, seemed to be her challenge.

  A gun that was quickly trained upon her could have instantaneouslyhurled her into oblivion, and thereby ended the siege of Jhansi. Asoldier stood by it ready to fire at the officer's command. But theorder did not come. To the credit of the chivalrous spirit of theForeign general, he enjoined that yonder heroic girl should not sufferharm knowingly by his guns.

  For several minutes she thus stood upon the threshold of eternity,gazing calmly into its unfathomed depths; then turned and waved a handencouragingly to those whose upturned faces regarded her safety in thedaring act as an interposition of providence.

  With a shout of renewed enthusiasm they rushed from their places ofshelter to reman the abandoned fort. The roar of the bombardment rosehigher than ever; but for the moment the city was saved from assault.