She realised also that her possession of Dara Shukoh and Aurangzeb gave her a further advantage. In one of his many rebellions against his half-brother the Emperor Humayun, Kamran had exposed Humayun’s young son, the future Emperor Akbar, on the walls of Kabul during a battle to force Humayun to desist from his attack on the city, which had been about to succeed. She would not necessarily go that far – at least not until a time of direst emergency – but she knew the thought that she might would play on Khurram’s mind, knowing as he did the story of Akbar even better than she. However, the children had already served another purpose – that of binding Shahriyar closer and destroying any chance of his attempting to conclude a separate peace deal. Using Ladli – who fortunately showed no sign of deviating from her absolute loyalty to her mother – as an intermediary, she had convinced Shahriyar that the two young princes were so charismatic and attractive that their presence around the court might detract from his own position, arousing memories among his courtiers of their father whom both closely resembled. She had also suggested that they might either try to escape or be subject to a rescue attempt. Consequently Shahriyar had been only too eager to order them to be closely confined in two small rooms in a distant part of the palace under guard twenty-four hours a day.
Bolstered by the knowledge of the strengths of her position, Mehrunissa began to ponder again some diplomatic initiatives she had in mind. Should she – or formally Shahriyar – send emissaries to bordering states offering territorial concessions if they would intervene on Shahriyar’s behalf against Khurram? The Shah of Persia might be only too pleased to do so for the concession of Kandahar and surrounding lands. The sultans of the Deccan might well respond to an offer to restore some of their forfeited territories – they could soon be reconquered when her position was stronger – and their general Malik Ambar, still vigorous in his old age, might lead an army on their behalf. He and Khurram had unfinished business. Perhaps the Portuguese or even the English would send some of their sailors equipped with the deadly modern cannon from their ships in return for trading concessions. There were so many possibilities. Despite Shahriyar’s shortcomings she would keep him on the throne. After all, she had ruled for Jahangir for years.
Khurram sat with Asaf Khan and Mahabat Khan around a low table in his scarlet command tent. Through the tent flaps, tied back with gold cords, he could see the Ravi river glinting in the evening sun and beyond it the Lahore palace, now snug within encircling palisades and fortifications. He looked across at Mahabat Khan sitting relaxed and sipping a concoction of herbs infused in water he had said was popular as a restorative in his native Persia. The first meetings between the two men had been stiff and formal, not to say mutually suspicious, as might have been expected between commanders who had led opposing forces for many years. Mahabat Khan had shown himself duly respectful and kept in the background until, helped by the emollient presence of Asaf Khan who had joined up with Mahabat Khan some time before the rendezvous with Khurram, the atmosphere had relaxed. Now the two were able to discuss professional matters without inhibitions, even quoting examples from their time as adversaries when advocating particular strategies. That was just as well, thought Khurram. He had been rash in his assault on Khusrau’s forces and only his men’s courage had prevented his defeat. The forces deployed by Mehrunissa and Shahriyar in Lahore were much stronger and their skilfully constructed defences far superior to those thrown up in haste by Khusrau. He must restrain his eagerness and plan carefully, leaving as little as possible to chance.
‘Mahabat Khan, we’ve previously agreed that a frontal attack would be too costly, involving as it would a river crossing under fire, but where do you advise that we go over the Ravi?’
‘I suggest we make two crossings, one upstream and one downstream of Lahore so that we can attack the city from both sides at once. We’ve already assembled sufficient boats and wood planking to be able to construct two bridges.’
‘Your idea is a good one, Mahabat Khan, but how quickly can we put it into action?’
‘Overnight.’
‘You mean if I gave the order now we could attack in the morning?’
‘Yes. Our men are well drilled and the supplies and equipment we need are already being unloaded from the baggage wagons.’
‘Well then, let tomorrow be the day. If I command the downstream crossing, will you command the upstream?’
‘Of course.’
‘But Khurram, should you hazard yourself by leading one of the assault forces? Wouldn’t you be better here taking overall command and supervising our artillery?’ Asaf Khan interrupted.
‘In normal circumstances you might be right, but these aren’t normal times. I’m a father as well as emperor. Mehrunissa and Shahriyar hold two of my sons. I want to reach them as soon as possible myself. I trust you completely to command the artillerymen, making sure that they concentrate their fire on the palisades and gun emplacements and avoid anywhere that Shahriyar might be holding my sons – your grandsons.’
Early the following morning Khurram stood on the banks of the Ravi river two and a half miles downstream of Lahore as parties of his men began to clamber into some of a small flotilla of boats they had commandeered from local fishermen with promises of large rewards. Quietly the soldiers began to lower the oars into the water and to raise the single patched and darned cotton sail with which most of the vessels were equipped. The mission he had given the men was first to cross the river and secure a landing site against any resistance from Shahriyar’s forces and then to tow a section of the partly constructed bridge across and anchor it securely to the far bank ready to be joined up to the portion already extending from the bank beneath him. His men had encountered no opposition during the night as they had moved down the river and begun work on the initial construction of the boat bridge. Nor as the sun had risen – an orange ball in the misty morning sky – had there been any sign of Shahriyar’s men on the far bank among the low mud hills dipping down to the shore. However, this did not mean they might not be lurking undercover waiting to ambush the landing party. The monsoon had been a poor one, so at least the level of the river was low for the time of year and it was no more than two hundred feet or so wide.
As Khurram watched, the first of the boats began to push off from the bank, the rowers bending their backs to the oars. Each had two or three musketeers lying in the bow, their long-barrelled weapons loaded and levelled at the opposite shore. Despite the effects of the current, which was still quite strong, after a couple of minutes the first boat – one of the larger vessels with a red-painted hull – was nosing ashore still having not met any opposition. Some of the soldiers were balancing on the side, ready to jump into the shallows to wade ashore, when Khurram heard several musket shots. One of the men crouched on the side of the boat fell forward with a splash into the water, to be followed by three others from the boats behind.
Just as Khurram had suspected, the shots came from behind one of the mud hills about a hundred feet from the shoreline. They were followed by a volley of arrows but, his mind working quickly, Khurram was relieved to see that there were no more than about thirty of them. Clearly no large enemy force lurked on the opposite bank. His own men were now running as fast as they could, swords in hand and legs pumping, up the exposed shore towards the mud hills. When they had covered nearly three quarters of the distance more musket shots crackled out in a ragged volley from behind the protection of the hillocks and several of Khurram’s soldiers collapsed including the foremost – a green-clad giant of a man brandishing a curved scimitar. However, he was soon back on his feet resuming his charge, but before he or anyone else could reach the top of the mud hills Khurram saw a group of horsemen – perhaps forty strong – emerge from behind the hills and ride hard for Lahore. They had obviously been an outlying picket and had not received reinforcements even if they had requested them.
One of the hindmost riders fell, throwing up his arms and pitching from the saddle, presumably hit by a musk
et ball. Another horse – a chestnut – crumpled, throwing its rider, but the rest disappeared unscathed behind a clump of scrubby trees. Khurram knew that even if she were not already aware of it Mehrunissa would soon be alerted that his men had crossed the river. ‘Hurry,’ he shouted to one of his officers. ‘Begin towing the sections of boat bridge across to the far shore. Ready our troops to cross. There is no time to lose.’
Two hours later, Khurram was on the far side of the river. His men had quickly completed the bridge. Although parts of it had had to be kept steady by oarsmen rowing against the current in small boats attached to it by strong taut hemp ropes, it had served its purpose. Even if the bridge snapped now most of his cavalry, many of his war elephants and even some of his small cannon were already across – enough to begin the assault on the fortifications around the Lahore palace.
Drawing around him his officers, all like him accoutred for battle, Khurram briefly addressed them. ‘Know this. Today is the most crucial day in my life. By its close with your help I will have secured the imperial throne and rescued my beloved sons or I will have perished in the attempt. But I know that with your support I will triumph. When I do, I will present all of you with magnificent rewards from the treasuries of Lahore and the forfeited lands of my usurping half-brothers’ supporters.
‘Remember, our plan is simple. As soon as we hear the cannon commanded by Asaf Khan open fire across the Ravi river on the palisades, we and Mahabat Khan’s men who messengers tell us have also crossed the river safely upstream will simultaneously storm the palisades from opposite directions.’
Only a few minutes later, Khurram heard the crash and boom of Asaf Khan’s cannon. Preceded by four of his bodyguard all carrying large dark green banners and four trumpeters sounding their long brass instruments, he pushed his black horse forward at the head of his men. Soon he was trotting quickly along the exposed cracked mud of the riverbank. His heart was beating even faster than it usually did when he headed into battle and he was finding it more difficult to focus entirely on the fighting ahead. His mind was constantly turning to where he might find his sons in the palace if he succeeded in gaining entry to it.
Knowing that he must concentrate on the present and not get ahead of himself if he was to safeguard himself and his men and achieve his objective of saving his sons, he reined in a little. Then he peered through the smoke billowing from the cannonading and counter-cannonading between Asaf Khan’s gunners and those of Shahriyar. The palace within its palisades was by now no more than half a mile ahead. However, Shahriyar’s men seemed to have demolished most of the houses and other buildings between his present position and the palisades to give themselves a clearer field of fire. The piles of rubble from the destroyed buildings which had not been removed would slow down his horsemen and many of them would be lost before they even reached the fortifications, he thought with dismay. But if they dismounted and went forward on foot for the last eight hundred yards the heaps of rubble would provide cover.
Wheeling his horse, he gave the order to dismount to the leading squadrons of his men. Leaving one man in every six to tether the horses, he led the remainder forward, scuttling bent double from the cover of one pile of bricks and rubble to the next. Before they had covered even a tenth of the distance Shahriyar’s men saw them and began to direct cannon and musket fire towards them. Khurram flung himself down behind the remains of a wall. As he did so he saw one of the men sheltering behind some rubble near him suddenly slump, presumably hit by a ricochet since he seemed to be protected fully from the front. Then, waving his gauntleted hand for his men to follow him, which they did bravely, Khurram was up and running forward again, dodging from one rubble heap to another and zigzagging a little as he did so to put his opponents off their aim.
By the time he paused again two minutes later, sweating and gasping for breath behind the stump of a neem tree which had been felled by cannon fire, he had covered another six hundred yards or so, arrows as well as musket balls hissing past him. Feeling what he thought was a trickle of sweat running down his left cheek he dabbed at it with his cream face cloth only to discover the cloth stained with blood. Removing his gauntlet he explored his face to find a wound beside his left ear, but it seemed little more than a graze, perhaps caused by a flying chip of masonry dislodged by either a cannon or a musket ball. Peering round the tree stump he saw that there was very little cover over the remaining distance to the palisades, which were about four feet high but looked in places to have been quite badly damaged by Asaf Khan’s cannon fire from across the Ravi river.
After waiting no more than a few minutes to allow his men to gather in strength around him, Khurram shouted orders to the trumpeters to send the prearranged signal to Asaf Khan that they were about to attack the palisades and so to keep his cannon fire away from the area. Next he commanded the banner-bearers to raise their large green standards. Then he stood and surrounded by his bodyguard charged once more head down towards the palisades. Musket balls again whistled past him and an arrow struck his breastplate and bounced off. Then, a moment later, he tripped over a single mud brick lying almost invisible on the bank and nearly went sprawling. Quickly recovering himself, he was almost immediately up to the palisade. Levering himself up by his muscular arms he’d soon straddled it and was jumping down on the other side.
Landing lightly on his feet he was immediately confronted by a tall musketeer. Having fired his weapon he reversed it and swung it by its barrel at Khurram, who swayed back on his heels out of the way before thrusting his sword deep into the man’s ample stomach. As he wrenched his bloodied weapon free from the body there was an audible release of gas. Then Khurram saw another man raising his scimitar above his head to attack him. Attempting to sway back again Khurram slipped, twisting his ankle, and fell sideways. As he did so his opponent loomed over him, preparing to strike, so as soon as he hit the ground he rolled aside. The man’s sword thudded into the earth beside his head. Khurram cut at his opponent’s legs with his own sword and the man too fell. Struggling quickly to his knees, Khurram brought the sword down with all the force of which he was capable into his opponent’s throat as he lay on the ground. Blood gushed for a moment, then the man lay still for ever.
Scrambling to his feet and glancing about him, Khurram saw that the palisades were now in his men’s hands and that everywhere their opponents were breaking off the fight and rushing back towards the protection of the palace itself. Then he saw green Moghul banners emerging through the smoke in front of him. Mahabat Khan’s Rajputs had breached the palisades from the other direction. ‘Charge for the main gate of the palace,’ Khurram shouted, his voice hoarse with excitement as well as smoke, and together with his men he ran forward as fast as his painful twisted ankle would allow, all the time expecting to come under attack from musketeers and archers. To his surprise, however, no arrows or musket balls came. Shahriyar’s forces seemed to be melting away. Had they lost heart, or were they retreating as part of some pre-arranged plan to an inner stronghold or ambush position?
Running on, Khurram found the ground littered with discarded swords and muskets. He passed overturned wagons and other defensive positions, some equipped with cannon from which gunners as well as musketeers could have wrought deadly havoc, but which had all been abandoned without a shot. Shahriyar’s men really were fleeing. Khurram was soon approaching the high, metal-studded wooden gates of the palace, by now open and seemingly undefended. Victory was his, he thought elatedly. Now to find his sons. But suddenly the bodyguard running beside him swerved in front of him to avoid a rock and a moment later sprawled forward on the ground. Looking down as he in turn swerved to avoid the man’s body, Khurram saw he had been hit by a musket ball in the forehead. But he had no time to think further about it before he was inside the gatehouse.
Mehrunissa stood back from the casement of her apartment on the second floor of the palace and put down her musket, the one with the mother of pearl-inlaid butt with which she had killed so many tige
rs. Her aim even at that distance had been good. Why had the bodyguard crossed in front of Khurram? He couldn’t have seen her and been protecting the prince. Then her mind, active as ever, began to race through her options now that the palace had fallen, as it clearly had. Soon Khurram and his men would be ransacking the rooms searching for his sons, for herself and for Shahriyar.
Where was Shahriyar? He hadn’t led the troops in person, nor was he with Ladli who she knew was in the next room with her child. She could rely on none of them but must depend as before on her own resources alone. She had known that her musket shot had been a long shot in more than one sense. Even if she had succeeded in killing Khurram, it was unlikely that his men would have surrendered. Rather – at the behest of her brother and Arjumand – they would have proclaimed Dara Shukoh as emperor. So should she die fighting, reloading her musket and killing the first of her opponents as they came through the door of her apartments? No. She had survived desperate times since her birth. She was not ready to die yet. A clear, calm and subtle mind could manipulate and ameliorate even the worst circumstances. For once her status as a ‘mere woman’ would help her. She knew what she must do . . .
Empire of the Moghul: The Tainted Throne Page 34
