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

by Michael White

  Chapter XVII

  _WITH SWORD AND TORCH_

  A grand salvo of artillery burst from the guns of the Jhansi fortressand was echoed by those of the other bastions as a joyful salute tothe rising sun on that First of April. In the early light of dawnthe sentries on the citadel had discerned far to the north-west thefluttering standards above the massed army of Tantia Topi marching totheir relief. As it advanced across the Betwa the main body deployedinto a long line of infantry, cavalry, and artillery, twenty thousandstrong, with outspread wings to encircle the besieging army and crushit without affording a chance of retreat.

  The gloom that on the night before had settled upon every face withinthe city, gave place to countenances transported with joy. The gunscontinued to thunder the glad news, bugles sounded their inspiritingnotes, light hearts upon the walls gave expression to new hope byshouts of defiance to the enemy, and by bursting into the choruses ofancient war songs.

  "The Foreigners are already beaten," they cried one to another, inaccents of frenzied exultation. "Not one of them will escape."

  But unfortunately for their own safety, they estimated the resourceand courage of the enemy in a forlorn situation, at a computation thatwould have been their own under similar circumstances. The Foreignerswere apparently not seized with a panic. Far otherwise, they seemed tobe making preparations for a desperate fight. A victory for the Nativearmy was not yet secured.

  Early in the previous night the Rani had been informed of the welcomeintelligence, and at daybreak had repaired to the citadel to watch theadvancing host. She there called to a consultation her chief officersto discover the best means of assisting the Native general in hissupreme effort to relieve the city.

  After a careful survey of the situation, Ahmad urged the plan ofsallying out in force at a critical moment of the forthcoming battleand attacking the rear of the Foreign army. It would undoubtedly throwtheir front line into confusion and accelerate the complete rout oftheir foes.

  This was quickly acceded to by the others. The Rani was about to givean order for the collecting of the force near the eastern gate, when anunexpected development of the enemy's plan stayed the command.

  The Foreign general instead of marching with his whole force to meetthat of Tantia Topi, divided his command into two parts, one tocontinue the bombardment of the city, the other to give battle to theNative general in the open. To the amazement of those on the citadelthey beheld a detachment of not more than fifteen hundred strong setout to combat a force over thirteen times superior in men, and almostas much more formidable in guns.

  A sortie from the city was thus for the moment considered inadvisable,but the guns were ordered to return the fire of the besieging batterieswith redoubled vigor. The men on the walls shouted and cheered toencourage the onward sweep of their deliverers.

  From her elevated position the Rani anxiously watched the advance ofthe two forces toward each other, the result of which, though therecould scarcely be any doubt, was fraught with so much consequence toherself. If the Foreigners were beaten and Jhansi relieved, the effectwould be to enkindle the dying flames of the rebellion all over India.A long period must then elapse before Jhansi could again be threatened,if indeed the Foreigners would ever reappear before its walls.

  But in the excitement of the momentous hour, other thoughts were notabsent from her mind. With Tantia Topi was the sole object upon whomher real affection rested. A meeting between Prasad and herself wouldprobably take place before the fall of night. What would be his mannertoward her? How would she receive him? were questions to be answered.In the joy of victory it was probable that on her side his past crueltywould be forgiven, if not entirely swept from her memory. But wouldhe have learned wisdom in his banishment? Would he better understandher nature and the difficulties of her position? That she loved himstill in spite of his apparent worthlessness had never been a matter ofdoubt. She leaned her arms upon the parapet wondering over what partof the advancing army he would have been given the command.

  Much time was not permitted for these reflections. The Foreign generalinstead of waiting to be attacked, threw consternation into both flanksof his foe by attacking those positions with his cavalry and horseartillery in impetuous onslaughts. The guns of both armies, added tothose of the city bastions and besieging batteries, filled the air withsmoke and the deafening sound of their discharges. It became difficultfor those on the city walls to see clearly how the battle went. Stillthey cheered their friends on lustily.

  Presently the roar of the cannon on the plain slackened. Were theForeigners already vanquished the Rani hoped and wondered. Then thecloud of smoke rolled away disclosing to her appalled vision, not theForeigners defeated, but the relieving army cast into inextricableconfusion. Their wings had been doubled in upon the center at themoment that the Foreign infantry had attacked that vulnerable part,and the whole was being driven back upon the second line in a hopelessrout. The shouts of encouragement from the city walls ceased. It wasperceived that the victory was not already won, but lost. No reliefwould come that day to the beleaguered garrison.

  The Rani hastened to where her chiefs of staff were gathered. Shebesought them to lead a sortie to draw off the pursuing enemy. But theyshook their heads despondingly. They pointed out that it would be afruitless waste of life.

  "If then there is not a soldier among you," she cried passionately. "Iwill lead it myself."

  "Valiant Rani," petitioned Ahmad. "Surely thou wilt not accuse thyservant of cowardice, but it would be a rash, a hopeless act, unlessyonder batteries were first silenced. Between them and the walls thymen would be mown down as grass."

  She appeared to comprehend the force of his advice, though she stampedher foot and returned vehemently:

  "If the day be lost, the Foreigners need not think that Jhansi hathbeen captured. Go you," she cried, "and see that rocks and trunks oftrees are heaped about the walls, so that if an assault is made thereshall be many broken skulls."

  In the distance the Native army was retreating across the Betwa, butthe Foreign cavalry kept mercilessly upon their heels. They set fireto the jungle to harass the pursuit, but amid the flames and smoke thefight continued. The retreat developed into a rout. Twenty thousand menfleeing before a less number of hundreds.

  Presently the sun went down, a blood red orb for a moment resting onthe horizon, ominous of the fate in store for those within the city.

  On all sides dejected faces surrounded the Rani. Even Ahmad Khanmaintained a gloomy silence in the despondency it was evident he felt.One officer even had the temerity to suggest a truce so that theenemy's terms might be learned.

  The Rani flashed upon him a look of intense scorn.

  "Not while I live," she cried, "hadst thou better do more thancontemplate so cowardly an act. By Heaven! had I but officers possessedwith daring like yonder Foreigners, they would not now be revelling intheir victory. Nay, Jhansi would never have been attacked. In truth, Ido not blame them for hanging all their prisoners. He who lives to fallinto their hands well deserves that disgraceful fate. Surrender," shecried, "not while the Rani of Jhansi lives to teach you how to fight."

  Their sense of honor was stung by the reproach.

  Each swore loudly that he was prepared to die by her side.

  "Aye, my Lords," she returned, "and I have in mind a plan that willstrike amazement into the hearts of our enemies. Jhansi they shallnever capture. I will first make of it the greatest funeral pyre thathas ever blazed in India. It shall be even more sublime than that ofChitor, when thirteen thousand Hindu women, led by their Queen, castthemselves into a vast furnace, to save their honor from a conqueror."

  "Go," she commanded to Ahmad, "and see that firewood is collected inhouses in different parts of the town, and here in the palace. When thewalls are carried, we will fire the city; when the palace is taken, itshall also be burned; and lastly, when the citadel can no longer holdout, the magazines shall be exploded; and the heavens and earth standappalled at the last act of a Hindu
woman defending her throne. Thenlet the Foreigners gather what plunder they may from the mound of ashesthat was once the city of Jhansi. Truly history will record no morewondrous _johur_."[5]

  The officers looked dumbfounded. Ahmad hesitated to execute the order.

  "Go," she cried, stretching forth an arm impatiently. "It is my will.He who disobeys me at this hour is a traitor. With my own hand I willrelieve the Foreigners of any vengeance on his account."

  The officers left her presence marveling at her display of spirit anddetermination.

  She turned to her waiting woman and bade her bring weapons from thepalace armory.

  "A dagger, I have, with the sharpest point ever yielded to a woman, butpistols, good Rati, and see to it they are well loaded; for perchanceI shall be forced to take my own life out of the hands of theseForeigners."

  The girl departed and left her mistress alone.

  The Rani drew from her girdle Prasad's dagger, and gazed upon itthoughtfully.

  "Keen is this blade," she murmured, "and relentless. Ah Prasad! Howhath this day gone with thee, I wonder? Far hence our next meeting maybe destined to take place. If living, I pray thou hast redeemed thinehonor by a score of wounds. If dead, that thy body lies upon the fieldof battle."

  A quiver hovered about the corners of her lips. She hid the dagger inthe folds of her sari gathered over her breast.

  There was no question that the defensive power of the Jhansi garrisonwas reduced to the last extremity. They still manned the shatteredwalls, and massed about the breaches, but the place could not hold outfor any length of time. One hope still remained. It was known that theRaja of Banpur had collected a force at Kotra within marching distance.To him, the Rani had dispatched overnight an urgent summons to comespeedily to her assistance. But it was unknown if the messenger hadbeen able to pass the enemy's lines.

  Meanwhile, the elated Foreigners were making preparations for the finalassault.

  It was delivered at daybreak on the second morning after the defeat ofthe army of Tantia Topi.

  Suddenly from positions of cover they dashed to those parts of thedefenses leveled by the fire of their batteries. In the gray light ofdawn bugles rang out on both sides calling men to a ruthless slaughterof each other. For a moment, a storm of bullets from the walls checkedthe Foreigners' onslaught. Then besiegers and besieged met in deathearnest combat.

  From the ramparts, missiles of all kinds were hurled upon the headsof those who strove to mount by ladders; through the breaches cannonshot, rockets, and volleys of musketry swept scores of the enemy intoeternity. Again and again repulsed they still fought their way onward.

  At the part where the attack was directed by an attempt to scale thewalls, the Rani encouraged both men and women defenders to invincibleefforts. Ah God! how they fought with such inspiration. The ditch belowwas filled with the dead and dying. Groans called forth in returnshouts of defiance. She still held the enemy at bay.

  Had the assault at other points been as valiantly repulsed, victorymight yet have rested with the besieged; but in the face of Foreigncourage and Foreign bayonets they were beaten back. Thus the Rani foundherself attacked in rear as well as in front. To defend the streets,the palace, and the citadel, in turn, went forth as the last order ofthe day.

  As a consequence each house became a fort, in the capture of whichno quarter was asked or given; every alley a stubbornly contestedbattlefield in miniature. The slain already numbered thousands.

  At last the Foreigners fought their way to the vicinity of the palace,when, to their dismay, flames burst forth on either side throughout thelength of the great bazaar. To retreat became impossible, to capturethe palace a necessity.

  They rushed forward across the open space, while a terrific fire fromthe guns of the citadel turned full upon them further decimated theirranks. With a supreme effort they battered down the doors to find everyroom, court, and corridor filled with desperate men, who sought deathby the sword as a certain entry into Paradise. In the stables fiftyValaitis held out until the sun hid its face beneath the horizon,though the darkened heavens continued to reflect the angry glow of theburning city.

  From the summit of the fortress, the Rani's banner still fluttered inthe breeze. By force she had been carried into the citadel.

  Her determination had been to perish on the steps of her throne. Inthe great hall, surrounded by her bodyguard, she stood to hurl a lastdefiance at her enemies, still unconquered, still resolute, in spiteof the horrors she had witnessed. Every moment the din and tumultincreased as the Foreigners fought their way to her position. Whilebronzed sinewy hands grasped their weapons, hers sought the dagger ofher lover, lying near her heart.

  From a side entrance Ahmad Khan, a dishevelled, conflict-stainedobject, rushed in, and without seeking her command, grasped her tightlyby the arm. Her protest he heeded not, but drew her quickly to a doorbehind the throne, that opened into a narrow passage leading into theinterior of the fortress. The guards closed in on her steps and swepther onward. In a few minutes she was in a place of temporary safety.

  Thus night fell as a curtain to veil the scene of carnage.

  Within a bare, stone walled room, the Rani had lain down upon a pileof mats, worn out with her exertions. On the floor near by a lamp casta flickering light upon her features, that still displayed no sign ofyielding. Food had been brought to her side by rough, though lovinghands; but little of it had been partaken. For the hour, the silence ofthe visitation of death had succeeded the air-filled tumult of battle.

  Presently the Rani turned her face to an officer standing near thedoor, and asked if Ahmad Khan was within call.

  "He has been speaking with someone," the officer replied, "and nowcometh this way."

  In a moment Ahmad and a soldier entered the room.

  "Good Ahmad," she asked. "How long dost think we can hold the citadel"?

  "Noble Lady," he replied in a doubtful voice. "I fear not more thantwo or three days at most. The ammunition is well nigh exhausted; foodand water are in scarce quantities. But this good fellow," he added,referring to the soldier, "brings a message from the foot of the rock,that a plan has been effected for your Highness's escape."

  "Escape," the Rani cried contemptuously. "Hast thou not heard me vow ahundred times that I would perish with my people"?

  "Aye," Ahmad acquiesced. "But, noble Rani," he urged, "I beg thouwilt listen to the best advice. Thy life and not thy death is of mostadvantage to the cause, bravely as all know thou wouldst yield theformer. Tantia Topi now moves on Kalpi. Thy presence there is sorelyneeded. Below the rock, fathered in the shadow, are three hundred ofthy remaining Valaiti troopers, together with a captain's escort fromthe force of Tantia Topi. The spot may be gained with a rope, and thenfear not but that they will cut for thee a passage through a host ofenemies. I do beg of thee not to hesitate a moment."

  The Rani considered for a little, when it appeared as if she was aboutto fall in with his suggestion.

  "But what will happen to these brave fellows, seemingly deserted intheir hour of need"? she asked. "Does it not seem a craven act toabandon them to their fate"?

  "Nay, brave Lady," Ahmad reasoned. "In thy flight lies the only safetyfor their lives. As long as thou art among them they will fight to thedeath; but when thou art gone they will surrender, and the Foreignerswill show them mercy."

  His argument evidently impressed the Rani favorably.

  "True," she replied, "it would be a useless sacrifice. Besides, I maybe able to persuade Tantia Topi to return to fight again for Jhansi.Are these troopers now in waiting"? she asked.

  "In all anxiety for thy safety," he answered. "I do beg of thee notto lose a moment, for now that all the Foreigners are within the citythere is little danger in thy path of flight. By daybreak it may be toolate."

  She hesitated a moment, then rose with her mind determined on the act.She drew a shawl over her face and shoulders as much to conceal herfeatures as a protection from the night air.

  "Lead quickly
to the place," she enjoined, "or the sight of my bravesoldiers may bring about a change of mind. I will bid them no farewell.I cannot, I dare not do so."

  Through the darkness Ahmad conducted her rapidly to a part of thecitadel wall, from which the descent to the plain though steep andhazardous was yet possible with the aid of a rope.

  Without permitting her time for reflection, Ahmad secured one end ofthe rope under his arm pits, and holding her round the waist, swungdown from the parapet. A soldier above slowly paid out the rope asAhmad directed by prearranged signals. More than once it strainedand quivered with their weight, several times his feet slid from theledges of rock upon which they momentarily rested. Above their headsthe fortress loomed a huge black mass; below their feet there fell awayan impenetrable abyss. The well-feigned cry of a night bird announcedto those below that the fugitives had left the fortress. In response,there rose the howl of a jackal.

  Presently, it seemed an hour had passed, a familiar voice fell upon theRani's ears. There was no time permitted to ask its owner's name, for apair of stout arms relieved Ahmad of his burden, and she found herselfplaced on the saddle of a horse.

  Ahmad quickly disengaged himself from the rope and sprang on to anotherwaiting mount, the cry of the jackal again rose as a signal that thefeat had been safely accomplished, and thus shielded by the swordsof her devoted troopers, the Rani commenced the second stage of herescape.

  On the morrow, the citadel surrendered to terms; and the blind beggarcrept forth from his hiding place to resume his seat in the shade bythe palace doors.