The Moghul

by Thomas Hoover

  *

  Hawksworth awoke at noon the following day to discover work had begun on fortification of the camp. He left Shirin sleeping and walked to the eastern perimeter, where the heavy cannon were being drawn into position. As he paused to study one of the cannon, he found himself comparing it with the European design. It looked to be a six-inch bore, with a molded iron barrel strengthened by brass hoops shrunk around the outside. It was bolted onto its own carriage, a flat base supported by four solid wooden wheels, and pulled by a team of ten white bullocks yoked in pairs. Cotton ropes almost two inches in diameter were tied around the breech, looped beneath the axles and then through a heavy iron ring on the front of the mount, extending forward to hooks on the yokes of the bullocks.

  While their drivers whipped the animals forward, a crowd of moustachioed infantry in red and green tunics clustered around the gun carriages pushing. A drummer in an orange cloak sat astraddle the breech of the cannon beating cadence for the other men on two large drums strapped along each side of the barrel. A large bull elephant trailed behind, heavy padding on his forehead, and whenever the gun carriage bogged, the elephant would be moved forward to shove the breech with his head.

  As the cannon were rolled into position, some fifteen feet apart, they were being linked to each other with heavy ropes of twisted bull hide the size and strength of metal chain, to prevent cavalry from riding through and cutting down the gunners. After the hide ropes were camouflaged with brush, a leather screen was placed behind the breech of each gun to protect the gunners when it fired.

  Hawksworth counted approximately three hundred can­non along the camp perimeter. Firepots were being stationed behind each gun, together with linstocks and leather barrels of powder. A few bags of dirt had been piled between some of the cannon to provide protection for matchlock men. Around the cannon, men were assembling piles of four-sided iron claws, and beyond, diggers with picks and wicker baskets had begun a halfhearted effort to start construction of a trench. He studied the preparations uneasily for a moment, sensing something was wrong, and then he froze.

  There was no shot. Only stacks of iron claws.

  He whirled and made his way back to the munitions depot, rows of yellow-fringed tents. The shot was there waiting, in gauge ranging from two inch to ten inch, but none had been moved.

  He moved on to other tents and discovered several hundred more cannon. Some were the same gauge as those being deployed, others much larger. All had been fitted with harness, ready to be moved, but now they stood in long rows, waiting. As he moved onto another row of tents, pushing through the swarm of men and bullocks, he discovered a vast cache of smaller cannon, thousands, also mounted on wooden carriages but small enough to be moved by a bullock, or even two men. These too were harnessed and sat untouched.

  Beyond there were other rows of tents, where seven-foot-long muskets—together with powder, bags of shot, and a wooden prong to rest the barrel on when firing—were now being broken out and distributed to the infantry. The men were being armed, but the camp itself was practically without fortification.

  Hawksworth stood brooding about the preparations, about the Rajput horn bow he had only barely learned to use—he was finally able to hit the todah, practice target, a mound of earth piled near Jadar's officers' tent, but shooting under a shield seemed impossible—and the situation began to overwhelm him. Jadar's position was becoming more hopeless by the minute.

  He stared around the open camp and decided he would try to requisition as many matchlocks as possible, and perhaps also try to teach Shirin to shoot in the time remaining. If they had muskets, he told himself, perhaps they could somehow defend themselves when the Imperial army swept through the camp.

  He turned and pushed his way back toward where muskets were being issued. Men were walking past him carrying heavy matchlocks, five feet in length with a barrel of rolled steel welded together end to end. The barrel was attached to the stock by a broad steel band, and both were profusely ornamented with embossing and colored enamel. Some of the muskets had wooden tripods attached to the end of the barrel.

  As he approached the munitions tent, he saw Vasant Rao standing in its center, issuing orders with an easy smile, his moustache and turban as prim as though he were on muster. Behind him was a head-high pile of muskets, each wrapped in a roll of green broadcloth. Hawksworth stared at him for a moment, then pushed forward. Through the shouting mob he finally managed to catch the Rajput's arm and pull him toward the rear of the open tent.

  "Why aren't the cannon being deployed?"

  "But they are, Captain." Vasant Rao stroked his moustache and looked past Hawksworth's shoulder toward the next stack of matchlocks.

  "But only the medium-bore guns, and even those have no shot. Nothing else has been moved."

  "By medium bore I assume you mean the gau-kash, the ox-drawn cannon. That's true. But these things all take time."

  "You're spending what little time you have left deploying medium-bore cannon, and those with no shot! Who the hell is in charge?"

  "Prince Jadar, of course. The gau-kash cannon are the key to his strategy." Vasant Rao moved past Hawksworth and barked orders for the next stack of muskets to be un­strapped. Waiting infantrymen in ragged cloaks pushed forward. "Take a musket, Captain, if you want one. They're probably of some small use. When I'm finished here, I have to check all the harness on the fil-kash cannon, the large guns that will be drawn into position by elephants. Then I still have to issue the mardum-kash guns, the small cannon that are assigned to two-man teams."

  "Where will this other artillery be deployed?" Hawks­worth shouted toward Vasant Rao's back.

  The Rajput seemed not to hear, as he paused to speak to one of the men assisting him. Then he turned and unwrapped a musket, selected a tripod, and passed both to Hawksworth. The other man was bringing a wide velvet belt from the back of the tent, and he handed it to Hawksworth. Hanging from it were a powder flask, bullet pouch, priming horn, match cord, and flint and steel. "The prince will issue orders for deployment of the fil-kash and mardum-kash guns after they've all been harnessed."

  "He'd better issue them soon. It'll start growing dark in a couple of hours, three at most."

  "I'm sure he's aware of the time, Captain." Vasant Rao turned and disappeared into a circle of bearded Rajputs, barking orders.

  Hawksworth watched him disappear, then turned and grabbed two more muskets. Holding them ahead of him like a prow he pushed his way back into the milling street. The air was rank with sweat and the crowds seemed more disorga­nized than ever. Women jostled in the streets, haggling with the merchants for clay jars of oil, while grooms moved among them leading prancing horses, each wearing a gold-fringed saddle blanket that glowed like ancient coin in the waning sun.

  Hawksworth studied the crowd, searching vainly for some sense of organization, then turned to begin working his way back toward Jadar's compound and his own tent.

  Shirin was still there, asleep. He stood admiring her again, her soft mouth, the olive skin of her high cheeks, her shining dark hair, and realized he loved her more than ever.

  Dear God, we've only just begun to live. Jadar is a mad­man.

  Almost without knowing why, he began to rummage through the remains of his clothing, still rolled in the carpet and lying where he had thrown it. His pulse suddenly quickened when his fingers closed around a hard round ob­ject. It was his very last bottle of brandy, miraculously en­tangled in the remains of his formal doublet.

  If there was ever a time . . .

  He ripped away the rotting cork with his teeth and pulled deeply on the brandy, twice. As always, it seemed to work at the knot in his gut. He took one more swallow, then shook Shirin.

  She startled awake and stared at him wildly for a second. Then she broke into a smile . . . until she saw the brandy.

  "Do you really need that now?"

  "I need this and a lot more. How can you sleep? This whole God-cursed camp is going to be leveled by the Imperial
army in a few hours." He stopped and stared at her. "Are you listening? Only a fraction of Jadar's cannon are deployed. Most are still waiting to be pulled into position. It's unbelievable."

  Shirin pulled herself up and leaned against a bolster, examining him with weary eyes. "Then why are you here? I thought you'd decided to help Prince Jadar."

  "How can anyone help him when he won't help himself?" Hawksworth took another burning mouthful of brandy and stared at his bow quiver lying on the carpet. In a fit of disgust he kicked it toward the center of the tent.

  Shirin watched the bow fall and laughed.

  "Have you mastered your Rajput bow yet?"

  "No, and what does it matter? You know Jadar is outnumbered three to one." Hawksworth pointed toward the muskets he had leaned against a coil of rope by the tent pole. "I've got three weapons for us. Do you think you can shoot a matchlock?"

  "I can shoot a bow." She dismissed the muskets with a glance. "I sincerely hope you've learned enough to shoot one too."

  A trumpet sounded from the center of the compound. Immediately it was answered by others the length of the camp.

  Shirin snapped alert and rose off the bolster, pulling her gauze cloak around her waist.

  "That's the signal to begin preparing the firewood. Come. At least you can help with that."

  Hawksworth examined her aghast.

  "Firewood! What in God's name are you talking about? Is Jadar planning to light fires? Is he worried the Imperial army won't find our camp?" He turned and walked to the doorway, rubbing his brow in disbelief. "I think there's damned small risk of that. The red tents of his zenana can be seen for miles."

  Shirin laughed and pushed her way ahead of him, past the portiere of the tent. Servants had already begun assembling piles of logs along the center of the walkway that ran the length of the compound. Hawksworth stood at the doorway and stared in astonishment as clay jars of oil were carried from the kitchen tent and stationed near the logs. As he watched, he noticed the long shadows of dusk beginning to play across the walls of nearby tents.

  He turned to retrieve the brandy, and when he emerged again from the tent, Shirin was lost among the crowd of servants bringing wood. He slipped the bottle into his jerkin and started working his way down the side of the compound, back toward the munitions tent.

  Pairs of elephants had been harnessed to the larger cannon, and now they were being led out of the camp, into the dusk. Following these were camels with two-pound swivel guns mounted on their backs, together with infantry pulling the smaller guns after them on two-wheeled carriages. Bullock carts heaving with powder and shot came after.

  Pyramids of firewood were scattered among the tents, and already many of the Rajputs had assembled by the unlit piles, talking and embracing. Some had seated themselves and removed their turbans, chanting verses from the Bhagavad-Gita as they began to oil and comb their long black hair. Hawksworth watched silently as they started passing around inlaid teakwood boxes, taking and eating handfuls of small brown balls.

  As he stood puzzling, he recognized Vasant Rao standing among the men. The Rajput was somber now, clasping each of the men in what seemed a farewell gesture. He looked up and saw Hawksworth and smiled.

  "Captain Hawksworth, I'm glad you're here. You're almost a Rajput yourself by now. Do you want to comb your hair? It's how we prepare for what may happen. Who knows which of us will see the morrow?"

  "I can die just as well with my hair the way it is."

  "Then you're not entirely a Rajput after all. But you're still welcome to join us." He held out one of the boxes.

  Hawksworth opened the box and gingerly took out one of the balls. As he rolled it under his nose, it triggered a distant memory of his first night in Surat and Mukarrab Khan's dinner party. Suddenly he stopped dead still.

  It was opium.

  "Jesus Christ! Have you all gone mad?" He flung the ball to the ground and whirled on Vasant Rao. "That's the last thing you need if you hope to fight at all. It's like eating death."

  "Affion prepares a Rajput for battle, Captain. The more we eat, the stronger we become. It gives us the strength of lions."

  "Good Jesus help us all."

  Hawksworth pushed his way incredulously back through the milling crowd of infantry and mounted cavalry, feeling as though the world had collapsed. All around him Rajputs were eating handfuls of opium, combing their hair, embracing in farewell. Many had already put on their khaftan, the quilted vest they wore under their armor. He wondered how long it would be before they became drunk with opium and began killing each other.

  God, we're all going to die. Can't Jadar stop it? Can't he at least stop them from eating opium before we're attacked? And where are they moving the cannon? Out of the camp? What the hell is happening?

  He wheeled and headed for the naqqara-khana, the entry to Jadar's compound. When he reached it, he realized the guards were gone. Amazed, he walked through the entry and discovered all the interior partitions of the gulal bar were also gone. The satin tents that had held the melons, the pan leaves, the kitchen—all were deserted, empty.

  He made his way on through the deserted gulal bar, feeling like a man lost. In the dark there were no guards, no troops, nothing. Ahead he heard the sound of elephants trumpeting and he felt his way forward through the semi-darkness, the ground a mosaic of flickering shadows from the still-burning camp light. His despair absolute, he reached into the pocket of his jerkin for the bottle.

  A katar was at his throat.

  "It's forbidden by death to draw a weapon in the gulal bar, Captain."

  "I was only . . ."

  There was an explosion of laughter and he turned to see the shadowed face of Jadar.

  "What . . . what are you doing here?"

  "Thinking, Captain Hawksworth. Do you never think before a battle at sea? Surely you must."

  "I think. And I also keep my gunners sober." Hawksworth felt vaguely foolish as he finished extracting the brandy bottle. "Do you know half your men are eating handfuls of opium?"

  "I'm glad to hear it. It means my Rajputs will be invincible tomorrow." Jadar flipped the katar in his hand and dropped it into is leather sheath. "By the way, I understand you failed to master the bow. But let's talk about something more important. Perhaps you can be of help after all. I'm sure you realize. Captain, that a commander must always understand two things. He must know his own strengths, and he must know the strengths of those who oppose him. But he can really only know one of these for sure. He can never know exactly what he will meet." Jadar paused. "Tell me, if you were Inayat Latif, how would you deploy the Imperial army tomorrow?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "How would you choose to attack? The position of infantry, cavalry, elephants is never exactly the same in any battle. For example, often the front line is held by rows of infantry. The first row will be men wearing plate armor— which is much heavier than the usual steel netting—forming a protective wall with special broad shields. They are always excellent archers. Behind these will be another row, wearing only helmets and breastplates, and armed with swords and pikes. The third row is infantry with swords, bows, and axes. The fourth carries lances and swords. The rows are segmented, so those behind can see ahead, and cavalry can get through."

  "That deployment would mean a slow-moving attack, and a very bloody fight."

  "Precisely. That's why many commanders prefer to use their cavalry as the vanguard. Horsemen can move faster, and they can more easily avoid defense barricades."

  Hawksworth looked at Jadar, wishing he could see his eyes. "But cavalry can be cut to ribbons with small artillery. Is it wise to charge with your cavalry if your enemy has heavy gun emplacements?"

  He heard Jadar laugh. "You may make a commander yet. You see, Inayat Latif will naturally assume our camp is heavily defended. Now although it's considered question­able manners to attack a camp at night, your manners become excusable if you attack at early dawn, even though it's still dark. I've known of attacks
occurring almost half a pahar before dawn. What's that in European measure? An hour, an hour and a half?"

  "But if it's still dark, how can you see the enemy's lines?"

  "You can see them if your enemy's camp has been negligent enough to leave a few fires burning." Jadar smiled as he paused to let the words sink. "But now let's examine the third possibility. Leading the attack with your elephants. Elephant armor is steel plate and it can withstand everything except heavy cannon. If you can entice your foe into firing his biggest artillery before you charge, then you can send a wave of war elephants and devastate his gunners before their cannon cool enough to reload. Since it can take at least half a pahar for a large cannon to cool, large guns are rarely fired more than once in a battle. And never after your cavalry has moved out. Leading the vanguard with war elephants always entails danger, since if they panic, they can turn around and trample your own infantry, but in this case it's probably worth the risk."

  "And you think that's what Inayat Latif will try to do?" Hawksworth absently twirled the brandy bottle in his hand.

  "I'm asking you."

  "It sounds the most plausible. He'll position his biggest cannon to fire into the camp, and after he's drawn your fire in return, he'll stampede about a thousand war elephants right through here, crushing everything in their path. Including your opium-sotted Rajputs and their invincible bows."

  "You're doing remarkably well so far, Captain." Jadar took Hawksworth's arm and guided him toward the back of the compound. "And then what would you do?"

  "I'd send an infantry wave right after the war elephants, with lines so thick it would be a wall of death. And behind them I'd have cavalry, with muskets, to contain the camp and meet your own cavalry when it broke through—as it probably would eventually."

  "Cavalrymen wouldn't bother with muskets, just bows, but you're still thinking very clearly. Now tell me, from what direction would you attack this particular camp?"

  They were approaching the tents, where servants were beginning to soak the wood piles with oil. Hawksworth found himself astonished that Jadar would listen calmly to the strategy spelling his own destruction.

  "From the east, the way we came in."

  "And why that particular direction?"

  "Several reasons." Hawksworth tried to remember the terrain as they came into the camp. "First, if I'd marched from the east, I'd already have my army deployed there. Second, and probably more important, it's the only direction that's really accessible. The other sides are too forested. But from the east there's a wide clearing that funnels down right into the perimeter of the camp."

  "With a very clear demarcation of forest on each side, which helps keep your army grouped."

  "Correct. And, also, the sun would not be in my men's eyes if I hit you from the east."

  Jadar stopped and looked at him. "So that is precisely what you would do? Attack at dawn on the eastern perimeter. And lead with a front line of war elephants?"

  "With the biggest and best I had."

  Jadar sighed. "You know, it troubles me that a feringhi would conclude the same thing I have. But I think it's a classic problem. And that will dictate a classic solution in the mind of Inayat Latif, whose alleged brilliance does not include a flair for originality. He'll have to mount a conventional attack. What's more, because of the restricted terrain, he'll have no room to split his army into a right wing and a left wing. They'll have to be a single phalanx. That's dangerous if you ever need to retreat, but he'll not even consider that possibility. And you say you also believe he'll hold his cavalry for the third wave." Jadar paused. "That's more important here than you probably realize. Everything else depends on it. The cavalry must attack last."

  "It seems best. And his cavalry is mainly Rajput. He'll not risk cutting up his finest troops by sending them in the first attack wave, when your artillery is still in place." Hawks­worth hesitated, then continued bitterly. "Or should be."

  Jadar laughed and looked at Hawksworth, then at his bottle.

  "What's that in your hand. Captain?"

  "A bottle of brandy. Spanish, I'm ashamed to admit, but it's still the best."

  "May I try it?"

  Jadar took the bottle and gingerly swallowed a swig. He stood motionless for a moment and then coughed violently.

  "Merciful Allah! Now I understand why the Prophet forbade its use." He shoved back the bottle. "But I wanted to drink once with you, Captain. I'm told it's a European custom. You've eased my mind."

  "Eased your mind! I just told you how your camp will be devastated at sunrise."

  "Absolutely. I will regret losing these tents." Jadar's tone grew pensive. "You know, some of them have been with me since my first campaign in the Deccan, years ago."

  "How about your Rajputs? And your women? Will you regret losing them as much as your tents?"

  "I don't expect to lose them." Jadar took Hawksworth's arm and led him around the last tent. In the firelight baggage elephants were being loaded with women from the zenana. The elephants were covered with pakhar armor, steel plates around the sides of their bodies and a special steel casement for their head and trunk. The women were being helped up tall ladders and into their elephants' howdah, an octagonal box of heavy boards strengthened with iron plate.

  "Why are you loading the women now?"

  "But we're leaving, Captain."

  Hawksworth stared at him speechlessly for a moment, then noticed Shirin walking toward them, carrying a bow and two quivers of arrows.

  "You're leaving?"

  "You just predicted this camp would be devastated. I agree with you entirely. In fact I planned it that way. So why should anyone be here when it happens? The camp will be empty by dawn, Captain. Naturally we had to wait until dark to move out. And continue work on the trenches until the very end. Inayat Latif undoubtedly has scouts all around. But by dawn there'll only be smoldering fires here. And the troops needed to man our decoy cannon across the eastern perimeter. I've loaded half the cannon with elephant barbs made in my workshops. The other half with nothing. Why waste shot? We'll fire the blank cannon to induce them to charge, and after the elephants have come inside cannon range, we'll shoot the barbs in among them. A barb in the foot of an elephant can immobilize it completely. Inayat Latif will never expect barbs. They haven't been used in India for fifty years. His war elephants should be contained right out there, unable to advance or retreat."

  "But where will your army be?"

  "Captain. Just when I thought you were beginning to understand tactics. My army will be waiting along both sides of the open plain on the east, behind a foliage camouflage we've been erecting over the past two weeks. After the attack force of Imperial war elephants has been funneled into the empty camp, we will open fire against them with our biggest cannon. From both sides. The medium-range cannon will fire into the infantry, as will the small artillery. All the guns should be in place just before dawn if I've timed it right."

  Hawksworth turned to see keepers leading an armored elephant forward for him and Shirin. Only its ears could be seen behind the steel plate. Then he looked again at Jadar.

  "But you're still outnumbered in infantry three to one."

  "All things in time, Captain." He turned and embraced Shirin lightly. "This was my best swanih-nigar. Guard her well."

  Shirin examined Hawksworth's brandy bottle with her dark eyes and laughed skeptically. "I've brought my own bow."

  Hawksworth cleared his throat as he slipped the bottle back into his jerkin. "I've requisitioned a brace of muskets. It's still the weapon I prefer."

  "Congratulations, Captain." Jadar's laugh was cynical. "I admire your feringhi initiative. But I don't want to see you harmed. Like I told you, I'm sending you with the zenana. They'll be moved to that hilltop there west of the camp. So at least you'll be able to watch the battle." He turned to leave. "Farewell until tomorrow, Captain. May Allah ride with you."

  "And I wish you Godspeed. You're a ten times better strategist then I realized
, for whatever it may be worth."

  Jadar laughed. "Just save some of your foul-tasting feringhi brandy for our victory celebration. And perhaps I'll drink with you one more time." His eyes darkened. "If not, then tomorrow we'll be eating lamb side by side in Paradise."