Empire of the Moghul: Brothers at War

by Alex Rutherford

  At this moment, Humayun could see a group of officers conferring on the hilltop. Turning to Ahmed Khan at his side, he asked, ‘Do we know who the general of that division is?’

  ‘Majesty, during the recent battle the commander of a squadron of cavalry surrendered almost immediately and told us that he and his men wished to serve you. We put his men under guard and confined him to one of our tents where he volunteered much information about the make-up of our enemy’s army and its morale. He is sure to know.’

  ‘Bring him to me.’

  A few minutes later, two of Ahmed Khan’s men appeared leading a tall man of about thirty with a neatly trimmed black beard. To forestall any possibility of his attacking Humayun they had shackled his ankles so closely that he could only shuffle forwards. When he was within a few yards of Humayun he threw himself on the ground.

  After a moment Humayun spoke. ‘Help him up.’ Then he asked, ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Mustapha Ergun, a Turkish officer in the service of Tartar Khan.’

  ‘I understand you wish to transfer your allegiance to me.’

  ‘My hundred men also.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We joined Tartar Khan in search of booty and of position if he became Padishah of Hindustan. But we have found he is not serious about pursuing this ambition. While he loitered on the borders of Gujarat in the arms of his concubines, he despatched us on this tentative expedition against the weaker of his fellow contenders, Adil Shah. He didn’t even provide us with enough men, weapons or equipment to do our job properly and our pay is three months in arrears. We believe that you are serious in your ambition to regain the imperial throne and that when you succeed you will reward us generously.’

  ‘I remember well the esteem in which my father held his Turkish gunners. I too have been served well by officers from other nations. Bairam Khan here joined me from the army of the Shah of Persia. But how can I be sure of your sincerity?’

  ‘We are prepared to swear our loyalty to you on the Holy Book – or let us lead the attack in your next battle to prove ourselves.’

  ‘I will consider both offers, but I pose you this initial test. Go to the other division of your army who sit surrounded on that hill. Persuade them to surrender. I extend to them the following terms – either to depart unmolested retaining their personal weapons but leaving behind their heavy equipment or – like you – to volunteer to join my forces. If they do not surrender, I may take up your offer to lead the next attack, which will be on them. Do you accept my proposition?’

  ‘Yes, Majesty.’

  ‘Strike off his shackles.’

  A quarter of an hour later, Mustapha Ergun rode out from Humayun’s camp accompanied by ten of his men. When he reached the hill on which his comrades were drawn up, they opened a gap in their lines to receive him. Humayun could see him and his men ride to the top of the barren hill to talk to the officers congregated there. Soon the knot of men broke up and individual officers seemed to be consulting their men.There were occasional outbursts of cheering before the gap in the front line reopened and Mustapha Ergun with his ten soldiers behind him re-emerged and rode back down to Humayun’s position.

  Two of Humayun’s bodyguards placed themselves on either side of him as, smiling, he approached Humayun, who had Bairam Khan and Akbar at his side. ‘What success have you had?’

  ‘No more blood will be spilled, Majesty. The division on the hill is commanded by a Gujarati prince named Selim and two-thirds of his troops are Gujaratis enlisted by Tartar Khan when he first decided to pursue the imperial throne. They’re tired of this campaign and wish to return home and are prepared to accept your conditions for doing so.’

  ‘Good. And the other third?’

  ‘A mixed bunch from many places. Some are mere boys who joined our ranks as we passed through their villages from a desire for adventure, most of whom now want nothing more than to preserve their lives. Others are hardened soldiers of fortune like ourselves, including one hundred musketeers from my own country under the command of an old comrade of mine, Kemil Attak, and about the same number of Persians, recruited to man the few small cannon we have with us. Both these two groups wish to join you with their weapons, as we do ourselves.’

  ‘You have done well. I accept your offer of service and that of your men and I will accept those of the other volunteers, provided like you their officers convince me of their sincerity.’ Then, turning to Bairam Khan, he said, ‘Each victory brings us nearer to our goal. But we cannot falter or all we have achieved so far will be lost. This evening we will feast to celebrate our victory and to welcome our new comrades-in-arms but tomorrow we will march to vanquish the last of the pretenders to my throne, Sekunder Shah. He is the best leader and his army is the largest of the three. His governor occupies Delhi and he himself sits with his army across the road to the capital. Our greatest battle is to come.’

  Later that night, as the sounds of merriment and raucous singing echoed around the camp, Humayun left the celebrations. For a moment he stopped and gazed at the stars sprinkling the black velvet of the night but then he walked slowly back to his tent. A waiting guard lifted the flap and Humayun entered and sat at a low table. Taking a pen he dipped it into the jade inkpot and by the light of a flickering oil lamp started to write a letter to Hamida to be handed to a post messenger in the morning to begin its long journey back to Kabul. He wrote that he and Akbar were safe, of his love for her and of his certainty that he would soon sit once more on the throne of Hindustan.

  The air was hot and still and as Humayun looked across from his vantage point on a low sandstone hill he saw that dark clouds were piling up on the far horizon as they always did in the afternoon in early summer as the monsoon approached. It was nearly a month since his defeat of Tartar Khan’s generals. In that time he had turned east in pursuit of the forces of Sekunder Shah who, according to his scouts, had a quarter of a million men in his main army – a number which considerably exceeded Humayun’s forces even though they had now grown to over a hundred thousand.

  Humayun had quickly realised that to be certain of victory he needed to erode his enemies’ numerical advantage before taking them on in the open field. Therefore, a fortnight previously he had despatched a raiding force under Bairam Khan to ride hard and light to harass his enemies’ outposts and to disrupt their communications with Delhi. Now he could see Bairam Khan’s troops returning across the dry plains. Messengers had already reported that they had had some successes, but he needed to hear from Bairam Khan’s lips their extent and what more he and his men had learned about their enemies’ strength and future plans.

  Too eager for news to wait for Bairam Khan to come to him, Humayun called his bodyguard to him and, kicking his black horse into a gallop, set off down the hill towards Bairam Khan’s column. An hour later, beneath the limited shade provided by a solitary tree, he and Bairam Khan were sitting on a red and blue carpet spread with cushions.

  ‘Our successes in our raids were hard won, Majesty. Unlike our other opponents, Sekunder Shah’s men are disciplined. Even when surprised and outnumbered they did not panic or flee but closed ranks and battled hard, sometimes inflicting heavy casualties on us before we finally prevailed.’

  ‘As we feared, they make powerful opponents. What did you learn of Sekunder Shah’s movements?’

  ‘He is concentrating his main forces in the vicinity of a town called Sirhind on the south bank of one of the branches of the Sutlej river before making his next move. According to a despatch some of our men found on one of a party of Sekunder Shah’s messengers they captured three days ago, he has called for further reinforcements from Delhi and is expecting a large detachment of them to arrive within the next ten days bringing with them extra money to pay his other troops as well as more equipment.’

  ‘You are sure the message was genuine?’

  ‘It has Sekunder Shah’s seal on it, look . . . ’

  Bairam Khan unfastened the worn brown leather satchel he ha
d looped across his chest, took out a large folded sheet of paper with a red wax seal on it and held it out to Humayun.

  ‘It certainly looks the real thing, but could it have been planted as some kind of ruse?’

  ‘I don’t think so, Majesty. The group of our men who captured the messengers were a scouting party operating well away – perhaps forty miles further east from my main force. They said that the messengers were galloping hard when they came upon them rather than loitering as they might have been if looking to be taken. When I spoke to them, Sekunder Shah’s men gave a good impression of being surprised and humbled to be captured. If they were acting, they were playing their parts to perfection.’

  ‘In that case, let us strain every sinew to intercept the reinforcements and seize the money and weapons. Send scouts out immediately to cover all possible approach routes.’

  ‘Majesty, their pickets have warned them of our presence,’ a slightly breathless Ahmed Khan told Humayun. ‘They have halted and drawn themselves into a defensive position about two miles away over the crest of that ridge, in and around a small village whose inhabitants fled at their approach. They are positioning their men behind the village’s mud walls and are overturning their wagons to form extra barricades.’

  ‘How many of them are there?’

  ‘About five thousand, mostly horsemen including some with muskets, protecting a large baggage train. They’ve also got quite a few small cannon with them.’

  ‘Now we’ve lost any chance of surprising them, our best hope is to attack before they can complete their preparations. Have Bairam Khan ready our men.’

  Ninety minutes later, Humayun stood on the top of the ridge above the village and watched as the first wave of his men led by Bairam Khan himself charged the barricades behind which Sekunder Shah’s men were drawn up. There was a loud crash as Sekunder Shah’s cannon fired. Several of Bairam Khan’s men fell. A crackle of musketry followed which emptied more saddles. More fell from a second wave of cannon fire before they could reach the barricades, but still Bairam Khan’s men rode on.

  ‘Look, Father, isn’t that Mustapha Ergun at the head of the line over there?’ shouted Akbar.

  Humayun followed his son’s pointing hand and saw through the white smoke drifting across the village his new recruit leaping one of the mud walls on his bay horse, followed closely by some of his men. Elsewhere, Humayun could see that a number of his other cavalry had come under such heavy fire and taken so many casualties that they were retreating, leaving bodies of men and horses strewn in front of the makeshift fortifications thrown up by Sekunder Shah’s men.

  Then Humayun saw Bairam Khan gesturing to a detachment of his men previously held in reserve. They galloped to the area of the barricades where Mustapha Ergun and his troops had made a breach and swiftly followed them into the enemy camp. Once inside, they began attacking their opponents’ positions from the rear. For several minutes the horsemen, locked in combat, swayed back and forth, but slowly Humayun’s men were beginning to seize the upper hand as more and more reinforcements poured over the barricades despite suffering continuing casualties from Sekunder Shah’s resolute musketeers. Inch by inch the defenders were being herded into a small portion of their original position. Suddenly a group of Sekunder Shah’s horsemen broke out from the mass of their closely packed comrades and fought their way to a gap in the barricades before beginning to gallop determinedly in the direction in which Sekunder Shah’s main army lay.

  ‘We must stop them,’ shouted Humayun. ‘Follow me!’

  Head bent low over his horse’s neck and with Akbar at his side, Humayun galloped after the riders. Led by a thick-set officer wearing a steel breastplate, they were maintaining cohesion and formation, seemingly bent on alerting Sekunder Shah as soon as possible to the fate of their comrades rather than on simply preserving their lives.

  Slowly Humayun and his men gained on the group.When they were within arrow shot, Humayun grabbed his bow and quiver from his back. Standing in his stirrups with his reins clenched in his teeth he fired at the officer. He missed by inches, his arrow embedding itself in the man’s saddle. However, before he could fit another arrow to his string, the officer slid from his horse, an arrow in his neck. His foot caught in his stirrup and he was dragged for a while – head bumping along the stony ground – behind his frightened, galloping mount before the stirrup broke. Then he rolled over twice and lay still. Humayun realised it was Akbar who had fired the fatal arrow. Others of Sekunder Shah’s men had also fallen from their horses.

  ‘Well done!’ Humayun shouted to his son, ‘but stay back now.’

  Humayun kicked his horse into a gallop once more and headed after the remaining dozen or so riders. Soon he was up with the hindmost of them, who was desperately urging his sweat-soaked, blowing pony onwards. Seeing Humayun he half raised his round shield but he was too late. Humayun’s sharp sword caught him across the back of his neck beneath his helmet. His blood gushed crimson and he crashed to the hard ground.

  Humayun did not look back but galloped after the only one of the riders who had not been overtaken and engaged by one of his men and was still in the saddle riding hard. He was a fine, fluid rider mounted on a speedy black horse whose hooves kicked up pebbles as they pounded the ground. It was all Humayun could do to gain on him even though his horse was fresher. Finally Humayun and three of his bodyguard drew alongside the rider, who aimed a stroke with his scimitar at one of the bodyguards. The man managed to get his arm up to protect his head but received a deep wound to his forearm and fell back from the fight. However, in striking at the bodyguard the horseman exposed himself to a thrust from Humayun which penetrated his thigh and he too fell, leaving his horse to gallop off alone.

  Reining in his own horse and turning in his saddle, Humayun saw that all the break-out party were accounted for, and most important of all Akbar was safe. As they rode back towards the main battle around the village, Humayun could see that in most places the combat was over. There was still some fighting going on around a group of mud huts. The thatched roof of one was burning, perhaps set ablaze by a spark from a musket or cannon or perhaps ignited deliberately by his men to flush out their opponents. However, as he came closer Humayun saw that this fight too had ceased and the remaining defenders had thrown down their arms.

  Four hours later, dark, almost purple clouds were filling the sky and a hot breeze had sprung up – the monsoon would start any day soon, thought Humayun, perhaps even this very afternoon. Turning to Akbar, who was standing by his side beneath the awning of his scarlet command tent, he put his arm round his son’s shoulders. ‘I’ve always prided myself on my skill as an archer, but your shot that brought down the officer was exceptional.’

  ‘Thank you, but it was probably a fluke.’

  ‘I think not – I’ve seen you practise . . . ’ Humayun paused and squeezed his son’s shoulder. ‘Good shot as it was and glad as I was that you made it, I should have ordered you not to accompany me when I chased after those riders. Lucky arrow shots might have killed us both, destroying my hopes for our family’s destiny as well as causing your mother immense grief. In future we must remain separated on the battlefield, and I am afraid you must stay in the rear.’

  ‘But Father . . . ’ Akbar began, then let his words trail away as he saw the determination in his father’s eyes and realised the logic in his words.

  ‘Enough of this. Here come our officers, led by Bairam Khan, to discuss our next move.’ Humayun turned back into the tent where cushions had been placed in a semicircle round his throne for his commanders and a gilded stool had been set up for Akbar immediately to the right of his place. Once they were all assembled, Humayun asked,‘What were our casualties?’

  ‘Two hundred men killed, at least, and over six hundred injured, many badly, including several of Mustapha Ergun’s Turks who first got behind the barricades.’

  ‘Mustapha Ergun and his men did well. When we divide the booty we must double their share, but before
we can allocate rewards we must know the extent of our capture.’

  ‘Two large chests of gold coin,’ said Bairam Khan, ‘and five of silver designed to pay Sekunder Shah’s troops. Their loss will disappoint his men and may affect their commitment to his cause.’

  ‘We can only hope it does. What military equipment did we acquire?’

  ‘Two bullock carts loaded with wooden cases of new muskets and their powder and bullets. Two new medium-sized bronze cannon and ten smaller ones. Sekunder Shah’s men managed to destroy six more by exploding excess powder in their barrels. There are also boxes of swords and battleaxes as well as three thousand five hundred horses and some oxen and other pack animals. All in all, a welcome and substantial contribution to our supplies and an equally substantial loss for Sekunder Shah.’

  ‘How many of his men did we capture?’

  ‘About four thousand. The rest were killed. What should we do with the prisoners, Majesty?’

  ‘Hold them for forty-eight hours then allow any who are prepared to swear on the Holy Book that they will fight no more to depart south on foot without their weapons. Now let us turn to planning our final victory over Sekunder Shah. What do you think our next move should be, Zahid Beg?’

  ‘The monsoon is imminent. We cannot campaign satisfactorily during it – our baggage trains and artillery will scarcely be able to move. We should encamp while sending scouts south to keep the main routes between Sekunder Shah and Delhi under observation, and then when the monsoon ceases .. .’