The treasures were to be immediately dispatched to overcome any possible threats. The priority was for the caravan to move northwards towards Delhi with all the treasure. Rather than hide the truth, the armies were told they were transporting the wealth back to Delhi. If they knew it was gold, they would not dare touch it, especially because they had to think of their families back in Delhi. The Sultan’s arms could be very long.
CHAPTER 32
A PLAN THWARTED
Three weeks had elapsed since Madurai’s fall, and the discussions to retake it continued. Vikrama eased into the role of a commander once again, and issued the orders while the two kings mutely attested their affirmation. With the seeds of unity sown, however temporary, the two competitors were now focused on chasing the intruder from their capital. Only a joint effort could get this thorn out of their feet. If the Turk was not driven out, all of them would have to spend their lives as petty chieftains in palm-sized countries or worse, in exile.
Vikrama announced to the war council, ‘The invader seems armed with the talons of the eagle and our city is held in his clutches. But it is not just any city – Madurai is the cradle of our Tamil race!’ His words stirred the blood of everybody who heard it. ‘We are numerically weak and our battalions are broken up. Years of peace have made our forces lose interest in battle, and we stand today at the cusp of our great civilization being exterminated by a foreigner, an invader. But we are Pandyans, we have never learnt how to give up. We will ride into battle and show these upstarts what it means to fight us. We will make them pay for what they have done to our city, to our temples, and we will extract our revenge. For today is the day the Pandyans will rise again and the pennant of the two fishes will fly again.’
Veera and Sundar wanted a multi-pronged attack on Madurai, which they knew from recent experience was undefendable. Veera said, ‘The Turks are an invading force. They cannot defend a counter-attack. Let us take the Turk on the ground where he is entrenched and we will assuredly smite him.’
It was an ambitious programme, but the flaws were clearly visible. Vikrama put voice to those flaws, ‘Taking on the Turks in Madurai will involve a hand-to-hand fight in every street. Our people have already lost too much and we need every life to reconstruct the country.’
Parakrama interrupted Vikrama, ‘It is important to lay a claim to the city, but it is also important to teach a lesson to the Turk.’
Vikrama was reminded of Veera on hearing Parakrama, but from a time when power hadn’t corrupted his mind and cowardice hadn’t taken over his heart. He smiled; the boy even looked like a young Veera. A strange thought overwhelmed him. Could it be? He wondered and then it dawned on him. He now knew why Madurai lay shattered; it was because of the unspoken quarrel between the brothers over a woman. He wanted to grab hold of his two nephews by their collars and call them the vilest of names. But he calmed himself and continued in the earlier vein, ‘Madurai has one of the largest circumferences of any city, and storming it would require great amounts of manpower. Where would you find so many men?’
‘We will request every vassal of ours; they can give us a hundred thousand men,’ Veera said.
Vikrama shook his head. ‘We don’t know how far our empire extends at the moment. We have solicited aid from the vassals. Many will come, others will not, for we stand belittled in their eyes. They may even chase away the collector sent to collect tribute. Did we not do it ourselves when our overlords the Cholas were weakened?
‘For thirty days now, the Turks have retained the unchallenged possession of Madurai. Lethargy and greed should now pervade the camp. They would definitely dream of going further. Malik Kafur’s thirst for conquest and loot would by no means be appeased.’
He paused for the assessment to sink in and when nobody demurred, he continued, ‘The obvious route would be to move to southern lands, perhaps even to Rameshwaram or Lanka. When the Turk crosses the hills south of Madurai, he should not encounter any resistance. He will have to navigate through a mountain pass where not more than forty men can cross at the same time. So numerous is their army that it will take the Turks at least a whole day just to cross the pass. The moment the last soldier crosses, we will have to act. The pass will be closed down with boulders. There will be no escape nor can they send for reinforcements.’
Pausing for effect, the master-soldier continued, ‘The entire Pandyan army will be stationed in the hills. They will swarm down and pick out the Turk when he crosses the mounds or rivers, wherever his journey is impeded with natural barriers and where he is tired and has slowed down. Before the entire army will be picked off, the general will be forced to offer battle somewhere. That desperation will be enough to finish him.’ The other men of war listened wide-eyed. They knew what would happen. If the Turks tried to skirt the restrictions placed by the chasing Pandyan hordes, they would find the passes closed. And with their backs to the south of Madurai, Vikrama would slaughter them like chickens at a marriage feast.
Parakrama added, ‘The invaders will unheedingly move southwards like a ship that continues to sail towards a shore. We will move behind in their wake. A group of us could then capture Madurai, which the Turks will have inconsiderately left guarded with minimal personnel. Cut the Turk away from his passage home. Every step he takes would be further away from home, and not a single Turk will escape.’
A group of spies maintained a watch on the Turks within the town as a feline would watch its prey. They were obviously preparing to move, based on the hurried nature of their packing. The news was reported to the Pandyans. Vikrama based his plans on the reconnaissance reports and decided where each section of the army would be entrenched.
It was important that the Turks be taught a lesson. To let this sink in, he had even planned to send back a procession of blind soldiers led by a one-eyed man home to Delhi, who would tell their Sultan what had happened. And then the Turk would be encouraged to stay away forever.
The best part of his plan would be when he would tear the limbs off that upstart general, Malik Kafur, with his bare hands.
*
Vikrama waited impatiently for the spy to bring his daily report. News of the highest order awaited him, and he ordered the man to begin immediately. The man bowed and said, ‘The Turkish armies are preparing to move out, sir.’
‘When?’ Vikrama asked expectantly, like a hungry guest asking for lunch. His trap was waiting to be sprung.
The spy said, ‘Tomorrow, sir, but they seem to be moving north. They are bridging the Vaigai again.’
Vikrama’s first reaction was that the man had misinterpreted the Turks’ intentions. When he repeated it without flinching, he could not believe the tidings. A knot formed itself in the pit of his stomach. He was like a hound, and he had thought like the fox, but it hadn’t worked. Instead, the fox had thought like the hound, and was slipping from his grasp. Why had the Turks resorted to such desperate measures of retreat when they had won?
The news caused a stir in the Pandyan camp; everybody had expected the Turks to remain in Madurai or move further south. Almost instantly, the well-wrought strategy had turned to chaos. Vikrama was shaken. The enemy general had done what no one had expected him to. No wonder both his nephews had been worsted. He closed his eyes to concentrate as if to numb the escalating anxiety. He had listed endless possibilities in his mind while ultimately facing Malik Kafur. But even he had not expected a man to retreat while victorious. Avarice was human nature. How did Malik realize that the downtrodden and scattered forces of the Pandyans would attack him?
Vikrama was worried. The plans were based on the assumption that the Turks would move south. Only a hasty plan could follow now, for every moment they delayed, the Turk was a foot away. A battle in the north with both armies moving in the same direction was going to be tougher. Had the news of their preparations been leaked to the enemy? He realized such a large army could not just up and leave within a day. The general must have decided to move even before they had decided upon the
irs. He finally knew how this general had come so far. Vikrama shivered involuntarily; the eunuch was a worthy foe indeed, with intuition and foresight he had not known to exist in mankind. Perhaps he had met his match, after all. Malik was an enemy whom neither force could vanquish nor stratagem beguile. Vikrama had doubted his rival’s capabilities so far, but now he stood corrected. The control he had over his army was incredible. If anybody else had asked soldiers to retreat in the face of more wealth, he would have had a full-scale rebellion to quell.
Not even a thin sliver of hope now prevailed that the Turks were moving south. That would only happen if the Turks mutinied, which was a remote possibility. There could no longer be a shadow of doubt. He had miscalculated their greed and fatally underrated their general. Vikrama felt a pain as if a dagger had entered his chest, as despondency came over him. The die had been cast. Filled with an implacable fury, he sat down to regroup his thoughts.
But he was not one who dwelt over failed plans too long. He decided that rather than capturing the invader, the need of the hour was to strike a decisive blow. The Turks should be thoroughly routed and driven back to their lands. At the very least, the Pandyan army should make them return to their own country with a more respectful view of their empire.
He may have outwitted me but he cannot escape my sword, he murmured. The best place to trap them would be just ahead of the Cauvery river. Surrounded by soggy rice fields, the Turkish army would scatter and get bogged down in the swamps. He gave orders for the armies to be readied. The Pandyans were back in business.
*
Vikrama had risen from obscurity to lead the broken armies of the Pandyans once again. The two kings could not resist his authority, for they knew they would lose even if the Pandyans won the war. A man who had been exiled to wilderness had come back to lead them all. And haunt them too.
That the war would pave the way for a transition was obvious to all. Vikrama and Parakrama now led the forces. Parakrama had been shocked to his very soul at the train of events, and at the cowardice and stupidity shown by his uncle and father. Now, he looked up to Vikrama as a lofty leader unparalleled in history.
The Pandyan army had by now received reinforcements from the southern parts of the empire. The army had been enlarged by merging several factions and reinforced by many irregulars who swore to expel the intruder. The men were embittered and homeless, but ready to fight. Their courage gave heart to Vikrama. If he tried hard, he could retain the foundations of a tottering empire.
Eight cavalry regiments and fourteen battalions of foot soldiers were prepared. Vikrama could visualize the Turks trudging along slowly, delayed by the reluctant march of the captives as well as the weight of the loot. Malik Kafur was, at the very utmost, a day or two ahead of him.
When the armies finally left, the scenes were poignant. Vikrama led the prayers. The crowds listened in rapt attention as he asked for the goodwill of the gods. The soldiers took an oath in a solemn function by moonlight. All of them swore to drive away the Turks or die in the attempt. They were aware of the stakes they were fighting for: the self-respect of their nation would be the seed they would sow for the future.
CHAPTER 33
MOMENT OF RECKONING
Twenty thousand horses and five hundred elephants had been sent back to Delhi with the section of the army that accompanied the spoils from Madurai. As many as twelve thousand captives still remained. A lengthy journey now awaited the Turks. It was bound to be unpleasant, with the soldiers not keen to return home. If it weren’t for Malik, they would have disobeyed the orders.
Rumours were swirling within the camp. The angry soldiers had decided that Malik had been bribed by the Pandyan kings to return to Delhi.
‘Must we retreat, Malik?’ asked Ulugh Khan, who looked like a child whose prized toy had been snatched from him. It was not the happiest moment for Malik either. He had reluctantly turned his feet towards home. He was a strategist and a warrior and the Madurai campaign had seen none of his talents bloom. He had ended up denuding a deserted town. There was no point in ruling this shattered country, in converting it to Islam or installing a puppet king to pay an annual tribute. There was no way he could enforce his will so far away from home.
Now that he was at the peak of his career, Malik couldn’t afford to gamble any more. There was too much at stake: his life, and more importantly, the danger that his past achievements could be defiled. He had ordered the armies to march continuously and rest only in the safety of Dwarsamudra. That way they could reach Delhi in three months.
Malik had packed his belongings with the help of two slaves. There was not much to pack; all he had was what he had brought with him. This was how it always was. But this time there was one addition: the statue of Meenakshi that had all along been displayed behind his chair was now carefully wrapped in straw and packed in a crate.
The statue had initially made him nervous; its emerald eyes gave him the eerie feeling of being constantly watched. Slowly, he got over his fear, and now he had started conversing with it, giving it reports of the war – probably the only conversation he could have at the moment. Malik had had a set of dresses stitched for it in green, the Sultanate’s army colours. When adorned with the dress, it looked like a miniature soldier, albeit a female one.
Halfway through his packing, Malik realized that Rayan was missing. He asked the two slaves to find out where the sick man was, but they did not know. ‘We went to look for him, Your Excellency, but he was not in his tent.’ A sick man missing a day before they were bound to leave – that caught Malik by surprise.
Malik felt a moment of torment. Rayan had been close to him. He had witnessed a distressing event in his life. He could remember with singular distinctness every detail of what had happened inside the temple. Where had Rayan disappeared to now? And his mutterings – were they just words borne out of fever, or did they carry a larger meaning?
He decided he would leave without Rayan.
*
By the time the entire army had crossed the Vaigai, twilight had fallen. Ulugh Khan came over to ask whether some arrangements had to be made to camp in the morning. It was easier to travel at night in the hot months of summer. ‘No, we will not halt. We will march day and night,’ Malik pronounced, much to Ulugh Khan’s surprise. Malik was not too happy with this arrangement either. His men and animals were tired and they were not used to the hot, humid and dusty days of the land. But he could not let them halt. The foot soldier determined the speed of an army and he passed orders to the other generals who in turn bullied the soldiers to march faster.
The army marched through the night. Most soldiers slept on their horses. For a month it had been an orgy of loot and the sudden silence of the march provided a stillness in contrast. But Malik was agitated. Something bothered him, though he couldn’t place a finger on it. His companions could see it too; they kept looking back with suspicious glances. Thoughtfully, Malik had placed soldiers from Dwarsamudra at the back of the army, and it was they who faced the brunt of the Pandyan attack.
Under the cover of darkness, the combined Pandyan army began their raids. At first, the Turks could only hear shouts from their own men but in the darkness they could not see anything. Then, like the rustle of a snake in the grass, the disturbance in one section of the army was felt by others.
The flash of a sword was the last sight many of the soldiers saw.
Hours fled by, and yet there was no respite. The Turks found themselves fighting an unseen enemy as they continued to march. The Pandyan chase was relentless. Most of them were surprised at the Turks’ almost indecent hurry to survive and the retreat was a disgusting spectacle, a fevered nightmare. The Turks could not recover after the initial shock.
The braver among the Pandyan ranks rode parallel to the Turks and whenever they found a weak spot, bravely took a turn into the army. Riders with blackened faces had cut wedges across the procession dividing them into segments. Some raiders moved in between the captors and their new
ly captured slaves. Another team had rushed to save their horses.
The Pandyan army had grown tremendously by now, with the merging of several factions. New recruits from the refugees had provided additional men and materiel. These men were embittered, homeless and now ready to fight the invader. They felt the guilt of those who ran away and lived, while their friends and relatives died. Every soldier seemed to have shaken off all weaknesses in their land’s interest. They fought with anything that was sharp: swords, spears, even the Turkish scimitars that had been dropped by Malik’s retreating forces. Many riders carried long poles to trip the Turkish horses. It was obvious not all of them had been trained in the use of arms but their bravery caused success to smile on them.
Malik grimaced. He would know the extent of the damage only at dawn. Would the enemy vanish at cock’s crow? Malik knew they wouldn’t; they were facing a foe who wanted to erase all traces of the timidity he had shown earlier. He was willing to drown his cowardice in his blood as penitence. Malik was worried. Though a victor by all accounts, he was not a brave soldier, but one who possessed great sagacity. The treasures had already left but if they suffered a defeat here, the vassals whose countries the treasure had to pass through would be emboldened to steal it. Though he wanted to battle the Pandyan forces and prove his mettle, he desisted and gave orders for his forces to move north as swiftly as possible to limit their losses. He jumped on his horse with alacrity and rushed northwards, dashing out of Madurai like a cornered thief.
CHAPTER 34
IN PURSUIT OF THE ENEMY
Gods, Kings & Slaves: The Siege of Madurai Page 42