‘Yes, Majesty. There is a flat area of land in the lee of the ridge about three-quarters of a mile further on where we could camp. From there I will guide you along a path which descends towards a place where the scree slopes more gently to the road and it would be possible for skilled horsemen to charge straight down rather than having to zigzag.’
In the deep cold of the next morning an hour before dawn, as Humayun was slapping his arms against his sides to warm himself and readying himself for the day ahead, Ahmed Khan reported to him that one of the musketeers who had been stationed in a particularly exposed position overlooking the road had died of cold. ‘He deserved to die,’ was Ahmed Khan’s unsympathetic explanation. ‘He brought spirits not water to drink and not enough bedding.’
‘Are the other musketeers awake and alert?’
‘Yes, Majesty.’
‘Are they in position and have they checked their weapons?’
‘Again yes, Majesty.’
‘Good. Now have the remaining men mount up. As soon as it’s light enough we’ll make our way along the track I explored yesterday afternoon with Wazim Pathan to what is indeed an ideal launching point for our attack on Kamran’s rear. The path is narrow and icy with steep drops in places. Tell our men to take care, particularly as the wind is rising.’
An hour later, Humayun, his face numb despite his woollen face cloth from the cold wind blowing from the north, had just traversed the narrowest part of the route, which was less than two feet wide with precipitous drops on both sides, when he heard a cry from behind, followed by a thud and then a second heavier one from below. Turning in his saddle, he saw that one of the riders following him had fallen from the ridge together with his mount, perhaps caught by one of the increasingly frequent heavy gusts of wind.The man’s sheepskin-jacketed body was spread-eagled on a ledge only about thirty feet below but the horse had landed much lower down among jagged rocks which had penetrated its body and spilled its intestines.
As Humayun watched, another rider and his horse toppled from the track, crashing down to land among the jagged grey rocks. Humayun spoke urgently. ‘Pass the word back. Any man who is uncertain either of himself or of his horse should dismount and lead his animal across the narrowest and most exposed stretch. There is no shame in that.’
After that, all of Humayun’s men got over safely, except one whose bay horse stumbled on the ice as he led it across. The animal fell, hooves flailing at thin air, pulling its rider — a small, black-bearded Badakhshani — with it as, desperately trying to steady it, he failed to let go of the reins before he too overbalanced and plunged from the path.
Half an hour later, Humayun and his men had concealed themselves and their horses as best they could among the jumbled rocks at the top of the slope of pewter-grey scree down which they intended to charge to ambush Kamran’s men. Humayun knew they would have some hours to wait. The very latest scouting report to reach him indicated that Kamran’s troops might not get to this point until two or even three o’clock in the afternoon. It would leave little time to draw any battle to a decisive conclusion before the early sundown.
In fact, it was a little after three when Humayun himself peering, eyes narrowed in concentration, from behind a large boulder, was the first to spot Kamran’s vanguard ascending the road. They seemed to have no scouts or pickets posted and not to be keeping any formal order. Clearly, they had no suspicion of ambush. Humayun motioned Ahmed Khan to him. ‘Pass the message to the men not to attack until I give the signal. It’ll be a little while until enough of the column has passed by for us to be able to charge down on their rear. When we do, it must be hard and fast, leaving Kamran no chance to rally his men.’
For perhaps a quarter of an hour Humayun waited as Kamran’s men continued to advance, chatting and laughing as they rode. During that time Humayun thought he saw his half-brother riding a chestnut horse in the centre of the column but at such a distance he could not be sure. When the last element of the rearguard and the straggle of camp followers were making their way beneath his hiding place, Humayun signalled his men to mount. Immediately they had done so, with a wave of his gauntleted hand he set his four hundred riders in motion. Together they charged down the scree slope.
Although less precipitous than elsewhere, the descent was still steep and as Humayun rode down, leaning back in his saddle to help his horse keep its balance, he saw one of his men’s horses lose its footing and fall headlong, catapulting its rider over its neck and rolling over and over down through the loose, powdery scree. However, almost instantly, Humayun and his men were among Kamran’s rearguard, striking and slashing around them. In the first minute of the attack, Humayun felled a black-turbaned rider from his saddle as he struggled to free his sword from its scabbard beneath his sheepskin. He wounded another in the thigh before he too could raise a weapon and inflicted a deep sword cut on a third’s arm.
Kamran’s horsemen seemed taken completely by surprise. The hindmost of them surged instinctively forward away from their attackers, crashing into their comrades in front and, as they did so, panicking their horses and in turn propelling them onwards up the valley road. Soon Humayun heard the first musket shots from the boulders high on the hillside where his musketeers were concealed. From his position within the crush and dust of battle, Humayun could not see their direct effect, but he could see confusion and surprise turning to absolute panic and fear around him.
Some of Kamran’s men tried to turn their rearing horses and force them back through their attackers, to return south and away from the musket fire. None succeeded; all were either killed or felled from their horses. Others tried to ride up the steep scree slopes. Humayun saw some of these topple from the saddle, presumably shot down by his musketeers. Within twenty minutes, cohesion and discipline in Kamran’s ragtag army was evaporating. Pockets of his desperate, frightened men were dismounting, throwing down their weapons and raising their hands above their heads in token of surrender.
Gathering some of his own troops around him, Humayun pushed his black horse through Kamran’s disintegrating army in search of his brother, striking left and right as he did so. But he could not find Kamran. Once he thought he saw him on his chestnut horse, but as he swerved closer he realised that the rider was in fact a younger man, probably an officer, who quickly kicked his horse to escape but not quickly enough to prevent Humayun’s sword slicing into his helmetless head and splitting it like a ripe watermelon.
Shouts from the north where his main force under Bairam Khan would have engaged Kamran’s fleeing men from behind the barricades showed that the fight had been joined there too. Unable to distinguish clearly enough between friend and foe in the mass of fighters below, and with their sight partially obscured by smoke from their weapons, Humayun’s musketeers in the rocks above dropped their muskets and drew their swords before charging and sliding their way down through the scree into the chaotic battle.
Humayun, still eager above all to capture his brother, broke away and with a dozen riders made for the barricades. Before he had gone half a mile he was confronted by a band of about twenty of Kamran’s men galloping back towards him. Urging his black horse on, Humayun gathered speed. So too did those around him. The two groups met head on. One of Kamran’s men cut at Humayun’s head with his sword but the blow glanced off his helmet. At the same time, Humayun’s sword sliced into his opponent’s upper arm. Not expecting an attack, very few of Kamran’s men had been wearing chain mail so Humayun’s sword bit deep, splintering bone and almost severing the arm.
A second man swung at Humayun with a battle flail. One of the spikes on the ball at the end of its chain nicked Humayun’s nose as it whirled, parting the air in front of his face. His nose felt numb and instantly blood ran into his mouth and down the back of his throat. However, turning his horse tightly, he pursued his assailant who swung his flail once more, this time wildly, missing Humayun by a distance. As he passed, Humayun slashed at the back of the man’s neck. The stroke deflected off his opponent’s helmet, losing some of its force, but still cut into his neck, drawing blood. The man fell forward, losing control of his horse which reared up, throwing him heavily to the ground where he struggled to rise but soon collapsed and lay still.