‘How long have they been up there?’ Shah Jahan asked.
‘We clashed with some of their scouts at first light. Once alerted to our presence the enemy quickly began to move up to the hilltop.’
‘I’m surprised they did not simply retreat, disappearing into the countryside as they have before.’
‘They have more infantry with them than I have known previously, and those men would not have got far on foot.’
‘About how many of them are there?’
‘No more than two thousand or so.’
‘We outnumber them then, but that’s no bad thing … As we attack up the slope we will be much more exposed than they will be behind the walls.’ Shah Jahan turned to Ashok Singh. ‘Have our horsemen surround the hill. Then once the war elephants with the small cannon arrive we will advance. There is no point in delaying.’
The elephants took longer than he had anticipated to appear, during which time he could see the rebels continuing to work feverishly with their hands as well as picks and shovels to strengthen their makeshift fortifications. Shah Jahan could not relax. He ordered small parties of his musketmen to scramble up the hillside, water bottles and spare ammunition slung across their backs together with their muskets, to take up positions behind rocky outcrops just outside the range of enemy fire so that they could join the action quickly when it began.
Once the elephants had arrived and the gunners had loaded the cannon in their howdahs with powder and ball, sweating in the afternoon heat as they rammed the shot down the barrels, Shah Jahan gave the command for them to advance. They began to do so steadily and slowly, with groups of musketeers, archers and foot soldiers running along behind them, taking advantage of the protection afforded by their bulk. His scouts had told Shah Jahan that they did not believe the rebels had even small cannon. Nevertheless, he waited apprehensively for a crash and burst of white smoke from the hillside to show that they had been mistaken and he had once more underestimated his enemies’ strength and cunning. None came.
By now, his leading elephants were more than halfway up the slope and the gunners in their howdahs were bringing their small cannon into action. Shah Jahan saw a long portion of the fortress’s brick wall collapse after being hit by some of the cannon balls. Some enemy horsemen who had been sheltering behind it rode out through the dust but Shah Jahan was sure others had been trapped by the falling debris. Still there was no answering cannon fire from the Bijapurans. His scouts must have been right — they had no cannon, he thought with relief. The assault was going well and now was the time for him to join it with his main body of horsemen. Waving his sword as the signal to attack, he began to gallop forward. As they saw him and his bodyguard advance, other horsemen surrounding the hill took up the charge until, green banners billowing, they were riding at the fortress from all sides.
Kicking his horse onward while taking care to avoid the scattered rocks, Shah Jahan soon came up with the war elephants. Suddenly one — a massive beast with three gunners as well as a small cannon in its open howdah — raised its red-painted trunk and began to trumpet in pain. A lucky musket shot had hit it not where the overlapping steel plates of its armoured surcoat gave some protection but in the right eye socket. With blood pouring down its cheek and running on to its curved tusk, it turned from the advance and slowly crashed to the ground, dislodging both the gunners and the bronze cannon. The weapon fell into the path of the mounted bodyguard immediately on Shah Jahan’s right, bringing his horse to the ground and trapping its rider by his leg between its flank and a large jagged rock.
The bodyguard’s scream of agony reached Shah Jahan’s ears above the other sounds of battle. As it did so, he himself felt a sharp pain in his left ankle and his mount skittered sideways, half rearing. The fallen horse, thrashing its legs, had kicked both of them. Hot pain searing his ankle, Shah Jahan reined in his horse and tried to bring it under control, but for some moments it crossed the line of his advancing cavalry, slowing their charge up the hill, which was particularly steep at this point. Just as he regained mastery of his mount, Shah Jahan became aware of a party of at least thirty enemy horsemen galloping from the fortifications now no more than three hundred yards away, intent on exploiting the temporary chaos in this section of his advance.
Musketeers firing from the elephant howdahs knocked two enemy riders from their saddles before the rest, benefitting from the impetus provided by the slope, crashed into Shah Jahan’s troops. One bearded rider, yelling wildly, thrust his lance deep into the cheek of a war elephant, which veered sharply away from the attack and crashed back down the hill, trampling some of the foot soldiers who had been following in its wake. Another rebel horseman caught the grey mount of one of Shah Jahan’s bodyguards full in the chest with his long lance, killing the animal almost instantly. A third spitted from his saddle one of Shah Jahan’s young qorchis, whose first battle and now almost certainly his last it was.
Shah Jahan kicked his own horse towards the attacker, who was trying to extract his lance from the squire’s chest as the young man lay squirming and screaming on the ground. The rebel could not turn to face Shah Jahan in time and the emperor’s sword struck him hard above the knee before knocking his lance from his hand to land beside the dying qorchi. Leaving others to finish the rebel off, Shah Jahan attacked another man who was so intent on scything the head from an imperial musketeer that he did not notice the emperor’s approach until he felt the blow which split his own skull. Twisting in his saddle, Shah Jahan saw that the rebel attack had been blunted and his own men and horses were advancing up the hill again. Despite the pain in his rapidly swelling ankle, he urged his mount forward once more.
As his horse leapt one of the makeshift brushwood barricades, Shah Jahan felt another sharp impact, this time on the point of his left shoulder blade. A spent ball had caught the edge of his breastplate before thudding into his shoulder. A second ball hissed through the air close to his head. Then he was upon the musketeers, who were desperately trying to reload in the shelter of some rocks. One, reversing his musket, whirled it by its long barrel over his head in an attempt to knock Shah Jahan from his horse, only to be felled by Shah Jahan’s sword cut which laid open his cheek, leaving his teeth exposed.
Within minutes Shah Jahan and his men were inside the mud-brick walls of the fort, hacking and slashing at their increasingly desperate enemy as the Bijapurans tried to retreat from one position to the next. Soon some rebels were throwing down their swords and falling to the ground to beg for mercy. Others, mainly horsemen, were trying to flee but in most cases were ridden down by the emperor’s cavalry or shot from their saddles by his musketeers. One rider — a large man in billowing white robes — fell from his horse only for his foot to be caught in his stirrup so that he was dragged behind his mount as it careered downhill, his head smashing to bloody pulp as it ricocheted from rock to rock. Another man who from the look of his garments was an officer was brought to the ground, arms flailing, by a shot fired by a musketeer at Shah Jahan’s side which must have travelled nearly two hundred yards. Shah Jahan was turning to congratulate the man and promise him a reward for his skill when from his hilltop vantage point his eye was caught by a small group of riders approaching fast from the direction of Burhanpur.
Shah Jahan hesitated a moment. The battle was won and he was curious to know who the riders were. Calling to his bodyguard to follow, he kicked his horse forward and galloped down the hill towards a clump of trees where the riders had reined in. As he got closer he saw there were six of them — five soldiers and a white-haired man in dark green robes. As the man turned his head, Shah Jahan recognised Aslan Beg. What could have brought his elderly steward from Burhanpur to the field of battle?