After the cannon came wooden ox carts, some with tightly roped-down oiled covers — the powder wagons — and some with the cannon balls of stone or iron stacked in them. Behind them, mostly mounted but some on foot, were the musketeers, long weapons and ram rods either tied to their saddles or slung across their backs, together with their powder horns and pouches containing the balls for the muskets. Their weapons were mostly matchlocks, more reliable in Hindustani conditions than the newer flintlocks which were prone to failure to fire through dust or damp. Marching with the musketeers were armourers whose task it was to fashion new musket balls when required by pouring liquid lead into the moulds they carried.
Nicholas was growing ever more hot and tired and anxious to be on the move as the archers marched past. Although fewer in number than on previous campaigns their double bows and quiverfuls of feathered arrows still had the advantage of speed of fire over muskets, even if they were less deadly. Last before the rearguard came the infantry. Hardly any had footwear. Most wore only a loincloth and a simple turban to protect against the sun. A few carried swords. Many had simple spears. But some carried as weapons only the tools such as scythes and hoes which they had used to work the fields from which they had recently and hastily been plucked by their landlords to replace the more experienced men who had gone with Suleiman to confront Shah Shuja.
Nicholas had never found such raw infantry of great use in battle. They were either quick to panic and flee or easy for the enemy to cut down if they did resist. Perhaps their greatest function was by their very number to overawe civilian populations or other inexperienced armies. It took nearly another half-hour for their stumbling, already disorganised mass to pass. Then, with a great sigh of relief, he saw the mounted rearguard appear — a mixture of Rajputs in pale yellow or orange robes mounted on prick-eared Mewari horses and heavily bearded and more bulky-bodied Punjabis on larger beasts, slower but of greater endurance.
With a joyful wave of his hand Nicholas gestured to his men, now all sweating like himself in the hot June sun, perspiration running in rivulets down their faces and coursing down their spines beneath their hot heavy backplates, to join their comrades. As he did so, he gave grateful thanks that he did not have to await the baggage train with its mixture of heavily loaded spitting camels, braying mules and protruding-ribbed donkeys to lumber past, still less the great body of camp followers who as far as he could see through the choking dust were straggling almost back to the gates of Agra. Still, the army needed the entertainment and pleasures the cooks, acrobats, nautch girls and snake charmers provided to while away the empty hours that were such a feature of campaign life, as well as to soothe worries and anxieties as battle approached. May this campaign be a short one and Dara triumphant, he thought, as he kicked his horse forward and the willing chestnut, as glad as Nicholas to be on the move once more, cantered down the small hill to join Dara’s vast army.
Two Sarus cranes rose slowly from the banks of the Chambal and flew along the river searching for fish, their large red heads and grey and white plumage reflected in the Chambal’s glistening pewter waters. As Nicholas watched, seated on the stump of a decayed tree and grateful that the afternoon heat was slowly dying, the long, slim snout of a ghariyal snapped out of the water, also intent on an evening meal. The ghariyal was a crocodile unlike any other Nicholas had seen. Local people had assured him that it was harmless and ate only fish, while warning him that more familiar flesh-hungry crocodiles also lurked in the shallows and that on no account, however hot or tempted, should he swim in the river.
Hearing a noise behind him, Nicholas glanced round. It wasn’t a crocodile — fish-eating or otherwise — but two or three of his fellow officers heading for Dara’s command tent and a meeting to which he had also been summoned. Reminded of the time, Nicholas stood up, brushed down his clothes and also began to walk towards the tent. As he did so he wondered what the council was to be about. The army had arrived at the Chambal that morning after five days’ hot, slow and dusty journey. He presumed the discussion would concern the crossing of the river to confront Aurangzeb and Murad — whether the Chambal was slow and shallow enough to ford safely or whether they needed to consume time in building a bridge of boats.
Five minutes into the meeting, standing in the second row of the sixty commanders clustering around the low divan on which Dara was seated beneath his tent’s awning, Nicholas found out that he was wrong. Gesturing to a travel-grimed figure standing beside the divan, Dara said, ‘Ravi Kumar here has just returned from a two-day scouting mission southwards along the Chambal. Ravi, tell me again what you saw there for the benefit of my officers.’
Ravi Kumar nodded. ‘Last evening I encountered Aurangzeb and Murad’s army fording the river twenty or so miles downstream. Much of the vanguard was already across, but the rest of the army were lighting cooking fires, seemingly prepared to spend the night on the far side.’
As the scout had spoken his first words a gasp of surprise had run round the assembled officers. Now one, a tall, clipped-bearded man Nicholas recognised as Raja Ram Singh Rathor, the ruler of a small state near Gwalior with a high reputation for both bravery and military sagacity, spoke. ‘They’ve moved far faster than we’d thought, Highness. Do they have all their equipment with them?’
Dara motioned to Ravi Kumar to answer.
‘I couldn’t stay too long or get too close but I think they had the leading elements of their baggage train with them. Further wagons seemed to be arriving all the time and a dust cloud on the horizon suggested many more men and much equipment were yet to come. My guess is that it will take all of tomorrow for them to complete the crossing and re-form on the near bank.’
‘Thank you, Ravi Kumar,’ said Dara. He turned to his commanders. ‘Can we break camp and reach them before they have finished crossing?’
After a brief pause Raja Ram Singh Rathor spoke once more, ‘No, Highness. Not if we wish to have our heavy guns and war elephants with us as I think we must. Until now we’ve only made eight or so miles a day. Even if we pushed our animals harder I can’t see the full strength of the army being able to reach the crossing in less than two days. By then Aurangzeb and Murad will be on the march to Agra and we’ll be hard pressed to catch them.’
‘I feared as much,’ said Dara. ‘In the short time since Ravi and the other scouts returned I’ve been looking at maps and talking to some junior officers whose homes are along the Chambal. Even though our enemies have crossed the river, we are considerably to the north of them and much nearer to Agra than they are. However quickly they move, it seems to me if we break camp before dawn and head due west from here we should be able to cut them off and position ourselves across their path on advantageous ground. What do you think?’
‘What sort of country do we have to traverse?’ asked another voice. Nicholas couldn’t see the speaker.
‘I’m told it’s mostly flat with few obstructions, although in places there is some deepish sand which may slow the heavy equipment a little. Still, we should have plenty of time for our march.’
The voice spoke again, ‘Thank you, Highness. In that case there should be no problems. The men and animals are not so exhausted that they will not find sufficient refreshment in a truncated night’s rest.’ His words were convoluted but their meaning clear and they were greeted by general shouts of agreement and nodding of turbaned heads from some other officers.
‘We’re decided then,’ said Dara. ‘I leave it to you, my trusted commanders, to make the necessary preparations. Make sure the men get an extra ration of food. It will hearten them. Tell them that I will reward them well, as I will you, when victory is ours.’ With that, Dara rose and walked slowly back into the interior of his tent.