Grabbing the pistol he had discarded, he slipped it back into his sash with the other one and looked round. Everywhere as far as he could see through the drifts of smoke Dara’s men were retreating. That was the polite way of putting it. Most were fleeing for their lives. Nicholas knew that there was no chance to rally them with Dara at best semi-conscious. The prince’s only hope was to reach Agra and the hakims and survive to fight another day.
‘Mount up,’ Nicholas yelled, ‘and head for Agra as quickly as we can.’
Chapter 20
Alone on the sandstone battlements of the Agra fort Shah Jahan scanned the sun-scorched countryside. The dust cloud rising for the past hours on the horizon confirmed the reports brought by messengers that the two armies had engaged. If only he could be there himself, with the bitter smell of cannon smoke in his nostrils and the energy of battle in his veins. Instead his years and his health had decreed his fate was to wait for news, impotently hoping that it was good. As if his thoughts had conjured them, he began to make out riders approaching on the far side of the Jumna. As they came nearer he saw that some had other soldiers mounted behind them or what looked like badly wounded men slung across their saddles. As they forded the river and approached the fort, their dress told him they were Dara’s troops. The trickle of horsemen quickly became a steady flow. What did it mean? Had they left the battle because they needed the attention of the hakims or were Dara’s men fleeing the field?
A coldness gripped his stomach as he made out the glittering steel breastplates of some of the imperial bodyguard. A group of about two dozen of them was slowly approaching in close formation. Among them he noticed Nicholas Ballantyne but then forgot everything else on seeing Dara at their centre, slumped forward over his saddle pommel, the reins of his horse held by a qorchi riding close beside him. Shah Jahan could wait no longer. Turning away, he hurried along the dusty battlements to a dimly lit seldom-used staircase spiralling straight down to the main courtyard. He had to brush cobwebs from his face as he descended the narrow, sharp-edged steps. He reached the courtyard just as Dara and his escort were emerging from the tall carved gateway. Seeing his father, Dara straightened himself and tried to speak, but then shook his head as if words were too much. His dazed-looking face was heavily bruised and there was congealed blood on his right temple.
The prince dismounted slowly, and as his feet touched the ground he swayed a little. Hurrying forward, Shah Jahan put out an arm to support him. Attendants ran up to assist too but Shah Jahan waved them away. He could help his own son. Conscious of the many eyes upon them in the courtyard and anxious not to reveal his terrible anxiety about both his son and the outcome of the battle, Shah Jahan called to a qorchi to summon his hakim. Then, an arm round Dara’s shoulders, he walked slowly with him across the courtyard towards the broad main staircase leading to the imperial apartments.
As father and son entered, Jahanara, who had been waiting there for news, ran forward. Together she and Shah Jahan lowered Dara on to a stool. Moments later the hakim arrived. He stooped over Dara and stared hard into his eyes, examining his pupils. Then, rinsing a piece of cloth in a basin of warm water, he washed away the dried blood so he could examine his temple. At last he straightened up. ‘The wound is superficial, Majesty. The prince has suffered no lasting injury, though he seems disorientated. What happened to him?’
Nicholas, who had followed them into the room, answered. ‘He was knocked from his horse and fell hard.’
Dara himself nodded and tried to get to his feet but Shah Jahan placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. ‘Father … we were betrayed … Khalilullah Khan deserted us at the height of the battle. Our troops began to panic. I dismounted from my war elephant because I wanted to ride among them on horseback and encourage them to fight on but it was a mistake … My men didn’t understand what I was doing. When they saw I was no longer in my howdah they thought I’d been wounded or killed … even that I had fled the fighting. I could hear the panic-stricken cries all around. I tried to show I was still with them but it was too late … they were already fleeing … and then I was felled from my horse. Father, I’ve failed you … Aurangzeb and Murad can’t be far behind. It’s all over.’ Dara put his head in his hands and seemed about to weep.
‘Please leave us,’ Shah Jahan ordered the hakim. ‘You as well,’ he said, turning to the attendants. As soon as the doors closed, Shah Jahan knelt by his son’s side and shook him gently by the shoulders. ‘You haven’t failed me … you could never do that.’ For a moment he enfolded Dara in his arms but then rose and addressed Nicholas, who was standing near the door, unsure whether to go or stay.
‘What is the situation? Is the battle indeed lost as my son believes?’
‘Yes, Majesty, I fear so. It happened as the prince said. When we took him from the field, groups of our fighters were continuing to resist but becoming isolated and, as they were surrounded, being killed by the enemy. Many others were already dead or, I am sad to say, throwing down their weapons and fleeing for their lives. It was becoming a rout … I wish I could give you better news, but you must know the truth.’ Nicholas looked at the floor.
Shah Jahan was silent. For the sake of them all and of the empire he realised he must think calmly and above all appear calm. ‘It’s clear we have little time,’ he said after a few moments. ‘Aurangzeb and Murad won’t delay their advance on Agra for long. The most important thing, Dara, is for you and your family to get away from here … On no account must you be taken prisoner.’
‘No!’ Dara said. ‘Surely enough of our men will have managed to get back to Agra to defend the fort against my brothers. We can hold out until Suleiman and his army arrive from the east …’
‘We’ve still had no news of Suleiman’s whereabouts and I won’t take the risk. If your brothers capture you, their position becomes almost unassailable. I won’t let you be a hostage for the second time in your life …’
‘But I can’t leave you, Father …’
‘I don’t fear Aurangzeb and Murad — my own sons. Anyway, I’m not giving you a choice. As your emperor and your father I’m commanding you to go.’ Shah Jahan turned to Jahanara, standing silent and very still by her brother’s side. ‘Go to Nadira Begum. She is with Roshanara and Gauharara. Tell her what’s happened and to prepare herself to leave Agra immediately. Have Sipihr told to ready himself too.’ As Jahanara hurried from the room, Shah Jahan turned back to his son. ‘Listen to my instructions. Gather as many of your men as you can and ride immediately for Delhi. With Suleiman still absent, the scattering of Jaswant Singh’s army at Ujjain and the defeat you have just suffered we have too few men to defend the Agra region. Our remaining strength — and it is substantial — lies in the north and the northwest. Mobilise them effectively and we will still be victorious. I will give you a letter for the Governor of Delhi ordering him to turn the imperial forces under his command over to you so you can organise the city’s defences against your brothers, who I’m certain won’t be long in following you. I will also instruct him to open the imperial treasuries to you so you can recruit more men to rebuild your army.’
Alarmed by the doubt in his still dazed son’s eyes, Shah Jahan took Dara’s head between his hands and looked into his eyes. ‘Listen to me, Dara. You must leave Agra not only because I say so but because it is your duty to yourself and your family. You were defeated at Samugarh but that was only one battle in this war. You must not lose heart. I suffered setbacks on the battlefield but I never let them crush me. In fact, they only made me more determined that next time I would be the victor. Remember the advantages you still have over your brothers. I have proclaimed you heir to the Moghul throne. That gives you a power and an authority they don’t possess. Use it and you can still prevail.’ He was placing a mighty burden of leadership on his son, Shah Jahan thought, one from which he had shielded him so far, but now there was no choice.