Part 43 (1/2)

”I do, sire!” said one Asas, the heaviest drinker in the camp, and Babar turned on him a face radiant with friendly thanks.

”That makes it less hard,” he said joyously. ”Thou hast more to renounce than I!”

”And I also, Most-Clement!” put in a soft grave voice. ”I follow fair where Babar goes.” It was Tardi-Beg, quaint, frolicsome soul, on whom the Emperor vented much of his boyish fun, and who was satisfied with one kindly glance of perfect sympathy.

”And I!”--”And I!”--”And I!” came here, there, everywhere.

Then followed a memorable, an almost unbelievable scene. From the tent behind Babar came slaves bearing great trays of silver and gold goblets, ewers, measures; strong men bearing casks and skins of wine, a smith or two with his anvil.

”Break up the gold and silver and give it to the poor, and pour the wine back to the storehouse of G.o.d!” came Babar's voice. ”Where it falls shall be built a well whence travellers may quench their thirst.”

For a minute or two the army watched the hammers falling, watched the red wine sinking into the sand; then it caught fire at the sight and men crowded round in hundreds to cast their wine-cups on to the pile and take the oath of abstinence. But the Emperor himself stood silent.

He was thinking how glad Maham would be; Maham who had so often striven to wean him from his sin.

But after the stir and excitement of the morning, the evening closed in dark and gloomy. A few spots of rain fell, and Babar, made restless probably by the lack of his usual stimulant, decided on moving forwards to meet the enemy. Anything seemed better than inaction. This was done; but even the bustle of marching failed to rouse the men's spirits. The warnings of the old astrologer returned in greater force, a general consternation and alarm prevailed amongst great and small.

Something more must be done; so once again Babar called a grand parade; but this time he held the Holy Koran in his right hand. It was many days now since wine had crossed his lips; he had felt no desire to drink, no temptation to break his oath, and yet that abstinence had told upon him physically. He was more high-strung than ever; more exalted. And so he struck even a higher note.

”How much better is it to die with honour than to live with infamy,”

he cried. ”Lo! The Most-High is merciful to us. If we fall, we die the death of martyrs since we fight the Pagan. If we live, we live the victorious avengers of the Faith. Let us then swear on G.o.d's holy word that none of us will turn his face from Death or Victory till his soul is separated from his body. 'With fame, even if I die, I am content.

Fame shall be mine! though my body be Death's.'”

The Persian verse came to him unsought, echo from his far youthful days when Firdusis' Shah-namah had been the delight of his boyhood.

But it came to him G.o.dsent. Familiar to almost all, it, and this declaration of Holy War stirred the whole army to its heart. The effect was instantly visible; far and near men plucked up courage.

None too soon. That very evening a patrol brought in the news that the enemy was within touch.

All was bustle, for Babar was too experienced a general to engage an overwhelming foe without having some entrenched position upon which to fall back.

A day or two was occupied in throwing up earthworks a mile or two ahead, so it was not till the 16th of March, 1527, that the guns and the troops moved on to take up their position, Babar himself galloping along the line, animating the various divisions, giving to each special instructions how to act; giving almost to every man orders how he was to behave, in what manner he was to engage.

It was the last opportunity he was to have of bringing the personal equation to bear upon his force, since ere they had settled into camp, the great moment, awaited for six long weeks was on them. Without loss of time the Emperor sent every man to his post, the lines of chained guns and waggons was linked up, the reserves withdrawn from the front--their great strength was ever a special feature of Babar's generals.h.i.+p--and there was nothing more to be done save await the onset.

Humayon commanded the right. Mahdi Kwaja, Ma'asuma's husband, the left, Babar reserving the centre for himself. Once again, his plan was to force in the enemy's wings and so create confusion. But ere this could be done, his own wings had to withstand attack.

At half-past nine in the morning, a furious charge of the flower of Rajput chivalry almost shook Humayon's force. His father was on the watch, however; reserves came up speedily, and Mustapha's guns from the right centre were brought into action. Despite their deadly fire, fresh and fresh bodies of the enemy poured on undauntedly, and Babar saw his reserves dwindling; for the attack had been equally fierce on the left. Now, therefore, was the moment of effort. Now something must be done or nothing. The battle had raged for hours; now it must be decided one way or the other.

”Flanking columns right and left, wheel and charge!” came the order.

”Guns in the centre advance! Cavalry charge to right and left of matchlock men! Wings to follow suit if they can! Now then!

Master-Gunner Ali-Kool! let us see if thou canst whip Mustapha!”

”The Most-Clement _shall_ see!” yelled the old man; and, uncovered by the charging cavalry the big guns with their huge stone b.a.l.l.s began on their task. The battle was now universal and the unexpected movements, made all at the same moment, had the desired effect upon the enemy.

His centre was thrown into slight confusion.

Babar set his teeth. ”Reserves to the flanking columns! And steady, steady, in front!--no rus.h.i.+ng--close in--close in.”