THE ASSAULT.
For several days the fire of the besiegers had much slackened, and the
spirits of the besieged rose in proportion to the highest pitch. Were
the Moghuls in reality preparing to abandon the attack and retire?
It might be so, indeed, for a considerable body of Beejapoor cavalry
had at last moved forwards and taken post in the Manikdown Hills,
from whence their operations against the Moghul supplies and distant
outposts were beginning to be seriously felt; but they were by no
means strong enough to effect any considerable diversion, and, up to
the night of Feb. 20, affairs continued in the same position. But the
inactivity of the enemy appeared unaccountable to the Queen and her
council. Upon what could they be relying? The allied armies were at
Bheer, and by a sudden and energetic march might be with her in three
days; but it was impossible for the Queen to communicate with her
friends, every egress from the fort being so vigilantly watched night
and day. But the suspense only lasted till the night of the day we have
named, when, as all were watching on the walls, a loud manly voice was
heard from the opposite side of the ditch, which cried out--
"O ye brave friends and brothers in the faith, no longer make a vain
resistance. Ye have fought well for your honour, and may save the
shedding of more blood. Under the five bastions whereon ye stand five
mines have been silently driven. They are loaded and ready, and they
will be fired to admit the army of the King of kings. Beware, then, for
I have warned ye; and your fate cannot be averted but by surrender."
Then, amidst the profoundest silence, the voice ceased. No figure was
seen, for it was a profoundly dark night, and some, overcome with awe,
cried, "It is a warning from the Lord; it is the voice of an angel;
who shall resist it?" and a great fear fell upon all. But the strange
incident only seemed to inspire the heroic Queen with new courage, and
mounting a slight elevation of the parapet, her clear, sweet voice was
heard above all murmurs.
"Shall we who are unhurt, and have victory in our grasp if we
persevere, give up our swords, and like frightened women betake
ourselves to the feet of the invader and beg for our lives? Shall we,
with arms in our hands, cease to use them to protect all dear to us.
Your women and children, O my sons, will hardly thank ye for abandoning
them to the brutal violence of the Moghul soldiers. Behold! I am but
a woman, and a weak one; but I leave not this spot with my life; and,
come what may, I rely upon the most just Lord to deliver us and ye all
from this tyranny. Away, bring up the miners; we know the places, so
there is no doubt. Bring tools, and set to work. I would rather tear
up the earth with my weak fingers, than suffer this danger to exist
while we have the time and the means to avert it."
Then arose a hoarse cry of "We will not desert thee, O Mother. We will
die if it be God's will, but we will not yield. Fear not then, but see
what we do."
At first there was some little confusion, but gangs were speedily
organised, and with a hearty good will they set to work, led by the
Queen, who, with a pickaxe in her hand, descended into the shaft, and,
with those dearest to her about her, worked like the rest; going from
shaft to shaft, distributing draughts of cool water and sherbet to
those who suffered thirst. It was impossible to exceed the enthusiasm
which her heroism inspired.
Nihung Khan, Abbas Khan, and even the pacific Bishop, excited by the
turmoil, ran from place to place and encouraged all. Nor was the result
disappointing. While they were thus employed, another voice called to
them from the bottom of the wall to surrender, for that at daylight the
mines would be sprung. But the warning passed unheeded; two mines had
been laid bare, and the charges of powder removed after sharp contests
under ground; and the Queen was in the act of distributing rewards
for the removal of the charge of a third, when, with a fearful report
and crash, a fourth mine, as yet undiscovered, was sprung just as day
dawned on the scene, and a few yards of the wall fell.
When the first mine had been struck by the counterminers, and the
persons driven out of it had gained the trenches, the alarm was at
once given in the camp, and the Prince Moorad hurried to the spot at
a moment of extreme peril to the Moghul army, for the first mines had
occupied the better part of a month. But the skill of the counterminers
was so evident from the rapidity with which they had discovered and
disarmed them during the night, that it seemed hopeless to continue
the work, as well on account of the nature of the ground as because
provisions were on the point of exhaustion. His adviser, Dom Diego, had
not foreseen such a catastrophe as failure. He had visited the mines
the evening before while they were being charged; he had watched the
skill with which the native miners laid the charges and tamped them;
and the result would, he thought, inevitably be that three at least
of the mines must destroy the bastions under which they were placed,
and furnish three practicable breaches for the stormers, who would be
composed of the flower of the Royal army. But these plans had failed.
All that remained was one small mine under a part of the curtain, which
had been intended to enlarge another of the main mines. It might make a
practicable breach, but it would be a narrow one, and it might possibly
fail altogether.
The Prince and Dom Diego stood together on one of the parapets of the
temple looking over the fort, the interior of which, as the day was
breaking, could be seen distinctly, with the thousands of men like ants
hurrying to and fro, carrying earth in baskets, in cloths, and as best
they could, from the countermines. Parties of them were collecting, and
even breaking the surface of the ground near the small mine we have
mentioned. Dom Diego pointed out the place to the Prince.
"There is our last resource, for the other mines are not charged; and
they would be useless if they were. Shall I fire it? We shall at least
see what sort of a heap it makes; and I, for one, am ready to lead any
party your Highness may appoint to storm it."
"Well said, sir," exclaimed the Prince, "and like a gallant soldier.
When thou art within thou wilt have the treasury and Royal jewels to
help thyself from, and I hear they are both rich."
"My treasure is of another kind," replied Diego, "and I do not intend
to neglect it. Shall the mine be fired?"
"Bismilla!" cried the Prince. "Lose no time."
"I have laid the train," said Pedro di Diaz, who came up at the
instant; "but the chamber is not half charged, not enough tamped, but
it will do something."
"Then fire it in the devil's name," cried Dom Diego. "I will watch."
A few moments more, and two thin columns of smoke issued from the fort
wall, and from that part of the counterscarp which was opposite. These
places heaved slightly upwards, and earth and stones arose with a
muffled sound, casting into the air the bodies of a number of men who
had been walking on the fort wall. The effect of these explosions was
a clear road into the ditch from the counterscarps, and an apparently
practicable though steep breach in the rampart of the fort.
"It is done!" cried Dom Diego, with a wave of his plumed hat to the
Prince. "If your Highness will send for the stormers I will lead them
at once, if they will follow me."
In the fort, as the smoke and dust of the explosion cleared away, some
of the garrison seemed to have given up hope, and were girding their
loins for flight; but the Queen was equal to the emergency. While she
called to those about her to remember their oath to her, to rally their
men, for the gates were closed, and there was no egress for flight,
she cried, "And whither would ye fly, O sons and brothers? To the
plain yonder, to perish by the swords of your enemies? Nay, for your
honour's sake, desert me not now; and to the latest day of the Dekhan
your deeds shall be sung by bards and minstrels. See, we women blench
not from the storm; and she who brings my armour and my sword, a holy
Syud's daughter, will die here with me, and her husband, my children
both, rather than yield while we have life." Then, as Zóra, clad in the
old green dress of the Turreequt, approached, the Queen withdrew for
an instant, and putting on her morion and a suit of light chain mail,
with gauntlets, and waving a naked sword, came forward among them,
crying the old battle cry of her husband. Over her face, as it was
becoming light, she had cast a transparent veil, but every feature was
visible, glowing with a rapt enthusiasm and confidence.
"To the breach, my friends, with me!" she cried. "Who will follow my
veil? Behold it will lead you to honour, if to death; never to infamy.
If we die, we shall sip the nectar of Paradise ere night."
No one attempted to resist this appeal. With passionate cries of
devotion, with tears and sobs, the leaders and men, with her beloved
Abbas Khan, pressed forward to do their best in her defence. The rough
veteran, Nihung Khan, with tears flowing down his cheeks, besought her
to retire to a place of safety, but she cried the more that she would
remain; and in her own Battle of the Veil it behoved her to lead, and
no other.
But it was yet some time before the Moghuls advanced to storm, and
the delay enabled the besiegers to make some defence for the breach
available. A double row of gabions was placed over the crest, and
filled with earth; the best marksmen among the Arabs and the garrison
were posted on the wall above its sides; wall pieces were brought from
other parts of the fort; rocket-men plied their rockets on the crest of
the glacis opposite, through which a road had been sloped from above.
Behind the gabions, and sheltered by them, dense bodies of spearmen
stood in serried ranks. In short, no precaution that Abbas Khan and
his companions could bethink themselves of was neglected. Even the
Bishop, who the whole night through had been at work, ran from his post
on the large bastion to see that all was in proper order, and his few
directions were practical and useful.
Every preparation had been made that could be contrived. Every gun
that the fortifications allowed of had been trained on the breach and
the enemy's road thither. The garrison had been divided into bodies,
so as to relieve each other as quickly as possible without crowding;
and though the enemy fired occasionally from the trenches against the
breach and the parapets of walls, the precautions which had been taken
of covering the men with gabions and sandbags almost entirely prevented
casualties. As to the breach itself, though the enemy fired continually
at it, they produced no effect, as their shot, knocking up a cloud
of dust, only sank into the earth harmlessly. Presently, also, Abbas
Khan and some of the boldest Arabs contrived to let down some gabions
below the crest of the breach, where they established themselves,
thus affording increased matchlock fire of a fatal character, besides
opposing an additional obstacle to the stormers.
"He is sending us his best soldiers, mother," said Abbas Khan, settling
his turban more firmly on his head, as he prepared to descend to his
post; "but fear not, none will come near thee."
"Rather let one blow of thy good sword release me, son," she said.
"'Twould be but kindness, if God will."
He made no reply; but the tears welled up in his eyes as he left her
and his beloved wife together, and heard their cries of "Deen! Deen!"
as he entered his perilous position.
Still they waited and no advance was made; and the Queen was not
unmindful of the necessity of furnishing food for the men who had
watched with her all night. Since very early, before daylight, the
cooks had been busy preparing pilaos and boiled meats, which now
began to arrive in huge cauldrons, and was distributed to the men by
companies; and all sat down and ate their plattersful, or gathered
round huge dishes, and ate their fill; but no one moved from his
appointed station; while the Queen and her attendants, disdaining more
delicate viands prepared for them, partook of the general mess of
camels' meat and rice, plentifully seasoned with pepper and onions, and
which was by no means to be despised by hungry folk. Indeed, for the
time, the area of the fort in the vicinity of the breach was a place of
feasting. Elephants moved to and fro with large water-skins, and men
bearing jars of cool sherbet gave freely to those that needed it; and,
taking example from the Queen's forethought, every private house in the
fort sent its quota of food or of drink.
So noon came, and the voice of the muezzin chaunted the call to prayer
from different quarters of the fort, as if no deadly strife were
imminent, and the Moslems spread scarves or waist-bands where they
stood or sat. The Queen had not stirred since the morning from the
place she had taken up near the gabions; and the only protection she
would allow the people to make for her and Zóra against the sun was
a few cloths tied to spears. Once Maria had come to see her from her
own post, the hospital, but there was no time for much speaking; and,
committing them to the care of God, she returned to her post with her
brother, the masses of rough soldiery making way for her with the most
profound respect. One look with her brother she took from the great
flanking bastion along the side of the fort attacked, and it gave her
an assurance she could hardly have expected.
The whole side of the fort was uninjured, except near the breach, where
there had been much pelting by the enemy's shot, but no fracture.
The _débris_ of the mine had spread out as far as the bottom of the
ditch, and partly lay on its level floor; but it seemed, even to her,
a perilous place for people to ascend. Some part of the counterscarp
had apparently been dug down or blown in, and it was evidently the way
by which the enemy would approach. All along the wall, every gun that
could be aimed was directed upon the breach, and the two beautiful
bastions which formed the Queen's post.
One reason for delay was the indecision in the Moghul camp. Many
experienced veterans declared that it was waste of life only to
attempt to storm Ahmednugger by such a breach as had been made.
Reproachful epithets were freely banded about, and it seemed a question
whether any attack would be made that day. But Dom Diego's savage
temper would brook no control. "I will take the place with the five
Europeans I have," he cried, "and cowards can follow at their leisure;
as if breaches in fort walls were to be made like beaten highways for
dainty fops to strut upon." Dom Diego was, in truth, weary of the
idleness of the Moghul officers. There was not a true soldier among
them, and he often thought failure imminent; but Maria was there, and
while it was possible to win her, even a soldier's death would be
better than the hell of tumultuous feeling which raged within him.
At last the signal for assault was given from the enemy's camp. First,
the huge imperial kettledrums sounded a march in their deep booming
notes, and a general discharge of all their artillery in the trenches
followed; while, in the bastion of the fort, the Portuguese and Hindoo
native gunners stood or lounged among their piles of shot and bags of
copper coin. Many of them were known to Maria; their wives were helping
her in her own work, and all saluted her reverently and affectionately
as she left them with a prayer that the Lord would protect them all.
All through the Moghul trenches the silence was almost oppressive. The
muezzin's call to prayer was proclaimed like that in the fort; and,
for a brief space, only a distant hum from the town and camp could be
heard. As Maria stood on the steps of the great bastion, she could hear
flies buzzing about her, the birds chirruping in the trees near her,
and even the lowing and bleating of the cattle and sheep which were
grazing in the broad ditch on the sheltered side of the fortress. The
sun shone through the thunderous air with a fierce hot glare over all,
and the plain and glacis were quivering in the trembling light. The
wind had fallen, and the stillness and heat were so oppressive that she
was glad to gain the cool shelter of the large vaulted building. Many
fresh guns that had been brought to bear upon the breach aroused the
echoes even of the distant hills; but the shot had little effect upon
the extemporised defences of the breach, or upon the parapets anywhere;
and the Queen and Zóra, looking through a loophole that commanded the
breach, saw, with a thrill of delight, that Abbas Khan in his perilous
post was safe.
Suddenly, on the crest of one of the trenches beyond, a tall, powerful
figure, dressed in European costume, stood forth, waving a naked sword,
which flashed in the sun; while with the other hand he removed a plumed
morion from his head, and made a courteous salute to the fort. He wore
a bright corselet of steel, with gauntlets, and a buff coat and boots,
richly embroidered. In his left hand he carried a stout stick, but no
shield or other defence whatever. For an instant there was a shout of
"Shabash! Shabash Feringi!" and, instantly, a crowd of men scrambled
over the trenches, and, as he pointed to the breach, followed him.
And these, some hundreds in number, Europeans and native volunteers,
formed the forlorn hope. Again, others came on in denser array: Arabs,
Pathans, Afghans, Rajpoots, dressed in yellow tunics; and other tribes,
many singing their war song, others shouting their national war cries,
armed with matchlocks, sword, shield, and spear, flashing in the
afternoon sun, which poured its hot rays on all. It was now somewhat
past four in the afternoon, and the sultry heat of the day had become
almost sickening, when a slight breeze from the west waved the banners
of the advancing host, and slightly displaced the cloud of dust which
had arisen over them. It was a glorious, awe-inspiring spectacle truly;
but the defenders blenched not from it; every man grasped his weapon
more firmly, and stood at his post prepared for the worst, should it
come. On the far side of the ditch, along the crest of the counterscarp
and covered way, clouds of skirmishers spread themselves, pouring their
shot upon the defences; but the fire had little effect, and gradually
slackened.
Scrambling down the road prepared for them by the mine, and without
order, large bodies of stormers now poured across the ditch, the tall
figure of the European bounding before them all to the very foot of the
breach, when suddenly one of the large guns on each of the flanking
bastions sent its deadly discharge of round shot and copper hail
among the crowds beneath with fearful effect. Hundreds fell, writhing;
while from every bastion rockets, fire-balls, and musketry smote them
as they lay or straggled onwards. There was no chance of retreat, for
the masses in the rear, which came on in a continuous stream, were
not checked, and any of the foremost who faltered, or turned to fly,
were thrown down and trampled into the dust. Again and again did Dom
Diego attempt the breach, but the earth was so loose that footing could
hardly be maintained; and the grim serried ranks which covered the
crest of the breach gave little hope that could he and those with him
reach the bristling ranks of broad spears beyond, they could force an
entrance, while Abbas Khan and his body of Arabs plied them with shot,
few of which missed their mark.
But still none of the stormers turned; on the contrary, thousands of
men charged down the counterscarp, to be met with the same volleys from
the great guns, which proved so deadly and so effective. Once Dom Diego
and some hundreds of men, collected hastily, made a rush up the breach,
and interchanged blows with its defenders; and Abbas Khan, struck with
his devoted bravery, called to him to take quarter, and come to his
post; but the humane effort was rejected with an oath, and he fell back
among the struggling masses to seek volunteers for a task which was
beyond the power of man.
Can we, even in imagination, realise in any degree that fearful
maddening scene--the discharges of the great guns at intervals carrying
destruction to hundreds at every shot, assisted by the rockets, the
musketry, and the fire-balls from the walls? Even these were little
in comparison with the frantic struggles of the masses as they were
urged on by the Prince in person and his generals--the shouts, the
screams, and cries of wounded and dying men, the fierce thirst which
consumed all! The ditch, from the first almost covered by the dead
and dying, was now rising under the heaps beneath, which every moment
augmented. There was no escape and no progress; the masses contrived to
descend, ignorant of what was before them; and as it was industriously
circulated by the Prince and his advisers that the breach had been
stormed and the fort was being plundered all rushed on to gain a
share of the riches it was supposed to contain--only to be met by the
withering fire which destroyed them, and the horrible heaps of carnage
grew higher and higher as the evening wore on.
As to Queen Chand, we read in the old chronicles how--fearless among
the storm of shot, dauntless among the horrid cries and shrieks which
filled the air--she was seen everywhere, distributing rewards, giving
water to the wounded and thirsty, and encouraging all. Nor was the
green figure beside her less active or less useful. Sometimes they were
at the breach, down which they looked, with a fascination which could
not be repressed, upon the masses of struggling forms beneath them.
But still Zóra saw her brave lord safe; and he even smiled and waved
them back, as the Queen, mounting the parapet of the gabions, spoke
a few words of encouragement to their defenders. All saw her as she
defended the breach in person; and the flutter of the "standard of the
veil," which she still wore over her bright morion, was watched by many
an one of the enemy's officers, and even by the Prince himself, with
unqualified admiration of her heroism.
At last night began to fall, and here and there a star peeped out from
the pure ether through the thick, heated vapour from the combatants
which filled the air; and the baffled Moghuls, leaving their heaps of
slain as they were, retired beyond the crest of the counterscarp into
their own lines. They had lost thousands, for the ditch was a mass of
carcasses which no one could reckon; they had lost arms, standards,
officers, and, above all, reputation. That the hosts of the King of
kings should have been repulsed from a Dekhan fortress commanded by a
woman was a result which none had anticipated, much less the haughty
Imperial Prince who had urged on his devoted troops to destruction.
Gradually, those that remained of the invaders retreated up the slope,
harassed to the last by the rain of copper hail with which they had
been tormented; and the Queen and Zóra, with some of the bravest of the
women and eunuchs, watched the last retreating figures which staggered
up the slope beyond; or a man here and there extricating himself from
the horrible masses like one rising from the dead, followed them alone,
or sank down and perished with the rest. And then, as if seeing each
other for the first time during the fearful day, they cast themselves
upon each other's necks and wept for joy. Then, too, Abbas Khan came
up from his post bearing in his hand a standard he had taken from an
Afghan, who was almost the only man who had reached the little fort.
"He was a brave fellow, mother, and would take no quarter, and there
was little time for thought; but he died like a brave man under my
weapon, and departed to Paradise. O Mother! what can we render to the
Lord for these mercies? for ye are unharmed, both of ye."
"Yes," said the Queen, with her eyes overflowing, "thousands and
thousands lie yonder dead and dying; but we are safe, and have lost but
few; and the good Padré and Maria tend those who suffer."
"If I may, I will go and see Maria," said Zóra, timidly. What would
she not have given to fall into her husband's arms and weep out her
thankfulness, but that was not the time or place.
"Go, child," said the Queen. "Go! greet her from me, and say all is
safe and well; but do not let her see that," and she pointed to the
ditch, "it might appal her tender nature." And Zóra went, attended
by Yasin Khan and some others to fulfil her tender mission, and gain
relief for her overcharged mind.
"And now," said the Queen to Abbas Khan and those near him, "let us
leave nothing undone. The breach has, indeed, been saved; but it must
be made sure. I, for one, will not leave it till it is built up against
any chance of surprise, or even of attack. Do not talk to me of sleep
or rest. My best sleep would be here beside the workers. My best rest
can only come with security. Ye will see what endurance this weak body
hath when danger is present. It is an old employment of mine repairing
breaches; but at Beejapoor I worked three days and nights without sleep
and here, with so many men, all should be ready by daylight; and then
when the Moghuls see their labour has been in vain, they may leave us
in peace. See and get Zóra some food and rest," she whispered to Abbas
Khan, "she will need it."
"Not while thou art here, O Mother," was the reply. "She is young and
strong, and can bear it better than thou. But why remain? Canst thou
not trust Nihung Khan and myself to do all?"
"No!" she replied, firmly; "it is my work and I will do it. Nor shall
Zóra leave me; she will be better for seeing Maria. But my turn has not
yet come. Hark! there is a cry from the heap of dead. 'For the love of
God! for the love of God! water!' it cries. Does no one hear? It is
some Feringi."
"It may be the cavalier who led the assault," said Abbas Khan. "I saw
him sink down, but he may have survived."
"A gallant fellow," said the Queen. "I, too, watched him. Go, one
of ye, for the Padré Sahib; tell him to come with his bandages and
medicine. Quick! quick!"
Abbas Khan, and some men with blankets, descended the breach to the
foot, but among the dead on the slope they could find no one living.
They dare not take a torch for fear of drawing upon them fire from the
counterscarp. They listened, and at last the faint cry of "Aqua! Aqua!"
was repeated, but in a fainter tone.
"He is here," cried one of the men, "lying under others, and he is
warm. I see his face now; it is the Feringi."
The Queen was right. Her quick ears had heard a low cry in a strange
accent, which had escaped all others around her. It was from Dom Diego,
who, as we know, had led the forlorn hope. When the mines had been
sprung, he would have advanced at once under the cover of the smoke and
dust which hung over the wall and ditch, but he found to his vexation
that the men were not ready. The hour was not propitious, and the Court
astrologer could not discover a fitting time till the afternoon. No one
would follow him till the signal was given from the Royal pavilion. And
though Dom Diego cursed the delay, he had no alternative but to await
the general order, which came at length.
Dom Diego had done his part bravely. He had led three separate assaults
of the breach, but was as yet unwounded. Nor was his example lost
on the brave men who, as one party was beaten back, or sank down to
make a fresh portion of the horrible bridge, still formed afresh,
and, reinforced by others crowding on from behind, were led only to
perish in their turn. At last, in one of the desperate rushes up the
breach, Dom Diego fell from a matchlock shot, but for a moment only.
He rose to his feet, and strove to rally those with him, when his leg
was shattered by a round shot, and in the discharge of copper hail
which came with it, his left arm was broken, and he fell insensible
among the heap of dying and dead, and was trampled down with the rest.
Presently, however, his consciousness returned; but it only revealed to
him more certainly the hopelessness of his situation. Extrication from
the mass of dead and dying was impossible, and he must die--unshriven,
and without hope. We dare not follow his thoughts nor his cries, now
defiant, now despairing, nor the struggles of a Christian soul which,
believing in the hell which seemed opening before him, saw no hope of
repentance or forgiveness. At first it was beyond his power to move;
but several men above him in their death agonies had loosened the pile
he lay under, and with his right arm he had been able to push aside
the dead who most oppressed him, and thus he gained space to breathe.
It was, however, but a prolongation of his misery, for he felt that
his leg was shattered, and even to crawl, could he be freed, would be
impossible. He could see the forms of men on the ramparts and in the
breach moving about, and even hear them as they spoke one to another;
but his cries for help and for water had grown fainter and fainter till
the Queen's ear had distinguished them.
Then Abbas Khan, and the rest who had gone down the breach, lifted away
the dead from above him and raised him up, placing him in a blanket,
and carried him up into the fort. At the top they laid him down at the
foot of the Bishop, who anxiously looked at the face of the sufferer,
who was now insensible.
"Merciful God!" he cried, lifting up his hands to heaven; "it is Dom
Diego, and he still lives! Bring him to the rest of the wounded. Quick,
quick!" he continued, to Abbas Khan, "or he may die without help."