The two _chitahs _tensed at the same instant and pulled taut the
chains on their jewel-studded collars. They were tawny, dark-spotted
Indian hunting leopards, and they rode in carpeted litters, one on each
side of the elephant's back. Each wore a brocade saddlecloth signifying
its rank, and now both began to flick the black-and-white striped tips
of their tails in anticipation.
Prince Jadar caught their motion and reined in his dun stallion; the
bright morning sunshine glanced off his freshly oiled olive skin and
highlighted the crevices of his lean angular face and his tightly
trimmed short beard. He wore a forest-green hunting turban, secured
with a heavy strand of pearls, and a dark green jacket emblazoned with
his own royal crest. His fifty-man Rajput guard had drawn alongside,
and their horses tossed their heads and pawed impatiently, rattling the
arrows in the brocade quivers by each man's saddle.
Then Jadar spotted the _nilgai_, large bovine Indian deer, grazing in a
herd upwind near the base of a low-lying hill. With a flick of his hand
he signaled the keepers who rode alongside the to begin removing the
leopards' saddlecloths. He watched as first the male and then the
female shook themselves and stretched their paws in readiness.
"Fifty rupees the male will make the first kill." Jadar spoke quietly
to Vasant Rao, the moustachioed young Rajput captain who rode
alongside. The commander of the prince's personal guards, he was the
only man in India Jadar trusted fully.
"Then give me two hundred on the female, Highness."
"A hundred. And half the hides for your regiment's shield maker." Jadar
turned toward the waiting keepers. "Release the female. Then count to a
hundred and release the male."
In moments the _chitahs _were bulleting toward the unsuspecting deer,
darting from bush to bush, occasionally kicking up dust with their
forefeet and hind legs to create camouflage. Then, as they approached
the final clearing, they suddenly parted--the female to the north, the
male to the south. Seconds later, as though on some private signal, the
female sprang. She seemed to cover the remaining twenty yards in less
than a second, and before the _nilgai _realized she was there, she had
already pawed down a bleating straggler.
The striped ears of the other _nilgai _shot erect at the sound, and the
herd panicked, sweeping blindly away from her--and directly toward the
cover where the male crouched. He waited coolly, and then, as the deer
darted by, pounced.
What followed was a fearsome devastation, as he brought down
one after another of the confused prey with his powerful claws.
"The female killed first, Highness. I assume our bet was in gold coins,
not silver." Vasant Rao laughed lightly and turned to study the
brooding man at his side. Can it be true what many suspect about the
prince? he again found himself wondering. That he choses his strategy
for a campaign from the final hunt of his _chitahs_!
But what strategy is left for us? The Deccanis have already reclaimed
the city of Ahmadnagar, deep in their territory, and once again made it
their rebel capital. They drove the Moghul garrison north to the fort
at Burhanpur, and now they threaten that city as well, the most
important station in the vital route between Agra and Surat. We haven't
the men and horse to turn them back. Not this time.
This was Prince Jadar's second campaign in the Deccan, India's revolt-
torn central plains, which lay far south of Agra and east of the port
of Surat, and the second time he had led his army to regain cities lost
to Malik Ambar, the Abyssinian adventurer and military genius who
periodically rose to lead the Deccan against Moghul rule. The Deccan
had never been secure, even under the Moghurs father, Akman, but under
Arangbar it had become a burial ground of reputation. One of the
Moghurs finest generals, whose dispatches from Ahmadnagar, only the
previous year, had boasted that the Deccan was finally subdued, now
cowered in the fortress at Burhanpur. Arangbar had no choice but to
send Jadar again.
"Did you see how they planned their attack?" Jadar fingered the edges
of his short beard, then pointed. "She drove them toward his trap. By
attacking the weak, she frightened the strong, who flew to their doom."
"We're not facing _nilgai_, Highness." Vasant Rao shifted in his saddle
to face the prince and shielded his eyes against the sun. "And our
position is much worse than on the last campaign. This time we have
only eighteen thousand men, all encamped here at Ujjain, all weary to
their bones from our siege at the Kangra, north in the Punjab, and then
the long march down country. While Malik Ambar waits rested and secure
in Ahmadnagar, his own capital, a two months' march south."
"We'll bring Ambar to terms just as before, three years ago. By fear."
Jadar watched as the keepers began measuring the rations of meat to
reward the _chitahs_. And he reflected over the secret envoy received
early that morning from the commander of the fortress at Mandu, the
northern outpost of the Deccan. . . .
"Your Highness is respectfully advised the situation is worse, much
worse, than told in the reports sent by Ghulam Adl." They were alone in
Jadar's tent and the envoy was on his knees, prostrate, terrified at
his obligation to bring ill tidings to the son of the Moghul. Ghulam
Adl was the general in charge of the Deccan, who had abandoned
Ahmadnagar to Malik Ambar and retreated north to Burhanpur. His
official reports still maintained an air of bravado, claiming a few
reinforcements were all that was required to drive the rebels to final
extinction.
"We have asked Ghulam Adl for troops to help defend Mandu, but he
cannot leave Burhanpur," the envoy continued. "The Deccanis have
surrounded the city, but they do not trouble themselves with a siege.
They know he cannot move. So they have sent eight thousand light
cavalry, Maratha irregulars, north across the Narbada River to plunder
outlying districts. They are approaching Mandu, and will be at the
fortress within the week."
"Why doesn't Ghulam Adl call up troops from among the _mansabdars_.
They've all been granted their annual allowance for maintenance of
cavalry."
_Mansabdars _were nobles of the Moghul empire who had been given rank
by the Moghul and were allowed to collect revenue from a specified
number of estates and villages, allotted lands called _jagirs_, as a
reward for service and loyalty. They collected taxes for the Imperial
treasury in Agra, which allowed them a portion to maintain cavalry and
equipage at the ready. Assignment of a _jagir _always carried the
responsibility of maintaining a specified number of troops and cavalry,
which they were obliged to muster when requested by the Moghul.
"The _mansabdars_ have no men to muster, may it please Your Highness."
The envoy's face was buried in the carpet, showing to Jadar only the
dust-covered back of his turban. "Conditions have been severe over the
past year. Crops have been bad, and many _mansabdars _could not collect
taxes because of the Deccani raids. Many have not paid their cavalry
for over a year. The _mansabdars _still feed the horses that have been
branded and placed in their care. But they have not fed the men who
must ride. Most of those have returned to their villages. There can be
no army without coin to lure them back. The _mansabdars _are fearful of
Malik Ambar now, and many have secretly agreed with him not to muster
even the troops they still have."
"How many Deccani troops are encamped around Burhanpur?"
"Our spies report as many as eighty thousand, Highness. Ghulam Adl
dares not leave the fort in the center of the city. He has no more than
five thousand men still remaining loyal, and his supplies are short."
Jadar had ordered immediate solitary confinement for the envoy, lest
the news reach the camp. Now, watching his _chitahs _feed, he
calculated his next move.
I have to requisition silver coin from the treasury at Agra, and hope a
supply caravan can still get through. In the meantime I'll muster the
remaining cavalry from the _mansabdars_, on the threat their _jagirs_
will be confiscated if they fail to deliver. It won't raise many men,
but it will slow defections.
But if we're to recall the men still loyal, we must have silver. To
raise the thirty thousand men we need, men who've not been paid for a
year, will require at least five million rupees, fifty _lakhs_. I must
have it by the time we reach Burhanpur. If we can hold that city, we
can raise the army from there.
"Malik Ambar sued for peace three years ago because his alliance came
apart." Vasant Rao spoke again, watching Jadar carefully, knowing that
the prince was deeply troubled, had imprisoned a courier that very
morning for which there could only be one reason--then released pigeons
that flew north.
"And his alliance will come apart again. If we sow enough fear." Jadar
seemed annoyed at the delay as the waiting _chitahs _were re-harnessed
and the last carcasses of blue _nilgai _were loaded onto the ox-drawn
wagons for return to the camp. "You still haven't learned to think like
a _chitah_."
Jadar signaled the hunt was finished and wheeled his horse back toward
the camp. Vasant Rao rode a few paces behind, asking himself how long
that regal head would remain on those royal shoulders.
You're threatened now on every side. You cannot be as oblivious as you
seem.
He thought back over Prince Jadar's career. Of the Moghul's four sons,
Prince Jadar was the obvious one to succeed. Jadar's elder brother
Khusrav had been blinded by the Moghul years before for attempting a
palace revolt. Jadar's brother Parwaz, also older than the prince, was
a notorious drunkard and unacceptably dissolute, even by the lax
standards of the Moghul's court. And Jadar's younger brother, Allaudin,
was the handsome but witless son of a concubine, who well deserved his
secret nickname, Nashu-dani, "the good-for-nothing." Since there was no
law in India that the oldest must automatically succeed, power devolved
to the fittest. Only Jadar, son of a royal Rajput mother, could lead an
army, or rule India. Among the Moghul's four sons, he was the obvious,
deserving heir.
But ability alone was never enough to ensure success in the mire of
palace intrigue. One must also have a powerful friend.
For years Prince Jadar had the most powerful friend of all.
The grooming of Jadar for office had begun over five years earlier,
when he was taken under the protection of Queen Janahara. She had made
herself the guardian of Jadar's interests at court; and two years ago
she had induced the Moghul to elevate Jadar's _mansab_, his honorary
rank, to twelve thousand _zat_. In income and prestige he had soared
far beyond his brothers.
As is always the case, Jadar was expected to repay his obligation. On
the day he ascended to the throne and assumed power from the ailing,
opium-sotted Arangbar, he was expected to share that power with Queen
Janahara.
But their unofficial alliance had begun to go wrong. Very wrong. And
what had gone wrong was the most obvious problem of all. Jadar had
lived half his life in army camps, fighting the Moghul's wars because
he was the only son who could fight them, and he no longer saw any
reason to relinquish his battle-earned inheritance to the queen.
What will the queen do? Vasant Rao asked himself again. I know she has
turned on the prince. I know she tried to marry her Persian daughter to
Jadar's blinded brother Khusrav, but Jadar discovered this and demanded
Khusrav be sent out of Agra, to be kept in confinement by a raja loyal
to the prince. But the queen is still in Agra, and sooner or later she
will produce another successor, a creature she can dominate. Her task
will be easy if Jadar fails in this campaign.
"I have reports Maratha irregulars may be at the fort at Mandu within a
week." Jadar broke the silence between them as they rode. The noisy
Rajput horsemen rode discreetly well behind, cursing, laughing,
wagering. The flawless blue sky seemed to cloud as Jadar spoke. "Tell
me what you would do?"
"Strike camp and march south. We have no choice."
"Sometimes you Rajputs show less wit than your monkey god, Hanumanji."
Jadar laughed good-naturedly. "You learned nothing from the hunt today.
Don't you see that would merely scatter them? They'll never dare meet
us if we march in force. They'll only stage small raids. Harass our
baggage train. No, we must do just the opposite." Jadar reined in his
horse, turned to Vasant Rao, and lowered his voice. "Think like a
_chitah _for once, not like an impulsive Rajput. We'll send a small
cavalry force only--five hundred horse, you will help me pick them--who
will disperse, ride separately, never show their numbers. Like a
_chitah _stalks. No supply contingent. No elephants. No wagons. And,
after the Marathas have set their siege at Mandu, our cavalry will
quietly group and attack their flank. As they fall back, which they
always do when facing a disciplined unit, the cavalry in the fort will
ride out in force, forming the second arm of a pincer. And that will be
the last we see of Malik Ambar's famous Maratha irregulars. They'll
return to pillaging baggage trains and helpless villages."
"And after that?"
"We'll march directly on Burhanpur. We should reach it in less than a
month."
"The Marathas will begin to harass our supply trains as soon as we
cross the Narbada River. If they don't attack us while we cross."
"After Mandu, that's the one thing they will not do. Remember the
_chitahs_. The Marathas will never know where our Mandu cavalry may be
waiting in ambush."
"And when we reach Burhanpur?"
"We'll make our camp there, and muster cavalry from all the
_mansabdars_." Jadar passed over how he intended to do this. "That will
be the end of Ambar's many alliances. We'll have the men we need to
march in force on the south, on to Ahmadnagar, within the week. And
Malik Ambar will sue for peace and return the territory he's seized,
just like before."
Vasant Rao nodded in silent acknowledgment, asking himself what the
prince was withholding. The strategy was far too straightforward for
Jadar.
The camp was coming into view now. A vast movable city, it was easily
several miles in circuit. Even from afar, however, Jadar's massive
central tent dominated. It was bright red and stationed in the center
of the _gulal bar_, a restricted central zone almost two hundred yards
on the side that formed the focal point of the camp. Behind Jadar's
tent, separated by a figured satin partition, were the red chintz tents
of the women, where his first wife, Mumtaz, and her attendants stayed.
Directly in front of Jadar's tent was a canopied platform with four
massive corner pillars, called the _sarachah_, where Jadar held private
briefings.