A drum roll lifted across the dark plain, swelling in intensity
like angry, caged thunder. It rose to fill the valley with a foreboding
voice of death, then faded slowly to silence, gorged on its own
immensity.
"That's the Imperial army's call to arms. Prince Jadar was right.
Inayat Latif is attacking now, before dawn." Shirin was seated next to
Hawksworth in the dark _howdah_. She rose to peer over the three-foot-
high steel rim, out into the blackness. Around them were the shapes of
the _zenana _guard elephants, silently swinging their trunks beneath
their armor. The _zenana _waited farther back on female baggage
elephants, surrounded by hundreds of bullock carts piled with clothing
and utensils. "Merciful Allah, he must have a thousand war drums."
"You saw the size of the Imperial army mustering at Fatehpur."
Hawksworth rose to stand beside her, grasping the side of the rocking
_howdah _and inhaling the cold morning air. "The queen had begun
recalling _mansabdars _and their troops from every province."
Suddenly a chorus of battle horns cut through the dark, followed by the
drums again, now a steady pulse that resounded off the wooded hills,
swelling in power.
"That's the signal for the men and cavalry to deploy themselves in
battle array." Shirin pointed toward the sound. "The Imperial forces
are almost ready."
Below them fires smoldered in Jadar's abandoned camp, a thousand specks
of winking light. Although the east was beginning to hint the first
tinges of light, the valley where the Imperial army had massed was
still shrouded in black.
The drums suddenly ceased, mantling the valley in eerie, portentous
quiet. Hawksworth felt for Shirin's hand and noticed it perspiring,
even in the cold dawn air.
From the eastern edge of Jadar's abandoned camp points of cannon fire
erupted, tongues of light that divulged the length and location of the
camp's defenses. A few moments later--less time than Hawksworth would
have wished--the sound reached them, dull pops, impotent and hollow. The
firing lapsed increasingly sporadic, until the camp's weak perimeter
defense seemed to exhaust itself like the last melancholy thrusts of a
spent lover.
The defense perimeter of the camp had betrayed itself, and in the tense
silence that ensued Hawksworth knew the Imperial guns were being set.
Suddenly a wall of flame illuminated the center of the plain below,
sending rockets of fire plunging toward the empty camp.
"Jesus, they're launching fireworks with cannon. What are they?"
"I don't know. I've heard that cannon in India were once called
naphtha-throwers."
A second volley followed hard after the first. Although this time no
fireworks were hurtled, the impact was even more deadly. Forty-pound
Imperial shot ripped wide trenches through the flaming tents of the
prince's camp. In moments the _gulal bar_, where they had been standing
only hours before, was devastated, an inferno of shredded cloth and
billowing flame.
A harsh chant began to drift upward from the valley, swelling as voices
joined in unison.
"Allah-o-Akbar! Allah-o-Akbar!" God is Great. It was the battle cry of
Inayat Latifs Muslim infantry.
The plain below had grown tinged with light now, as dawn approached and
the fires from Jadar's camp spread. As Hawksworth watched, nervously
gripping the handle of his sword, a force of steel-armored war
elephants advanced on the eastern perimeter of the camp, their polished
armor plate glowing red in the firelight. Those in the vanguard bore
steel-shrouded _howdahs_, through which a single heavy cannon protruded
. . . probably a ten-pounder, Hawksworth told himself. The steel
_howdahs_ on the next rows of elephants were almost three feet high and
perforated to allow their archers to shoot without rising above the
open top. Sporadic cannon and matchlock fire from the few hundred men
left in the camp pelted the elephants but did nothing to impede their
advance. Directly behind them the Imperial infantry swept in dense,
martialed ranks.
Jadar knew exactly what he was doing when he picked this terrain for
the camp, Hawksworth told himself. He used it to set the terms for the
battle. There's no room to maneuver. When they discover the camp is
abandoned, the elephants can't retreat and regroup without crushing
their own infantry.
He slipped his arm around Shirin's waist and held her next to him. They
watched as the Imperial war elephants crashed through the camp's outer
edge, scarcely slowing at the ditch. When the elephants were at point-
blank range, the specially loaded cannon along the perimeter opened
fire, spraying a rain of steel barbs among them. Even from the hilltop
he could hear the clang of steel as the barbs ricocheted off their
armor.
"We'll soon know if Jadar's plan has a chance. Can he contain the
elephants there, or will they obliterate the camp, then regroup, and .
. ."
The first row of elephants suddenly reared chaotically, lashing out
with their armored trunks and dismounting some of the gunners. As barbs
caught in their feet, they trumpeted in pain and started to mill
randomly in angry confusion, crushing several of the men they had
thrown.
Just as Jadar predicted, the deadly carpet of barbs had temporarily
disrupted their advance. Their ranks were broken and their guns in
disarray. Behind the elephants the infantry still marched unaware,
until the confusion in the elephant ranks began to disrupt their front
lines. Gradually the order in the infantry ranks completely
disintegrated, as the men stopped to eye the milling war elephants
ahead of them in growing fear and confusion. By a single cannon salvo
Jadar's men had robbed the attack of its momentum.
"Now's Jadar's moment." Hawksworth watched in growing admiration. "Will
he use it?"
As though in answer, a blare of trumpets from the hills on both sides
of the plain suddenly electrified the morning air. As they died away,
the woods opened wide with a single chorus, deep and throaty and
unforgiving.