‘We could avoid the worst of the mountains by circling round, along the river valleys, as the ambassador did when he came seeking me. .’
‘But that would take a long time — perhaps too long,’ said Baburi. ‘Delay could be a much greater risk to us than the mountains. .’
Baisanghar nodded. ‘I agree. We should cross the mountains. But to do so we’ll need guides, men who know the passes and can lead us over them by the best and safest route. Men we can trust. .’
The Mongol chiefs were looking impassive as though a journey over the roof of the world was nothing to them. Babur had the feeling that if they believed the booty would be great enough, they’d follow him into the furnaces of hell — but if disappointed in their hopes of bounty would leave him there. .
Babur looked around at his council once more. There seemed no point in deliberating any longer. He had gone over it again and again in his mind and each time his conclusion had been the same. If he wanted Kabul he must be quick.
‘Very well. I have decided. We go over the Hindu Kush. As we near the mountains, we’ll look for men to guide us — but if we cannot find them we go anyway. . We will ride out in thirty-six hours. Use that time to check your men’s equipment and provisions, and the condition of your animals. Baisanghar, I rely on you to tell the other chieftains. And we take only our horses and pack-mules, no livestock, not even into the foothills.’
The rows of ragged, jagged peaks were getting closer. Sometimes Babur imagined he could feel their frozen breath on his face. The lower slopes rose in dark green ripples but, high above, the icy tips gleamed diamond bright. Some called these mountains the Stony Girdles of the Earth, but to Babur they were more like towers of crystal. Old Rehana’s tales of Timur being hoisted down a cliff face, of his frozen, starving warriors, of terrified horses slipping and sliding on the ice and of attacks by wild Kafirs were still vivid in his mind. Bringing his own family and his few men through the southern mountains out of Ferghana safely eight months previously had been nothing compared with leading an entire army and all its equipment across these high peaks, which — so the legends said — touched the skies.
‘What are you thinking?’ Baburi was beside him on a bay mare that kept tossing her head to rid herself of a buzzing horsefly
‘What Rehana told us of how Timur brought his army over the Hindu Kush to Delhi. .’
Baburi shrugged. ‘They were vivid stories, romantic and much embroidered. To her every word was true but I wasn’t sure how much of it was real. Take that story of her grandfather saving the boy who gave him the golden elephant — I bet he looted it, and made up the rescue to compensate for having abandoned the other boy. Anyway, soon we’ll see for ourselves what it’s like up there. At least we have a man to guide us.’
‘I hope he was telling the truth when he said he knew the mountains.’
‘Your promise to throw him down a crevasse if he’d lied seemed effective.’
‘I meant it.’
Babur looked over his shoulder at his bodyguard and, beyond, the long lines of riders advancing across a dry landscape that shimmered in the August heat. Sweat dripped from his forehead and was running down between his shoulder-blades. He drank some water from the leather water-bottle dangling from his saddle. It was strange to think they’d soon enter a world of snow and ice.
‘What’s Kabul like?’ Baburi took a swipe at the horsefly with one of his gauntlets and grunted in satisfaction to see it fall lifeless to the hard-baked ground.
‘My father never went there but he said he’d heard it was a strange place caught between two worlds — one hot, the other cold. Within a day’s ride of Kabul is a place where the snow never falls, but two hours in another direction takes you to where the snow never melts. .’
‘I wonder about the girls. .’
‘Whether they’re hot or cold? If we’re lucky we’ll find out.’
The air was thin. Babur was finding it hard to breathe and his heart was beating faster than normal. The horses, too, were feeling the strain, snorting with effort as they climbed. With frozen fingers, Babur yanked the fur- lined hood of his cloak further over his head. An hour ago, the sky had been clear but suddenly, without warning, snow had begun to fall. Now thick, white flakes whirled dizzily round them. Looking back, Babur could barely make out the dark shapes of men and beasts plodding in a long line behind, a few men still riding but many more, like him, leading their animals up the steep, icy slopes, heads bowed against the storm. His own horse, a grey with a dark mane and tail, was whinnying in discomfort and protest as Babur tugged at its bridle.
He was well accustomed to bitter winters, but the suddenness of this summer blizzard, carried on a freezing, scouring wind, seemed a warning. Through the crazily dancing snowflakes he imagined he could see the shadowy figures of Timur’s warriors battling their way upwards. The thought that they had endured and survived gave him strength.
‘Majesty,’ Babur recognised Baisanghar’s voice close by him, ‘the guide says it is too dangerous to go on when we cannot see in front of our noses. He knows of a
Babur shook his head. ‘If the guide says we should stop, we will stop,’ he said, ‘but I won’t skulk in a cave while my men face discomfort and hardship outside. What does he say we must do?’
‘Dig, Majesty. We cannot pitch our tents in these winds so we must burrow holes for ourselves and make windbreaks of snow to protect our animals and wait for the blizzard to ease. .’
‘Very well. Give me a shovel. .’
Early the next morning, Babur woke in his snowhole. A layer of snow was covering his body but he was surprised by how well he had slept in his cocoon of blankets. Crawling out and dusting the snow off, he saw to his relief that all was again calm. The white landscape glittered beneath a bright, clear blue sky.
‘Majesty.’ It was the guide, a tall sturdy man of about thirty-five, well bundled against the cold. His son — a boy of fourteen or fifteen — was beside him, arms crossed and mittened hands tucked beneath his armpits for added warmth.
‘Can we go on?’
‘Yes, but we must be especially careful now. The snow conceals many dangers that before would have been obvious.’
The man was right. The thick crusting of snow made the landscape appear softer and more benign but it had formed bridges over crevasses. As the party set off, Babur watched how the guide, walking cautiously ahead, now and then thrust his long stick into apparently solid ground that at once collapsed to reveal a deep ravine from which there could be no rescue. When Babur asked how he had acquired his knowledge, the man said that for centuries his family had guided travellers over these mountains. Was it fanciful to wonder whether one of his ancestors had been with Timur’s army?
Soon there was no time or energy for idle speculation. As they inched higher on to a curving saddle of land between two peaks, the snow was growing deeper so that the horses were sinking to their stirrups, even their girths. .
‘Majesty. . I must have snow-tramplers.’ The guide was immersed almost to his waist in the soft, dense mass.
‘What. .?’
‘Snow-tramplers. . We’re past the area where we must worry about ravines. Now I need fifteen to twenty strong men. The lead man must force a channel through the snow so that those behind can beat the snow down further and create a path for the rest of the men and animals following behind. It is the only way we will ever reach the pass. .’
An hour later, Babur’s lungs were burning and his legs felt ready to buckle beneath him. Yet he, above all others, must show stamina and fortitude. He had insisted on taking his turn as lead man and where others had cleared perhaps eight to ten yards before giving up exhausted, he was determined to manage double that. . Sweat poured off him, despite the cold, but every step brought grim satisfaction that not even Nature herself could stand in his way.
By mid-afternoon they were finally clear of the snowfields and on higher, firmer ground. Unlike Timur, he and his men had been fortunate. The snows had not returned and they were now making steady progress through this
