renewed confidence. I must return to the centre of the camp.’
With that, Humayun turned his horse, which was already blowing hard from its charge through the clinging mud, towards his scarlet command tent.Visibility had much improved as the rain, which had slackened during his attack on the guns, had by now almost ceased. From the centre he would be able to direct a further strengthening of his position, Humayun thought.
However, he had covered scarcely half the distance to his tent when Jauhar galloped up. ‘Majesty,’ he gasped, ‘Baba Yasaval asked me to beg your presence on the far southwestern perimeter. A large force of Sher Shah’s cavalry is attacking along the bank of the Ganges. They have already broken through our front lines and the vanguard are deep among our makeshift secondary defences.’
Immediately Humayun pulled the head of his black horse round and the willing beast, responding to his urging, began to pick up pace towards the west past the neat lines of tents hastily abandoned by Humayun’s men as they had rushed earlier to repel the unexpected attackers. He was followed by Jauhar and his bodyguards.
Very soon Humayun could hear increasing cries and sounds of battle and then, breasting a low rise, he looked down on the wide, muddy banks of the Ganges and a scene of chaos. Several bands of Sher Shah’s cavalry had breached his front line and his own cavalry were trying to encircle them or drive them back. Other mounted officers, waving their swords, were encouraging groups of his infantry forward to fill gaps in the defences but they seemed to be having only limited success. Indeed some of the infantrymen were fleeing towards the rear, throwing down the small round shields and the long spears with which they were armed.
Most ominously of all, only a mile or so from his wavering defences another large force of Sher Shah’s cavalry was forming up to launch a further attack. At their centre was a knot of bright flags and pennants and to Humayun it seemed obvious that Sher Shah was there, ready to lead this charge in person finally to overwhelm his enemies.
‘We’ve only got a short time to prepare to confront them, Jauhar. Where are Baba Yasaval and my other commanders?’
‘When I left to find you, Majesty, Baba Yasaval was a little further along this rise with some of his junior officers. But he told me the situation was so perilous that he could not wait for your arrival but would straightaway lead an attack on some of the enemy cavalry that had already broken through. Isn’t that his yellow flag at the head of those riders over there, driving that group of our enemy before them?’
‘You have good eyes, Jauhar. Get a message to him to bring as many men as he can detach to meet me by that cluster of grey tents over there. Send further messengers to summon any other officers who can break off from the action to lead their men there too. We’ll meet Sher Shah’s advance head on. The ground around those tents looks firm enough for us to be able to get up enough speed to do them some damage with the weight of our initial charge.’
Only ten minutes later Humayun had a number of his officers around him. He was saddened how many including Baba Yasaval — who was helmetless and had a bloody, yellow cloth wound around his head — were wounded, and even more how many were missing. ‘Where is Suleiman Mirza?’
‘Dead, Majesty, killed by a spear thrust as he attempted to fight off cavalry.’
‘And Ahmed Khan?’
‘Badly wounded. In the very first minutes of Sher Shah’s attack while he was inspecting the pickets two arrows hit him in the thigh. Some of his men found him weak from loss of blood and got him over to the opposite side of the Ganges along with other wounded. They’re being cared for by the men you stationed there.’
‘We must manage without these brave officers, trusting in our own courage and in our destiny.’
Looking round, Humayun saw that his commanders had assembled a sizeable force, perhaps as many as five thousand riders, to confront Sher Shah’s next attack which, from the increasing movement amongst his opponents’ ranks, would not be long delayed.
‘As soon as Sher Shah’s lines advance, so too do we. Make for the centre where I believe he will ride himself. If we can kill or capture him, his men will become demoralised. Despite our losses the day will be ours. .’
Moments later, Sher Shah put his cavalry into motion, galloping increasingly quickly towards Humayun’s defences. Humayun took Alamgir from its jewelled scabbard and waving it above his head yelled, ‘Charge! Let it be a matter of honour to die rather than to retreat.’
Soon his whole force was galloping as fast as the mud and puddles would allow. Humayun’s tall black horse, despite its previous efforts, kept him at the head of his troops, closing fast with his opponents who were themselves racing forward, weapons extended, shouting ‘Tiger, Tiger’ in celebration of their leader, Sher Shah.
All his thoughts now concentrated on the coming fight, Humayun bent low over his stallion’s neck and kept its head aimed at the very centre of Sher Shah’s galloping ranks where he saw a black-bearded man in bright steel armour on a white horse shouting encouragement to those around him as he rode. It could only be Sher Shah himself. Humayun pulled on his reins once more to bring him directly into Sher Shah’s path. Within seconds the two lines clashed. Humayun slashed at Sher Shah with Alamgir but the sword slid harmlessly off his steel breastplate and in a moment the press of forces had separated them.
Suddenly, Humayun thought he saw the traitorous Tariq Khan mounted on a brown horse and wearing his familiar dark green beneath his armour. Humayun urged his own mount towards him. Although hampered by the disorganised mass of wheeling, rearing and snorting horses with their riders slashing and striking at each other, Humayun reached the green-clad man. It was indeed Tariq Khan.
‘Tariq Khan, your life is forfeit. Face me and die like a man, not the slippery snake you are.’ With that, Humayun struck at Tariq Khan but his opponent quickly got his shield up and deflected the blow and at the same time swung wildly at Humayun with his double-headed steel battleaxe. Humayun leaned back in his saddle and the axe only hissed through empty air but Humayun thrust Alamgir deep into Tariq Khan’s unprotected armpit, exposed as he made his axe-sweep. With a cry of pain Tariq Khan dropped the axe and, as blood poured from his armpit staining his dark green clothing, he seemed to lose control of his brown horse which carried him off into the melee. Moments later, Humayun saw him fall, sliding backwards from the saddle of his rearing mount to be trampled into the muddy ground beneath the hooves of other horses. So perish all traitors, thought Humayun.
Looking round, he realised most of his bodyguards had lost touch with him, but shouting hoarsely to the few who remained to follow he turned his own black horse, now covered with white, frothing sweat, towards where he calculated Sher Shah’s charge might have taken him. As he pushed forward, a riderless horse, blood streaming from a deep sword slash to the rump, crashed into the right flank of his own, knocking it off course and for a moment painfully trapping Humayun’s mail-clad thigh against his saddle. Then, neighing shrilly, it careered away, veering straight across the path of one of Humayun’s remaining bodyguards. The bodyguard’s horse stumbled and fell, throwing its young rider over its neck on to the ground. He lost his domed helmet on impact, rolled over two or three times and then lay still.
Regaining control of his horse once more, Humayun urged it towards where the fight seemed the most intense. Suddenly thunder crashed overhead and immediately rain began to fall again in torrents, heavy drops splashing into puddles and dripping from the rim of Humayun’s helmet before running down into his eyes. He removed his leather gauntlet and raised his right hand to brush the rain away and clear his vision. But his action prevented him from seeing two dark-clad riders dashing towards him until they were almost upon him. When he did, he swerved away from the first but could not prevent the sharp sword of the second slicing into the exposed flesh of his hand and wrist and sliding down into his forearm, pushing back his chain mail and penetrating deeper as it went on. His black horse carried him away from his assailants, who failed to turn quickly enough in the mud to pursue him.
Bright scarlet blood was streaming from Humayun’s wounded right arm and hand and flowing down and through his fingers, coating Timur’s ring. He tried to untie his cream neck cloth with his left hand to use it to staunch the wound but he could not. His numb right fingers could scarcely keep a grip on his reins. He began to feel light-headed and white flashes started to appear before his eyes. Through them he could just about make out that there were none of his men around him. The situation was bad but surely he was not destined to end like this? Defeat was not inevitable. He must get back to his men to rally them. Humayun tugged at the reins with the last of his strength, trying to turn his tired, blowing horse in what his blurring mind imagined was the direction of his remaining men. He kicked the horse’s sides to urge it on, then slumped forward on to its black neck, clinging to its mane with his left hand as the last remnants of his consciousness deserted him.
‘Majesty.’
