He motioned Ahmed Khan and the ten men who would climb with them to gather round him.
‘My destiny and that of the empire as well as all our lives are at stake in this attempt. There are great risks but also great rewards if we succeed, as, God willing, we will. Now, check that you have your bags with your equipment safely secured and any weapon you wish to carry well tucked in. We want nothing dropped to reveal our position or to harm those following behind.’
Humayun had left his sword Alamgir with Jauhar, who was to follow among the remainder of the force. He had dressed simply in dark clothes like the rest of his men but tied to a leather thong around his neck was Timur’s ring. Just before he began the ascent he took it out and kissed it. Then they were off, Ahmed Khan in front searching for the hand — and footholds he had used the previous day and signalling to Humayun, close behind now, to follow. Although occasionally they dislodged a few small stones, sending them tumbling down to the ground below, Humayun hoped any sounds they were making would be masked by the booms that were now resounding from his camp as his cannon heralded the frontal attack that was to serve as a distraction.
Within twenty minutes, the two men were at the base of the final fissure. Looking upwards Humayun realised how difficult it would be to climb. The rock seemed worn smooth by the initial rush of the waterfall and the cleft was just too wide to brace the back comfortably against one side while climbing up the other with the feet. The spikes that Ahmed Khan — resting on a ledge that could only be two feet wide — was pulling from the satchel slung across his body and pushing into the dark sash around his waist would be essential. Humayun began to unpack his own hammer.
‘Majesty, the first ten feet looked the smoothest yesterday. I will brace myself in the cleft and you must climb over me using my limbs as steps to get into a position to drive in the first spikes.’
Humayun nodded and Ahmed Khan crammed himself into the rocky fissure. Humayun then put a foot on Ahmed Khan’s tensed thigh and pushed himself up until he could perch on Ahmed Khan’s shoulders. Reaching up above his head, he felt along the surface of the rock until he detected a small crack. Pulling his hammer and a foot- long spike from his belt, he drove the spike into the rock, each clang of the hammer seeming to the anxious, sweating Humayun to echo alarmingly around the fissure. However, there was no movement from above and soon the spike was in. Humayun tugged at it and finding it firm used it to move up half off Ahmed Khan’s shoulders to locate a place for the next spike.
Again it went in well and, supporting himself mostly on the spikes and partly by bracing his back to the rock, Humayun climbed up, finding another foothold. And so it went on as, sweating and breathing hard, the two men made it to about ten feet from the top where to their consternation a rocky outcrop seemed to bar their way. However, tugging at Humayun’s clothes in a way he would never normally have done, Ahmed Khan gestured through the gloom to a thick length of jungle creeper hanging over the lip and dangling down about six feet to their right.
‘Majesty, I think I can reach it and use it to climb the final distance, hitting in spikes as I go, but I must be the one to make the attempt as I am lighter than you and — pardon me, Majesty — to do so I must use you as my ladder.’
Humayun nodded and gripping the last spikes tilted his body to the right. Soon he felt Ahmed Khan’s foot on his left shoulder, then it slipped painfully against his neck and suddenly it was gone. Ahmed Khan was swinging from the creeper, thumping spikes in to provide a route round the overhang to the top. Then he was up, waving down to Humayun to follow, which he did, resisting the temptation to close his eyes as he manoeuvred out and around the overhang. Then he too was on top. Panting so heavily that he could scarcely speak, Humayun whispered, ‘Thank you, Ahmed Khan. I will remember your courage.’
In half an hour enough men had climbed up, driving in more spikes and using ropes to rig makeshift ladders to make it easier for those following to form an advance party to move towards the fort. Humayun addressed the first hundred or so gathered around him. ‘Remember we must make no noise and therefore rely on our old silent weapons — the bow and arrow and the sword — and on our bare hands to kill any enemy we find. Once inside, I will instruct the four of you who carry trumpets and drums to make the pre-agreed signals to alert our forces attacking from the front that we are inside so they can redouble their efforts. Now let us move forward.’
Advancing through the bushes, the men crept more than half a mile before the vegetation thinned out and allowed them to make out about a thousand yards in front of them the rear wall of the fortress — much lower than those at the front and sides and with no sign of guards. Crouching and taking advantage of the cover of the few remaining bushes and the darkness as some large clouds drifted over the moon, the men ran across the intervening ground to squash themselves against the walls, any sound they made more than blotted out by the noises of battle coming from the front of the fort. Some of the men had brought ropes with them and, at an order from Humayun, Ahmed Khan seized one and began to climb up the wall at a corner where it turned almost at right angles to follow the contours of the land. Within seconds, he had scrambled to the top using the same techniques as he had in the fissure and thrown down his rope for others to follow. Soon several other men had climbed up and more ropes were hanging down.
Humayun himself was quickly on the smooth battlements, peering along them to see whether there was a guardhouse. Yes, there was one — about a hundred yards away. Suddenly its door opened and six men appeared with torches — presumably a skeleton guard left behind while the others rushed to bolster the troops on the front wall which judging from the noise and commotion was now under full assault. The guards moved towards the wall to look down and, as they did so, Humayun ordered his men carrying bows to shoot as fast as they could before the guards could raise the alarm. Almost immediately there was a hiss of arrows and the six men were hit, two falling headfirst from the walls they were looking over and another drumming his legs on the stone battlements in his death throes. The other three were at once still.
Humayun led the charge towards the guardhouse. As he reached it, another Gujarati who had been hiding inside sprinted out, making for a covered staircase only ten yards away leading to the courtyard below. He was too near it for there to be time to loose off arrows before he disappeared beneath its protective roof. Humayun ran after him, arms and legs pumping, and reached the top of the staircase to see that the guard had descended most of its twenty or so stone steps. Without pausing to think, Humayun leaped from the top step on to the guard, knocking him down to the bottom. Both men were winded but the guard was the first to his feet and attempted to run on. Humayun scrambled after him and catching him by the ankle brought him to the ground once more. Summoning all his skill as a wrestler to pin the wildly struggling man beneath him, Humayun succeeded in closing his fingers round his neck and started to squeeze the life out of him until he heard the man’s breath rattle in his throat and threw the limp body aside. Humayun’s men were surrounding him again.
‘We now have at least four hundred men,’ Ahmed Khan gasped. ‘What next?’
‘Get as far to the front of the fort as we can before we are detected.’
Ahead, the men could see the flashes of the cannon and hear their boom and the crack of muskets as well as all the cries and screams of battle. Smoke was drifting across the courtyard, in particular through a large gateway in the opposite wall. This must mean that the gate gave directly on to the main part of the fort where the defenders were concentrated, Humayun thought. ‘Get our men to the gate, half on each side, and then we’ll sound our drums and trumpets to alert our fellows attacking the front wall before we charge into the enemy’s rear,’ he ordered. The command was quickly passed on and at Humayun’s signal his men rushed to the gateway. Peering round the corner of the gate, Humayun could see through the billowing smoke cannon positions on the front wall and also defenders firing and pouring burning pitch and oil on to his own men attacking below.
‘Trumpeters and drummers, give the signal and keep on doing so. The rest of you, follow me!’ As the instruments sounded out, Humayun rushed through the gateway. Once through, the first volley from his archers took many of the Gujaratis in the back, the whole crew of one cannon falling together. Turning in surprise and confusion, some tried to fight back. Others seemed to lose heart and ran into the shelter of the buildings.
‘Make for the main gatehouse. Kill the defenders and open the gates to our troops.’
Humayun’s men rushed to obey, one of his trumpeters at their head, still sounding his call. However, from behind a pile of his dead comrades, a Gujarati fired an arrow which caught the trumpeter in the throat, and as he fell his last breath bubbling with blood produced a weird scream from his instrument. Nevertheless, Humayun, with Ahmed Khan and at least fifty men at his side, were in the gatehouse killing or putting to flight its defenders. Soon they were winching open the gates. Once they were even a quarter open, the Moghuls began to pour through. Seeing them do so, most of the remaining defenders threw down their arms but a few took refuge in an inner keep and maintained steady fire on Humayun’s men, several of whom fell, mortally wounded.
‘Get our men under cover.We need not risk more casualties. The fort is ours. Bring me the most senior of the
