Beneath a Marble Sky (31 page)

“Yes, yes, it did,” I admitted. “But you didn’t have to wait. I would have helped you.”

“I sought above all…to bring our people together,” he lamented. Between the pauses in his words the rain roared, assaulting the fixed umbrella above him and falling onto his elephant. “I wanted Hindus and Muslims to live as one. I learned of religion instead of war because I thought understanding and respect would bring us together. I lived my life, dedicated my life, to achieving that union. Yet how I failed. For now I must fight my brother. And if brothers can’t respect each other, how can strangers?”

“Aurangzeb’s doings, not yours, brought us here today.”

My brother nodded wearily. He looked lost on his enormous war elephant with all its dressings. “I wish, Jahanara, that we were far from here. You should be with…your man and daughter. And I should be beside my son.”

I hadn’t been sure whether Dara knew of Isa, but now I was. “If we win—”

“Winning matters little,” he said sadly. “If we win, tens of thousands, perhaps a hundred thousand Hindustanis will die here today. The Empire will never recover. Never. And if Aurangzeb wins, it will be worse, for Hindus will be persecuted and we’ll step centuries back into time. He’ll war against anyone not of Islam, and the Empire will crumble about him.”

I lacked the insight to respond, recognizing only then that Dara understood these matters far better than I had believed. “I wish it could be as it was when we were young.”

“Those days seem so distant, almost as if they were dreams,” he replied. “I wanted children of all religions to play as brothers and sisters. I wanted them to live in peace.”

“Perhaps ours shall.”

Dara absently licked rain from his lips. “A fine fate that would be. But I fear we’ll never see it.” A distant moan of horns rose and Dara immediately straightened. “If Aurangzeb comes forward with a flag of truce, seek me out. But if he attacks straight away, flee for Agra.”

I wanted to tell him that I loved him, that I was proud to be his sister, but he ordered his mahout to turn his elephant northward. When I looked up from my horse, my heart shuddered in fear, for a sprawling, seemingly infinite, army approached. Aurangzeb had only five thousand men and five hundred elephants more than we did in our total force, but his army somehow looked thrice the size of our assemblage on the knoll. He did brandish thirty thousand horsemen, and these warriors wheeled like the growing wind about his formations. The traitor’s cavalry was what our officers feared most, for it was a force of speed and strength, one we couldn’t match until Nizam attacked.

“Let him come in time,” I whispered toward Mecca. “Without him, we’re lost.”

As Aurangzeb’s army approached it began to uncurl into a long and menacing line. His elephants trumpeted as they pulled cannons into place. The enemy was still out of range and I heard our officers yelling at men to hold their fire. Our elephants, temporarily behind our guns, stomped their feet in trepidation, causing bronze bells about their necks to ring discordantly. A boy carrying a banner walked too close to one giant, and I shrieked when it gored him with its tusks. He died slowly, but no soldier neared the nervous beast to aid him. I suddenly felt sick. I had never seen war this close. Nor did I want to.

When a cluster of enemy horsemen approached under a flag of truce, I spurred my mount in their direction. Dara, atop his vast elephant, headed down the hill toward them. The rain was strengthening and I had to wipe my eyes often. I quickly caught up with Dara and the officers surrounding him on their fine mounts. These men were loyal to Father, good men who would gladly die this day. In my ill-fitting tunic I must have invited laughter. Yet the officers nodded in respect as I approached.

The two groups gathered at the base of our hill. Aurangzeb rode a beautiful white stallion but wore a gouged helmet and a battered coat of armor. My brother laughed when he saw me, though I knew him well enough to recognize rage flash across his face.

“Hiding behind the skirts of women?” Aurangzeb taunted Dara.

“I’d prefer her skirt to your shield.”

Our men chuckled at Dara’s reply and the mood of our enemies darkened. Aurangzeb withdrew an onion and began to bite chunks from it. “My terms, heretic, for your surrender,” he began, spitting its outer shell at Dara, “are simple. I want your head. Then I want your whelp’s head.”

“By what right,” Dara replied, his voice shaking with sudden fury, “do you have to ask for anything more than a whipping? For a whipping is all you’ll receive.”

Aurangzeb shrugged. “Perhaps I’ll march on and spare you the trouble. If you like, attack me on the road to Agra.”

When my brother started to turn his stallion away, I kicked my horse, so that he bumped against Aurangzeb’s. “Afraid of us, little brother?” I asked contemptuously. “Of course, a man who sends someone as foul as Balkhi to kill his sister could only be a coward. For surely a real man would have killed me himself.” I paused to spit in his direction. “But if Balkhi couldn’t do the deed, it seems unlikely that a man who cries at the sight of a snake would have the nerve.”

Aurangzeb’s hand darted to his sword and steel slid forth. Officers on both sides withdrew their weapons, leveling muskets and notching arrows. Aurangzeb understood that he’d be the first to die and hence slammed his blade back into its scabbard. “My men will enjoy you, sinner,” he hissed at me. “And you, heretic, will make a fine target on that overblown beast.”

Dara glanced skyward. “I shall pray for your soul.”

“I want no lover of Hindus praying for me.” Aurangzeb finished the remainder of his onion. I could smell his rank breath from three paces away. “The Noble Qur’an says of infidels, ‘If only disbelievers knew of the time when they cannot ward off the fire from their faces or from their backs. No, it will come upon them unawares, and confound them, so they cannot avert it, and no respite will they have.’”

My older brother stared at his sibling. “The Qur’an also says, ‘Anyone who does kill, through enmity and oppression, shall be exposed to fire, for that is easy for God.’”

We turned then and climbed our hill. Dara positioned himself behind our guns, directly across from Aurangzeb’s force. I waved good-bye to him, and was about to spur my mount toward Agra, when Aurangzeb’s horsemen began to fan out around our position. We’d expected Aurangzeb to concentrate his attack on a weak point of defense, but instead it seemed he would harass us on all sides.

“Go to the highest part of the hill!” Dara yelled when he saw my predicament. “Go!”

I did as he said, suddenly fearful. Not far below, Aurangzeb’s elephants pulled his guns into place. As they neared, Dara commanded our men to fire. Our cannons were primed and leapt upward as they hurtled their balls of steel. I covered my ears at this deafening eruption. Though it now rained so furiously that discerning the enemy was difficult, I caught glimpses of elephants reeling drunkenly, of groups of men lifeless on the ground.

“Hurry, Nizam,” I pleaded, looking northward, beyond our foe.

Our men efficiently reloaded their cannons and fired at will. Below, the enemy advanced, spearheaded by murderous lines of cavalry and foot soldiers that charged our ranks. We were now within range of their cannons and I cringed as the world churned beneath me. I saw an elephant lose its leg, topple to the ground, and crush its riders and a slew of other men. Several of our cannons exploded as they were struck, and gunners died screaming.

The horror intensified as the enemy approached. Some of our warriors fired muskets while those lacking guns launched arrows. Aurangzeb’s men did likewise and suddenly the air thickened with thousands of projectiles. These flew through the howling rain and wrought destruction. Men died instantly or clutched deliriously at their wounds. Some warriors left the safety of our barricade and charged unmolested at our foe, whereas others cowered in fear and were struck by numerous arrows. Nothing made sense.

Thunder boomed in tandem to the cannons, and the storm, already a full typhoon, intensified. I was nearly thrown from my saddle by a burst of wind. The rain assaulted me, stinging my face, my hands. I shielded my eyes and tried to find Dara, finally spotting him at the base of our hill atop his elephant. A beast near him rolled down the slope as my brother gestured wildly to the men about him, pointing below.

Then I saw the enemy. They carried green shields and rushed us like a swollen river bursting through a dike, charging up our hill, curved swords held high. There seemed to be an impossible number of them; screaming, crazed men whose fury frightened me more than the booming cannons. Our warriors fired their muskets and bows until the last instant, then drew their swords. A sudden clashing of steel rang out amid the curses, screams and explosions. Our men held their lines briefly, but then Dara’s banners began to fall.

I wheeled my horse about, looking for a means to escape. But everywhere, it seemed, our positions were attacked. I could try to break through the fighting but would more likely than not be killed in the process.

“Isa,” I muttered, frantic that I’d see neither him nor Arjumand again.

Where was Nizam? If he didn’t arrive soon, all would be lost. Our men were putting up a brave defense, but we were outnumbered and our enemies seemed crazed. Aurangzeb’s warriors had been killing Persians for years, while our men were either past their prime fighting age or were witnessing their first battle. Dara tried to rally our ranks, his huge elephant trampling the enemy. Though he had always seemed powerless, I realized again that he wasn’t so, only naïve. For now he fought as a leader might. He fired his gun and shouted at his men to go forward and die. They listened to him, chanting his name as they battled.

Yet the enemy still surged up the hill. They flooded our ranks, pausing only to kill our wounded. I was within range now, and a few warriors, perhaps thinking me an officer, fired arrows upward. The bolts thudded into the soil about me as I pulled the heavy shield from the side of my saddle, and then cowered behind it. More arrows fell, accompanied now by bullets. To stay here, I knew, was to die. But what choice did I have?

Suddenly my horse, my beautiful mount, stumbled. He cried out in agony and toppled forward, throwing me from the saddle. Shrieking, I turned in the air, landing in the deep mud on my back. My body throbbed, but I rolled over and drew to my knees. I trembled uncontrollably now, for this horror was too overwhelming. Unsheathing my sword, I crawled to my mount, intent on ending his misery. But I needn’t have bothered. His neck was ripped open and his eyes had already glazed over.

When the horns finally sounded, I barely heard them. But our men cheered abruptly and I knew Nizam had at last arrived. The enemy must be ripe for slaughter, I thought, for they had thrown all their foot soldiers and cavalry into us. Surely their gunners were unprotected.

The avenging screams of twenty thousand strong rose to obscure even the storm. Through the driving rain I caught glimpses of our horsemen decimating the surprised enemy, for suddenly Aurangzeb’s force was caught between two deadly groups of men. Our cavalry below, and our foot soldiers above, rained bullets and arrows into their masses. The enemy began to fall in vast numbers and I stood, praying that Nizam’s plan would work. It did for a time, and our forces howled in triumph.

Allah, however, deserted us then. One heartbeat Dara was atop his elephant urging his men forward, and the next, cannon fire ripped into the monstrous beast and the battle thus changed. The elephant wailed horribly before tumbling into our barricade of logs. Dara was thrown from his platform, thrown fast and hard. Several logs appeared to fall on him, as did the elephant.

I was already running toward him when the first shout of panic burst out. “The Prince is dead!” a young standard bearer yelled. “Dead!”

Panic rippled through our men like fire atop oil. Believing their leader slain, they suddenly retreated from the fighting, thinking of themselves rather than of the Empire. If Dara was lost, so was our cause, for he was the future emperor and a man worth fighting for. Officers yelled at those fleeing to face our foe, but all discipline had perished with Dara’s disappearance. Frantic, I stumbled down the hill toward where he had fallen. The long tunic restricted my movements and I toppled awkwardly, sliding down the mud. Dara’s elephant had a hole in its side the size of my head, yet it still lived. It tried to stand, managed to for an instant, and then toppled forward, crushing a trio of Aurangzeb’s men. Amid the scattered wreckage of the barricade, I quickly found Dara. His head was bloodied beneath his dented helmet, but I felt his breath against my hand. “He lives!” I shouted. “The Prince lives!”

Though a few warriors paused to look at me, I was far too late to save us from slaughter. Cradling Dara’s head on my lap, I watched as our men tried to escape the encroaching hordes. Some did, but hundreds of our warriors were shot in the back as they fled about the hill. Others, finding no escape, turned to face their foes. These men fought like demons but were outnumbered and inundated. Their throats were slit and their pockets emptied with appalling efficiency.

I withdrew Dara’s helmet, ripped off a piece of my tunic and tied it about his head to stop the bleeding. About to tighten it further, I paused as a horse galloped toward me. I was nearly beneath its hooves when a hand reached down and pulled me violently from the ground. The rider, with amazing strength, threw me behind him. My nails had started to claw at his face by the time I recognized Nizam.

“But Dara!” I cried.

He spurred his mount toward a break in the lines. A stout warrior stepped before us, leveling a musket. His weapon misfired and Nizam’s curved blade fell swiftly as we passed, opening the man’s shoulder. An arrow appeared simultaneously in Nizam’s thigh. I’d no idea how it had arrived there. He roared in fury and spurred his horse as two more soldiers ran in front of us, grinning when they saw my long hair. Nizam thrust aside the spear of one, skewering the man with his sword. The other warrior shouted for help and men ran forward to surround us. They tried to pull me from the horse and Nizam beat them aside, howling like an animal. It seemed as if Allah had blessed him that day, for bullets missed him and swords rebounded from his armor. His vengeful blade rose and fell in never-ending arcs, most sweeps maiming an enemy.

Our mount jumped over a ruined cannon and suddenly I was falling. I struck the ground brutally, crosses of light dancing in my vision. Though I expected my clothes to be torn off immediately, I realized that an officer had reached me first. His sword was bright with the blood of our men, but his eyes weren’t cruel and I hoped he would protect me.

Nizam turned his horse around and tried to fight his way back to me. Dozens of men surged between us, however, and many were busy notching arrows. “Leave me!” I screamed. “You’ll do me no good dead!” He killed a balding warrior and winced as a blade glanced off his saddle. “Flee!” I shouted. “By the love of Allah, flee!”