Chapter XIX
_A CALL TO THE HEART_
Near the decaying town of Kunch the Native army had taken up a strongposition. In the shelter of woods and gardens, interspersed here andthere with temples, for the time being occupied as miniature forts,the whole was fronted by a high wall over which a row of cannon peeredtheir sinister muzzles.
For several days the retainers of numerous petty rajas, driven backupon the main body by the advance of the enemy, had been arriving toreinforce those who confidently believed they were about to deliver adeath blow to the Foreigners. The plan of battle had been skillfullyarranged. Under the supreme direction of Tantia Topi, Ahmad Khanhad been given the command of the artillery, the Rani of Jhansi thecavalry, and Parma Nand Rai Bahadur, the officer who had rescued theRani from Jhansi, and who purposely or otherwise managed to keeppersonally out of view, the duty of remaining in touch with thevanguard of the foe. If the attack was made at daybreak, the orderwas to hold the enemy at bay until the sun had climbed high into themeridian, and then with the whole force deliver a counter assault that,in the terrific heat of noon, must take the enemy at the greatestdisadvantage. It was with eager expectancy that both leaders and menof the Native army awaited the battle that was to crush the power ofthe Foreigners in the central provinces of India. All was in readiness;only one element of doubt as yet remained undetermined--that theForeigners would fall in with the plans made for their destruction.
It was early on a May morning that scouts brought in the intelligencethat the enemy was in sight of Kunch.
The various arms took up their positions immediately. On the right, alittle in the rear of the infantry, the Rani of Jhansi galloped to thehead of her command and addressed to her men a few well chosen words ofencouragement.
In response they cheered lustily, as they waved their swords in thebright sunshine.
"We will follow thee to the death, O valiant Rani," they shoutedenthusiastically.
Of a truth, in both armies, there was on that day no more gallant orinspiring figure than that of the girl in the scarlet uniform. From herwhite turban there rose and flashed a diamond aigrette, a parting giftof good fortune from the Rao Sahib, who had remained at Kalpi. He, too,now regarded himself as an aspirant to her tender favor.
Thus the men stood to their arms watching a running skirmish over theplain between their outposts and what was believed to be the vanguardof the enemy, when a terrible fusilade of musketry and artillery fireburst upon their unprotected left flank and rear.
The enemy had not fallen in with the plans for their destruction,but with Occidental perversity had consummated others of their own.The bulk of the Foreign army had, overnight, made a wide detourunobserved, and was now perilously threatening the Native force's lineof retreat--a movement, that the Foreign general knew from experience,the Native commanders would be unable to view with any other feelingthan dread. By this action the battle was won for the Foreigners beforeit had even commenced.
Tantia Topi cast a single terrified glance over the field and fledprecipitately; but Ahmad Khan quickly grasped the situation, in sofar as his own branch of the service was concerned. If he could onlybring his guns to bear upon the force advancing from the unexpecteddirection, the Foreigners might be held in check until order wasrestored out of the panic that prevailed. The infantry deserted bytheir leader had become unmanageable, but the Rani of Jhansi stillheld the cavalry together awaiting orders. To her, Ahmad dispatched anurgent message begging her to cover his contemplated movement.
She was about to respond promptly, when, glancing backward she noticeda picket that had been driven in by the enemy engaged in a desperateencounter with a larger body of cavalry. In the centre, fighting forhis life with no hope of escape, she beheld the form of the officer whohad succeeded in effecting her deliverance from Jhansi. The _melee_was too far distant to discern his features, but intuitively, withouta hesitating doubt, she knew that Parma Nand Rai Bahadur was one withPrasad Singh.
Ahmad's request, the peril of the Native army, both were swept from hermind in the face of her lover's danger. Without another thought thanfor his safety, she gave no order, but impulsively spurred her horseat a broken part of the intervening wall, and dashed to his rescue.Her command, not understanding what course to pursue, divided of theirown volition into two parties, the Valaiti troopers following theirmistress, the rest galloping after the infantry in retreat. Thus AhmadKhan, muttering all the curses in his vocabulary, was left to extricatehimself as best he could.
With uplifted sword the Rani came down upon the Foreign cavalry like anavenging spirit. At last she was hand to hand with them. Three Nativetroopers of the enemy she hurled groaning to the dust. Right and leftshe gallantly parried and delivered blows. Her Valaitis closed abouther, as she cut her way toward her lover's side.
Prasad's horse had fallen. On foot he was fighting despairingly whenher image rose before his eyes, superbly animated with the ardor ofmortal combat.
"Prasad! Prasad!" she cried. "The Rani of Jhansi cometh to thee."
She raised her sword to parry a blow delivered at his head, but herhand dropped lifelessly to her side. The scene became a hazy blur inher vision, reeling in her saddle she lost consciousness. When sheregained her senses she was far from the battlefield of Kunch.
The victory of the Foreigners had again been complete. The retreat ofthe Native army, at first conducted with order, finally developed intoa rout, in which the Valaitis swiftly bore the Rani back to Kalpi. TheRao Sahib seized with the same panic that had carried Tantia Topi fromthe field to an unknown destination, quickly left Kalpi to its fate. Inthe city all was confusion. The infantry vowed they had been abandonedby the artillery; the artillery, through the mouth of Ahmad Khan, sworethat the cavalry had deserted them at the critical moment and therebylost the battle. Without a leader, the bulk of the troops were seekingindividual safety in the jungles. They believed the enemy was upontheir heels.
Such was the situation to which the Rani opened her eyes, on recoveringfrom the glancing blow that had placed her temporarily _hors de combat_.
Her first thoughts were of Prasad. She inquired anxiously of thoseabout her if any news of him had been obtained. The answer was inpart satisfactory. He had been seen during the flight from Kunch, andwas believed to have been ordered to escort Tantia Topi to a place ofsafety.
The Rani rose from her couch to view with silent contempt and outspokendenunciation the craven spirit that had captured all who remained inKalpi.
"The Foreigners are upon us," they replied to her entreaties to make alast stand at Kalpi. "We cannot fight against them. They will kill allthe prisoners. It is better to fly while there is time."
At this juncture news was brought to the Rani that the Nawab of Bandahhad arrived before Kalpi with a considerable force. The Rani hastenedto his presence, and besought him in fervent language to save the onlyarsenal in their hands. But the Nawab of Bandah had just suffered adefeat himself. He had trusted to share in the triumph of the RaoSahib after Kunch. He certainly had no stomach to become the hero ofa forlorn hope. Under the circumstances he was much more inclined todiscuss the safest place of retreat.
In despair of being able to induce him to accede to her purpose, theRani was forced to summon Ahmad Khan to her aid, at a moment when theMohammedan's humor was deeply offended by her conduct at Kunch.
"Ah," he returned sarcastically. "The brave Rani is anxious enough toavail herself of Ahmad's services when it suits her convenience; butwhen he has fallen into a ditch, he might summon the moon to his reliefwith a surer hope of response."
"Nay, good Ahmad," the Rani replied winningly, "truly I did not realizethou wert in such distress. I only saw the desperate need of assistancein which Bai Bahadur was placed."
"To be sure," he answered tersely. "And who may be this Bai Bahadur"?
"Thou knowest as much of him as I," the Rani replied. "But, goodAhmad," she pleaded, "thou wilt, I know, support me with this Nawab"?
"Assuredly," he a
cquiesced in a yielding tone. "Thou hast a power withus, fair Rani, to gain an end possessed by no other. Verily, such anobedient hound am I at the sound of thy voice, that I believe if thouwert to order me to go forth as a _yogi_ and sit at thy door for therest of my days blinking at the sun, the eternal damnation of theProphet would not stay my following thy command. What wouldst thou haveme do with this Bandah Nawab"? he asked.
The Rani explained the Nawab's faintheartedness and suggested thatAhmad might use a little of the persuasion so effectual with Sadescheo.
"Aye," he replied twirling his moustaches fiercely. "But say the word,fair Lady, and for thy sake I will persuade my hand to cut his head offas the beginning of my argument."
"Let it be not quite so demonstrative," she enjoined. "But I would havethee be emphatic none the less."
"The battle yell of thy Valaitis will sound as a love ditty in his earsafterwards," he returned, and continued. "Thou art determined then tomeet the Foreigners again"?
"Aye," she replied with spirit, "and to continue meeting them until Ihave won a victory or perished in the attempt."
The result of Ahmad Khan's conference with the Bandah Nawab was aprompt decision to make a last endeavor to save Kalpi. As a fortressto withstand a siege it was indefensible, but the ravines and ridgessurrounding the city afforded the best field for intrenched positions.By day and night, under the supervision of the Rani and Ahmad Khan,men labored indefatigably upon these works, momentarily expecting theappearance of the enemy.
But the Foreigners were completely exhausted by the difficulties of thelong march to Kunch, and the subsequent battle. It was impossible tofollow up the retreat of the Native army and seize upon Kalpi beforediscipline could be restored in the defender's ranks. By short marchesonly could they advance further, to find that the girl whom they hadcome to regard as the soul of the rebellion in Central India, was readyto meet them in a more desperate resistance than ever. The Foreigngeneral realized speedily that she had rendered her position well nighimpregnable.
The Rani was not of the temper to await an attack from behindearthworks, with ever one eye on her line of retreat. She took thesupreme command into her own hands, and so harassed the Foreigners'advance with her cavalry, that when they beheld the labyrinth ofdefenses raised as if by magic, on the three vulnerable sides of thetown, they did not contemplate a retrograde movement, but a victoryseemed more than doubtful. For both sides the day of another decisivebattle was at hand.
In the meantime the Rao Sahib had heard of the successful efforts ofthe Rani to bring order out of chaos in the demoralized condition ofthe Native army after Kunch. He returned to reap the reward of a morethan probable victory, and as a consequence the supreme command againreverted to his hands. At a council of war before the battle he was notunmindful of escape in case of defeat.
"We can cross the river and plunge into the jungles in that event," heremarked. "The Foreigners will not follow us into those recesses."
Scorn, anger, in a sense despair, were mingled in the Rani's voice, aswith burning cheeks and flashing eyes she retorted hotly.
"Escape, my lords," she cried, "if we only set as little store uponescape as do these Foreigners, not one of them would now remain inIndia."
She rose abruptly and strode without further utterance from the council.
"A beautiful woman, a wonderful woman, with an accursed Afghan lion inleash at her side," remarked the Nawab of Bandah; "but noble Rao Sahib,thou dost well nevertheless to look to it, that we are not caught herein a trap."
Unfortunately for the Native army that sentiment dominated all theiractions. It was the weight that turned the scale of battle in favor ofthe Foreigners at Jhansi, at Kunch, and lastly at Kalpi.
When the first onslaught came, the Native army repulsed the Foreignerswith desperate valor. The sun again aided their efforts and decimatedthe enemy's ranks as much with blasts of heat as did the storm ofshot and shell, poured forth in a blaze of fire from every ridge uponwhich the attack was directed. The odds were too great against theForeigners. They wavered.
In a ravine, the Rani held the cavalry in waiting for such a turningpoint of the battle. She quickly noticed the reaction, and with acheer, caught up by the whole body of her command, dashed upon thedismayed Foreigners. For a moment the battle seemed to be won, but onlyfor a moment.
While she was engaged driving back the frontal attack, with ruthlessslaughter on both sides, the Foreign general had succeeded in againeffecting a flank movement threatening his enemy's retreat.
The Rao Sahib and the Nawab of Bandah cast a despairing look acrossthe river to the jungles beyond, hesitated when they should have ledall their forces forward; a shell burst near them; they turned theirhorses' heads and fled.
Meanwhile the Rani, flushed with victory, was still driving heropposing force before her, when glancing backward she beheld witha sinking heart the Native army in full retreat. A cheer from theForeigners announced too plainly that for her, the day was lost.
"The cowards," she muttered, as tears of passionate grief coursed downher cheeks. "Oh, the cowards! Will nothing stimulate their courage"?
With valor born of desperation she hurled herself upon the enemy stillin front and cut her way between their ranks. Once more surrounded byher faithful Valaitis she was compelled to fly, on this occasion to theshelter of the jungle.