Read Empire of the Moghul: The Serpent's Tooth for Free Online

another ball hit the
mahout
sitting behind the ears of his elephant in the throat. The man slipped slowly sideways, blood pumping from the wound, before falling to the stony ground. The elephant’s pace faltered as it raised its trunk, trumpeting in alarm and swinging its head from side to side. As Shah Jahan grabbed the side of his swaying howdah for a moment to steady himself, the second
mahout
, who had been perched behind the first, quickly slid lower on to the beast’s neck and leant forward to speak into its right ear. ‘Calm, calm, Mover of Mountains,’ he said, pressing his anka, the iron control rod, against the wrinkled grey hide of its shoulder. Reassured, the elephant lowered its red-painted trunk.
    All around, the whole column was coming to a halt in disarray. Musketmen were jumping from their saddles and pushing powder and shot down the barrels of their weapons with steel ramrods, preparing to fire. A little way in front of Shah Jahan’s elephant a junior officer – a squat man in a green tunic – was shouting orders to his small group of foot soldiers to form up. Shah Jahan heard another volley of shots and two of the infantrymen twisted and fell. One was immediately still. The other lay sprawled, heels twitching. One of his fellows, an elderly man with a thin grizzled beard, bent to help him but he too was hit. Dropping his spear he slumped over his comrade’s body.
    Everywhere was noise and confusion. Unless he acted quickly to master the situation panic could follow, thought Shah Jahan. And to do that he must dismount from his elephant and switch to horseback. Without waiting for the surviving
mahout
to bring the elephant to its knees, he climbed over the side of the jewel-encrusted howdah and dropped to the ground, bending his own knees to soften the impact. Landing lightly, he shouted to his
qorchi
, ‘Bring me my horse!’ But before the squire could do so a group of horsemen appeared through the dust and musket smoke, riding hard at the infantrymen in front of Shah Jahan. Encouraged by their green-clad officer, the foot soldiers stood their ground. At his command they crouched down in a rough V formation, their short spears ready to thrust at the horsemen. As the riders – a group of perhaps twenty – galloped closer, one, a slim figure with long black hair streaming behind his helmetless head, outdistanced the rest on his sweat-soaked grey charger. Although the soldier at the head of the V formation bravely held his place his spear was shaking so much in his nervous hands as he thrust at the Bijapuran that he missed. His attacker’s grey horse immediately rode him down, leaving him crumpled on the ground, his skull shattered by one of the horse’s hooves. The soldier behind and to his left was made of sterner stuff. He waited until the last moment and after taking careful aim stabbed upwards from his kneeling position with his spear. As he intended, it caught the horse in the throat. Immediately it stumbled and fell, sending its rider somersaulting over its neck to crash headfirst to the ground where he lay still, blood and brains spilling into his hair.
    Where was his own horse? Shah Jahan looked around to see his
qorchi
running towards him leading his chestnut stallion. Seizing the reins he leapt into the saddle and yelled to his bodyguard, ‘Follow me.’ Drawing his sword, he charged towards the enemy horsemen who were now surrounding the surviving foot soldiers. One of the attackers pulled so hard at his mount’s reins to wheel it to face the new threat that his horse reared and threw him backwards. Another rider armed with a long lance turned his black horse successfully and kicked hard towards Shah Jahan. When they closed the man made a wild thrust at Shah Jahan which missed, but Shah Jahan’s did not. As their horses passed he caught his enemy’s arm with a slashing stroke of his sword. The rider dropped his lance and began to lose control of his horse which careered off, cutting