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his officers rode up. Shah Jahan saw his lips move but could hear nothing. Soon, though, a little of his hearing returned and he made out what the man was repeating. ‘They’re fleeing, Majesty.’ Although still groggy from the explosion, Shah Jahan knew that ‘fleeing’ was not the right word. He had not defeated his enemy. After inflicting casualties on his forces in a successful raid they were beating a hasty but tactical retreat. They – not the Moghuls – were the victors today.
    This was not how it should be … not after the haughty Golcondans had predictably fallen out with the Bijapurans and retreated back to their own territories, leaving the latter to continue the war on their own. It was certainly not what he had anticipated when a month previously he’d led his column out from Burhanpur to sweep the rugged hinterland beyond the Tapti river where groups of the invaders had been raiding isolated fortresses and killing his
cossids
, his messengers, and his tax gatherers. In fact many things had surprised him. Like discovering that among those his men had captured were local people who had joined the invaders. Terrified for their lives, they had tried to excuse their treachery, some claiming they were desperate for plunder to help them buy food during what was becoming a serious drought, others pleading that their families were suffering because of the high taxes he had imposed to pay and feed his large army.
    But he had had little choice. If he didn’t raise the taxes, how could he recruit an army sufficient to deal with the invaders without depleting his treasuries? The expedition had scarcely been a success, even before this ambush. Nearly every time his army had encountered groups of enemy fighters they had fled before he could bring the full weight of his firepower to bear – but not before they had inflicted casualties as they had done just now.
    An hour later, Shah Jahan’s mood was grim as he addressed the senior officers clustered in a circle around him. ‘How did the enemy succeed in taking us unawares?’ He fixed his eye on his rearguard commander, Ashok Singh, one of the sons of the Raja of Amber and a promising young officer.
    ‘They saw us approaching, Majesty. A prisoner told us how they hid in scrub some way from our column and our pickets until we had passed. They were all mounted – they even had spare horses to carry off booty and their own wounded – so they were able to circle to our rear. Then they galloped into the attack from directly behind our column, taking advantage of those great clouds of dust we were raising, which enabled them to be almost upon us before we were aware of them.’
    ‘Didn’t you post pickets to your rear?’
    ‘No, Majesty. I am sorry.’
    ‘You should be. But you are not the only one to blame. We must all learn from this. It’s not just a question of designating more pickets but also of trying to see into our enemies’ minds and understanding their tactics.’ There was no response beyond some nods from his commanders, whose dejection was clear from their expressions, so Shah Jahan continued, ‘Together we will succeed, I’m sure of that. But now we must consider what our immediate moves should be. How many of our men did we lose?’
    ‘Not too many – fewer than a hundred, I think, but we also lost a lot of equipment in the attack on the baggage train. The massive explosion in the powder wagons knocked several cannon from their limbers and set some food supply wagons ablaze.’
    ‘Well then, there is nothing for it but to return to Burhanpur, where we can rest and resupply,’ Shah Jahan responded curtly. ‘The council is dismissed.’ As his officers turned away, Shah Jahan knew they were loyal and had felt the reverse as much as he had, but that was not the point. They should all – himself included – have learned better from Ahmed Aziz’s initial defeat. It would be at their peril if they continued to underestimate their enemies’