Legendary & romantic tales of Indian history

by Hobart Caunter

This remarkable exploit was repeated from mouth to mouth with a thousand exaggerations; so that wherever Shere Afkun appeared, he was followed and pointed at as a man of superhuman powers. Songs and romances were written to extol his prowess and magnanimity. He was cheered by the populace wherever he approached. Mothers held up their babes to behold this extraordinary warrior, blessing him as he passed, and praying that their sons might emulate his virtues. He was flattered by these universal suffrages in his favour; nevertheless, in order to avoid a recurrence of perils similar to those from which he had so recently escaped, he retired to Burdwan.

Meanwhile the Emperor, burning with secret rage at hearing the valour of his rival the theme of every tongue, gave orders to his creature, the Suba of Bengal, to seek a more favourable opportunity than he had before availed himself of, to destroy this detested Omrah: for such was his astonishing strength and dexterity, that the Suba dared not attack him openly.

Being now at a distance from court, the bold Turkoman thought himself beyond the influence of his sovereign’s jealousy, and, with the natural frankness of his character, immediately cast aside all suspicion of mischief. The Suba coming with a great retinue to Burdwan, about sixty miles from the modern capital of Bengal, with a pretence of making a tour of the territory placed under his political superintendence, communicated to his officers the secret of his mission. They heard him with silent pleasure; for most of the nobles being jealous of a rival’s popularity, with a mean and dastardly spirit joined readily in the scheme for his destruction.

Unsuspicious of any hostile intention towards him, the devoted Omrah went out to meet the Suba as he-was entering the town, and the latter affected to treat him with great cordiality. He rode by the governor’s elephant, familiarly conversing with the nobles who formed his suite, and frequently receiving a gracious smile of approbation from the Emperor’s vicegerent. He was completely thrown off his guard by this apparently courteous bearing; and abandoning himself to the generous warmth of his nature, invited the Omrahs to his abode, resolving to entertain them with a munificence equal to the liberality of his disposition; a determination which he knew his wife, the beautiful Mher-ul-Nissa, would not be backward in fulfilling. Full of these hospitable resolutions, he pressed forward with a gaiety which showed the utter absence of suspicion.

In the progress of the cavalcade, a pikeman, pretending that Shere Afkun was in the way, rudely struck his horse. In a moment the latter’s suspicions were roused; his countenance darkened, and he cast around him a look of fiery indignation. Without an instant’s delay he drew his sword and clove the offender to the earth. Knowing that no soldier would have thus acted without orders, the insulted noble immediately saw that his life was aimed at, and directly spurring his horse towards the elephant of the treacherous Suba, he tore down the howdah, seized the cowardly Kuttub by the throat, and buried his sword in the traitor’s body before any of his guards could rescue him; then turning upon the Omrahs, five were almost instantly sacrificed to his just revenge.

Reeking with their blood, the avenger stood before the host, sternly braving the retribution which he saw them preparing to inflict, and hailing them with a loud defiance. He expected no quarter, and therefore determined not to yield without a struggle. His mind was braced to the extreme tension of desperate energy, and he resolved that the coveted prize of his death should be dearly won. Those who were within the immediate reach of his arm he slew without distinction, and such was the fatal celerity of his motions that the enemy fled before him in dismay. He did not pursue, but challenged the unequal strife. Like a grim lion, he stood defiant before them, spotted with the gore of the slain, and prepared for fresh slaughter, but there was not a foe daring enough to approach him.

Terrified at his prowess, the soldiers began to discharge their arrows and matchlocks at him from a distance. His horse, struck by a ball in the forehead, fell dead under him. Springing upon his feet, he slew several of the enemy who had ventured to rush forward in the hope of despatching him while encumbered with the housings of his fallen charger. They fled at the sight of their slain comrades, and left their unvanquished destroyer to the aim of his distant foes, who fired upon him without intermission. Covered with wounds and bleeding at every pore, the still undaunted lion-slayer called upon the Suba’s officers to advance and meet him in single combat, but they one and all declined the encounter. They saw that certain death to each of them must be the issue of such a contest. It was evident, moreover, that their victim could not escape the aim of so many enemies.

At length, seeing his end approaching, the brave Turkoman, like a devout Mahomedan, turned his face towards Mecca, threw some dust upon his head by way of ablution, there being no water near, and standing up, calm and undismayed, before the armed files of his murderers, received at one discharge six balls in his body, and expired without a groan.

Thus perished one of the greatest heroes whose exploits have had a conspicuous place in the histories of nations.

The beautiful widow was immediately transported to Delhi, but Jehangire refused to see her, whether from remorse or policy is uncertain. He ordered her to be confined in one of the worst apartments of the harem. This was exceedingly galling to her sensitive and haughty spirit.