Undismayed by the danger she had just escaped, the Empress continued to discharge her arrows at the enemy, doing considerable execution with her single arm. Mohabet was the chief object of her aim; but he was too far from the bank to enable her to accomplish her fatal purpose. Her danger was becoming every moment more imminent; she nevertheless urged her elephant forward, reckless of personal consequences. She had already exhausted three quivers of arrows, when a fourth was brought to her. At the first discharge she struck a soldier in the body, who instantly tore out the shaft from his flesh, and with a fierce resolution of revenge leaped into the stream. He held his sword above the water with one hand, and dashed with the other towards the Sultana’s elephant. Already was his arm raised to strike; but before he could accomplish his purpose, another arrow from the heroine’s bow was buried in his breast, and he sank beneath the whirling eddies.
A number of Rajpoots now rushed into the river to seize the Sultana. They soon surrounded her; but she plied her bow so vigorously, that several of them were wounded. They were, however, about to make good their capture—the glory of the Moguls was in jeopardy. A Rajpoot had ascended the back of her elephant, and commenced a fierce struggle with the Omrah who accompanied his mistress. At this moment, the huge animal having received a severe wound behind, sprang suddenly forward, making its way through the soldiers by whom it had been surrounded, and scrambled up the bank. It was immediately despatched. As it fell, Noor Jehan leaped from the howdah, and with a voice of stern command summoned some of the imperial troops, who were engaged in a desperate conflict with the enemy, to her rescue. They obeyed a voice which they had long been taught to consider as that of their sovereign. She was soon surrounded by friends and foes. Seizing a sword, she fought with a heroism that astonished even the Rajpoots, with whom valour is a heritage. A deep sabre-cut in the shoulder seemed only to add a stimulus to her resolution. The man who had inflicted the wound received from her arm a signal retribution: she dashed her sword into his skull, and he was instantly prostrated among the dead.
The battle now raged with prodigious fury; but the imperialists were fast giving way. At length the Sultana was left fighting with unabated energy, supported by only a few soldiers. The moment was critical. Two Rajpoots advanced to seize her; she saw there was not an instant to be lost, and rushing to the river’s bank, turned her head upon her foes with a haughty expression of defiance, and leaped undauntedly into the torrent. The two soldiers followed, resolved to make her their prisoner or die in the attempt. In spite of her wound, with a resolution which nothing could subdue, she bore up against the rapid current; but, notwithstanding all her exertions, was carried by its force down the stream. As the soldiers were more encumbered, the body of each being protected by a thick quilted tunic, the royal fugitive gained considerably upon them. That portion of the imperial army which had not yet crossed the river, watched her with intense anxiety. She rose buoyantly above the waters, and after great exertions, landed upon the opposite bank. Her pursuers were by this time close upon her. Determined not to be made a prisoner, she prepared for a desperate resistance.
One of the Rajpoots being before the other, first gained the shore. The bank was steep: just as he reached the brink, his foot slipped, and he partially fell, but clung to the roots of some wild shrubs that protruded from the earth. The opportunity was not to be lost: Noor Jehan drew a dagger from her girdle, and as the soldier was struggling to regain his footing, struck him with all her force upon the temple—his body being protected by the quilted tunic, his face was the only part that she could successfully strike. The blow was dealt with fatal aim; it divided the temporal artery, and the man fell back into the water, deluged in his blood. His companion, who had been carried farther down the stream, gained the bank during this fatal struggle. Overcome by the extraordinary heroism of the Sultana, he approached her with a profound salaam, and said, “Lady, your heroic bearing deserves a better meed than captivity. You are now within my power; but, astonished at the matchless valour you have displayed, I cannot persuade myself to make you prisoner. Promise me a safe conduct back to the army to which I belong, and you are free; refuse me, and I will plunge immediately with you into the stream, where we will both perish together.”
“Soldier,” replied the Sultana with composed dignity, “I accept your terms. I promise you a safe conduct to your friends. Your behaviour is noble, and claims my esteem: what boon can I offer you?”
“A Rajpoot never accepts a boon from a foe. Besides, I have no claim upon your generosity. I do not spare you because you are Empress of the Moguls, but because I admire the valour which you have exhibited as a woman. With women it is a rare quality, and deserves its reward. I should have felt the same towards a Pariah who had displayed as much.”
Noor Jehan was received by her friends with shouts of joy; and the soldier who accompanied her was conducted to a ford some distance up the river, where he passed over to the army of Mohabet.
Seeing their Empress safe, two Omrahs, with their followers, crossed the stream and joined the imperialists, who were now giving way on all sides. Encouraged by this fresh accession of force, the retreating party again rallied, and the contest was maintained with renewed vigour. The Rajpoots were in their turn repulsed. They retreated towards the tent in which the Emperor was confined. Several arrows and balls piercing through the canvas and exposing Jehangire’s life to great danger, he was covered with a shield by an officer of the guard. Meanwhile, Mohabet rallied his troops behind the tents and turned them upon the flank of the imperialists, who, dispirited by this fresh assault, gave way, and a general rout followed. Mohabet, after a hard contest, remained master of the field, which was literally covered with the slain.
The Vizier, seeing that all was lost, fled from the scene of carnage, and reaching the castle of New Rhotas, shut himself up there with five hundred men. The castle was strong, but offered a retreat of very equivocal security against an army flushed with recent conquest, and commanded by the greatest general of his time. Noor Jehan escaped to Lahore; yet her safety was anything but certain, being without troops, and all the bravest Omrahs of the imperial army either slain or in captivity. Nevertheless she bore her reverse with that indomitable resolution so natural to her lofty and energetic spirit.
Mohabet despatched a messenger to the Vizier with assurances of safety; but the latter declined putting himself in the power of a successful rebel; upon which the incensed general sent his son with a strong detachment to invest the fort of Rhotas. He almost immediately joined this officer with his whole army, and after a feeble resistance the Vizier surrendered at discretion. He was, however, treated with great urbanity and kindness by the conqueror, which not only conciliated his good opinion, but won his friendship.