The house was invested; and the rebel, as Chan Lody was pronounced to be, summoned to surrender. He returned an answer of defiance. In reply to Morad’s summons, he appeared with his sons and daughter upon the walls, and said, pointing to the latter, “You shall receive our answer from the lips of a woman, but that woman the daughter of Chan Lody.”—“Prince Morad,” said Jahanira, advancing to the very edge of the wall, “the brave never succumb to tyranny. Life is really only enjoyed by the free; and tyrants grant not liberty when they can exercise their power upon those who do not acknowledge it. We are resolved never to yield, Prince Morad; and even if your legions should overwhelm us, I need not remind you that the brave have a certain refuge in death.”
The siege was pursued by Morad with such vigour for several days, that it was evident the besieged must shortly capitulate. Lody was embarrassed. He saw that there remained only one course—to cut his way through the enemy, and escape to Malwa. Desperate as the attempt was, he resolved to make it on the following morning. His sons and daughter determined to accompany him in his perilous flight. He communicated his intention to his women and the various members of his family, most of whom, he said, he must leave to the imperial mercy. Tears and groans followed the communication, but there was no alternative betwixt death and captivity. He endeavoured to persuade his women that they, at least, would be treated with clemency. They answered with him renewed tears. He turned from them in an agony of grief; but his determination was taken, and, retiring to his apartment, he gave vent to the overflow of his feelings. Calling his three sons, he arranged with them the time for the desperate sally which was to be made on the following morning. His daughter, whom he loved as a son, and perfectly adored for the elevated heroism of her character, was present at this arrangement, and they finally separated for the night.
Lody could not sleep, and quitted his chamber to break the gloomy train of his thoughts. He passed into a large court, which was flanked by the women’s apartments. The night was dark, the sky overcast, and the whole aspect of nature seemed to suit the gloomy habit of his soul. The dew fell heavily, but it cooled his fevered brow. As he passed by the apartments of his women, he heard groans as of persons in agony. He stopped to listen—they were repeated; there could be no mistaking the sound. His heart throbbed audibly. He entered—listened—all was still; every light had been extinguished. He passed through the different chambers, but there was no sound. He called upon several, who were wont to answer his summons with a ready alacrity; there was no reply. What could be the cause? Horrible, but indefinite, suspicions crowded upon his mind. He at length entered into an inner apartment, and, stumbling over some obstacle, fell upon his face. He arose, and, in a small ante-chamber, perceived a light glimmering faintly behind a curtain. Upon removing the drapery, he perceived the dead body of a female favourite. He raised the lamp from the floor, and saw that his hands and dress were stained with blood. Returning to the chamber in which he had fallen, a sad revelation of the mystery of the groans and succeeding silence was made horribly manifest. The floor was covered with gore, which still feebly welled from the bosoms of several women, in whom life was yet scarcely extinct. Every member of his harem was dead, or in the last pangs of dissolution. They had considered suicide as the preferable alternative to falling into the power of those who were enemies to Chan Lody.
The sight was overpowering. The sacrifice had been noble, but it poured a tide of agony through the bosom of him for whom it was so unanimously made. The mothers of his children lay dead among the lifeless forms before him. He looked upon them, and, after the first terrible burst of grief had subsided, he uttered a vow of deep and implacable revenge. Summoning his children, they joined in his vow. Jahanira embraced her mother’s corpse, and supplicated vengeance upon the heads of those who had forced her to self-immolation.
Tears rolled over Lody’s cheeks, but he dashed them off, and called upon his children to assist him in performing the obsequies of the dead. His eye dilated with an expression of energetic resolution as he raised the bodies from their gory beds, wrapped them in clean linen, and, assisted by his sons, carried them into a garden beyond the court, where, having hastily dug a large hole, they buried them in one common grave. There was no prayer uttered—no ritual form observed—but the fervent aspiration of earnest and sorrowful hearts went up as a memorial to God.
As they quitted the garden, the young dawn began to glimmer in the east. Lody summoned his followers; though few, they were determined. It was a desperate cast, but the late scene had given an impulse to the spirits of each and all. The danger of the enterprise vanished before the daring which impelled him, and those who were so dear to him, to brave the peril, and either secure their escape or perish.
On a sudden, the gates were thrown open. Lody rushed out, followed by his three sons and his daughter, who spurred their horses towards the city walls. The imperial troops were struck with awe at the daring of this small but determined band. They swept onward like the whirlwind; all who opposed them were cut down. The light was still so imperfect, that the imperial troops, being suddenly roused by this unexpected assault, were confused, and fell before the swords of Lody and his followers, who finally succeeded in cutting their way through their foes, and escaping by the city gates.
CHAPTER III.
The conflict between the followers of Chan Lody and the imperial troops had been short but desperate. Many of the latter, taken by surprise, were slain, whilst scarcely one of the assailants lost his life. Jahanira, upon a small roan Arab, rode immediately behind her father, through the thickest of the enemy. She dyed her virgin sword in blood. Just as she had reached the gate, Morad intercepted her passage.
“You have no further chance of escape,” he cried, attempting to seized the reins of her steed; but she, striking her heels into the animal’s side, caused it to rear, and thus prevented Morad’s intention.