Lody had well weighed the chances of pursuit; and knowing the fierce hostility with which the usher regarded him, had calculated the probability of being followed by his ancient foe. He urged forward his little band for fifteen leagues without halting, and was then stopped by a river. It was broad and rapid, and so swollen by recent rains, that to cross it seemed utterly impracticable. It flowed onward in a wide turbid stream, broken every now and then into small whirling eddies by the rapidity of its progress, and thus became so agitated, that there appeared no chance of stemming its tumultuous current. There was not a boat to be seen; all had been carried down the stream by the impetuosity of the torrent: and a wooden bridge was swept away by the extraordinary pressure of its augmented waters, which in several places overflowed their banks and inundated the country, except upon the higher grounds, to a distance of several miles.
This was a melancholy impediment. Here was a check which bid fair to frustrate their escape, but there was no choice; and with a foreboding heart Chan Lody and his faithful adherents encamped for the night upon the banks of the river. He threw himself upon a rug to snatch a short repose after the bodily fatigue and mental excitement of the last twenty-four hours. His reflections were sad and harassing. The scene of the past night recurred to his mind with sickening vividness, and painful recollections swept over it with the might and suddenness of the whirlwind. The perilous situation in which he stood, perplexed and agitated him. He had but a few followers to oppose to the large body of troops which he was certain would be sent against him. The swollen state of the river forbad the possibility of flight, and the small number of his adherents banished every chance of successful resistance. For himself he entertained no apprehensions; but when he thought of his children, an involuntary pang, which he could not repress, shook his frame.
In proportion, however, as his reflections magnified the dangers by which he was surrounded, his spirit rose, and finally settled into a determination of resistance which nothing could disturb. Prepared to meet the worst emergencies of the morrow, he at length sank into a profound slumber, which was increased by that reaction of repose after excitement, which invariably follows the tension of mind produced by extreme mental disturbance.
He awoke with the dawn: and upon quitting his tent was informed that the imperial troops were in full march towards him. He immediately summoned his sons and daughter; and representing the utter impossibility of escape, asked them if they would wish to throw themselves upon the enemy’s clemency?—that for himself he was resolved to die in arms. Hussein, the eldest son, swore he would follow his father’s fortune, and perish rather than fall into the hands of a conqueror. Azmut made the same solemn vow.
“And you, my child,” said Chan Lody, addressing his daughter, “what reason is there that you should not live to form an alliance, which might perpetuate the race of Lody, with a man, perhaps, that would vindicate thy father’s wrong?”
“Because,” replied the noble girl, throwing herself upon her parent’s bosom, “I am from a stock that has ever preferred death to captivity. There is no sex in soul; and I feel mine to be as capable of those deeds which will excite unborn ages to noble emulation as they who exclusively claim the privilege of performing them. I am resolved to perish with the enemy’s blood upon my sword, and will dye this dagger with my own rather than accept the clemency of tyrants.”
The father embraced her: and having summoned his small but resolute band, declared to them his determination of dying in arms rather than yield to the approaching foe. This resolution was hailed with a cheer, and the troops prepared for action. There was a pass between two hills in their rear which opened into a narrow plain. Of this pass Chan Lody took possession, and he had scarcely disposed his order of battle, when the van of the imperialists appeared advancing along a rising valley. His position was a very strong one, being accessible only in front; the river, which so effectually cut off his retreat, as effectually covering his rear.
The imperial army amounted to upwards of eight thousand men; Chan Lody’s did not exceed as many hundreds. The enemy advanced leisurely onward, and halted within about two furlongs from the pass where the fugitives were so advantageously posted. A message was immediately despatched to Chan Lody, summoning him to surrender. He returned a reply of haughty defiance, and the Emperor’s troops advanced to the charge. They were so warmly received that, after a short but vigorous struggle, they were obliged to fall back. Though considerably dispirited by this repulse, relying upon their numbers, they again advanced to the charge with like success.
These attacks were several times repeated with a similar result, until evening terminated the conflict, when the imperialists retired within their camp on the slope of a neighbouring hill. They had suffered severely; upwards of twelve hundred men having been slain, and nearly double that number wounded. Chan Lody’s band had likewise suffered severely. Not more than a hundred and fifty remained unhurt. Three hundred were killed, and many more desperately wounded; so that he had nothing more consolatory to look forward to than their utter extermination, as soon as the sanguinary conflict should be renewed.
It was a gloomy prospect. A council was held among the survivors, who unanimously declared their resolution to fight to the last extremity; but Hussein and Azmut both proposed that their father should attempt the river, and they would secure his retreat.