“I go,” said he, “to baffle our pursuers, who are now close upon our track. Should I fail, I am determined never to fall into their hands alive. For you there is mercy, for me none. Should I perish, return to your father, and he will still succour you.”
“Never! I wear a dagger, Sevajee, and the same hour that concludes your existence, shall likewise conclude mine. I shall not submit to another separation.”
“The act I contemplate is desperate. If I succeed we are safe; if I fail, we are lost.”
Having tenderly embraced Rochinara, he quitted her, and hurried to the defile. By this time the Moguls were within a hundred yards of the gorge. The Mahratta grasped a creese in either hand, and placed himself behind a short but thick shrub which grew on one side of the entrance to the defile. As soon as the man who carried the torch reached the place of his concealment, Sevajee stabbed him to the heart, seized the torch, and pressing his foot upon the flame, extinguished it, at the same moment plunging his second dagger into the breast of the officer who led the party. This was the work but of a few moments. The confusion was indescribable. Sevajee, whose eye had been accustomed to the darkness, was able to see his foes, though they could not perceive him. He stabbed four of them in succession, they being unable to perceive from whence the stroke of death came. His enemies knew not where to strike. Six already lay upon the earth weltering in their blood. Two others shortly shared the same fate;—another followed, and one only remained to be sent to a similar account. Upon him the Mahratta sprang in his eagerness to complete the work of carnage, seized the sword with which his foe was armed, and wrested it from him; but with the exertion his creese fell, and he could not recover it.
They were now both unarmed, and the struggle was desperate. The Mogul was a tall, powerful man, but no match for the Mahratta in activity and prompt vigour. He fell under the assault of his active adversary, yet still retained him in his grasp. Sevajee seized his prostrate enemy by the throat, and pressing him firmly upon the windpipe, endeavoured to strangle him; but the sudden agony imparted an impulsive energy to the Mogul, who, doubling his legs under Sevajee’s body, suddenly raised him, and cast him to a distance of several feet upon his back.
It happened that in turning to regain his feet, the Mahratta accidentally placed his hand upon his enemy’s sword, which had fallen to the ground during their struggle. He lost not a moment, but buried it in the Mogul’s body before he could raise himself from his recumbent position. Thus, aided by the darkness, Sevajee destroyed ten men without receiving a wound.
Having paused a moment to breathe, after his exertions, he rejoined the princess, whom he found anxiously awaiting his return. They passed the whole night in the thicket, exposed to the ravages of wild beasts, which, however, happily did not molest them, and on the following morning they pursued their dreary journey, encompassed by perils, which the princess bore with a heroism worthy the daughter of Aurungzebe. Having procured a couple of miserable tattoos,[45] at a village on the borders of the jungle, the travellers proceeded by easy stages, and without suspicion, to Muttra, thence to Benares and Jaggernaut. From the latter place they went round by Hydrabad, and at length found themselves among the native hills of the Mahratta chief, where his fierce but gallant followers soon rallied round him.
About the time of his daughter’s flight the Emperor was taken ill, and for many weeks his life was despaired of. This circumstance considerably abated the eagerness of pursuit after the fugitives, as the attention of every one was directed to the danger of the sovereign. A gloom prevailed through the empire; for the wise policy adopted by Aurungzebe, in spite of his hollowness and hypocrisy, had rendered him the most popular monarch that ever sat upon the Mogul throne. With all his moral blemishes, his public character stood very high, and the general prosperity which his wise administration diffused, added to the rigid piety which seemed the mainspring of all his acts, rendered him an object of all but idolatry with a large portion of those who lived in ease and affluence under his wise supremacy. He at length recovered, to the universal joy of his subjects, and seemed to have forgotten his daughter’s flight.
A youth now appeared at court, in whom the Emperor took great interest, but whose birth and parentage were a mystery. No one could tell to whom he belonged, or whence he came, and yet the Emperor treated him with marks of distinguished favour. He was a remarkably handsome young man, had just entered his seventeenth year, and was eminently expert in every military exercise. In all hunting excursions, honoured by the sovereign’s presence, he was the foremost to court peril, and always successful in pursuing the dangerous adventures of the chase. He soon excited the attention of the Omrahs by his daring, and the singular skill which he displayed in feats of arms. Who he could be, was a frequent inquiry; but on this question the profoundest political sages appeared just as ignorant as the most unlettered menials.
The young man gradually won the good opinion of all. His courtesy and amenity of manners were no less conspicuous than the more chivalric features of his character. Aurungzebe was gratified at the general approbation awarded to his favourite, and lost no opportunity of strengthening the flattering impression. In several incursions of the rebellious Usbecks, this youth had distinguished himself, and the Emperor looked forward to his becoming one of the most conspicuous leaders of his time. He was not only remarkable for his superiority in military exercises, but his talents in the cabinet were likewise highly promising, and though he was an object of jealousy to some of the nobles, who were mortified at seeing a stranger and a mere youth so flattered by their sovereign, yet with the majority he was a great and deserved favourite.