Legendary & romantic tales of Indian history

by Hobart Caunter

The Hindoo army was composed of troops very different from those fanatics who had hitherto defended the walls of Somnat, being chiefly formed of regularly-trained soldiers, who had frequently been opposed to the Moslem arms. Mahmood, heading his victorious Ghiznivites, pressed forward to the attack with an impetuosity that caused the enemy to recoil, but quickly rallying, they maintained their ground with a resolution that astonished the Mahomedans, and rendered the victory doubtful. The battle raged with great fury, yet neither party gave way. For a long time the balance of advantage did not appear to vibrate in favour of either. The idolaters, looking upon the struggle from the battlements of their city, cheered their countrymen with loud acclamations, at the same time invoking their idol to cast the foes of their country and of their religion into the sea. Women were seen upon the walls, holding up their infants to infuse new energy into those troops which had marched to raise the siege of their beloved city.

Among the Hindoo forces were some Rajpoots, who fought with a desperation which nothing could resist; and if the whole army had been composed of these, it would more than probably have turned the scale of victory against the Moslems. They were, however, cut off to a man. The Hindoos at length began to waver, but fresh troops coming to their assistance, the struggle was still maintained on both sides with desperate determination. The shouts from the battlements seemed to inspire the Indian army with unwonted resolution, while it depressed the energies of their enemies. At length, however, by a vigorous onset, the Mahomedans caused the foe to vibrate. Mahmood, seeing his advantage, ordered his troops to advance and complete the rout, when his ardour was checked by the arrival of new enemies. Two Indian princes joined their countrymen, with considerable reinforcements, and the battle raged with renewed fury.

The Mahomedans began now to waver in their turn. The Hindoos being inspired with fresh courage advanced to the charge with an impetuosity which caused the Ghiznivites to recoil; Mahmood, at this moment perceiving his troops about to retreat, leaped from his horse, and prostrating himself raised his eyes to heaven, and in an attitude of the humblest supplication implored the divine aid. Then mounting his horse, he took his principal general by the hand, by way of encouraging him and the troops under his command, and advanced on the enemy. The solemnity of his manner and of the act which he had just performed filled the soldiers with holy fervour. They expected that the prayer of their sovereign, so piously offered, would be heard, and gazed upon him with the enthusiasm of men determined to conquer or perish. As he advanced he cheered them with such energy that, ashamed to abandon their king, with whom they had so often fought and bled, and who had always led them on to conquest, they with one accord gave a loud shout and rushed forward. In this charge, made with an impetuosity which nothing could resist, the Moslems broke through the enemy’s line, and fighting with that confidence which this advantage inspired, soon left five thousand of their foes dead upon the field. The rout became general, and the vanquished Hindoos fled on all sides.

The garrison of Somnat beholding the defeat of their companions gave themselves up to despair, abandoned the defence of the city, and issuing from the gate to the number of several thousand embarked in boats, intending to proceed to the island of Serindip, the modern Ceylon. This attempt, however, was frustrated by the vigilance of the king, who having secured several boats left in a neighbouring creek, manned them with rowers, together with a detachment of his best troops, and pursued the fugitives, on which occasion he took some and sank others of their flotilla, so that very few escaped.

Having now placed guards round the walls, and at the gates, Mahmood entered Somnat, accompanied by his sons, a few of his nobles and principal attendants. He found the city entirely deserted by the troops, but there remained within the walls an almost infinite number of pilgrims and devotees, who were in the daily habit of offering their devotions before the celebrated idol. Many of the inhabitants were persons of great wealth, upon whom the Mahomedan king did not hesitate to levy such contributions as the conquerors of earlier times never failed to impose upon the rich who happened to be among the vanquished.

Mahmood had not forgotten the beautiful Hindoo widow whose infant he had rescued from the wolf; and one of his first objects upon entering the city was to ascertain the place of her abode. He soon learned that she had followed her husband to that unknown land which can only be reached through the dark valley of the shadow of death. He was deeply affected. Her beauty had excited his admiration. The scene in which he had become with her so principal an actor had left a deep impression on his mind, and a tear rose to his eye as he heard the sad tidings of her death. He demanded to see the child. It was brought before him. He took it in his arms, in spite of the horror with which its rigid guardians looked upon the profane act. The infant smiled in his face, as if it recognised the obligation which it was under to him. It put its little hand upon his cheek. He was moved. The stern but generous warrior felt his heart swell. Giving it to an attendant—

“This shall be the child of my adoption,” he said. “It is indebted to me for its life, and I shall take upon me the direction of its future destiny.”

The relatives were amazed. They expostulated; they imprecated the vengeance of their god upon the unsanctified mortal who should dare turn from his faith the son of a Hindoo. Mahmood smiled at their objurgations, and dismissed them, but retained the infant.

He commanded to be brought before him the Brahmins who had urged the widow to commit herself to the flames, and had been present at the odious sacrifice. All answered the summons except the chief who officiated upon that melancholy occasion. He was nowhere to be found. The conqueror sternly inquired why they had induced the widow to consummate such an act of infernal superstition.

“Because,” said the elder among them, “it was our duty to secure her soul a place in Paradise, rather than suffer it to be doomed to everlasting penalties, by failing to perform that solemn oblation which the god of the Hindoos requires of all pious widows.”