Battle of Gangwāna.
Bakhta now took alarm. He had not calculated the length to which his intrigues would involve his country; he had sought but to embroil the border princes, but [111] had kindled a national warfare. Still his fears were less for the discovery of his plot than for the honour of Marwar, about to be assailed by such odds. He repaired to his brother and liege lord, and implored him not to raise the siege; declaring that he alone, with the vassals of Nagor, would receive the Bhagatia’s[[7]] battle, and, by God’s blessing, would give a good account of him. Abhai Singh, not averse to see his brother punished for his conduct, though determined to leave him to the brunt of the battle, rejected with scorn the intriguing proposition.
The Nakkara sounded the assembly for the chivalry of Nagor. Bakhta took post on the balcony over the Delhi gate, with two brazen vessels; in the one was an infusion of opium, in the other saffron-water. To each Rajput as he entered he presented opium, and made the impress of his right hand on his heart with the saffron-water. Having in this manner enrolled eight thousand Rajputs, sworn to die with him, he determined to select the most resolute; and marching to the edge of an extensive field of luxuriant Indian corn[[8]] (bajra), he halted his band, and thus addressed them: “Let none follow me who is not prepared for victory or death: if there be any amongst you who desire to return, let them do so in God’s name.” As he spoke, he resumed the march through the luxuriant fields, that it might not be seen who retired. More than five thousand remained, and with these he moved on to the combat.
The Amber prince awaited them at Gangwana: soon as the hostile lines approached, Bakhta gave the word, and, in one dense mass, his gallant legion charged with lance and sword the deepened lines of Amber, carrying destruction at every pass. He passed through and through this host; but when he pulled up in the rear, only sixty of his band remained round his person. At this moment the chief of Gajsinghpura, head of all his vassals, hinted there was a jungle in the rear: “And what is there in front,” said the intrepid Rathor, “that we should not try the road we came?” and as he espied the Panchranga, or five-coloured flag, which denoted the headquarters of Amber, the word again was given. The cautious Kumbhani[[9]] advised his prince to avoid the charge: with some difficulty he was made to leave the field, and as a salvo to his honour, by a flank movement towards Kandela north, that it might not be said he turned his back on his foe. As he [112] retreated, he exclaimed, “Seventeen battles have I witnessed, but till this day never one decided by the sword.” Thus, after a life of success, the wisest, or at least the most learned and most powerful prince of Rajwara, incurred the disgrace of leaving the field in the face of a handful of men, strengthening the adage “that one Rathor equalled ten Kachhwahas.”
Jai Singh’s own bards could not refrain from awarding the meed of valour to their foes, and composed the following stanzas on the occasion: “Is it the battle cry of Kali, or the war-shout of Hanumanta, or the hissing of Seshnag, or the denunciation of Kapaliswar? Is it the incarnation of Narsingh, or the darting beam of Surya? or the death-glance of the Dakini?[[10]] or that from the central orb of Trinetra?[[11]] Who could support the flames from this volcano of steel, when Bakhta’s sword became the sickle of Time?”
But for Karna the bard, one of the few remaining about his person, Bakhta would a third time have plunged into the ranks of the foe; nor was it till the host of Amber had left the field that he was aware of the extent of his loss.[[12]] Then, strange inconsistency! the man, who but a few minutes before had affronted death in every shape, when he beheld the paucity of survivors, sat down and wept like an infant. Still it was more the weakness of ambition than humanity; for, never imagining that his brother would fail to support him, he thought destruction had overtaken Marwar; nor was it until his brother joined and assured him he had left him all the honour of the day, that he recovered his port. Then “he curled his whiskers and swore an oath, that he would yet drag the ‘Bhagat’ from his castle of Amber.”
Jai Singh, though he paid dear for his message, gained his point, the relief of Bikaner; and the Rana of Udaipur mediated to prevent the quarrel going further, which was the less difficult since both parties had gained their ends, though Jai Singh obtained his by the loss of a battle.
Marriage of a God.
Death and Character of Abhai Singh.
The Rathors profess a great contempt for the Kachhwahas as soldiers; and Abhai Singh’s was not lessened for their prince, because he happened to be father-in-law to the prince of Amber, whom he used to mortify, even in the ‘Presence,’ with such sarcasm as, “You are called a Kachhua, or properly Kuswa, from the Kusa; and your sword will cut as deep as one of its blades”:[[14]] alluding to the grass thus called. Irritated, yet fearing to reply, he formed a plan to humble his arrogance in his only vulnerable point, the depreciation of his personal strength. While it was the boast of Jai Singh to mingle the exact sciences of Europe with the more ancient of India, Abhai’s ambition was to be deemed the first swordsman of Rajwara. The scientific prince of Amber gave his cue to Kirparam, the paymaster-general, a favourite with the king, from his skill at chess, and who had often the honour of playing with him while all the nobles were standing. Kirparam praised the Rathor prince’s dexterity in smiting off a buffalo’s head; on which the king called out, “Rajeswar, I have heard much of your skill with the sword.” “Yes, Hazrat, I can use it on an occasion.” A huge animal [114] was brought into the area, fed in the luxuriant pastures of Hariana. The court crowded out to see the Rathor exhibit; but when he beheld the enormous bulk, he turned to the king and begged permission to retire to his post, the imperial guardroom, to refresh himself. Taking a double dose of opium, he returned, his eyes glaring with rage at the trick played upon him, and as he approached the buffalo they fell upon Jai Singh who had procured this monster with a view to foil him. The Amber chief saw that mischief was brewing, and whispered his majesty not to approach too near his son-in-law. Grasping his sword in both hands, Abhai gave the blow with such force that the buffalo’s head “dropped upon his knees,” and the raja was thrown upon his back. All was well; but, as the chronicle says, “the king never asked the raja to decollate another buffalo.”