“Would that the gods had made me barren,” said Dewaldai, “that I had never borne sons who thus abandon the paths of the Rajput, and refuse to succour their prince in danger!” Her heart bursting with grief, and her eyes raised to heaven, she continued: “Was it for this, O universal lord, thou mad’st me feel a mother’s pangs for these destroyers of Bannaphar’s fame? Unworthy offspring! the heart of the true Rajput dances with joy at the mere name of strife—but ye, degenerate, cannot be the sons of Jasraj—some carl must have stolen to my embrace, and from such ye must be sprung.” The young chiefs arose, their faces withered in sadness. “When we perish in defence of Mahoba, and covered with wounds, perform deeds that will leave a deathless name; when our heads roll in the field—when we embrace the valiant in fight, and treading in the footsteps of the brave, make resplendent the blood of both lines, even in the presence of the heroes of the Chauhan, then will our mother rejoice.”
The envoy having, by this loyal appeal of Dewaldai, attained the object of his mission, the brothers repair to the monarch of Kanauj,[[22]] in order to ask permission to return to Mahoba; this is granted, and they are dismissed with magnificent gifts, in which the bardic herald participated;[[23]] and the parting valediction was “preserve the faith of the Rajputs.” The omens during the march were of the worst kind: as Jagnakh expounded them, Alha with a smile replied, “O bard, though thou canst dive into the dark recesses of futurity, to the brave all omens are happy,[[24]] even though our heroes shall fall, and the fame of the Chandel must depart; thus in secret does my soul assure me.” The saras[[25]] was alone on the right—the eagle as he flew dropped his prey—the chakwa[[26]] “separated[“separated] from his mate—drops fell from the eyes of the warlike steed—the siyal[[27]] sent forth sounds of lamentation; spots were seen on the disc of the sun” [618]. The countenance of Lakhan fell;[[28]] these portents filled his soul with dismay: but Alha said, “though these omens bode death, yet death to the valiant, to the pure in faith, is an object of desire not of sorrow. The path of the Rajput is beset with difficulties, rugged, and filled with thorns; but he regards it not, so it but conducts to battle.”—“To carry joy to Parmala alone occupied their thoughts: the steeds bounded over the plain like the swift-footed deer.” The brothers, ere they reached Mahoba, halted to put on the saffron robe, the sign of “no quarter” with the Rajput warrior. The intelligence of their approach filled the Chandela prince with joy, who advanced to embrace his defenders, and conduct them to Mahoba; while the queen Malandevi came to greet Dewaldai, who with the herald bard paid homage, and returned with the queen to the city. Rich gifts were presented, gems resplendent with light. The queen sent for Alha, and extending her hands over his head, bestowed the asis[[29]] (blessing)[(blessing)] as kneeling he swore his head was with Mahoba, and then waved a vessel filled with pearls over his head, which were distributed to his followers.[[30]]
The bardic herald was rewarded with four villages. We are then introduced to the Chauhan camp and council, where Chand the bard is expatiating on the return of the Bannaphars with the succours of Kanauj. He recommends his sovereign to send a herald to the Chandel to announce the expiration of the truce, and requiring him to meet him in the field, or abandon Mahoba. According to the bard’s advice, a dispatch was transmitted to Parmal, in which the cause of war was recapitulated—the murder of the wounded; and stating that, according to Rajput faith, he had granted seven days beyond the time demanded, “and although so many days had passed since succour had arrived from Kanauj, the lion-horn had not yet sounded (singhnad)”: adding, “if he abandon all desire of combat, let him proclaim his vassalage to Delhi, and abandon Mahoba.”
Parmal received the hostile message in despair; but calling his warriors around him, he replied to the herald of the Chauhan, that “on the day of the sun, the first of the month, he would join him in strife” [619].
“On the day sacred to Sukra (Friday), Prithiraj sounded the shell, while the drums thrice struck proclaimed the truce concluded.[[31]] The standard was brought forth, around which the warriors gathered; the cup circulated, the prospect of battle filled their souls with joy. They anointed their bodies with fragrant oils, while the celestial Apsaras with ambrosial oils and heavenly perfumes anointed their silver forms, tinged their eyelids, and prepared for the reception of heroes.[[32]] The sound of the war-shell reached Kailas; the abstraction of Iswara was at an end—joy seized his soul at the prospect of completing his chaplet of skulls (mundamala). The Yoginis danced with joy, their faces sparkled with delight, as they seized their vessels to drink the blood of the slain. The devourers of flesh, the Palankashas, sung songs of triumph at the game of battle between the Chauhan and Chandel.”
In another measure, the bard proceeds to contrast the occupations of his heroes and the celestials preparatory to the combat, which descriptions are termed rupaka. “The heroes gird on their armour, while the heavenly fair deck their persons. They place on their heads the helm crowned with the war-bell (viragantha), these adjust the corset; they draw the girths of the war-steed, the fair of the world of bliss bind the anklet of bells; nets of steel defend the turban’s fold, they braid their hair with golden flowers and gems; the warrior polishes his falchion—the fair tints the eyelid with anjan;[[33]] the hero points his dagger, the fair paints a heart on her forehead; he braces on his ample buckler—she places the resplendent orb in her ear; he binds his arms with a gauntlet of brass—she stains her hands with the henna. The hero decorates his hand with the tiger-claw[[34]]—the Apsaras ornaments with rings and golden bracelets; the warrior shakes the ponderous lance—the heavenly fair the garland of love[[35]] to decorate those who fall in the fight; she binds on a necklace of pearls, he a mala of the tulasi.[[36]] The warrior strings his bow—the fair assume their killing [620] glances. Once more the heroes look to their girths, while the celestial fair prepare their cars.”
After the bard has finished his rupaka, he exclaims, “Thus says Chand, the lord of verse; with my own eyes have I seen what I describe.” It is important to remark, that the national faith of the Rajput never questions the prophetic power of their chief bard, whom they call Trikala, or cognoscent of the past, the present, and the future—a character which the bard has enjoyed in all ages and climes; but Chand was the last whom they admitted to possess supernatural vision.
We must now return to Mahoba, where a grand council had assembled at a final deliberation; at which, shaded by screens, the mother of the Bannaphars, and the queen Malandevi, were present. The latter thus opens the debate: “O mother of Alha, how may we succeed against the lord of the world?[[37]] If defeated, lost is Mahoba; if we pay tribute, we are loaded with shame.” Dewaldai recommends hearing seriatim the opinions of the chieftains, when Alha thus speaks: “Listen, O mother, to your son; he alone is of pure lineage who, placing loyalty on his head, abandons all thoughts of self, and lays down his life for his prince; my thoughts are only for Parmal. If she lives she will show herself a woman, or emanation of Parvati.[[38]] The warriors of Sambhar shall be cut in pieces. I will so illustrate the blood of my fathers, that my fame shall last for ever. My son Indal, O prince! I bequeath to you, and the fame of Dewaldai is in your keeping.”
The queen thus replies: “The warriors of the Chauhan are fierce as they are numerous; pay tribute, and save Mahoba.” The soul of Udala inflamed, and turning to the queen, “Why thought you not thus when you slew the defenceless? but then I was unheard. Whence now your wisdom? thrice I beseeched you to pardon. Nevertheless, Mahoba is safe while life remains in me, and in your cause, O Parmal! we shall espouse celestial brides.”
“Well have you spoken, my son,” said Dewaldai, “nothing now remains but to make thy parent’s milk resplendent by thy deeds. The call of the peasant driven [621] from his home meets the ear, and while we deliberate, our villages are given to the flames.” But Parmal replied: “Saturn[[39]] rules the day, to-morrow we shall meet the foe.” With indignation Alha turned to the king: “He who can look tamely on while the smoke ascends from his ruined towns, his fields laid waste, can be no Rajput—he who succumbs to fear when his country is invaded, his body will be plunged into the hell of hells, his soul a wanderer in the world of spirits for sixty thousand years; but the warrior who performs his duty will be received into the mansion of the sun, and his deeds will last for ever.”