"Aye," he replied at last. "They come on the Chanchanpur road. It must be the vanguard of the enemy."
He leaned over the parapet as if by a more earnest gaze to make sure of his opinion, then drew back with confirmation written on his face.
"Undoubtedly they are of the Foreign Sahib's army, my Lady Rani," he said. "I can tell by the action of their horses."
The Rani turned to a soldier standing to a gun near by. She raised her hand as a signal. Immediately a tongue of flame and a puff of white smoke shot forth from the muzzle of the cannon. The report that followed was borne above the city and echoed amid the crevices of the rock.
It had scarcely died away when similar reports boomed from rampart to bastion along the circuit of the walls, a prearranged warning of the Foreigners' approach. Commotion was manifested on the defenses as the soldiers hurried to their stations. Instantly the troop near the eastern gate clapped spurs to their horses' flanks and dashed forward on the road to Charkari. They bore a message to Tantia Topi, that Jhansi had been invested, and again called upon him for assistance. Behind them the gates swung back upon their hinges, drawbridges were raised, the siege of Jhansi had commenced.
The watchers on the citadel beheld the troop race for life along the Charkari road. They also beheld, with consternation, a flank movement by a detachment from the main body of the Foreign cavalry to intercept the messengers' escape.
"See, my Lord," the Rani cried anxiously, "the Foreign cavalry are in pursuit of our horsemen."
Ahmad glanced quickly in their direction.
"Aye," he replied, "but I doubt if they can reach the Betwa first."
The Rani's troop evidently perceived their danger for their horses were urged on to greater speed. Could the Betwa be reached they would be safe from further pursuit, but it was yet a good five miles distant.