The torchbearers marching four abreast at the front of their elephants were now approaching the remains of the camp. Through the flickering light emerged the vision of a burned-out ruin. Scorched furrows from the first Imperial cannonade trailed between, among, through the few remaining tents. Small clusters of wounded men, some begging for water and some for death, were being fed opium and their wounds wrapped with the shreds of ripped-apart tents.
Jadar moved through the camp, acknowledging the triumphant cheers of his men. Ahead his servants were already erecting a new chintz wall around the gulal bar and replacing the tents for the zenana. Hawksworth watched as carpets were unrolled from bullock carts and carried inside the compound.
Jadar's elephant proceeded instinctively to the very entry of the gulal bar, where it kneeled for him to dismount. Around him Rajputs pushed forward to cheer and teslim. As he stood acknowledging them, the other elephants also began to kneel. Jadar's servants rushed forward to help Hawksworth and Shirin alight.
"This was the most horrible day I've ever known." Her arms closed around his neck as her feet touched ground, and she held him for a long moment, tears staining her cheeks. "I've never before seen so much killing. I pray to Allah I never see it again."
Hawksworth returned her embrace, then looked at her sadly. "There'll be a lot more before Jadar sees Agra, if he ever does. This is just one battle, not the war. I'm not sure we want to be here to find out how it ends."
She looked back at him and smiled wistfully in silence. Then she turned and performed the teslim to Jadar.
The prince was scarcely recognizable. His helmet had been torn by countless arrows, or matchlock fire, and his haughty face and beard were smeared with dust and smoke. The emerald bow ring was missing from his right thumb, which was now caked with blood. Beneath his armor the torn leather of his right sleeve was stained blood-dark, where he had ripped out an arrow. As he lifted his arms to acknowledge the rising cheers, his eyes were shadowed and tired, but they betrayed no pain.
Hawksworth turned and examined Jadar's howdah. It was a forest of arrows and broken spear shafts. Grooms from the stables had already brought water and sugarcane for his elephant and begun extracting iron arrowheads from its legs and from a section of its right shoulder where its armor had been shot away.
As he watched the scene, Hawksworth slowly became aware of a pathway being cleared through the camp toward the east. Next, the cheers of some of Jadar's Rajputs began to swell through the smoky air. Through the encroaching dark, there slowly emerged the form of another elephant approaching. In the torchlight he could tell it was regal in size and bore a gilded howdah shaded by a wide brocade umbrella. There were no arrows in the side of this howdah, nor was there more than a trace of dust on the elephant's gilded and enameled armor. With its elaborate decoration of swinging yak tails and tinkling bells, it seemed more suited for a royal procession than for a battlefield.
Jadar watched impassively as the elephant neared the center of the clearing. While the Rajputs around him stood at attention, the elephant performed a small bow, then began to kneel with practiced dignity. Several Rajputs rushed forward to help the rider alight.