[Text, vol. ii. p. 202.] One of the gracious acts of His Majesty
in thiṣ (seventh) year of his reign was the prohibition against
making slaves of prisoners taken in war. It had been the custom
of the royal troops, in their victorious campaigns in India, to
forcibly sell or keep in slavery the wives, children, and dependents
of the natives. But His Majesty, actuated by his religious, prudent,
and kindly feelings, now issued an order that no soldier of
the royal army should act in this manner; for although evil-
[Text, vol. ii. p. 218.] Adham Khán, the youngest son of
that pattern of chastity Máham Ánka, who had neither a well-
The blood-stained murderer, with that demented presumption which marked his proceedings, now directed his steps to the private apartments where His Majesty was sleeping. He mounted, sword in hand, to the parapet (suffah) which surrounds the palace on all sides about the height of a man and a half, and endeavoured to force his way inside. A eunuch who was near shut the door and locked it, and refused to open it for all the menaces of the assassin. The attendants of the royal court were greatly to be blamed that they did not at once inflict merited punishment on the murderer, and put a stop to his proceedings. But this want of resolution was probably ordained so that the courage and justice of the Emperor might become manifest to all, both small and great. The noise awoke him, and he inquired what was the matter, but no one of the inside attendants could inform him. He then went out himself to ascertain the facts. One of the old officers of the palace made known what had happened.
Amazed at the horrible statement, His Majesty inquired what it all meant, and the attendant then confirmed his words by pointing to the blood-stained corpse. When the Emperor realized the actual state of affairs, his anger blazed forth, and by a sudden inspiration he rushed out by another door, and not by that to which the assassin had fled in his vain hope. As he went forth, one of his attendants placed a sword in his hand without being asked for it. He took it and went on. On turning a corner of the parapet, he perceived the ungrateful culprit. Addressing him by an opprobrious epithet,* he asked what he had done. The presumptuous villain then rushed forward, and seizing both the hands of the Emperor, besought him to inquire into and reflect upon the matter, and not to condemn him without investigation. The Emperor, letting go his sword, delivered himself from the grasp of the culprit, and endeavoured to seize his sword. But the wretched man loosed his hold of the Emperor, and endeavoured to retain his sword. Relinquishing his attempt to get the sword, the Emperor struck him a blow in the face with his fist, which brought him senseless to the ground. Farhat Khán and Sangrám Hoshnak were there present, and the Emperor with angry looks demanded why they stood there looking on. He ordered them to bind the mad-brained fellow, and they and some others did so. He then gave his just command for them to cast him down headlong from the parapet. These stupid men showed tenderness where want of tenderness would have been a thousand times better, and did not hurl him down as they ought to have done, and he was only half killed. They were then ordered to bring him up and cast him down again. So they dragged him back by the hair, and throwing him down more carefully, his neck was broken and his brains knocked out. So that criminal received the just reward of his deed. The vigorous hand of the Emperor had dealt him such a blow that those who were not aware of the fact supposed it to have been given with a mace.
Mun'im Khán Khán-khánán and Shahábu-d dín Ahmad Khán, who were near at hand, recoiled before the Emperor's anger, and took to flight. Yúsuf Muhammad Khán, the eldest son of Atka Khán, when he was informed of the fate of his father, assembled the Atka khail in arms, and blocked the road against Adham Khán and Máham Ánka. They were as yet unaware of the just retribution inflicted by His Majesty, who had paid no regard to his connection (nisbat) with Máham Ánka. * * But one of their number went and saw the punishment the culprit had received at the hands of the Emperor, and their anger was then appeased.
Máham Ánka was at her own home, stretched upon the bed of sickness. She had heard of her son's outrageous conduct, and that the Emperor had put him in confinement. Moved by her maternal affection, she arose and went to the Emperor, hoping to obtain the release of her son. When the Emperor saw her, he told her that Adham had killed his atka, and that he had inflicted the retaliatory punishment. Máham Ánka did not understand from this that her son was dead, so she replied that His Majesty had done well. But the takhta-begí, one of the ladies of the Court, then told her the truth, that he had been killed, and that he bore upon his face the marks of a blow with a mace,—these marks being, in fact, those made by His Majesty's fist.
Máham Ánka's good sense so far restrained her that she said nothing disrespectful to the Emperor, but she was greatly distressed. Her heart received a thousand wounds, and the colour forsook her face. She wished to go and see the body of her son, but His Majesty would not allow her, and he endeavoured to console and comfort her with kind and gentle words. On the same day the two corpses were sent to Dehlí, and the Emperor, after doing his utmost to console Máham Ánka, gave her permission to return home. That wise and grief-stricken woman respectfully took her departure. She then resigned herself to the divine decree, and passed her days in grief and sorrow. The disease with which she was afflicted increased, and forty days afterwards she died. His Majesty was deeply grieved at the death of this pattern of chastity. Her body was sent to Dehlí with all respect and honour, and the Emperor himself followed it for some steps. The nobles and officers of the state all testified their respect, and the Emperor ordered a splendid monument to be erected over her and her son.