At the close of day, the Rání consulted with her chiefs as to what was best to be done, and every one said something. The Rání was of opinion that she had better return to her camp, and thence make a night attack, or else remain where they were until daybreak and then renew the battle, because, in the event of her not doing something, Ásaf Khán would seize the hill in the morning, and post his artillery on it. Having determined on a night attack, she returned to her camp, but no one agreed with her on this matter, or showed any resolution. At daybreak, what she had predicted, happened. Ásaf Khán possessed himself of the summit of the hill, and having fortified it, he took post there with his army. The Rání again, intent on fighting, drew up her soldiers and mounted her best elephant. She caused Adhár, who has been mentioned before, to ride before her on her elephant. Such a conflict took place, that, throwing away guns and arrows, the combatants seized each other's collars, and fought hand to hand.
Rájá Bírsáh, the heir-apparent, behaved with the utmost valour. The conflict lasted until the third watch of the day, and the Rájá repulsed the royal troops three times, but at last he was wounded. When the Rání learnt what had happened to her son, she directed her confidential servants to convey him in the best way they could from the field of battle to a place of safety, which they did. Whilst this was going on, so large a body of men went away from the Rání, that not more than 300 remained with her. Notwithstanding this, she firmly maintained her ground, and encouraged her men to fight. Suddenly fate directed an arrow, which struck her on the temple. This she courageously drew out herself, but its barb remained in the wound. This arrow was followed by another, which wounded her in the neck, which she extracted in the same way, but fainted from excess of pain. When she came round, she said to Adhár, who was in front of her, “I have always placed trust and confidence in you against a day like this; so that, in the event of my meeting with defeat, you might not suffer me to fall into the hands of the enemy. Adhár had not the power to do what she required, so she drew out her dagger, and died a manly death. Very many of her confidential adherents loyally gave up their lives. By the favour of the Almighty, and the fortune of the King of Kings, a victory, the splendour of which exceeded all other victories, was obtained. A thousand elephants, and countless booty, fell into the hands of the victorious troops, and an extensive territory was added to His Majesty's dominions.
Ásaf Khán, after the lapse of two months, proceeded towards Chaurágarh. The Rání's son, who had gone thither from the field of battle, came out to oppose him; but after a short struggle, the army of the King gained possession of the fort. In it were found a great amount of gold, priceless jewels, gold and silver plate, and images of their divinities, together with other valuables and property, which had been collected there by the Rájás during many centuries, as is the custom of those people. All these fell into the hands of Ásaf Khán; a hundred and one cooking pots, full of large and valuable gold coins, came into his possession. The performance of this notable action caused his pomp and dignity greatly to increase, and men placed great trust in him. Nevertheless, this faithless man only sent 200 out of the 1000 elephants which he had captured as a pesh-kash to Court, and withheld the jewels and valuables altogether. His Majesty's magnanimity overlooked this, and he took no notice of the circumstance. Ásaf Khán remained established in the government of Garha and Karra, until His Majesty proceeded to Jaunpúr for the purpose of chastising Khán-zamán.
A most remarkable event occurred at Chaurágarh. When Rájá Bírsáh, the Rání's son, was shut up there, a certain number of men were appointed, in the event of a defeat, for the purpose of performing the jauhar, an ancient custom of the Rájás of Hind. On occasions like this, they shut their women up in the house, and after heaping up straw, wood, cotton, and ghee around it, they set fire to the pile and burn them. This they look upon as a means of saving their honour. When the fort was nearly reduced, they did this, and all the beautiful women were reduced to ashes. After the capture of the place, when the flames had ceased on the second day, they examined the place, and discovered two females underneath a large block of wood. One of them was the Rání's sister, the other the Rájá's wife, with whom he had not yet cohabited. They were taken out unhurt, and sent to the royal harem.