BEGINNING OF THE STORY OF SULTÁN SAID KHÁN, SON OF SULTÁN AHMAD KHÁN, SON OF SULTÁN YUNUS KHÁN, AND THE SUFFERINGS AND HARDSHIPS HE ENDURED AT THE OUTSET OF HIS CAREER.

[Here follows a somewhat lengthy dissertation on the advantages of misfortune, into which is introduced an anecdote in verse concerning Moses, taken from the “Salsalat-uz-Zahab” or “Golden Chain” of Abd-urrahman Jami, and also an account, in prose, of the Education of Nushiriván the Just.] Wherever in this Epitome the Khán, in an absolute sense, is mentioned, Sultán Said Khán is meant.* This Khán had many wonderful adventures. As one of the chief objects of this Epitome is to set forth the virtue and ability of the Khán, I shall enter into detail.

His most noble lineage has already been given. From the time of his birth to the age of fourteen, he spent his days under the fond care and kind protection of his father. When he reached the age of fourteen, his father, Sultán Ahmad Khán, better known as Álácha, wished to go to the assistance of his elder brother, Sultán Mahmud Khán. He therefore appointed his eldest son, Mansur Khán, to fill his place on the throne, and took with him to Táshkand, two sons who were younger than Mansur Khán, namely, Sultán Said Khán and Bábáják Sultán. The Khán was with his father at the battle of Akhsi, in which the Kháns were captured, as has been mentioned. When the army was thrown into disorder and every man was trying to save his own life, the Khán also took flight, but at that moment he was struck in the thigh by an arrow, which, piercing his armour, struck the bone. As his father's army was routed he had no means of escape. Some men of the district captured him, and as he was, at the time, unable to walk, they refrained from carrying him as a present to anybody, but took care of him for a few days.

Sháhi Beg Khán returned in haste to settle his affairs in Táshkand. By the time the Khán had recovered his strength, Shaikh Báyazid had taken upon himself the government of Akhsi. The Khán, as soon as he was sufficiently recovered to be moved, was brought before him, and by his orders was thrown into prison, where he remained a whole year.

When Sháhi Beg Khán arrived [in Táshkand] he seized and put to death Tambal, and gave the government of Andiján to Jáni Beg Sultán. When this latter came to Akhsi, the Khán was brought before him. Jáni Beg Sultán recommended him to the favour of Sháhi Beg Khán, who received him with compassion, kept him in his fatherly care, and denied him nothing. He, moreover, took the Khán with him on the expedition in which he conquered Hisár and Kunduz.

I have heard the Khán relate, in terms of wonder and admira­tion, that when Sháhi Beg Khán had conquered Hisár, news was brought of the taking of Kunduz by Mahmud Sultán. Sháhi Beg Khan, having entrusted Hisár to Hamza Sultán and Chaghánián to Mahdi Sultán,* set out quietly on his return. “As the pass of Darband-i-Ahanin [The Iron Gate] was very difficult [continued the Khán], and as the army was much burdened with booty, they made the journey, farsákh after farsákh, by way of Buya and Tirmiz. While the victorious army was encamped at Buya, I was sitting once, at midday, in the royal tent [majlis]. The hour for the assembly had not yet arrived, and only a few of the king's intimates were present, when somebody with a terrified coun­tenance and wild appearance came in great haste, and laid a letter at the foot of the royal throne. As [Sháhi Beg] perused the contents of this letter a great change came over him, and before he had finished reading it, he rose up and went in to his haram, giving orders for his horse to be brought. He remained for some time in the haram; but after midday prayers came out again and mounted his horse. He was attended by a great number of people. Then it was made known that Mahmud Sultán had died a natural death in Kunduz, and that his body was on the way [to the camp]. When Sháhi Beg Khán had got some distance away, we saw a great crowd in pitch-black clothes, such as captives wear. Having placed the bier upon the ground, they drew up in two lines behind it. When [Sháhi Beg Khán] saw this, he made a sign for all the Sultáns and others to dismount and follow in his train. These, having obeyed, began to raise cries of grief and lamentation, and we, in the camp, also commenced to utter moans and wailings. When those attending the bier approached, he ordered all who were with him to draw up in a line, while he himself rode forward until his horse's head was just above the bier; he then gave a sign for everyone to keep silence, and thereupon those who were with him ceased from rending their garments and tearing their beards He then called one of the Amirs of Mahmud Sultán, and said to him such things as are usual on occasions of condolence. After this he remained silent for a while, never showing the slightest change in his countenance, nor shedding a tear. At the end of an hour he raised his head and said: ‘The death of Mahmud is a good thing: men have been wont to say that the power of Sháhi Beg Khán was upheld by Mahmud: let it now be known that Sháhi Beg Khán was in no way whatever dependent upon Mahmud. Carry him away now, and bury him.’ Having said this, he turned away, and all present were astounded at his boldness and composure.”

The death of Mahmud Sultán was a great loss to the Moghuls, for he was, in every respect, a thorough Moghul [and they recalled all he had done for them].

When Sháhi Beg Khán reached Samarkand, Sháh Begum arrived from Moghulistán. The details are briefly these: Sháh Begum was the mother of the Kháns, was daughter of Sháh Sultán Mahmud, King of Badakhshán, and of the race of Iskandar Zulkarnain. She had accompanied her son, Sultán Mahmud Khán, into Moghulistán. But those base advisers, of whom I have already spoken, provoked a quarrel between the mother and her son—a son who had been so obedient to her, that he had never even mounted for a ride without her permission. Between these two, they contrived to raise the dust of vexation and wrath. For they—cunning advisers that they were—decided to send Sháh Begum to Sháhi Beg Khán to solicit a country for herself, because she found living in Moghulistán distasteful. Such was the impracticable mission upon which they sent Sháh Begum. Now, as the Begum was a very sensible woman, she went under this pretext, and thus left her son, before those base advisers could bring about an open rupture, which would cause endless scandal and reproach to herself. The rumour was that she had gone to entreat [Sháhi Beg Khán], while she was [in reality] in Samarkand enjoying the company of her children.

At this same time [Sháhi Beg Khán] led an army into Khwárizm, and my father fled to Khorásán, as shall be presently related.

The Khán told me: “After the Mirzá's flight we were so overcome with apprehension, that sixteen of us having banded together, we fled from Samarkand, and journeyed by way of Khutuk and Kará Tukái to Sairám. Thence we went on to Moghulistán by way of Uzun Ahmad, and arrived at Haft Deh, which is better known as Yatikand,* where Sultán Mahmud Khán was living at the time.” It has been already related that after the death of Sultán Ahmad Khán, Sultán Mahmud Khán came into Moghul-istán. The latter was a weakly prince and very lax and careless in the affairs of State.

Now Moghulistán is a country which does not admit of any such negligence and callousness in its administration, and for this reason Sultán Mahmud Khán was not able to remain there long, but came, with a desire to live a civilised life, to Yatikand, where there is [indeed] some cultivation. When he had been there a short time, the Khán went and attached himself to his uncle, Sultán Mahmud Khán. The Khán passed some time in the service of his uncle; but he was an energetic and enterprising man, and being unable to endure the negligence and indolence of his uncle, he fled from his court. Sultán Mahmud Khán sent a party after him to bring him back. After three days' march he was overtaken, when a fight ensued. In the heat of the action, a certain Maksud Ali, one of the courtiers of Sultán Mahmud Khán (and a man skilled in instrumental music and singing), displayed great valour, and the Khán seeing that the brunt of the battle was supported by him, rode up to attack him. Thereupon Maksud Ali turned and fled, but while retreating faced round and shot an arrow, which struck the Khán in the left shoulder. The collar­bone was broken, and passing under his left shoulder blade the arrow reached his right shoulder blade. [In this state the Khán tried to overtake Maksud Ali], but in spite of his efforts, his hand would not wield the sword, and his enemy got away in safety. The Khán then turned back [from the pursuit]. His wound proved very serious, and during two years he was deprived of the use of his right eye and his right arm.

Later in the day Maksud Ali fell into the hands of one of the Khán's men, who thought to himself: if I bring him alive to the Khán, that he may put him to death with his own hands, he will be more grateful to me [than if I bring him dead]. So he took him alive before the Khán. But the Khán, assuming a cheerful air, called to him and said: “I am glad you have fallen into my hands. I was sorry [for what had happened].” And although he had only one garment by him, he gave it him, together with a present of some horses, and kept him in Moghulistán to the end of his days, always looking on him with the eye of favour.

The Khán's generosity was quite unbounded. Other examples will be given in their proper places. In short, after being wounded and enduring great hardships, he joined his brother Sultán Khalil Sultán. This latter, after the death of his father, had fled from Mansur Khán into Moghulistán, and had joined the Kirghiz, who are the “wild lions” of that country. They made him their chief. He remained some time with his brother, but finally war broke out between them on the one hand, and Sultán Mahmud Khán, in alliance with Mansur Khán, on the other, which led to victories and defeats, struggles and conflicts, and great and wonderful battles. In those fights such wounds were inflicted, that no reasonable person would consider them capable of being cured. But the details are not worth describing. These hostilities continued from 910 to 914, when Sultán Mahmud Khán, being hard pressed by his nephews and the people of Moghulistán, went over to Sháhi Beg Khán (as has been related). Mansur Khán then attacked his two brothers, Sultán Said Khán and Sultán Khalil Sultán, who had remained in Moghulistán. They, for their part, met him in the open field at Almátu,* one of the most celebrated places in Moghulistán, when after a hard fought battle the Sultáns were worsted.

Sultán Khalil Sultán, all his prospects of success in Moghulistán being shattered, followed his uncle [Mahmud], in the hope that Sháhi Beg Khán had received the latter kindly; and when he reached Akhsi, Jáni Beg Khán having seized [him] delivered him to my uncle Sayyid Muhammad Mirzá, Sultán Ali Mirzá Begjik and Tubra Tiághuth, [with the order] that he should be drowned in the river. They, being obliged to obey this order, drowned the unfortunate Sultán in the river of Akhsi. It will be mentioned later, how the Khán, a short time after this event, heaped favours and patronage upon those men whose brother he had murdered.

When the Khán escaped from the field of battle, he was accom­panied by about fifty men with their cattle and followers, all in great want. Broken and discomfited, they came from Almátu to Dulán (about fifteen days' march at a medium pace). On arriving there, they began to grow less afraid of the enemy. That same day, they came across a man whom they seized and interrogated. He informed them that at Uruk, which was distant about three days' march, at an even pace, there was encamped a body of the tribe of Bahrin, who intended to go to Káshghar and seek the protection of Mirzá Abá Bakr. “And I,” he added, “have fled, and am on my way to join the Kirghiz.” They then all sat down [and held a consultation]. Some suggested that the Khán should him­self go and mix with that tribe: haply by that means he would obtain a little help from them. And Khwája Ali Bahádur, in particular, urged this plan (for he was himself of the tribe of Bahrin), and he was, moreover, a bold and daring man, and an unrivalled archer. When the Khán fled from Samarkand and entered the service of his noble uncle Sultán Mahmud Khán, Khwája Ali Bahádur was in Yatikand, in the service of one of the officers of Sultán Mahmud Khán. When the Khán arrived, he entered [his uncle's] service with the greatest eagerness. On the occasion of the Khán's flight, when he received the arrow-wound from Maksud Ali, the musician, Khwája Ali Bahádur, had displayed great valour in the contest, and had shown proofs of singular daring, which did not escape the notice of the Khán, who, from that day forward, bestowed on him his special protection and favour. In the battles that took place in Moghulistán, he usually distinguished himself by his heroic acts. But besides his bravery and prowess, he was also noted for his sagacity, intelligence, and perception; wherefore at that time most [of the Khán's] affairs were submitted to him for decision.

Now as he was strongly in favour of the proposed plan, [while all the rest objected to it], Khwája Ali represented that if the Khán went with a body of men, [the Bahrin] would be frightened, and think he had come to attack them. It was impossible to drive these ridiculous ideas out of their minds, which had become a prey to the whispering of devils; and it seemed that a new cause of dissension and violence would arise. [The Khwája] thought the wisest plan was that he, in preference to any of the other followers, should be selected to accompany the Khán. He suggested that they should remain where they were for five days, to see if they would approve of his going. If, thus, their minds could be pacified and their vain fears and foolish ideas be changed to good faith and confidence—well and good. “If not,” said he, “let us all go, as quickly as possible, and make common cause with [the Bahrin].”*

This suggestion was approved, and the Khán and Khwája Ali set out together. They made a three days' journey, passing only one night on the road, and arrived at their destination at breakfast time.

When these dastardly men heard of their arrival, they came with unbounded impudence before him, not observing any of those marks of respect which are customary among the Moghuls. Then Khwája Ali addressing them said: “All adventurous persons who have obtained their desires, have watched for a favourable oppor­tunity to seize with both hands the skirts of men of power.” While his words were yet unfinished, they cried out: “Down with this babbler of idle words! What use has a Khán for a hundred households? We have nothing to offer him!” So saying they drove the Khán back to his friends, and seized Khwája Ali; they took away the led horse of the Khán, which he was holding, and threw its bridle towards the Khán. On seizing Khwája Ali, they carried him off to their tents.

The Khán, in alarm for his life, fled back with all speed, fearing lest they might take him and deliver him into the hands of Abá Bakr. Being terrified at this idea, he hastened to rejoin his men, looking round him on all sides as he went [to see whether he was being pursued].

Once, when the Khán was relating this story, I asked him: “Did you not dread [the thought of] solitude and desolation?” He replied: “Not so very much, for I had once before been left alone in Moghulistán, and had spent some days in solitude, in the same way, but afterwards joined my people again.”

When he had gone a short way, he perceived something black in the distance; whereupon he withdrew to a secluded spot and, fastening his led horse there, stood waiting in ambush. He soon discovered that it was a man, and waited till he came near; then, placing an arrow [in readiness] in his bow, he leapt out of his ambush upon the new-comer, who had no time to get away, but threw himself in terror from his horse. The Khán then recognised that this man was the slave who had fled to the Kirghiz from his own party, who had been captured at Dulán, and had given in­formation of [the presence of] those dastardly people [the Bahrin]. He, on his part, recognised the Khán, and kissed his stirrup.

The Khán asked him for news of his men, and where they were now encamped. The man replied: “When you went away with Khwája Ali Bahádur, a dispute arose among your men. It came about in this way. Somebody said: ‘Last night I happened to be near the Khán's tent, when I heard Khwája Ali Bahádur say to the Khán: Our people are in a very broken condition [and there is nothing to be done with them]; they have hardly anything left; but our opponents have cattle and property in abundance, because every one of [the Khán's] dependants is either a Mir or a Mirzáda, and wishes to have power and precedence over others, which they cannot possibly obtain. Moreover, we cannot attain any object or carry out any scheme by means of such people. It will be best for us, therefore, for the reasons I have given, to separate from these men and to go and join the other side. Let these people go wherever they choose, while we avail ourselves in every possible way of the services of our opponents. And with this plan the Khán will be greatly pleased. [I tell you] the Khán does not intend to return.’

“At these words the people became very despondent and grieved; and each one, forming whatever plan seemed best to himself, they split up into factions. One party under the leadership of Uchku Muhammad Mirzá, Sháh Mirák and Zikul Bahádur, set out for Turfán, the capital of Mansur Khán. Another division under Kará Kulák, took the road to Andiján, in the hope that the Kháns who had preceeded them had been well received by Sháhi Beg Khán. And a third division, under the direction of Khush Gildi Kukildásh and Aziz Birdi Aghá, resolved to go to the court of Mirzá Abá Bakr in Káshghar. Thus did they form themselves into different parties.”

The Khán used always to say: “When I learnt these facts, I was filled with amazement and alarm. Dismay took possession of my mind. I asked him how many days ago this had happened; he replied that on the particular day he had left them, the discussion had taken place, and they had separated.

“I then dismounted, and for a while remained buried in thought. At length I resolved to leave my horse in the impenetrable jungles of Nárin, and myself to lie in ambush for antelopes; and when I had killed them, to eat their flesh and to clothe myself with their skins; thus I would spend several years, until I should see how events might fall out.

“With this intention, having withdrawn my led horse to one side, I set out on my road.”

[It must be understood that] it is a custom among the Moghuls, for the bravest of their youth to spend a long time alone, either in the deserts, the mountains or the forests, at a distance of one or two months' journey from any of their fellow creatures, and to feed and clothe themselves with the flesh and skins of antelopes. Such persons they esteem as brave and manly; and it is, in fact, a very difficult and dangerous mode of life.

[The Khán] having resolved upon this strange and perilous adventure, gave the slave his liberty, and set out on his own design. He spent the night in what he considered a suitable spot, and on the morrow again started on his road. But first of all he surveyed the country, in accordance with the Moghul practice of circumspection and caution. For it is their custom, in the morning, to examine carefully the road by which they have just come, and also to reconnoitre that by which they intend to travel the same day; the travellers having ascended a piece of rising ground, and having carefully inspected both the roads, then give some fodder to their horses, which have been tethered all night. The purpose of this vigilance which they practise is, that if anybody should happen to be following them, and should have come on during the night, he would be seen, and could be guarded against. When the horses have grazed long enough, and no one is visible in either direction, the road is again taken at midday, and the journey continued till midnight, so that no one may discover the traveller or his nightly resting-place. Such is the cautious practice of the Moghuls.

The Khán, looking round carefully on all sides, after a short time descried something black on the road by which he had come the day before, and began to fear lest those tribesmen, regretting that they had let him go, were come in pursuit of him. But he presently saw that it was only one person, and that there was no one behind him, as far as he could see. Then, as was his practice, he placed himself in ambush. He noticed that this man was ever and again uttering cries, as if calling for somebody. And as he came nearer [the Khán] recognised his voice as that of Khwájá Ali Bahádur. He rushed out to meet him, and the Khwája, also recognising the Khán, dismounted, and they both began to weep as they met in affectionate embrace.

One can imagine the extent of the Khán's joy at this meeting. Having made an end of weeping, [the Khán] asked the Khwája where he had been and what had befallen him. The Khwája replied: “They carried me off and kept my horse, and placed me in the house of one of my acquaintances. After a while a decrepit and frail old woman, who claimed a blood relationship with me, came to me secretly and began to heap reproaches on my head, saying: ‘Some have been known to serve a Khán yet unborn, or an Amir still in his cradle, and to have reaped their reward; yet you, with your lack of zeal, have deserted a great Khán, who is worthy of a throne and a crown, and in your slug­gishness have debased yourself. Rise up: if you have not a horse, I have left mine tied up in such and such a place: take it and go!’ Then my old enthusiasm, which seemed to have died within me, revived: I hastened out and went to the spot she had indicated, found the horse, and here I am.”

The Khán, having bestowed thanks and praises on him, said: “When I found myself alone, I resolved upon the following plan” (and the Khán proceeded to relate to him, from beginning to end, what has been told above). Khwája Ali Bahádur replied: “Peace on you! It was a most excellent resolve for a brave man like yourself, under existing circumstances. And it is all the better that it should have been so. But now it is possible to proceed with greater comfort and ease. However, even if we do spend a few years in this way, we must get news of the world whenever we can; for the wheel of the spheres does not always turn in the same groove, and we must be on the look out for any opportunity that may arise to again obtain the control of affairs. We must also be bold.”

The two then set out with strong hearts and cheerful spirits, riding bridle to bridle. On the following day they noticed in front of them some black objects: and the same care and pre­cautions were observed as on the other occasion. As the objects approached, they recognised the two brothers of Khwája Ali Bahádur, Tika and Ali Mirák, and two of his sons-in-law, Asil Pulád and Buzana [each one accompanied by his servant].

After this meeting, the Khán's position was as sovereignty com­pared with that of the day before. The new-comers were then asked their story. They related what has been mentioned above, and added: “Khush Gildi and Aziz Birdi, who had determined to go to Káshghar, separated from us yesterday.” With these two came Sukár and some of the Káluchi (who were relatives of a certain woman of the name of Makhtum, with whom, during the time of the great disturbances in Moghulistán, the Khán had contracted a marriage), and they brought with them several horses from the royal stables.

Having announced this news, the whole party set out in pursuit without delay, and came upon the fugitives towards the end of the night; when these heard the sound of the hoofs of the approaching horses, they were filled with dismay and alarm. The Khán and his companions called out to each one by name, and they, recog­nising his voice and that of the others, were filled with joy. They came, running, to the stirrup of his Excellency the Khan and, kissing his feet, gave vent to expressions of thankfulness.

The Khán, being rejoined by Khwája Ali, was relieved of the distress of solitude, but now, on falling in with Tika and his party, he had become a veritable king, compared with his former position. When, under the guidance of these men, they had rejoined the party who had separated from them, the Khán was overjoyed at the prospect of a meeting with a slave, who was his wife. All were delighted at coming together again, and hoped that that night they would enjoy a refreshing sleep. The Khán, in the same hope, had already taken off his boots and coat, when Aziz Birdi Aghá came and persuaded him to put them on again. Although it was apparently a trouble to do so, it was at least a fitting precaution, so he consented, in order to quiet Aziz Birdi, and with one boot off [and one boot on] he slumbered peacefully on the breast of his wife. For he had taken no rest for several nights and days, and was exceedingly fatigued from rough travelling and watchful nights. The full enjoyment of sleep had not yet come to him, when he heard a war cry [suran] and the sound of giving and taking of blows. Before the Khán could jump out of bed, he saw by the light of the burning camp that the enemy were upon them, and were dealing out blows to right and left. He had just time to gird on his quiver, when Khwája Ali arrived. They rushed together, from the blazing camp into the darkness, and began to shower down arrows upon the enemy who were doing their work in the light, and in the same way, the men from the camp came out on all sides into the darkness, and began to discharge their arrows. The enemy, who were all mounted, then withdrew from the light, and the Khán's men, who were on foot, shot at them from different ambuscades. On account of the darkness it was not possible to judge of the great numbers of the one side or the small numbers of the other. Some of the men, in imitation of the Khán, were engaged in discharging arrows, while the rest had gone back to secure the horses.

As a fact, this hostile band was part of an army which Mirzá Abá Bakr had sent to Moghulistán, with orders to seize and treat, in the worst possible way, any one who might be found in the deserts of Moghulistán. The continual raids of these followers of Mirzá Abá Bakr caused great distress in Moghulistán, and threw the Moghuls and Kirghiz into disorder. [The assailants] who were a division of the force spoken of, had come on at the time of afternoon prayer, and when they had seen the Khán's party arrive and halt, they had crept into concealment till late in the night. They then seized all the horses, which had been turned out to graze, and when darkness was nearly over they made their night attack. There were no horses left in the camp* except a few fat animals, which had been retained for purposes of war. These were saddled, and mounted by the men, and some of the women of the Khán's haram; while two or three other women were sent off by their husbands, who found horses for them. The Khán's horse was saddled and brought to him. When day dawned all were in the greatest straits. Moreover, except for the two or three women already mentioned, all the wives and children of our party had fallen into the enemy's hands, and there was no time to take leave or bid farewell. The scar of disappointment was marked upon their foreheads, and they never saw each other more. But those who fled, drove their wives and men and horses before them. The Khán and all those who had any courage and strength, followed after them. The cursed enemy came close on their heels, and pursued them with the greatest ardour, being, moreover, supplied with changes of horses.

Whenever the enemy approached, the Khán with a few men, turned round and plied them with arrows, and kept them at bay until his own party had got well on, when he again let loose the reins of flight till he overtook them. Thus did they fly fighting; and shot their arrows with their faces towards their friends and their backs to their enemies. This state of affairs continued till the hour of the “prayer of sleep.” The night attack took place in the desert plains [chulgái] of Utluk, which are called Ankghun Archa, and by the time of the “prayer of sleep” they had reached Kumala Káchur,* which represents a distance of five days' journey at a medium pace. The feeble ones, both women and men, at the time of flight and distress, were concealed in the glens and forests, while the rest hid themselves wherever they thought most safe.

With the exception of the Khán's wife and two or three other women, and a few men who had remained, most of these people were captured; only a few escaped. When evening-prayer time came, fear of the enemy left them but little peace of mind. They were all scattered, every one hiding in the jungle of Kumala Káchur; and from the excess of their terror, some of those whose horses were tired out, left them and crept into the forest on foot.

When day dawned, they all came out onto an elevation, and still concealing themselves, looked carefully round. They could see no trace of the enemy. They waited patiently till midday, when wherever they happened to be, they called out, and by means of their cries were able to find one another; [they also found] those whom they had sent into the glens, and of whose fate they were till then ignorant, not knowing whether they had been captured or not.

Returning, they looked to see what had become of these people. They found that, excepting the Khán's wife [haram] and one or two other persons, all had been discovered and carried off captive. They remained where they were during that day, for they had not sufficient strength left to proceed. Moreover, they did not know whither they could go. They discussed the matter in all its aspects: every one made suggestions, and held his own views upon the matter; but all their plans were quite impracticable. One proposition was that they should live in the forests, and banish from their thoughts all desire for civilisation. This, however, was not considered to be feasible, as it was impossible to exist in the forests without the [necessary] weapons, etc. After seeking everywhere, they found that all their quivers were empty. At last they found one arrow in the Khán's quiver: in the rest there were none left but tir-i-gaz.* [And with only one arrow there was certainly nothing to be achieved, so perforce this idea must be banished from their minds. Another proposal was that] they should enter the Dasht-i-Kipchák, which at that time was an asylum and refuge of the Moghul Kháns. But this again was impossible, on account of their want of arrows [and other weapons. A third suggestion was that they should go to Káshghar. But they came to the conclusion that] to go to Káshghar was as good as to walk, living, into a grave.

With Mansur Khán it was but yesterday that they had fought a battle, and all their sufferings and calamities were due to him. At length they decided upon going to Andiján; for it was possible that Sháhi Beg Khán had given Sultán Mahmud Khán a favourable reception.

The Khán repeatedly related these details to me, and he used to add: “Those who advised our going to the country of Sháhi Beg Khán, did so out of their ignorance of his true character. However strongly those who knew him protested, and pointed out the absurdity and danger of the scheme, which the others had made appear so plausible, they would not be dissuaded. I, for my part, showed my objections and disapproval in a hundred ways; for had I not been a whole year with Sháhi Beg Khán? I well knew and understood his temperament, the ways of his Sultáns, and the intentions of his Amirs. I knew very well that he would ill-treat us, which he did, but when I said this to these ignorant men, they replied: ‘Then what is to be done? All our proposals are con­sidered impracticable or impossible! [But in going to Sháhi Beg Khán] there is some hope of safety. If anything else suggests itself to your enlightened mind, tell us of it: for in every matter we are willing to follow and obey you, mind and body.’ Much as I thought the matter over, I was unable to find a solution of the difficulty, or offer any other suggestion; and finally I, with my eyes open, and in spite of what I knew, became myself a promoter of that very plan for which I had so severely reproved my men. For, in truth, there was no choice left. Knowingly and deliberately I rushed upon calamity!

“On the morrow, having prepared myself for death and my heart for martyrdom, I set out to pay homage to Jáni Beg Sultán, which was the first step to entering the service of Sháhi Beg Khán. And there was no great difference between that stage* and the bottom of the tomb.”

These events took place in the year 914,* just two months after the murder of Sultán Mahmud Khán, and one month before Sultán Khalil Sultán was drowned in the ocean of mercy, all of which has been mentioned above. Sultán Khalil Sultán was the full brother of the Khán.

At this date Bábar Pádisháh was established on the throne of Kábul, and his power was nearly absolute.

Having reached this point in the Khán's story, it is necessary for the better understanding of the history, that I should now revert to the stories of my father and Bábar Pádisháh.