CHAPTER XI.
BÁBAR PÁDISHÁH'S JOURNEY INTO KHORÁSÁN, AND HIS RETURN FROM KHORÁSÁN TO KÁBUL.

WHEN Bábar Pádisháh went in pursuit of Jahángir, he came upon him in the mountains of Hazára. After holding a consultation, it was determined that the wisest plan would be to proceed into Khorásán, as with some aid, the sons of Sultán Husain Mirzá might be enabled to withstand Sháhi Beg Khán. So with this object in view, they turned towards Khorásán, and, on their arrival, these two brothers were warmly welcomed by the people of Khorásán, while the two Mirzás, for their part, were overjoyed at their advent. But there existed no accord between these two Mirzás. In the first place, Bábar Pádisháh knew that they were not at one; he also knew that without unity they could effect nothing. Moreover, Jahángir Mirzá, from having indulged too freely in wine drinking, was suffering so severely from dysentery, [from a disease called] mui, and a burning fever, that it was generally reported that Khadija Begum (after her old fashion) had put poison in his wine. For these and other reasons, he took his leave and returned to Kábul.

On reaching the Hazára mountains, he learnt that Mirzá Khán and Muhammad Husain Mirzá were besieging Kábul. Leaving the heavy baggage with Mirzá Jahángir (who, being sick, was travelling in a litter) he advanced with all possible speed towards the passes of Hindu Kush, accompanied by a small body of men. [The passes] were covered with snow. They, however, crossed them with much difficulty, and advanced, by forced marches, upon Kábul. At dawn one day they made a rapid descent upon the town. Those who were outside the fort of Kábul, and had been attacking those within, crept into concealment on every side, while those who were within, rushed out and carried off, as plunder, all that fell in their way, both within and without [the walls]. The Emperor, in conformity with his affectionate nature, without ceremony, and without a sign of bitterness—nay, with the utmost cheerfulness and good-humour—came into the presence of his step-grandmother, who had withdrawn her affection from him, and set up her grandson as king in his stead. Sháh Begum was confounded and abashed [at his generous behaviour] and knew not what to say.

The Emperor, going down on his knees, embraced her with great affection, and said: “What right has one child to be vexed because the motherly bounty descends upon another? The mother's authority over her children is in all respects absolute.” He added: “I have not slept all night, and have made a long journey.” So saying, he laid his head on Sháh Begum's breast and tried to sleep; he acted thus in order to reassure the Begum. He had scarcely fallen asleep, when his maternal aunt, Mihr Nigár Khánim, entered. The Emperor leapt up and embraced his beloved aunt with every manifestation of affection. The Khánim said to him: “Your children, wives and household are longing to see you. I give thanks that I have been permitted to behold you once again. Rise up and go to your family in the castle. I too am going thither.”

So he went to the castle, and on his arrival all the Amirs and people began to thank God for His mercy. They made the dust of the feet of that loving king, powder [kohl] for their eyes. Then the Khánim conducted Mirzá Khán and my father before the Emperor. As they approached, the Emperor came out to receive them. The Khánim then said: “Oh, soul of your mother! I have also brought my guilty grandson and your unfortunate brother to you. What have you to say to them?” and she pointed to my father. When the Emperor saw my father, he instantly came forward, with his wonted courtesy, and smiling, openly embraced him, made many kind inquiries and showed him marked affection. He then embraced Mirzá Khán in like manner, and displayed a hundred proofs of love and good feeling. He conducted the whole ceremony with the utmost gentleness of manner, bearing himself, in all his actions and words, in such a way that not a trace of constraint or artifice was to be seen in them. But however much the Emperor might try to wear away the rust of shame with the polish of mildness and humanity, he was unable to wipe out the dimness of ignominy which had covered the mirror of their hopes.

My father and Mirzá Khán obtained permission to go to Kandahár. The Emperor, by entreaty and unremitting attentions, detained Sháh Begum and the Khánim. When they reached Kandahár, Mirza Khán remained there, while my father proceeded in the direction of Faráh and Sistán, with the intention of carrying out that holy resolve which he had made while in Khorásán. On his arrival in the territory of Faráh, he heard of the conquest of Khorásán, by Sháhi Beg Khán, and the overthrow of the Chaghatái. The high roads and passes were in a dangerous state, being obstructed and even closed. Thus my father was prevented from executing his purpose. This happened in the year 912.*