The only ones of the imperial Amírs who supported him were Turk Subḥán Qulí and Farrukh Díwánah; but while he was at this place the Amírs of Áhár wrote him a letter, saying: “Do not be in a hurry, for we will join you. Eleven are better than nine.” And they came more by compulsion than of free will, and the verse* of the glorious word: “Thou lookest on them as united, but their hearts are divided” exactly fits the case of those people. The Mirzá, like the rook on a cleared chess-board, came into the heart of the country, plundering and ravaging the towns in his way. When he arrived at the village of Páyal, the Mirzá's men committed such atrocities on the Musalmán people and their families as cannot well be described. For instance, twelve virgins in that village were ill-treated to such a degree that they died. Other towns were treated in just the same way. Ḥusain Khán advanced gradually in the track of the Mirzá, with the Amírs in his rear, till they came to Sarhind. At that place they turned refractory and took the opportunity of all remaining behind. But Ḥusain Khán not being content [to remain] with the force that he had, which did not number 100 men, left Sarhind by rapid marches, together with the two [Amírs mentioned above], and arrived at Lúdiyánah. There intelligence arrived that on the Mirzá's reaching the environs of Láhór, the garrison had shut the gates against him, and that the Mirzá had passed on thence and gone to Sher Gaḍha and Jahní.
Now Ḥusain Qulí Khán, who was beseiging Nagarkot and the fort of Kangṛah, heard of the Mirzá's doings, and having made an agreement with the Hindús (P. 156), and received from the people of Nagarkót five man of gold as a douceur, after reading the khuṭbah in the Emperor's name, set out from that place with Mirzá Yúsuf Khán and Masnadi 'Álí* Fattú, a ghulám of 'Adalí, Ismá'íl Qulí Khán, Rájah Bírbar, and other Amírs, and pursued him as far as Sankrah. When Ḥusain Khán heard news of this, under the influence of that madness which so often attacks the wits of poor mortals, he swore an oath that he would not touch food until he came up with Ḥusain Qulí Khán. He crossed the river Biyáh at the ford of Talwandí, and went by forced marches to Sher Gaḍha a dependency of Jahní. There he paid a visit to his reverence Shaikh Dá'úd Qádirí Jahní-wál, the greatest Pole-star, the master and asylum of sainthood (God sanctify his tomb!). When food was served, he excused himself from eating on account of his oath. The Shaikh observed that it was easy to atone for an oath, but silly to distress one's friends. The Khán immediately called for a slave, and set him free,* and thus atoned for his oath. He then partook of food, and benefited by the gracious words which he heard. He remained there that night. The monastery of the Shaikh provided entertainment for all the party, and his private fields furnished grass and corn for the horses. In the morning he left the place.
Three days after this I came from Láhór to Sher Gaḍh, and attended his reverence for four days, seeing and hearing such things as had never entered my imagination, and the mystery of the saying, “When they desire the remembrance of God &c.” became manifest. And I extemporized some verses, which I presented, and they were accepted. The verses are as follows:—
“O! the stock of thine origin is free from water and clay, (P. 157) Thy pure spirit like the Prophet is the mercy of the worlds.
Thy mighty name is David, through the impression of it,
Like Solomon, spirits and men come under thy signet.
“There is the face of God”,* I could not understand for years,
I saw thy face, and the pupil of the eye of truth became clear.”I requested to be allowed to renounce the work and burden of worldly affairs, and to choose for myself the office of sweeping the monastery. But he would not permit it, and said that I ought now to go to Hindústán. So I took leave in such a desolate state of mind and distraction of heart, as may no other ever experience, and prepared to depart. At the moment of departure lamentation involuntarily burst forth from my sorrowing soul, and when this came to the ears of his reverence, although no one is properly allowed to remain in that monastery more than three days, he kept me there a fourth, and told me things, the sweetness of which still remains in my heart:—
“I go homeward from this door,
But my heart is without choice:
I lament so much that you would think
I was going to a foreign country.”And a few of my own adventures I propose (if God will) to recount in the appendix to this book.
One stage from Tulambah* Ḥusain Khán wrote a letter to Ḥusain Qulí Khán, saying: “Since I have come 400 cosses by forced marches, if you would let me be a participator in this victory, and postpone the battle one day, it would be only friendly.” Ḥusain Qulí Khán said “All right!,” and sent the courier back. But that very day, as quickly as ever he could, outside the fortress of Tulam-
bah, which is within 40 cosses of Multán, he commenced the attack. The Mirzá had gone on a hunting expedition, and was quite unaware of his approach. Some of the Mirzá's men were preparing to march, and others were quite unprepared and (P. 158) dispersed about, and not drawn up in any regular order of battle. Mas'úd Ḥusain Mirzá, younger brother of Mirzá Ibráhím Ḥusain, took the initiative, and attacked the force of Ḥusain Qulí Khán, but his horse stumbled on the uneven ground, and he fell to the ground and was taken prisoner. When Mirzá Ibráhím Ḥusain returned from hunting, all chance was gone, and however bravely he fought and charged repeatedly it made no difference, and so, seeing that he could do nothing, he turned his reins and fled. The day after the victory Ḥusain Khán arrived at Tulambah with eighty or ninety men, and drums beating. Ḥusain Qulí Khán showed him the battle-field and recounted to him each man's exploits. Ḥusain Khán then said: “Since the enemy has escaped with his life, you ought to pursue him and take him prisoner, for the business is not yet complete.” Ḥusain Qulí Khán replied: “Since I have come by forced marches from Nagarkót, and my army has been subjected to great exertions in the mountain district, and is not in proper condition, this victory is enough for me, now let other friends have a turn.” Ḥusain Khán now hoped that his turn was come, and that the hardships and forced marches of 500 cosses had opened a way for him, so he took his leave, and pressed forward. Some of his men, who were worn out with fatigue, he sent with the elephants and drums to Láhór, and taking but a few men with him he continued the pursuit of the hapless Mirzá. There was but a short distance between him and the Mirzá, when one night the latter with 400 horsemen halted on the banks of the Biyáh and Satlij, at the point where the two streams unite. The Jhíls, who are a low class of Multán peasants, assembled and made a night attack on him, and poured a shower of arrows (P. 159) upon him. The Mirzá with a party of men, some of them wounded, and some of them disabled and in a miserable plight, did what he could to beat off their assailants. But, in accordance with the proverb:* — “A shout is enough for a conquered army,”the Jhíls came off victorious. Suddenly during the encounter an arrow, by the decree of God, struck the Mírzá on the back of his head and came out at his throat. Then since all was over with him he changed his dress, and his men left him and fled scattered in all directions. But wherever they went, they became marks for the arrow of fate and went to retribution. One or two old servants of the Mirzá dressed him in the garments of a Kalandar* and endeavoured to get him into some place of safety. In his extreme weakness they brought him for refuge to spend the night in the abode of a hermit Dervish, Shaikh Zakariyá by name, who openly applied a molifying ointment to the wound of the Mirzá, but secretly sent information of his whereabouts to Sa'íd Khán at Multán:—