Читать книгу The Bābur-nāma - Babur - Страница 35

(a. Bābur’s poverty in Tāshkīnt.)

This move of The Khān’s was rather unprofitable; to take no fort, to beat no foe, he went out and went back.

During my stay in Tāshkīnt, I endured much poverty and humiliation. No country or hope of one! Most of my retainers dispersed, those left, unable to move about with me because of their destitution! If I went to my Khān dādā’s Gate,601 I went sometimes with one man, sometimes with two. It was well he was no stranger but one of my own blood. After showing myself602 in his presence, I used to go to Shāh Begīm’s, entering her house, bareheaded and barefoot, just as if it were my own.

This uncertainty and want of house and home drove me at last to despair. Said I, ‘It would be better to take my head603 and go off than live in such misery; better to go as far as my feet can carry me than be seen of men in such poverty and humiliation.’ Having settled on China to go to, I resolved to take my head and get away. From my childhood up I had wished to visit China but had not been able to manage it because of ruling and attachments. Now sovereignty itself was gone! and my mother, for her part, was re-united to her (step) – mother and her younger brother. The hindrances to my journey had been removed; my anxiety for my mother was dispelled. I represented (to Shāh Begīm and The Khān) through Khwāja Abū’l-makāram that now such a foe as Shaibāq Khān had made his appearance, Mughūl and Turk604 alike must guard against him; that thought about him must be taken while he had not well-mastered the (Aūzbeg) horde or grown very strong, for as they have said; —605

that it was 20 or 25 years606 since they had seen the Younger Khān (Aḥmad Alacha) and that I had never seen him; should I be able, if I went to him, not only to see him myself, but to bring about the meeting between him and them?

Under this pretext I proposed to get out of those surroundings;607 once in Mughūlistān and Turfān, my reins would be in my own hands, without check or anxiety. I put no-one in possession of my scheme. Why not? Because it was impossible for me to mention such a scheme to my mother, and also because it was with other expectations that the few of all ranks who had been my companions in exile and privation, had cut themselves off with me and with me suffered change of fortune. To speak to them also of such a scheme would be no pleasure.

The Khwāja, having laid my plan before Shāh Begīm and The Khān, understood them to consent to it but, later, it occurred to them that I might be asking leave a second time,608 because of not receiving kindness. That touching their reputation, they delayed a little to give the leave.

(b. The Younger Khān comes to Tāshkīnt.)

At this crisis a man came from the Younger Khān to say that he was actually on his way. This brought my scheme to naught. When a second man announced his near approach, we all went out to give him honourable meeting, Shāh Begīm and his younger sisters, Sult̤ān-nigār Khānīm and Daulat-sult̤ān Khānīm, and I and Sl. Muḥ. Khānika and Khān Mīrzā (Wais).

Between Tāshkīnt and Sairām is a village called Yagha (var. Yaghma), with some smaller ones, where are the tombs of Father Abraham and Father Isaac. So far we went out. Knowing nothing exact about his coming,609 I rode out for an excursion, with an easy mind. All at once, he descended on me, face to face. I went forward; when I stopped, he stopped. He was a good deal perturbed; perhaps he was thinking of dismounting in some fixed spot and there seated, of receiving me ceremoniously. There was no time for this; when we were near each other, I dismounted. He had not time even to dismount;610 I bent the knee, went forward and saw him. Hurriedly and with agitation, he told Sl. Sa‘īd Khān and Bābā Khān Sl. to dismount, bend the knee with (bīla) me and make my acquaintance.611 Just these two of his sons had come with him; they may have been 13 or 14 years old. When I had seen them, we all mounted and went to Shāh Begīm’s presence. After he had seen her and his sisters, and had renewed acquaintance, they all sat down and for half the night told one another particulars of their past and gone affairs.

Next day, my Younger Khān dādā bestowed on me arms of his own and one of his own special horses saddled, and a Mughūl head-to-foot dress, – a Mughūl cap,612 a long coat of Chinese satin, with broidering of stitchery,613 and Chinese armour; in the old fashion, they had hung, on the left side, a haversack (chantāī) and an outer bag,614 and three or four things such as women usually hang on their collars, perfume-holders and various receptacles;615 in the same way, three or four things hung on the right side also.

From there we went to Tāshkīnt. My Elder Khān dādā also had come out for the meeting, some 3 or 4 yīghāch (12 to 15 m.) along the road. He had had an awning set up in a chosen spot and was seated there. The Younger Khān went up directly in front of him; on getting near, fetched a circle, from right to left, round him; then dismounted before him. After advancing to the place of interview (kūrūshūr yīr), he nine times bent the knee; that done, went close and saw (his brother). The Elder Khān, in his turn, had risen when the Younger Khān drew near. They looked long at one another (kūrūshtīlār) and long stood in close embrace (qūchūshūb). The Younger Khān again bent the knee nine times when retiring, many times also on offering his gift; after that, he went and sat down.

All his men had adorned themselves in Mughūl fashion. There they were in Mughūl caps (būrk); long coats of Chinese satin, broidered with stitchery, Mughūl quivers and saddles of green shagreen-leather, and Mughūl horses adorned in a unique fashion. He had brought rather few men, over 1000 and under 2000 may-be. He was a man of singular manners, a mighty master of the sword, and brave. Amongst arms he preferred to trust to the sword. He used to say that of arms there are, the shash-par616 (six-flanged mace), the piyāzī (rugged mace), the kīstin,617 the tabar-zīn (saddle-hatchet) and the bāltū (battle-axe), all, if they strike, work only with what of them first touches, but the sword, if it touch, works from point to hilt. He never parted with his keen-edged sword; it was either at his waist or to his hand. He was a little rustic and rough-of-speech, through having grown up in an out-of-the-way place.

When, adorned in the way described, I went with him to The Khān, Khwāja Abū’l-makāram asked, ‘Who is this honoured sult̤ān?’ and till I spoke, did not recognize me.

(c. The Khāns march into Farghāna against Taṃbal.)

Soon after returning to Tāshkīnt, The Khān led out an army for Andikān (Andijān) direct against Sl. Aḥmad Taṃbal.618 He took the road over the Kīndīrlīk-pass and from Blacksmiths’-dale (Āhangarān-julgasī) sent the Younger Khān and me on in advance. After the pass had been crossed, we all met again near Zarqān (var. Zabarqān) of Karnān.

One day, near Karnān, they numbered their men619 and reckoned them up to be 30,000. From ahead news began to come that Taṃbal also was collecting a force and going to Akhsī. After having consulted together, The Khāns decided to join some of their men to me, in order that I might cross the Khujand-water, and, marching by way of Aūsh and Aūzkīnt, turn Taṃbal’s rear. Having so settled, they joined to me Ayūb Begchīk with his tūmān, Jān-ḥasan Bārīn (var. Nārīn) with his Bārīns, Muḥ. Ḥiṣārī Dūghlāt, Sl. Ḥusain Dūghlāt and Sl. Aḥmad Mīrzā Dūghlāt, not in command of the Dūghlāt tūmān, – and Qaṃbar-‘alī Beg (the Skinner). The commandant (darogha) of their force was Sārīgh-bāsh (Yellow-head) Mīrza Itārchī.620

Leaving The Khāns in Karnān, we crossed the river on rafts near Sakan, traversed the Khūqān sub-district (aūrchīn), crushed Qabā and by way of the Alāī sub-districts621 descended suddenly on Aūsh. We reached it at dawn, unexpected; those in it could but surrender. Naturally the country-folk were wishing much for us, but they had not been able to find their means, both through dread of Taṃbal and through our remoteness. After we entered Aūsh, the hordes and the highland and lowland tribes of southern and eastern Andijān came in to us. The Aūzkīnt people also, willing to serve us, sent me a man and came in.

(Author’s note on Aūzkīnt.) Aūzkīnt formerly must have been a capital of Farghāna;622 it has an excellent fort and is situated on the boundary (of Farghāna).

The Marghīnānīs also came in after two or three days, having beaten and chased their commandant (darogha). Except Andijān, every fort south of the Khujand-water had now come in to us. Spite of the return in those days of so many forts, and spite of risings and revolt against him, Taṃbal did not yet come to his senses but sat down with an army of horse and foot, fortified with ditch and branch, to face The Khāns, between Karnān and Akhsī. Several times over there was a little fighting and pell-mell but without decided success to either side.

In the Andijān country (wilāyat), most of the tribes and hordes and the forts and all the districts had come in to me; naturally the Andijānīs also were wishing for me. They however could not find their means.

(d. Bābur’s attempt to enter Andijān frustrated by a mistake.)

It occurred to me that if we went one night close to the town and sent a man in to discuss with the Khwāja623 and notables, they might perhaps let us in somewhere. With this idea we rode out from Aūsh. By midnight we were opposite Forty-daughters (Chihil-dukhterān) 2 miles (one kuroh) from Andijān. From that place we sent Qaṃbar-‘alī Beg forward, with some other begs, who were to discuss matters with the Khwāja after by some means or other getting a man into the fort. While waiting for their return, we sat on our horses, some of us patiently humped up, some wrapt away in dream, when suddenly, at about the third watch, there rose a war-cry624 and a sound of drums. Sleepy and startled, ignorant whether the foe was many or few, my men, without looking to one another, took each his own road and turned for flight. There was no time for me to get at them; I went straight for the enemy. Only Mīr Shāh Qūchīn and Bābā Sher-zād (Tiger-whelp) and Nāṣir’s Dost sprang forward; we four excepted, every man set his face for flight. I had gone a little way forward, when the enemy rode rapidly up, flung out his war-cry and poured arrows on us. One man, on a horse with a starred forehead,625 came close to me; I shot at it; it rolled over and died. They made a little as if to retire. The three with me said, ‘In this darkness it is not certain whether they are many or few; all our men have gone off; what harm could we four do them? Fighting must be when we have overtaken our run-aways and rallied them.’ Off we hurried, got up with our men and beat and horse-whipped some of them, but, do what we would, they would not make a stand. Back the four of us went to shoot arrows at the foe. They drew a little back but when, after a discharge or two, they saw we were not more than three or four, they busied themselves in chasing and unhorsing my men. I went three or four times to try to rally my men but all in vain! They were not to be brought to order. Back I went with my three and kept the foe in check with our arrows. They pursued us two or three kuroh (4-6 m.), as far as the rising ground opposite Kharābūk and Pashāmūn. There we met Muḥ. ‘Alī Mubashir. Said I, ‘They are only few; let us stop and put our horses at them.’ So we did. When we got up to them, they stood still.626

Our scattered braves gathered in from this side and that, but several very serviceable men, scattering in this attack, went right away to Aūsh.

The explanation of the affair seemed to be that some of Ayūb Begchīk’s Mughūls had slipped away from Aūsh to raid near Andijān and, hearing the noise of our troop, came somewhat stealthily towards us; then there seems to have been confusion about the pass-word. The pass-words settled on for use during this movement of ours were Tāshkīnt and Sairām. If

(Author’s note on pass-words.) Pass-words are of two kinds; – in each tribe there is one for use in the tribe, such as Darwāna or Tūqqāī or Lūlū;627 and there is one for the use of the whole army. For a battle, two words are settled on as pass-words so that of two men meeting in the fight, one may give the one, the other give back the second, in order to distinguish friends from foes, own men from strangers.

Tāshkīnt were said, Sairām would be answered; if Sairām, Tāshkīnt. In this muddled affair, Khwāja Muḥ. ‘Ali seems to have been somewhat in advance of our party and to have got bewildered, – he was a Sārt person,628– when the Mughūls came up saying, ‘Tāshkīnt, Tāshkīnt,’ for he gave them ‘Tāshkīnt, Tāshkīnt,’ as the counter-sign. Through this they took him for an enemy, raised their war-cry, beat their saddle-drums and poured arrows on us. It was through this we gave way, and through this false alarm were scattered! We went back to Aūsh.

(e. Bābur again attempts Andijān.)

Through the return to me of the forts and the highland and lowland clans, Taṃbal and his adherents lost heart and footing. His army and people in the next five or six days began to desert him and to flee to retired places and the open country.629 Of his household some came and said, ‘His affairs are nearly ruined; he will break up in three or four days, utterly ruined.’ On hearing this, we rode for Andijān.

Sl. Muḥ. Galpuk630 was in Andijān, – the younger of Taṃbal’s cadet brothers. We took the Mulberry-road and at the Mid-day Prayer came to the Khākān (canal), south of the town. A foraging-party was arranged; I followed it along Khākān to the skirt of ‘Aīsh-hill. When our scouts brought word that Sl. Muḥ. Galpuk had come out, with what men he had, beyond the suburbs and gardens to the skirt of ‘Aīsh, I hurried to meet him, although our foragers were still scattered. He may have had over 500 men; we had more but many had scattered to forage. When we were face to face, his men and ours may have been in equal number. Without caring about order or array, down we rode on them, loose rein, at the gallop. When we got near, they could not stand; there was not so much fighting as the crossing of a few swords. My men followed them almost to the Khākān Gate, unhorsing one after another.

It was at the Evening Prayer that, our foe outmastered, we reached Khwāja Kitta, on the outskirts of the suburbs. My idea was to go quickly right up to the Gate but Dost Beg’s father, Nāṣir Beg and Qaṃbar-‘alī Beg, old and experienced begs both, represented to me, ‘It is almost night; it would be ill-judged to go in a body into the fort in the dark; let us withdraw a little and dismount. What can they do to-morrow but surrender the place?’ Yielding at once to the opinion of these experienced persons, we forthwith retired to the outskirts of the suburbs. If we had gone to the Gate, undoubtedly, Andijān would have come into our hands.

(f. Bābur surprised by Taṃbal.)

After crossing the Khākān-canal, we dismounted, near the Bed-time prayer, at the side of the village of Rabāt̤-i-zauraq (var. rūzaq). Although we knew that Taṃbal had broken camp and was on his way to Andijān, yet, with the negligence of inexperience, we dismounted on level ground close to the village, instead of where the defensive canal would have protected us.631 There we lay down carelessly, without scouts or rear-ward.

At the top (bāsh) of the morning, just when men are in sweet sleep, Qaṃbar-‘alī Beg hurried past, shouting, ‘Up with you! the enemy is here!’ So much he said and went off without a moment’s stay. It was my habit to lie down, even in times of peace, in my tunic; up I got instanter, put on sword and quiver and mounted. My standard-bearer had no time to adjust my standard,632 he just mounted with it in his hand. There were ten or fifteen men with me when we started toward the enemy; after riding an arrow’s flight, when we came up with his scouts, there may have been ten. Going rapidly forward, we overtook him, poured in arrows on him, over-mastered his foremost men and hurried them off. We followed them for another arrow’s flight and came up with his centre where Sl. Aḥmad Taṃbal himself was, with as many as 100 men. He and another were standing in front of his array, as if keeping a Gate,633 and were shouting, ‘Strike, strike!’ but his men, mostly, were sidling, as if asking themselves, ‘Shall we run away? Shall we not?’ By this time three were left with me; one was Nāṣir’s Dost, another, Mīrzā Qulī Kūkūldāsh, the third, Khudāī-bīrdī Turkmān’s Karīm-dād.634 I shot off the arrow on my thumb,635 aiming at Taṃbal’s helm. When I put my hand into my quiver, there came out a quite new gosha-gīr636 given me by my Younger Khān dādā. It would have been vexing to throw it away but before I got it back into the quiver, there had been time to shoot, maybe, two or three arrows. When once more I had an arrow on the string, I went forward, my three men even holding back. One of those two in advance, Taṃbal seemingly,637 moved forward also. The high-road was between us; I from my side, he, from his, got upon it and came face to face, in such a way that his right hand was towards me, mine towards him. His horse’s mail excepted, he was fully accoutred; but for sword and quiver, I was unprotected. I shot off the arrow in my hand, adjusting for the attachment of his shield. With matters in this position, they shot my right leg through. I had on the cap of my helm;638 Taṃbal chopped so violently at my head that it lost all feeling under the blow. A large wound was made on my head, though not a thread of the cap was cut.639 I had not bared640 my sword; it was in the scabbard and I had no chance to draw it. Single-handed, I was alone amongst many foes. It was not a time to stand still; I turned rein. Down came a sword again; this time on my arrows. When I had gone 7 or 8 paces, those same three men rejoined me.641 After using his sword on me, Taṃbal seems to have used it on Nāṣir’s Dost. As far as an arrrow flies to the butt, the enemy followed us.

The Khākān-canal is a great main-channel, flowing in a deep cutting, not everywhere to be crossed. God brought it right! we came exactly opposite a low place where there was a passage over. Directly we had crossed, the horse Nāṣir’s Dost was on, being somewhat weakly, fell down. We stopped and remounted him, then drew off for Aūsh, over the rising-ground between Farāghīna and Khirābūk. Out on the rise, Mazīd T̤aghāī came up and joined us. An arrow had pierced his right leg also and though it had not gone through and come out again, he got to Aūsh with difficulty. The enemy unhorsed (tūshūrdīlār) good men of mine; Nāṣir Beg, Muḥ. ‘Alī Mubashir, Khwāja Muḥ. ‘Alī, Khusrau Kūkūldāsh, Na‘man the page, all fell (to them, tūshtīlār), and also many unmailed braves.642

(g. The Khāns move from Kāsān to Andijān.)

The Khāns, closely following on Taṃbal, dismounted near Andijān, – the Elder at the side of the Reserve (qūrūq) in the garden, known as Birds’-mill (Qūsh-tīgīrmān), belonging to my grandmother, Aīsān-daulat Begīm, – the Younger, near Bābā Tawakkul’s Alms-house. Two days later I went from Aūsh and saw the Elder Khān in Birds’-mill. At that interview, he simply gave over to the Younger Khān the places which had come in to me. He made some such excuse as that for our advantage, he had brought the Younger Khān, how far! because such a foe as Shaibāq Khān had taken Samarkand and was waxing greater; that the Younger Khān had there no lands whatever, his own being far away; and that the country under Andijān, on the south of the Khujand-water, must be given him to encamp in. He promised me the country under Akhsī, on the north of the Khujand-water. He said that after taking a firm grip of that country (Farghāna), they would move, take Samarkand, give it to me and then the whole of the Farghāna country was to be the Younger Khan’s. These words seem to have been meant to deceive me, since there is no knowing what they would have done when they had attained their object. It had to be however! willy-nilly, I agreed.

When, leaving him, I was on my way to the Younger Khān’s presence, Qaṃbar-‘alī, known as the Skinner, joined me in a friendly way and said, ‘Do you see? They have taken the whole of the country just become yours. There is no opening for you through them. You have in your hands Aūsh, Marghīnān, Aūzkīnt and the cultivated land and the tribes and the hordes; go you to Aūsh; make that fort fast; send a man to Taṃbal, make peace with him, then strike at the Mughūl and drive him out. After that, divide the districts into an elder and a younger brother’s shares.’ ‘Would that be right?’ said I. ‘The Khāns are my blood relations; better serve them than rule for Taṃbal.’ He saw that his words had made no impression, so turned back, sorry he had spoken. I went on to see my Younger Khān Dādā. At our first interview, I had come upon him without announcement and he had no time to dismount, so it was all rather unceremonious. This time I got even nearer perhaps, and he ran out as far as the end of the tent-ropes. I was walking with some difficulty because of the wound in my leg. We met and renewed acquaintance; then he said, ‘You are talked about as a hero, my young brother!’ took my arm and led me into his tent. The tents pitched were rather small and through his having grown up in an out-of-the-way place, he let the one he sat in be neglected; it was like a raider’s, melons, grapes, saddlery, every sort of thing, in his sitting-tent. I went from his presence straight back to my own camp and there he sent his Mughūl surgeon to examine my wound. Mughūls call a surgeon also a bakhshī; this one was called Ātākā Bakhshī.643

He was a very skilful surgeon; if a man’s brains had come out, he would cure it, and any sort of wound in an artery he easily healed. For some wounds his remedy was in form of a plaister, for some medicines had to be taken. He ordered a bandage tied on644 the wound in my leg and put no seton in; once he made me eat something like a fibrous root (yīldīz). He told me himself, ‘A certain man had his leg broken in the slender part and the bone was shattered for the breadth of the hand. I cut the flesh open and took the bits of bone out. Where they had been, I put a remedy in powder-form. That remedy simply became bone where there had been bone before.’ He told many strange and marvellous things such as surgeons in cultivated lands cannot match.

Three or four days later, Qaṃbar-‘alī, afraid on account of what he had said to me, fled (to Taṃbal) in Andijān. A few days later, The Khāns joined to me Ayūb Begchīk with his tūmān, and Jān-ḥasan Bārīn with the Bārīn tūmān and, as their army-beg, Sārīgh-bāsh Mīrzā, – 1000 to 2000 men in all, and sent us towards Akhsī.

(h. Bābur’s expedition to Akhsī.)

Shaikh Bāyazīd, a younger brother of Taṃbal, was in Akhsī; Shahbāz Qārlūq was in Kāsān. At the time, Shahbāz was lying before Nū-kīnt fort; crossing the Khujand-water opposite Bīkhrātā, we hurried to fall upon him there. When, a little before dawn, we were nearing the place, the begs represented to me that as the man would have had news of us, it was advisable not to go on in broken array. We moved on therefore with less speed. Shahbāz may have been really unaware of us until we were quite close; then getting to know of it, he fled into the fort. It often happens so! Once having said, ‘The enemy is on guard!’ it is easily fancied true and the chance of action is lost. In short, the experience of such things is that no effort or exertion must be omitted, once the chance for action comes. After-repentance is useless. There was a little fighting round the fort at dawn but we delivered no serious attack.

For the convenience of foraging, we moved from Nū-kīnt towards the hills in the direction of Bīshkhārān. Seizing his opportunity, Shahbāz Qārlūq abandoned Nū-kīnt and returned to Kāsān. We went back and occupied Nū-kīnt. During those days, the army several times went out and over-ran all sides and quarters. Once they over-ran the villages of Akhsī, once those of Kāsān. Shahbāz and Long Ḥasan’s adopted son, Mīrīm came out of Kāsān to fight; they fought, were beaten, and there Mīrīm died.

(i. The affairs of Pāp.)

Pāp is a strong fort belonging to Akhsī. The Pāpīs made it fast and sent a man to me. We accordingly sent Sayyid Qāsim with a few braves to occupy it. They crossed the river (daryā) opposite the upper villages of Akhsī and went into Pāp.645 A few days later, Sayyid Qāsim did an astonishing thing. There were at the time with Shaikh Bāyazīd in Akhsī, Ibrāhīm Chāpūk (Slash-face) T̤aghāī,646 Aḥmad-of-qāsim Kohbur, and Qāsim Khitika (?) Arghūn. To these Shaikh Bāyazīd joins 200 serviceable braves and one night sends them to surprise Pāp. Sayyid Qāsim must have lain down carelessly to sleep, without setting a watch. They reach the fort, set ladders up, get up on the Gate, let the drawbridge down and, when 70 or 80 good men in mail are inside, goes the news to Sayyid Qāsim! Drowsy with sleep, he gets into his vest (kūnglāk), goes out, with five or six of his men, charges the enemy and drives them out with blow upon blow. He cut off a few heads and sent to me. Though such a careless lying down was bad leadership, yet, with so few, just by force of drubbing, to chase off such a mass of men in mail was very brave indeed.

Meantime The Khāns were busy with the siege of Andijān but the garrison would not let them get near it. The Andijān braves used to make sallies and blows would be exchanged.

(j. Bābur invited into Akhsī.)

Shaikh Bāyazīd now began to send persons to us from Akhsī to testify to well-wishing and pressingly invite us to Akhsī. His object was to separate me from The Khāns, by any artifice, because without me, they had no standing-ground. His invitation may have been given after agreeing with his elder brother, Taṃbal that if I were separated from The Khāns, it might be possible, in my presence, to come to some arrangement with them. We gave The Khāns a hint of the invitation. They said, ‘Go! and by whatever means, lay hands on Shaikh Bāyazīd.’ It was not my habit to cheat and play false; here above all places, when promises would have been made, how was I to break them? It occurred to me however, that if we could get into Akhsī, we might be able, by using all available means, to detach Shaikh Bāyazīd from Taṃbal, when he might take my side or something might turn up to favour my fortunes. We, in our turn, sent a man to him; compact was made, he invited us into Akhsī and when we went, came out to meet us, bringing my younger brother, Nāṣir Mīrzā with him. Then he took us into the town, gave us ground to camp in (yūrt) and to me one of my father’s houses in the outer fort647 where I dismounted.

(k. Taṃbal asks help of Shaibāq Khān.)

Taṃbal had sent his elder brother, Beg Tīlba, to Shaibāq Khān with proffer of service and invitation to enter Farghāna. At this very time Shaibāq Khān’s answer arrived; ‘I will come,’ he wrote. On hearing this, The Khāns were all upset; they could sit no longer before Andijān and rose from before it.

The Younger Khān himself had a reputation for justice and orthodoxy, but his Mughūls, stationed, contrary to the expectations of the towns-people, in Aūsh, Marghīnān and other places, – places that had come in to me, – began to behave ill and oppressively. When The Khāns had broken up from before Andijān, the Aūshīs and Marghīnānīs, rising in tumult, seized the Mughūls in their forts, plundered and beat them, drove them out and pursued them.

The Khāns did not cross the Khujand-water (for the Kīndīrlīk-pass) but left the country by way of Marghīnān and Kand-i-badām and crossed it at Khujand, Taṃbal pursuing them as far as Marghīnān. We had had much uncertainty; we had not had much confidence in their making any stand, yet for us to go away, without clear reason, and leave them, would not have looked well.

(l. Bābur attempts to defend Akhsī.)

Early one morning, when I was in the Hot-bath, Jahāngīr Mīrzā came into Akhsī, from Marghīnān, a fugitive from Taṃbal. We saw one another, Shaikh Bāyazīd also being present, agitated and afraid. The Mīrzā and Ibrāhīm Beg said, ‘Shaikh Bāyazīd must be made prisoner and we must get the citadel into our hands.’ In good sooth, the proposal was wise. Said I, ‘Promise has been made; how can we break it?’ Shaikh Bāyazīd went into the citadel. Men ought to have been posted on the bridge; not even there did we post any-one! These blunders were the fruit of inexperience. At the top of the morning came Taṃbal himself with 2 or 3000 men in mail, crossed the bridge and went into the citadel. To begin with I had had rather few men; when I first went into Akhsī some had been sent to other forts and some had been made commandants and summoners all round. Left with me in Akhsī may have been something over 100 men. We had got to horse with these and were posting braves at the top of one lane after another and making ready for the fight, when Shaikh Bāyazīd and Qaṃbar-‘alī (the Skinner), and Muḥammad-dost648 came gallopping from Taṃbal with talk of peace.

After posting those told off for the fight, each in his appointed place, I dismounted at my father’s tomb for a conference, in which I invited Jahāngīr Mīrzā to join. Muḥammad-dost went back to Taṃbal but Qaṃbar-‘alī and Shaikh Bāyazīd were present. We sat in the south porch of the tomb and were in consultation when the Mīrzā, who must have settled beforehand with Ibrāhīm Chāpūk to lay hands on those other two, said in my ear, ‘They must be made prisoner.’ Said I, ‘Don’t hurry! matters are past making prisoners. See here! with terms made, the affair might be coaxed into something. For why? Not only are they many and we few, but they with their strength are in the citadel, we with our weakness, in the outer fort.’ Shaikh Bāyazīd and Qaṃbar-‘alī both being present, Jahāngīr Mīrzā looked at Ibrāhīm Beg and made him a sign to refrain. Whether he misunderstood to the contrary or whether he pretended to misunderstand, is not known; suddenly he did the ill-deed of seizing Shaikh Bāyazīd. Braves closing in from all sides, flung those two to the ground. Through this the affair was taken past adjustment; we gave them into charge and got to horse for the coming fight.

One side of the town was put into Jahāngīr Mīrzā’s charge; as his men were few, I told off some of mine to reinforce him. I went first to his side and posted men for the fight, then to other parts of the town. There is a somewhat level, open space in the middle of Akhsī; I had posted a party of braves there and gone on when a large body of the enemy, mounted and on foot, bore down upon them, drove them from their post and forced them into a narrow lane. Just then I came up (the lane), gallopped my horse at them, and scattered them in flight. While I was thus driving them out from the lane into the flat, and had got my sword to work, they shot my horse in the leg; it stumbled and threw me there amongst them. I got up quickly and shot one arrow off. My squire, Kahil (lazy) had a weakly pony; he got off and led it to me. Mounting this, I started for another lane-head. Sl. Muḥ. Wais noticed the weakness of my mount, dismounted and led me his own. I mounted that horse. Just then, Qāsim Beg’s son, Qaṃbar-‘alī came, wounded, from Jahāngīr Mīrzā and said the Mīrzā had been attacked some time before, driven off in panic, and had gone right away. We were thunderstruck! At the same moment arrived Sayyid Qāsim, the commandant of Pāp! His was a most unseasonable visit, since at such a crisis it was well to have such a strong fort in our hands. Said I to Ibrāhīm Beg, ‘What’s to be done now?’ He was slightly wounded; whether because of this or because of stupefaction, he could give no useful answer. My idea was to get across the bridge, destroy it and make for Andijān. Bābā Sher-zād did very well here. ‘We will storm out at the gate and get away at once,’ he said. At his word, we set off for the Gate. Khwāja Mīr Mīrān also spoke boldly at that crisis. In one of the lanes, Sayyid Qāsim and Nāṣir’s Dost chopped away at Bāqī Khīz,649 I being in front with Ibrāhīm Beg and Mīrzā Qulī Kūkūldāsh.

As we came opposite the Gate, we saw Shaikh Bāyazīd, wearing his pull-over shirt650 above his vest, coming in with three or four horsemen. He must have been put into the charge of Jahāngīr’s men in the morning when, against my will, he was made prisoner, and they must have carried him off when they got away. They had thought it would be well to kill him; they set him free alive. He had been released just when I chanced upon him in the Gate. I drew and shot off the arrow on my thumb; it grazed his neck, a good shot! He came confusedly in at the Gate, turned to the right and fled down a lane. We followed him instantly. Mīrzā Qulī Kūkūldāsh got at one man with his rugged-mace and went on. Another man took aim at Ibrāhīm Beg, but when the Beg shouted ‘Hāī! Hāī!’ let him pass and shot me in the arm-pit, from as near as a man on guard at a Gate. Two plates of my Qālmāq mail were cut; he took to flight and I shot after him. Next I shot at a man running away along the ramparts, adjusting for his cap against the battlements; he left his cap nailed on the wall and went off, gathering his turban-sash together in his hand. Then again, – a man was in flight alongside me in the lane down which Shaikh Bāyazīd had gone. I pricked the back of his head with my sword; he bent over from his horse till he leaned against the wall of the lane, but he kept his seat and with some trouble, made good his flight. When we had driven all the enemy’s men from the Gate, we took possession of it but the affair was past discussion because they, in the citadel, were 2000 or 3000, we, in the outer fort, 100 or 200. Moreover they had chased off Jahāngīr Mīrzā, as long before as it takes milk to boil, and with him had gone half my men. This notwithstanding, we sent a man, while we were in the Gate, to say to him, ‘If you are near at hand, come, let us attack again.’ But the matter had gone past that! Ibrāhīm Beg, either because his horse was really weak or because of his wound, said, ‘My horse is done.’ On this, Sulaimān, one of Muḥ. ‘Alī’s Mubashir’s servants, did a plucky thing, for with matters as they were and none constraining him, while we were waiting in the Gate, he dismounted and gave his horse to Ibrāhīm Beg. Kīchīk (little) ‘Alī, now the Governor of Koel,651 also shewed courage while we were in the Gate; he was a retainer of Sl. Muḥ. Wais and twice did well, here and in Aūsh. We delayed in the Gate till those sent to Jahāngīr Mīrzā came back and said he had gone off long before. It was too late to stay there; off we flung; it was ill-judged to have stayed as long as we did. Twenty or thirty men were with me. Just as we hustled out of the Gate, a number of armed men652 came right down upon us, reaching the town-side of the drawbridge just as we had crossed. Banda-‘alī, the maternal grandfather of Qāsim Beg’s son, Ḥamza, called out to Ibrāhīm Beg, ‘You are always boasting of your zeal! Let’s take to our swords!’ ‘What hinders? Come along!’ said Ibrāhīm Beg, from beside me. The senseless fellows were for displaying their zeal at a time of such disaster! Ill-timed zeal! That was no time to make stand or delay! We went off quickly, the enemy following and unhorsing our men.

(m. Bābur a fugitive before Taṃbal’s men.)

When we were passing Meadow-dome (Guṃbaz-i-chaman), two miles out of Akhsī, Ibrāhīm Beg called out to me. Looking back, I saw a page of Shaikh Bāyazīd’s striking at him and turned rein, but Bayān-qulī’s Khān-qulī, said at my side, ‘This is a bad time for going back,’ seized my rein and pushed ahead. Many of our men had been unhorsed before we reached Sang, 4 miles (2 shar‘ī) out of Akhsī.653 Seeing no pursuers at Sang, we passed it by and turned straight up its water. In this position of our affairs there were eight men of us; – Nāṣir’s Dost, Qāsim Beg’s Qaṃbar-‘alī, Bayān-qulī’s Khān-qulī, Mīrzā Qulī Kūkūldāsh, Nāṣir’s Shāham, Sayyidī Qarā’s ‘Abdu’l-qadūs, Khwāja Ḥusainī and myself, the eighth. Turning up the stream, we found, in the broad valley, a good little road, far from the beaten track. We made straight up the valley, leaving the stream on the right, reached its waterless part and, near the Afternoon Prayer, got up out of it to level land. When we looked across the plain, we saw a blackness on it, far away. I made my party take cover and myself had gone to look out from higher ground, when a number of men came at a gallop up the hill behind us. Without waiting to know whether they were many or few, we mounted and rode off. There were 20 or 25; we, as has been said, were eight. If we had known their number at first, we should have made a good stand against them but we thought they would not be pursuing us, unless they had good support behind. A fleeing foe, even if he be many, cannot face a few pursuers, for as the saying is, ‘Hāī is enough for the beaten ranks.’654

Khān-qulī said, ‘This will never do! They will take us all. From amongst the horses there are, you take two good ones and go quickly on with Mīrzā Qulī Kūkūldāsh, each with a led horse. May-be you will get away.’ He did not speak ill; as there was no fighting to hand, there was a chance of safety in doing as he said, but it really would not have looked well to leave any man alone, without a horse, amongst his foes. In the end they all dropped off, one by one, of themselves. My horse was a little tired; Khān-qulī dismounted and gave me his; I jumped off at once and mounted his, he mine. Just then they unhorsed Sayyidī Qarā’s ‘Abdu’l-qadūs and Nāṣir’s Shāham who had fallen behind. Khān-qulī also was left. It was no time to profer help or defence; on it was gone, at the full speed of our mounts. The horses began to flag; Dost Beg’s failed and stopped. Mine began to tire; Qaṃbar-‘alī got off and gave me his; I mounted his, he mine. He was left. Khwāja Ḥusainī was a lame man; he turned aside to the higher ground. I was left with Mīrzā Qulī Kūkūldāsh. Our horses could not possibly gallop, they trotted. His began to flag. Said I, ‘What will become of me, if you fall behind? Come along! let’s live or die together.’ Several times I looked back at him; at last he said, ‘My horse is done! It can’t go on. Never mind me! You go on, perhaps you will get away.’ It was a miserable position for me; he remained behind, I was alone.

Two of the enemy were in sight, one Bābā of Sairām, the other Banda-‘alī. They gained on me; my horse was done; the mountains were still 2 miles (1 kuroh) off. A pile of rock was in my path. Thought I to myself, ‘My horse is worn out and the hills are still somewhat far away; which way should I go? In my quiver are at least 20 arrows; should I dismount and shoot them off from this pile of rock?’ Then again, I thought I might reach the hills and once there, stick a few arrows in my belt and scramble up. I had a good deal of confidence in my feet and went on, with this plan in mind. My horse could not possibly trot; the two men came within arrow’s reach. For my own sake sparing my arrows, I did not shoot; they, out of caution, came no nearer. By sunset I was near the hills. Suddenly they called out, ‘Where are you going in this fashion? Jahāngīr Mīrzā has been brought in a prisoner; Nāṣir Mīrzā also is in their hands.’ I made no reply and went on towards the hills. When a good distance further had been gone, they spoke again, this time more respectfully, dismounting to speak. I gave no ear to them but went on up a glen till, at the Bed-time prayer, I reached a rock as big as a house. Going behind it, I saw there were places to be jumped, where no horse could go. They dismounted again and began to speak like servants and courteously. Said they, ‘Where are you going in this fashion, without a road and in the dark? Sl. Aḥmad Taṃbal will make you pādshāh.’ They swore this. Said I, ‘My mind is not easy as to that. I cannot go to him. If you think to do me timely service, years may pass before you have such another chance. Guide me to a road by which I can go to The Khān’s presence. If you will do this, I will shew you favour and kindness greater than your heart’s-desire. If you will not do it, go back the way you came; that also would be to serve me well.’ Said they, ‘Would to God we had never come! But since we are here, after following you in the way we have done, how can we go back from you? If you will not go with us, we are at your service, wherever you go.’ Said I, ‘Swear that you speak the truth.’ They, for their part, made solemn oath upon the Holy Book.

I at once confided in them and said, ‘People have shewn me a road through a broad valley, somewhere near this glen; take me to it.’ Spite of their oath, my trust in them was not so complete but that I gave them the lead and followed. After 2 to 4 miles (1-2 kuroh), we came to the bed of a torrent. ‘This will not be the road for the broad valley,’ I said. They drew back, saying, ‘That road is a long way ahead,’ but it really must have been the one we were on and they have been concealing the fact, in order to deceive me. About half through the night, we reached another stream. This time they said, ‘We have been negligent; it now seems to us that the road through the broad valley is behind.’ Said I, ‘What is to be done?’ Said they, ‘The Ghawā road is certainly in front; by it people cross for Far-kat.655 They guided me for that and we went on till in the third watch of the night we reached the Karnān gully which comes down from Ghawā. Here Bābā Sairāmī said, ‘Stay here a little while I look along the Ghawā road.’ He came back after a time and said, ‘Some men have gone along that road, led by one wearing a Mughūl cap; there is no going that way.’ I took alarm at these words. There I was, at dawn, in the middle of the cultivated land, far from the road I wanted to take. Said I, ‘Guide me to where I can hide today, and tonight when you will have laid hands on something for the horses, lead me to cross the Khujand-water and along its further bank.’ Said they, ‘Over there, on the upland, there might be hiding.’

Banda-‘alī was Commandant in Karnān. ‘There is no doing without food for ourselves or our horses;’ he said, ‘let me go into Karnān and bring what I can find.’ We stopped 2 miles (1 kuroh) out of Karnān; he went on. He was a long time away; near dawn there was no sign of him. The day had shot when he hurried up, bringing three loaves of bread but no corn for the horses. Each of us putting a loaf into the breast of his tunic, we went quickly up the rise, tethered our horses there in the open valley and went to higher ground, each to keep watch.

Near mid-day, Aḥmad the Falconer went along the Ghawā road for Akhsī. I thought of calling to him and of saying, with promise and fair word, ‘You take those horses,’ for they had had a day and a night’s strain and struggle, without corn, and were utterly done. But then again, we were a little uneasy as we did not entirely trust him. We decided that, as the men Bābā Sairāmī had seen on the road would be in Karnān that night, the two with me should fetch one of their horses for each of us, and that then we should go each his own way.

At mid-day, a something glittering was seen on a horse, as far away as eye can reach. We were not able to make out at all what it was. It must have been Muḥ. Bāqir Beg himself; he had been with us in Akhsī and when we got out and scattered, he must have come this way and have been moving then to a hiding-place.656

Banda-‘alī and Bābā Sairāmī said, ‘The horses have had no corn for two days and two nights; let us go down into the dale and put them there to graze.’ Accordingly we rode down and put them to the grass. At the Afternoon Prayer, a horseman passed along the rising-ground where we had been. We recognized him for Qādīr-bīrdī, the head-man of Ghawā. ‘Call him,’ I said. They called; he came. After questioning him, and speaking to him of favour and kindness, and giving him promise and fair word, I sent him to bring rope, and a grass-hook, and an axe, and material for crossing water,657 and corn for the horses, and food and, if it were possible, other horses. We made tryst with him for that same spot at the Bed-time Prayer.

Near the Evening Prayer, a horseman passed from the direction of Karnān for Ghawā. ‘Who are you?’ we asked. He made some reply. He must have been Muḥ. Bāqir Beg himself, on his way from where we had seen him earlier, going at night-fall to some other hiding-place, but he so changed his voice that, though he had been years with me, I did not know it. It would have been well if I had recognized him and he had joined me. His passing caused much anxiety and alarm; tryst could not be kept with Qādīr-bīrdī of Ghawā. Banda-‘alī said, ‘There are retired gardens in the suburbs of Karnān where no one will suspect us of being; let us go there and send to Qādīr-bīrdī and have him brought there.’ With this idea, we mounted and went to the Karnān suburbs. It was winter and very cold. They found a worn, coarse sheepskin coat and brought it to me; I put it on. They brought me a bowl of millet-porridge; I ate it and was wonderfully refreshed. ‘Have you sent off the man to Qādīr-bīrdī?’ said I to Banda-‘alī. ‘I have sent,’ he said. But those luckless, clownish mannikins seem to have agreed together to send the man to Taṃbal in Akhsī!

We went into a house and for awhile my eyes closed in sleep. Those mannikins artfully said to me, ‘You must not bestir yourself to leave Karnān till there is news of Qādīr-bīrdī but this house is right amongst the suburbs; on the outskirts the orchards are empty; no-one will suspect if we go there.’ Accordingly we mounted at mid-night and went to a distant orchard. Bābā Sairāmī kept watch from the roof of a house. Near mid-day he came down and said, ‘Commandant Yūsuf is coming.’ Great fear fell upon me! ‘Find out,’ I said, ‘whether he comes because he knows about me.’ He went and after some exchange of words, came back and said, ‘He says he met a foot-soldier in the Gate of Akhsī who said to him, “The pādshāh is in such a place,” that he told no-one, put the man with Walī the Treasurer whom he had made prisoner in the fight, and then gallopped off here.’ Said I, ‘How does it strike you?’ ‘They are all your servants,’ he said, ‘you must go. What else can you do? They will make you their ruler.’ Said I, ‘After such rebellion and fighting, with what confidence could I go?’ We were saying this, when Yūsuf knelt before me, saying, ‘Why should it be hidden? Sl. Aḥmad Taṃbal has no news of you, but Shaikh Bāyazīd has and he sent me here.’ On hearing this, my state of mind was miserable indeed, for well is it understood that nothing in the world is worse than fear for one’s life. ‘Tell the truth!’ I said, ‘if the affair is likely to go on to worse, I will make ablution.’ Yūsuf swore oaths, but who would trust them? I knew the helplessness of my position. I rose and went to a corner of the garden, saying to myself, ‘If a man live a hundred years or a thousand years, at the last nothing …’658

TRANSLATOR’S NOTE

Friends are likely to have rescued Bābur from his dangerous isolation. His presence in Karnān was known both in Ghawā and in Akhsī; Muḥ. Bāqir Beg was at hand (f. 117); some of those he had dropped in his flight would follow him when their horses had had rest; Jahāngīr was somewhere north of the river with the half of Bābur’s former force (f. 112); The Khāns, with their long-extended line of march, may have been on the main road through or near Karnān. If Yūsuf took Bābur as a prisoner along the Akhsī road, there were these various chances of his meeting friends.

His danger was evaded; he joined his uncles and was with them, leading 1000 men (Sh. N. p. 268), when they were defeated at Archīān just before or in the season of Cancer, i. e. circa June (T. R. p. 164). What he was doing between the winter cold of Karnān (f. 117b) and June might have been known from his lost pages. Muḥ. Ṣāliḥ writes at length of one affair falling within the time, – Jahāngīr’s occupation of Khujand, its siege and its capture by Shaibānī. This capture will have occurred considerably more than a month before the defeat of The Khāns (Sh. N. p. 230).

It is not easy to decide in what month of 908 AH. they went into Farghāna or how long their campaign lasted. Bābur chronicles a series of occurrences, previous to the march of the army, which must have filled some time. The road over the Kīndīrlīk-pass was taken, one closed in Bābur’s time (f. 1b) though now open through the winter. Looking at the rapidity of his own movements in Farghāna, it seems likely that the pass was crossed after and not before its closed time. If so, the campaign may have covered 4 or 5 months. Muḥ. Ṣāliḥ’s account of Shaibāq’s operations strengthens this view. News that Aḥmad had joined Maḥmūd in Tāshkīnt (f. 102) went to Shaibānī in Khusrau Shāh’s territories; he saw his interests in Samarkand threatened by this combination of the Chaghatāī brothers to restore Bābur in Farghāna, came north therefore in order to help Taṃbal. He then waited a month in Samarkand (Sh. N. p. 230), besieged Jahāngīr, went back and stayed in Samarkand long enough to give his retainers time to equip for a year’s campaigning (l. c. p. 244) then went to Akhsī and so to Archīān.

Bābur’s statement (f. 110b) that The Khāns went from Andijān to the Khujand-crossing over the Sīr attracts attention because this they might have done if they had meant to leave Farghāna by Mīrzā-rabāt̤ but they are next heard of as at Akhsī. Why did they make that great détour? Why not have crossed opposite Akhsī or at Sang? Or if they had thought of retiring, what turned them east again? Did they place Jahāngīr in Khujand? Bābur’s missing pages would have answered these questions no doubt. It was useful for them to encamp where they did, east of Akhsī, because they there had near them a road by which reinforcement could come from Kāshghar or retreat be made. The Akhsī people told Shaibānī that he could easily overcome The Khāns if he went without warning, and if they had not withdrawn by the Kulja road (Sh. N. p. 262). By that road the few men who went with Aḥmad to Tāshkīnt (f. 103) may have been augmented to the force, enumerated as his in the battle by Muḥ. Ṣāliḥ (Sh. N. cap. LIII.).

When The Khāns were captured, Bābur escaped and made ‘for Mughūlistān,’ a vague direction seeming here to mean Tāshkīnt, but, finding his road blocked, in obedience to orders from Shaibāq that he and Abū’l-makāram were to be captured, he turned back and, by unfrequented ways, went into the hill-country of Sūkh and Hushīār. There he spent about a year in great misery (f. 14 and Ḥ. S. ii, 318). Of the wretchedness of the time Ḥaidar also writes. If anything was attempted in Farghāna in the course of those months, record of it has been lost with Bābur’s missing pages. He was not only homeless and poor, but shut in by enemies. Only the loyalty or kindness of the hill-tribes can have saved him and his few followers. His mother was with him; so also were the families of his men. How Qūtlūq-nigār contrived to join him from Tāshkīnt, though historically a small matter, is one he would chronicle. What had happened there after the Mughūl defeat, was that the horde had marched away for Kāshghar while Shāh Begīm remained in charge of her daughters with whom the Aūzbeg chiefs intended to contract alliance. Shaibānī’s orders for her stay and for the general exodus were communicated to her by her son, The Khān, in what Muḥ. Ṣāliḥ, quoting its purport, describes as a right beautiful letter (p. 296).

By some means Qūtlūq-nigār joined Bābur, perhaps helped by the circumstance that her daughter, Khān-zāda was Shaibāq’s wife. She spent at least some part of those hard months with him, when his fortunes were at their lowest ebb. A move becoming imperative, the ragged and destitute company started in mid-June 1504 (Muḥ. 910 AH.) on that perilous mountain journey to which Ḥaidar applies the Prophet’s dictum, ‘Travel is a foretaste of Hell,’ but of which the end was the establishment of a Tīmūrid dynasty in Hindūstān. To look down the years from the destitute Bābur to Akbar, Shāh-jahān and Aurangzīb is to see a great stream of human life flow from its source in his resolve to win upward, his quenchless courage and his abounding vitality. Not yet 22, the sport of older men’s intrigues, he had been tempered by failure, privation and dangers.

He left Sūkh intending to go to Sl. Ḥusain Mīrzā in Khurāsān but he changed this plan for one taking him to Kābul where a Tīmūrid might claim to dispossess the Arghūns, then holding it since the death, in 907 AH.of his uncle, Aūlūgh Beg Mīrzā Kābulī.