Jayti Singh: Part 4 free porn video

Jayti Singh Part 4 By Aardvark Jayti returns, but can Jim handle it? Return to Udaipur and the Maharana. Jayti takes a big chance. Stirrings of Jihad. Jihad! The Second battle of Haldighati Pass. Battle for Udaipur. Defeat! A new beginning for India. Jayti returns to the harem. Good-byes to old friends. A distant legacy. New adventures? Warning: Some subject matter and explicit language may offend. Don't read unless you are over 18. Chapter 23: Jayti Meets Jim ["Are we married?"] ['Most definitely. I'll try to think of the highlights of the last year. This may take a while... '] ["Mark, you have been busy... You've changed. You seem to be much more comfortable with yourself."] ['I had to, Jayti. You were gone so long, I thought you weren't coming back. You know we have a problem.'] ["I know. You have a husband who you love very much and I've never met. At least he knows about me."] ['Yes. He'll know you better, too. You would approve of him. I just have to let him know you're back.'] ["You're trying hard, but a part of you isn't happy I'm here."] ['I can't hide it, Jayti. I love him. We were just married a few days ago! But if you insist, I'll stick to our original agreement. I just ask that you give me some time with him to say goodbye, and please give him some time to get used to you before you take over.'] ["Oh, Mark, the pain when you said that! I won't hold you to our original agreement. All I ask is that you introduce me to him, and let me talk to him when I need to. You stay in charge, at least while we're in England. I'm sure we can work something out."] ['Thank you, Jayti. That means so much to me. I'm glad you're back. I truly missed you, but to have to give up Jim now... I'll wake him and introduce you to him after we get dressed.'] * * * * * * * * * * Jim's mouth opened wide. "She's what!" Mark sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. "Jayti came back this morning. She wants to meet you and I want you to meet her." She winced at his expression. "All right, Jim. This wasn't something you counted on, but Jayti actually has more right to this body than I do. I know how difficult this is, but we're a package deal." His still looked stubborn. 'Damn it. This is tough,' she thought. "You're going to get to know her, Jim!" He sat and buried his head in his hands for a time, emitting guttural, cursing sounds. "All right, Jayti. I'll behave myself. Introduce her to me." There was a slight shift in expression and sound. She looked awkward. "Jim, this is Jayti. I know this is hard for you. You don't know me, and I just met you." Jayti really looked at him. He was being polite, but he definitely wasn't happy. "Look, Jim. When I'm here, Mark really isn't gone. She feels everything I'm feeling. It's the same when she's in charge. We both like and want pretty much the same things, but we're not the same." He was already convinced; Jim had just seen this woman use a hand gesture he had never seen her use before. To hear about Jayti was one thing, but to actually see her... "Allow me to introduce myself. Imagine a smart 17 year-old girl. That's me. I'm the real Indian in this body. My memories are Indian, but Mark has also taught me a lot." "Mark is more analytical and isn't afraid to get physical. I wouldn't have tried to rescue that sailor on the Silver Fish, for example. I would have asked you to go get him. She thinks big. I'm usually better at figuring people out. We've worked very well as a team in the past." "She can get pretty arrogant at times, and she tells me I'm a smart-ass. We both feel love and pain." 'Shiva! This isn't working,' she thought. She squatted down in front of him to be at eye level. "Jim, could I hold your hand for a moment? I don't want to scare you, but may I?" Jim nodded bleakly. "This is me, Jim." She looked at him as if for the first time. "I see many wonderful memories of you from Mark. I know this is painful for you, but please don't reject me, Jim; let me get to know you." She stood up. There was a slight change in tone. "That was Jayti." He exhaled. "Well, I have to admit she's nice. Will I always know who's who?" "We'll tell you. Usually." Mark smiled. "And she feels everything you do?" "Everything and all the time." * * * * * * * * * * Not long after the honeymoon, Mark completed her information gathering with a cannon manufacturing plant in Sussex. Jim was almost finished, too; a new cargo with the machine tools and chemicals was almost ready. They said their good-byes to Jim's family and made a gift of the catamaran to Jim's father. They wouldn't be back for at least two years. * * * * * * * * * * They had to get used to the stench of London again, after three weeks away. They rented a small house in the notorious Southwark district to keep close to the company office that was rapidly becoming a hotbed of activity. The company was outfitting a slightly larger galleon this time, the Advance, for its long voyage to India. Jim and Albert were kept very busy with a myriad of details. With little to do for the present, Mark explored London with Erin for the last time; they would be gone in a week. Sir Walter and Elizabeth were supposed to be in Ireland, so it was a surprise to Mark when they returned to the McFarlans to find a messenger from them waiting for her inside. Sir Walter and Elizabeth wanted to meet Jim and Mark at their earliest convenience. It sounded serious. They were staying at a friend's house in town. Mark didn't like to make snap decisions like this without Jim, but she knew he would understand the urgency. She told the messenger that they could meet for dinner tomorrow, at a local restaurant they had all enjoyed previously. After making supper, she told Jim about it. He agreed; they would meet. * * * * * * * * * * When Mark and Jim arrived, they were already sitting in a corner table by the window. Mark noted that Sir Walter certainly hadn't let his impeccable standards for dress lapse. He was happy to see them. Elizabeth had a certain look in her eye that meant they needed to talk privately. Sir Walter rose to his feet and swept his hat in that familiar way. ["I see why you like him, Mark. It's good your nipples aren't showing, revealing your interest to the world."] ['He's just eye candy. After last night, I don't think either one of us can complain about Jim--you, least of all. When you screamed, I thought you'd given the whole thing away.'] ["He caught me by surprise... Mark, don't think I don't know what this is costing you."] ['It has to be done. It'll get easier, Jayti. I really do want you to know him.'] The life in Ireland wasn't all it was cracked up to be, explained Sir Walter. A new war with the Earl of Tyrell was making life difficult with English immigrants. He was bored anyway; life hadn't been the same he left the Court. Mark noticed a change from last time; he held Elizabeth's hand and they were clearly more intimate than they had been. According to Sir Walter, Elizabeth had surprised him by being closer to his nature than he had previously thought. She had been the one to urge him to go to India. They were here to evaluate the options. Jim wasn't completely surprised. He had offered Sir Walter a joint venture with the company before. Sir Walter still had a wine monopoly the Queen had given him years ago, and was certainly not lacking for wealth or income to go traveling or trading. When Sir Walter started discussing trade options and Indian interests, however, Jim referred his questions to Mark. "Walter, my wife is the Representative of the Maharana. She made the deal that gave us the mission and the trade rights. Talk to her." He laughed at the expression on his face. "You still make the mistake of underestimating her after all the things that have happened?" Sir Walter was chagrinned. "I do confess, I did. Jayti, what would the Maharana's position be?" "Well, Sir Walter, that depends on what you want. The Maharana is currently in a battle to stay apart from the Moghul Empire. Much progress has been made to make his position militarily stronger, but he wants more to make him truly secure. What he really needs are skilled workers, particularly in alchemy--people very good with chemicals--and iron, steel, and brass workers. People who can make tools are the most valuable. These people should ideally be able to stay for a long period of time, perhaps even settle there and be teachers. The Maharana would make it worth their while... and yours as well. They don't need soldiers or adventurers, but they do need able administrators." Mark couldn't help herself. "Everyone who goes should also be willing to bath more than once a month, Sir Walter." "Except for your last part on personal hygiene, I've been thinking something along those lines. I believe I could supply a boatload of experienced journeymen in the specialties you require." "And Elizabeth," Mark said, "you wouldn't be alone. We'd have a great time together and I would introduce you to many of my friends." She looked embarrassed. "We're still discussing that point about me going, Jayti." Mark knew Sir Walter was a man of his times and was just trying to be cautious, but Elizabeth was her friend. "Sir Walter, you can't leave her behind. Please, Sir Walter, she would be safe with us in Udaipur." ['Damn him. He's not going for it. Would you try for me, Jayti?'] Jayti reached across the table and took his hand. "Please, Sir Walter. As a woman, I understand these things. She needs to go with us. How can you refuse your wife this urgent need to remain with her husband?" She was almost in tears when she finished. ['Jeez, Jayti, that was a little thick.'] ["But effective. He has no choice now."] "Well..." "Oh, thank you, my lord husband!" Elizabeth knew when to step in. She pressed her lips to his hand and pressed it to her cheek. He gradually resigned himself to the inevitable. Mark congratulated Elizabeth on her good fortune in having such a wonderful, understanding husband. When her right to travel to India was unassailable, they excused themselves, while Jim and Sir Walter discussed the trip details. Elizabeth hugged her when they were out of sight. "Jayti, in truth I was almost sure I would be left behind. Sir Walter is convinced I would a burden." "Just learn the language, Elizabeth, and you will never be a burden. I would teach you myself, if we were on the same boat, but perhaps I could give you something to give you a good start." Mark stopped. Elizabeth seemed distracted. "That's not why you wanted to talk to me, Beth." "Yes. I've been thinking about this IUD. This would ease the woman's lot in life, greatly. We would be free to do other things, as well as have children, not that that isn't important, of course. Now that I'm going to India though, there's even more of a sense of urgency. It would be my wish to spread this knowledge as much as possible before I left." "I thought you might be interested." Mark reached into her purse, attached to the garter at her waist, and pulled out a few folded papers. "I was going to pass this on to a few midwives to get things started, but this is better. If you could write some letters and send some packages to the ladies at court, it would be very helpful. If it should prove that the Queen would be amenable to the idea... but I get ahead of myself. Here is how it looks and this is how it fits." Elizabeth's right eyebrow lifted as she looked at one of the drawings. "Hello, that is explicit." They discussed it in detail. In his previous life, Mark and his wife had decided on the IUD for birth control after they had their two girls. Mark had researched the subject and still remembered the fine points. In actuality, it was a very simple concept. "And this copper is good for ten years?" "Yes. As long as you follow the directions, it's extremely effective." Elizabeth was suddenly decisive. "Jayti, I want to make some of these immediately." She looked at Mark in a way that brooked no compromise. "I intend to tell Walter that I will go shopping for the rest of the day. Will you help me do this, Jayti?" Mark was surprised. She hadn't thought that it was so urgent. ["Do it, Mark! Can't you tell she wants one for herself? You always think about these things in the abstract, never personally."] ['When you're right, you're right... I've missed you, Jayti.'] ["I know, Mark. We still make a good team."] Mark grinned. "Of course, Beth. We'll do it right now." Elizabeth knew of a skilled coppersmith. When they arrived at his shop, Mark drew a picture for him of the small device, complete, with a tiny spring and release mechanism he'd thought of the night before. The smith thought it would be challenging, but not impossible. He could have ten devices made by the next day along with a special tube. The man was naturally curious as to the purpose of such a thing, but didn't argue with two beautiful ladies with money who wished to remain coy. The next day, Mark met Elizabeth at the shop. They inspected the devices. Mark made him make each as smooth as possible and checked them all for function. An hour later, she was satisfied. Elizabeth insisted that Mark come to her house. She was in a very good mood and almost skipped the way back. When they were safely inside her bedroom and the servants had been dismissed, Beth explained herself. "Jayti, please don't be shocked, but I would have you put it inside me." ['Jesus Christ.'] ["Don't hesitate, Mark. Do it. And while you're at it, have her do it to you, too. You don't want to get pregnant on the way to India."] ['I will, Jayti. It's the next logical step, isn't it? It's just that the idea takes some getting used to.'] "Very well. I'll do it for you, Beth, if you'll do it for me." Elizabeth had half expected that. She smiled. "Of course, Jayti. Now what else do we need?" "I think just boiling water, scissors, and some alcohol for our hands." An hour later, it was done and their clothes were back on. They both felt very odd and somewhat embarrassed about what had just happened. Mark had to say it: "Elizabeth, will you still respect me in the morning?" Elizabeth gave Mark a startled look and burst out laughing. Elizabeth hugged her. "Jayti, we will always be the very best of friends." * * * * * * * * * * Mark made a small dictionary of Urdu words and phrases for Sir Walter and Elizabeth before they left. They promised they would make copies for the crew and journeymen, and would try to find a native speaker for the trip. Elizabeth had the coppersmith make several hundred more IUD's, and sent them out as kits to friends, midwives, and women of influence. * * * * * * * * * * The Advance left with the tide, slowly leaving the dock behind. Mark and Jim stood among many others, waving to family and friends from the rail. Erin and Margaret stood on the dock, waving to Albert and Mark. Mark waved goodbye especially hard to Erin, the closest thing she had ever had to a sister in this world. Sir Walter and Elizabeth were also there. She would be seeing them soon, hopefully. Then, they were gone. It would be more than six months before they would see India again. They quickly settled into a routine. Captain Rumbold wasn't as strict with Mark as the previous captain. Besides being married, she had a useful role to play, teaching Urdu and customs to the crew and the traders. He appreciated the way she weeded out the crew that only desired to look at a pretty woman, from those who actually had an interest in learning. It was strange though, how she seemed to have two distinct personalities: one fairly serious and one closer to a girl of her apparent age. Even the crew made a joke of it, wondering which Jayti they would get to teach them for the day. * * * * * * * * * * "Jim, that's what we've decided. It's going to be a 50/50 split. I'll be Mark half the time, and Jayti the other half. We'll do this on alternating days. If you don't want to see me when I'm Jayti or the other way around, that's up to you, but this is something we had to decide for ourselves." She was contrite; she hated to hurt Jim. "I'm sorry, husband. I truly am. I know this isn't fair to you. You married me; you had every right to expect more." He waved it off impatiently. "Jayti, I understand what you're doing and why. You're both so damned noble, it makes me ill thinking about it. Believe me, I have thought about it." He laughed hysterically. "It's practically all I think about--who wouldn't, in this insane situation? I believe I would do the same thing if I were in your position. But consider this, both of you. What do you want to happen? I can tell you one thing; I won't fall out of love with the woman I married. I will love her until death." He turned towards her, pain etched into his face. "Mark, do you want me to fall in love with Jayti? If that happened, my love, would it destroy you? Could you really sit back and watch another woman share your husband's affections?" He looked into the distance, but there was only the Atlantic. "I must know your honest answer before I know how to proceed. I'd like to hear from both of you." This was the question Mark was dreading. "Jim, I'd be jealous if you fell in love with Jayti. I can't help it. I'm a woman, like any other... well, sort of, but I could handle it. It would make me feel worse if you didn't at least try to get to know her. If you fell in love with both of us, I could find peace with it. I would prefer that ending, most of all." "This is Jayti, Jim, I want us to get to know each other in all possible ways. Mark chose her husband very well. I'm very attracted to you. I know it makes Mark hurt to think about this, but I know she's strong enough. But for me to be left permanently out in the cold would almost kill me." Jayti started to cry. "I know you so well from Mark's memories. We're being honest here, Jim. I already love you, and it hurts so much to only feel your love second hand!" Mark nodded his head. So be it. At least he could relax and sleep at night, not worrying about who he had just made love to. They thought they were being clever, but there was a difference. Now that he thought about it, he deserved revenge for what they had put him through. He put on his most serious face. "Actually, Jayti, I've fallen in love with Captain Rumbold." "Eeeeeaaah! I'll get you for that!" They both took turns pounding him into the deck. It took a few months for Jim to get halfway used to the idea of two women in the same body, but finally, he thought he found a solution. He explained it to them this way: "Jayti, whoever you are today, I love you. The person watching can also be sure that, when she comes into full consciousness, I will love her, too. Since I can only love 24 hours in a day, I feel that I have fulfilled my commitment as best I can. I am, however, perfectly willing to be fought over." He yawned. "I find myself fatigued. Now, who will bring me grapes?" ['He's got us, Jayti.'] ["Well, maybe. I think he's trying his best, but he's too much of a one- woman man for me to believe this new attitude. He's never actually told me to my face that he loves me. I'm not going to bring him grapes until he does."] ['You know he does, though. I'll get the grapes, but we can eat them ourselves. We will enjoy them together, rather than give them to an overly content dog.'] ["But such a cute, overly content dog."] ['Too true.'] * * * * * * * * * * Mark had just about completed the books, when they slipped by the Portuguese ports of Dju and Daman. They were home free to Surat. Now, they could only hope Rana Pratap and Udaipur were still alive. Knowing the Maharana, she felt confident. It would be good to see him, and Hassan, again. Hassan would be very happy to see Jayti. Chapter 24: The Return to Udaipur They pulled into Surat in the early morning. The crew was concerned by their reception. Ten soldiers in saffron garb, carrying unusual guns, swords, and shields met them at the dock. The Captain was issuing private orders to be ready, until Mark recognized one of troops. She waved her hand until she caught his attention. "Vijay!" She shouted, smiling widely. Everyone relaxed. Vijay smiled back, and explained something to the commander. "Welcome back, Sahiba." The Commander said. "The Maharana will be happy to see you again. We're here to escort you to Udaipur with the cargo." Mark was about to translate for Captain Rumbold, when he replied to the Commander in Urdu. "Commander, is it safe here? Could I bring most of my crew with us to Udaipur?" She was pleased; the Captain had been one of her best students. The Commander smiled. This was unexpected; he could talk man to man with the Captain. "Yes, Captain. This place is secure. Leave a few people here, but you can take almost everyone else. Welcome to India." The Commander had many heavy carts and horses waiting, ready for their trip back. Three days later, the long procession passed sentries in lookout posts with wires running into the ground. Mark knew they would be expected when they returned. The Captain was curious, and asked the Commander for an explanation, but he politely refused. The Captain looked to Mark, but she was forced to tell him the same thing, explaining that it was a state secret. "Captain, Udaipur is more advanced than you think. There are just some secrets I can't give away. Only the Maharana could allow me to tell you." She understood his concern. "Please Captain, you're very welcome here. Rana Pratap is in a war. He has to be careful with his advantages." The Captain nodded. Jim, riding alongside, looked at her strangely. "I'm sorry, husband, I didn't tell you because I didn't have the right. I owe my loyalty to Rana Pratap, not the Queen." He gripped her hand. "I married you, knowing this." At the end of the day, they topped the hill looking down on Udaipur. The sailors stopped and looked at the walls, gates, and gorgeous architecture of this city by the lake, amidst hills, rivers, and forest. To Mark, it hadn't changed that much, but there seemed to be more soldiers, and they all had rifles. They certainly had been busy in her absence. The procession made its way slowly down the hill. Rana Pratap, two of his advisors, a small group of high-ranking soldiers, and Hassan were there to greet them. Mark and Jim dismounted and joined the Commander, the Captain, and the Maharana's assembly. The Commander reported first, then Rana Pratap welcomed them officially. They had had time since the sentries reported them, to prepare rooms and meals for the ship's crew. There would be a feast tonight. The traders, the Captain, and Mark would be invited to eat with the Maharana later that night. Mark and Rana Pratap exchanged smiles before they parted ways. They had much to discuss. Hassan ordered some workers to store the ship's goods. Mark and Jim waited until this was done. Hassan finally had time to talk. "I'm glad to see you made it back, Jayti. Did you get married?" She raised her left hand with the ring. "Jim knows about Mark, Hassan. You can speak freely. And I think someone wants to talk to you." The subtle change in voice. "Hello, Hassan. I haven't seen your ugly face in a long time." "Jayti?" he said incredulously. "Apparently." His face broke into a rare wide-open smile. "Jayti, I'm very happy to know you're alive." He looked at Jim and shook his head sympathetically. "Jim, how do you deal with this? One is bad enough, but two..." "It's not easy, Hassan. They gang up on me all the time and make my life hell." Jim couldn't hide the slightly grim smile that Jayti caught. "Look, I'll get cleaned up and I'll talk to you later. I think you three have a lot to talk about. It's great to see you, Hassan. You look well." "Walk with me, Jayti," Hassan said after Jim left. Jayti and Hassan walked slowly to the lake. "So, how is it really, little one." Jayti explained the arrangement they had. "Hassan, you're the only one we could tell this to. The fact is that Mark chose her husband very well. We both love him very much. There's tension between us for the first time. Jim isn't happy with it either, although he tries to hide it. He loves both of us, as far as I can tell, but he's never said the words to me, and he doesn't tell Mark directly anymore for fear of hurting me. He was never made for a harem." She spread her hands. "There's enough love and pain to go around." "Is there more love, than pain?" "Yes." "Than accept it, little one. You are more fortunate than most, and there is pain in every life." He stopped and rubbed his beard. "Let me ask you something. Does part of your pain come from knowing that Jim is unhappy?" "Yes, Hassan, maybe even most of it." "Then you should convince him that you're happy with each other. I know Jim as a fine man. He would be unhappy, knowing that every time he made love to one of you, the other was being hurt. It must be very hard for him. If you could convince him that everything was fine between you and Mark, then he, at least, wouldn't feel the guilt that plagues him. Jayti, do you consider yourself to be his wife?" "Well, Mark is his wife. I know Jim thinks of her that way, too." "Well then, the problem is obvious! Jayti, let me talk to Mark." "This is Mark. Are you saying that Jayti should marry Jim?" "Do you have an objection? You and Jayti are closer than husband and wife, anyway. Make it official. This would clarify things in your own minds, as well as Jim's. You work well together. Make this a project. Relax that ego of yours. When Jim is with Jayti, take pleasure in it. Your sister-wife, who you love, is happy! And when the reverse is true, Jayti, do the same for Mark! If a further reason is needed, then think of it as an obligation to your husband. He's doing his part; you owe it to him to do yours." ['Jayti, how did we miss this? I kind of like the idea of having you for a sister-wife.'] ["Are you proposing?"] ['I think I am. Yes, Jayti. I am. Would you marry Jim, and be my sister- wife?'] ["Yes, Mark. I would be happy to marry Jim, and be your sister-wife!"] ['Wonderful! We need to persuade Jim. Between the two of us, I don't see a problem.'] "We'll do it, Hassan. How the hell did you get to be so smart?" "Muslims have this problem all the time." * * * * * * * * * * The supper in the Palace started late. At Jayti's urging, Jim wore a long, embroidered coat over a long-sleeve kurta, salwar pants, and a fine adivasi for his waist. According to Jayti, he looked very nice indeed. He had to admit it was comfortable. The supper obviously wasn't as formal as it could have been. Rana Pratap was a war leader, first and foremost, and preferred a fast and casual pace to slow and formal. There was reason to celebrate; Hassan had told him earlier that the large inventory of presses, tools, machinery, and chemicals that came from the ship was greater and more diverse than he had hoped. Jayti had done very well. When the feast was over, Rana Pratap took Jayti and Hassan to an adjoining room. "Jayti, this meeting is to bring you up to date." He pointed to a board with a picture of Mewar with colored tacks stuck in it, one of Jayti's innovations put into practice. "As you see, we have taken back nearly all of Mewar. Most of the people I sent to the hills ten years ago have returned to their lands. The rifles have been invaluable. We shoot from the hills and passes on supply trains and troop convoys. There are now underground telegraph lines running to all major towns and cities under our control and we move troops throughout the land to stop their every attack and probe. This has caused them great hardship, and has helped keep our treasuries from being empty. Our people are happy and willing to fight to the death, now they have seen that the Moghuls can be defeated. "That's the good news. The bad news is that we simply don't have enough rifles and ammunition to stop a major thrust. If they attack us in great force, we will lose. They have the advantage in artillery, numbers, and wealth. Now, Jayti, what can you offer us." "Your Majesty, I tried to find the best ways available to speed up the production of bullets and rifles, and with the new equipment, we should be able to make thousands of bullets a day. I also wanted to get better ways to make cannon. I have thousands of pages of instructions and pictures on how to make complete English style steel plants and cannon factories. Except for the largest guns, I'm confident that we could match them in the quality of artillery in several months, given the manpower. "I also have a few ideas of my own on how to improve them. Mainly, I've been trying to remember everything I ever learned about explosives, and although I can't remember all the details, I can help start a team on the right path. There's also another ship coming into Surat, expected in a month. It's carrying a load of English experts that could help run the equipment and teach. This ship is under the charge of a good friend of mine, Sir Walter Raleigh, and I hope you can use him, your Majesty; he's a very capable administrator, and a brave soldier and sailor. "I've also written several books on chemicals, metallurgy, tools, and gun manufacture, from finding the materials in the ground all the way to the end products. I hope to meet with Mewar experts to get their knowledge on the subjects. Then, we can combine the best of each. After this is done, it should be possible to rapidly duplicate steel and weapons manufacturing throughout areas under your control. "That's the military part of it, your Majesty. There are other areas of health and disease I would like to talk to you about when we can. It's wonderful to be back, and to see you in such good health." "It's nice to see you again. I understand you're married?" "Yes, your Majesty, to James Pennington, the trader you saw me with tonight." "That's unfortunate. I wanted you to meet my son, Amar. You would have made him an excellent advisor and wife." ['I'm glad we were married before we came back!'] ["I agree, but think. If everything goes well, Amar could be the next Emperor of India after Pratap. That would have made us the most powerful woman in the world."] ['Sure, and be forced to die on a funeral pyre when he dies. No thanks.'] "Even thinking about it does me great honor, your Majesty." She bowed deeply. "Do you intend to go back to England with him, Jayti?" 'That was loaded question,' she thought. "Yes, your Majesty. We have a home in England waiting for us, but I intend to be here until you become Emperor." His eyes were steel. "Are you giving me your terms of service?" She wasn't about to back down where Jim was concerned. "No, your Majesty, but I hope you won't put me in the position of having to violate my obligation to you, or disobey my husband." He smiled. "Honorably put! We still have much to talk about. Circumstances are forcing me to consider some of your ideas." * * * * * * * * * * "But we're already married!" "Jim, we've always been as honest as we could, haven't we? You haven't been very open to Jayti, and it's giving us problems. I want her as a sister-wife. You have to marry her and tell her you love her." "You're my only wife, Mark. However I feel about Jayti, that won't change." Mark looked at him sympathetically, and ran her fingers through his hair. "And that's what you have to change. This nobility is hurting us. We can both appreciate it, but it just doesn't fit this situation. She's a part of me, Jim. What we feel affects both of us. Look at me, Jim!" He looked at her. There was no uncertainty in her eyes. "When you feel guilty about loving Jayti, it hurts both of us. I really want this, Jim; we both do. Do it." "But..." She sighed in exasperation. "Jim, I am not going to speak to you again until you tell Jayti you love her, and find a way to get married. I'm giving you some private time with her. I'm going to shut myself off completely until Jayti lets me know it's okay." "You can do that?" "It's not easy or pleasant, but yes." She kissed him. "Goodbye, Jim." "Mark?" "She's gone, Jim. It's Jayti." Jim was surprised to see that Jayti was suddenly at a loss for words. She even looked shy. That convinced Jim more than anything else that Mark was gone. Jim had known Jayti for several months now. The young woman had grown on him. She was sweet, smart, funny, intuitive, and feminine. She had never made a secret of her feelings for him. He was honest enough to admit that he was very attracted to her. After many nights in her arms, he could even admit to himself that he loved her. She just wasn't Mark. Jayti knew the conflict in Jim's heart. Mark and Jim had a history; their love had been forged into an unbreakable bond in Madagascar, the farmhouse in Surrey, and Plymouth. Even if she wanted to, she had nothing comparable to make her own connection to him. She admired Mark for what she had done. When the bandit had separated Jayti from her own body, Mark had been left to make her way in the world with the urges of a woman and the mind of a man. Somehow, she had made it work. Mark and Jim understood each other in a way she might never understand. She knew that Mark and Jim were trying to make it work with her. They were really two of a kind. She was certain that Jim would say the correct things to her tonight and marry her as soon as possible, but she needed more. Shiva, she knew her love for him was no less than Mark's! How could she break through to him? What could she say or do to see something like what Mark saw when Jim looked at her? If there was any time for clarity, it was now. She went to her knees in the sand and repeated the Gayatri Mantra: "Oh God! Thou art the Giver of Life, Remover of pain and sorrow, The Bestower of happiness, Oh! Creator of the Universe, May we receive thy supreme sin-destroying light, May Thou guide our intellect to the right path." Jayti paused before she rose until her trembling subsided. She had her answer, but did she really want to go through with it? Did she have the strength to risk all? Her spirit rebelled at her doubts. She was a Rajput. She would not go down easily. Jim's love was worth it. Jim watched her rise with new determination. Her eyes were clear and soft, the girl was gone, a woman, distinctly Jayti, was in her place. "Jim, I release you from Mark's promise. I would rather you didn't say something you didn't feel. If you don't want me, then I will accept it. I'll explain it to Mark and make her understand that it wasn't meant to be." She smiled, sadly. "Wait an hour to think about it, Jim. I'll be waiting back in our room." She turned away and walked towards town, leaving Jim dazed, standing by the water watching her back grow smaller. 'What am I to make of that?' he thought. She had given him an out, one he could use to be true to Mark. For a moment he felt a weight lift from his shoulders, then he thought about it. This was not in character with what he knew of Jayti. He knew she loved him, but even though Mark insisted that Jayti was truly a strong and special person, he had always considered her Mark's weaker sister. He walked by the shore of Lake Pichhola thinking about Jayti and what she had just offered him. Why had she done it? She had won. He was ready to tell her he loved her. He would have married her in the morning. It could only mean that the words weren't enough for her. He had no doubt that she meant what she said; she really wanted him completely, without reservation, or she was willing to let him go. Didn't she understand what a chance she was taking? He stopped and sat on a low, flat wall by the lake and stared at the lake. This was not the action of the Jayti he thought he knew. He had misjudged her badly. 'Jesus, I have to think!' he thought. He felt like a complete ass. Almost an hour later, he returned to their room and saw Jayti sitting calmly on the bed, her hands folded in her lap. Even now, her composure was perfect, although he thought she might have been crying earlier. This last demonstration of bravery broke him. He wept unashamedly. "Jayti, I'm so sorry. I've loved you for months, and never more than now. I'm ashamed for treating you the way I have." She ran to him, but stood for a moment and searched his eyes. She found the truth there and held him close, moistening his shoulder with her tears. Holding her as she cried in absolute relief was a revelation. He touched her hair, marveling how she was the same, but different. They took their time making love in the early morning. When they were sated and she lay in his arms, he was forced to rethink everything. "You and Mark are very close." She nodded against his chest. "Very, very close, Jim. It's like nothing else." "I'm beginning to understand. Maybe, you're even closer than you think." "Mmm. What do you mean?" She asked sleepily. "You aren't as far apart as you used to be. You used to make love in a slightly different way. Last night, it was closer to the way Mark does it. You're speaking English, and if Mark really isn't here, how are you doing it?" She sat up and stared at him. "Remind me never to underestimate you. First Hassan, and now you, come up with these astounding insights that should be obvious to us." She looked inward, thinking furiously. "If what you say is true, and I think it may well be, we are slowly becoming the same person." "How do you feel about that?" Jayti pulled herself back from the depths and focused on Jim. Her eyes were bright and wide. "I don't know. I should be scared, but I'm not. I know I've changed already. I recognize the girl I was two years ago, but I'm not her anymore. It's more like I've added to what I was, rather than having lost something--I'm still me. Mark is like an older sister now, but I know that even she has her moments when we think very much alike... "I think that's how it will be in the end--feeling the same way, wanting to do the same thing. I'm changing, but taking on more of who Mark is doesn't scare me." Jayti smiled suddenly, pulling Jim's face close. She kissed him forcefully, then pushed him to the mattress. "Actually, I think she has more to worry about than I do. For instance, would she do this?" Jim gasped. An hour later, Jim was begging her to stop. Jayti grinned evilly. "When it finally happens, Jim, it will go one of two ways: either we will remain two separate people that feel the same way and want to do the same things, or we become the same person. Either way, I retain my consciousness. I'm not going to leave you and you're stuck with me." He lay on his back for a time, recovering. 'Just when you think life can't get any more interesting...' he thought. He rolled to his side to face her. "However it works out, Jayti, I'll be happy." Everything seemed to be so obvious, now. "Jayti, will you marry me and be my wife, to share that role completely with Mark until death do us part?" She went to him eagerly and held him tight. "Oh yes, Jim!" * * * * * * * * * * "Yes, Father Murphy, we want to get married again. What's the problem? I'm just asking you to perform the ceremony." "It's just very irregular. I don't know if it's even legal." "Well, Jayti. The priest just won't do it. I suppose we could go to an Imam... It may not be legal there, either, but with a little gold, I'll bet he'd do it." "Wait! How can you risk your souls, even in jest!" He looked skyward. "Dear Lord in Heaven, forgive me if I do wrong." He still looked put out. "Lets get this over with!" * * * * * * * * * * Mark showed Hassan the brass stamping and cutting machinery. It was a tough thing to draw brass tubes, but they had managed. She would have preferred to have stamped one bullet per stamp, but pressing the brass tube part of the bullet into the flat base proved to be acceptable, and took only slightly longer. Bullet manufacture increased five-fold. The fulminate of mercury ingredients that she managed to remember were correct, but the correct order and mixtures took a lot of experimentation, and they had a few unplanned-for explosions before they finally got it right. In the end, they made a much better blasting cap than what they were using. The troops were happy; there were far fewer duds. Hassan had followed Mark's advice and had standardized everything. The bullets were the same caliber and the rifles had interchangeable parts. With the new milling machines and bores, they could turn out a thousand rifles a month. Mark was ready to suggest some rifle strategies to Rana Pratap, but he had it under control. He was already a master of defense and ambushes from years of guerilla warfare with the Moghuls. He didn't know the names, but enfilade and field of fire were second nature to him. Mark and Pratap resumed their walks by the lake, when he wasn't in the field or training the troops. Pratap realized that his success in resisting the Moghuls had attracted attention to Mewar. Of course, he had nothing to complain about. His army wasn't skirmishing anymore, and his people were back in the towns. Nonetheless, the writing was there to see; Akbar wasn't going to give him room much longer. His popularity in Rajasthan had increased with each victory, and the conquered provinces, now formally pledged to the Moghuls, were reluctant to face him. An undercurrent of Rajput pride was building in the land. "Jayti, it's not easy to rule an Empire. There are too many people who want to kill you. You have to force people to obey you. I don't see how it would work without destroying the things I love about this land." He pointed in turn to the lake, the hills, and the city. "This is what I love. This is mine. No one can take it away from me! I have no Emperor to tell me what I can't do! Every Rajput would be denied that pleasure, if there were an Emperor." "Your Majesty, I understand but..." He stopped her, taking her arm. "Do you? Do you really understand, Jayti?" Her eyes flashed. "Yes, your Majesty. When I was in the English court, they asked me what 'rank' I was. They were putting only the most important people closest to the Queen. Do you know what I told them? I told them I was a Rajput! I love this as much as you do. I would die to keep it free!" He paused for a moment. "Well, well. Perhaps I was wrong." He released her arm. He spoke gently. "While we are alone, you may call me Pratap." Mark was shaken by what she felt. She had never internalized the feeling to that extent. "Pratap, maybe I should describe the Moghul system and what is wrong with it." She tried her best for the rest of the day to make him see that done properly, he could preserve the proud Rajput heritage, and still leave India strong enough to repel foreign invaders. He paid attention, this time. She wished she knew what was on his mind. * * * * * * * * * * Dhurjaya knew it was over when the shot struck his lower back and his legs went. He was the last to fire and the last to leave the ambush position when the call came to retreat. The rest of his unit was surely over the hill by now. He slid roughly down the embankment until he came to rest, wedged behind a boulder, but he held on to his weapon, grimly. He knew he was dead; whoever fired that lucky shot would soon be along to claim his prize. As a warrior, in the end there was only duty, he knew. There were still five bullets in his pouch. If he could fire them off quickly enough, maybe he would just leave them his rifle, with no bullets to analyze for use against Rana Pratap. It was getting rapidly more difficult to move. His hands were weak as he strained to open the pouch. His rifle slipped from numbing fingers and fell out of reach, just as he managed to slip the drawstring. He looked at his weapon in despair, and then he laughed, painfully; there was still a way. As he swallowed the first bullet, he thought of the Maharana who gave him this chance. The second was for Amar, Pratap's brave son. The third bullet was more difficult, as he thought of his wife and young daughter, the fourth was for Mewar, may she always survive, and the fifth was for Jayti. Some said she was the Maharana's mistress, but he didn't believe it. All he knew was that she was lucky. Since she came, their fortunes had been good. He was barely conscious when the Moghul soldier appeared around the boulder. "Hello pig," he managed, before the blade entered his heart. * * * * * * * * * * Akbar held the surprisingly light Mewar weapon and demanded to know why his gunsmiths couldn't duplicate the infernal thing. "Your Majesty, we can make it, but we can't make it work. It's very ingenious. This thing slides back and something that looks like this," he held up a spent brass cartridge, "goes into the barrel. This slides forward, locking it in place, and then this trigger pushes a pin against the brass piece and somehow fires the weapon. Your Majesty, we don't know what goes in this brass container; we've never found any of these 'bullets', as the Mewar warriors call them, to analyze, but we know it's not blackpowder." The Emperor was a confirmed realist. "I refuse to believe that a tiny kingdom can make such a weapon and that we can't match them. How many of these weapons have been manufactured?" "We don't know, your Highness, but certainly not that many. We're almost sure they make them in Udaipur. It would take a long time for a gunsmith to make such a fine piece, and they must be very expensive. I would say no more than a few hundred. The ammunition must be difficult to make, also." Akbar had a headache; there was something going on in Mewar. It wasn't just the guns; they seemed to be ready for everything Man Singh tried. He knew the man was far from incompetent, so what was it, spies? Rana Pratap was getting too powerful and far too popular. Much more than just an annoyance, he was becoming a threat to the very stability of the Empire. He decided that he would give Man Singh what he wanted, 200,000 Moghul troops and levies with war elephants, artillery, and cavalry. It was almost half of his available forces, but Mewar had to be crushed. An example had to be made of its people. The Imams had been giving him an especially hard time since Mewar's recent successes. They blamed it on his haram policies of eliminating the jaziya tax and tolerance of the Hindus. According to them, they weren't people of the book, and didn't even deserve dhimmi status. They had been furious with him when he introduced his new religion, and chafed when he asserted that he, as an Emperor, had the power to make law, even if it conflicted with the Koran. Regardless, it was time for Jihad in Mewar. They had gone too far. The men would die and the women and children would become slaves. He would send Selim, too. It was time his oldest son was weaned from the soft women and alcohol. Chapter 25: Jihad Rana Pratap and his welcoming committee stood outside the Lion gate as the exhausted party of journeymen, sailors, and traders arrived. Jayti waved to Elizabeth, who was elated to see her after so many months at sea. Jayti noted proudly that Sir Walter and Elizabeth had studied their Urdu during the journey. They spoke with an accent and used some different words, due undoubtedly to their tutor, but they were understandable. Rana Pratap's eyes were mainly concentrated on Sir Walter, evaluating him for possible positions. After supper, the Maharana decided to put him in charge of the journeymen and work with Hassan, an important position because it meant giving him access to state secrets. Jayti knew that this had to be, at least partly, based on her recommendation, and it humbled her. The Maharana had trusted her a great deal to allow it. Of course, it helped that Sir Walter had come through admirably. He had delivered almost two hundred journeymen and several masters of their professions, most in their early twenties. Rana Pratap was very pleased. Mark, Jim, Sir Walter, and Elizabeth met in the evening to walk by the water. Many others were out on the cool night, including many of the new arrivals who still looked to Sir Walter for reassurance in this strange land. Mark explained the situation in the Moghul Empire and what Mewar was doing about it; there was little to hide, now; Jim had been brought in on the secret technology weeks ago and Sir Walter was about to be in the thick of it. Sir Walter was happy to be here; he was in his element. Here was a challenge in a foreign land with a chance for glory; his wife was with him, he had been given a very nice house with a sizable garden, and his good friend James was his neighbor. When she finally got her alone, Mark asked her how everything was, meaning the IUD. Elizabeth was very pleased with it. After the first day or so, there had been no ill effects. She hadn't told Sir Walter yet, but she would, sometime soon. In the meantime, she would enjoy the control of her own body. Elizabeth was ecstatic; Udaipur was beautiful; her husband was doing what he wanted; and she felt welcome. Mark suggested they try on some Indian clothes in the morning, and after Mark talked to the Maharana, they would go shopping. Elizabeth happily agreed. * * * * * * * * * * The Maharana was in a quandary. What should he do with the Englishmen? The Brahmans wanted them to be Sudras, a lower class caste normally assigned to peasants and craftsmen, but only after they converted to Hinduism. To them, until they were given a caste, they were just foreigners and shouldn't be permitted to marry, or even have relations with any Hindus. Mark was utterly opposed to putting them in a caste. Many of the Englishmen had been soldiers and had fought in Spain, the Netherlands, or against the Spanish Armada. One could make the case that they were Kshatrias in spirit, even though they were skilled workers, as well. She was sure they wouldn't convert to Hinduism, anyway. Why would they put themselves under the control of an egotistical priest caste that had already shown hostility to them? They were all young men, and most were attractive. They needed women to stay in India, and to have someone to fight for. Due to the war, there were many young widows around who the Hindus treated almost like outcastes. Why not just declare the Englishmen free from caste restrictions, and permit, and even encourage, the Englishmen, the widows, or whoever else was available, to get together? She was persuasive. The die had already been broken when the Bhils, a non-Hindu tribe, had been given citizenship status in Mewar. The Brahmans had screamed about that, but had finally relented. Pratap finally decided to let events decide for him. The Englishmen would have to demonstrate the honor and courage of the Kshatrias before he would allow any Kshatrias women, even widows, to marry them. But until then, they could mix with the lower caste women, and to the dark depths with the Brahmans. He owed the Englishmen that much, at least. * * * * * * * * * * Aaron Everett loved to hunt. The trip to India was long; he was far away from his home country and his native deep green forests, with their plentiful game and unique solitude. As a boy of 13, he would leave his home behind, sometimes for days, worrying his mother to no end, but never failing to bring back something for the pot and usually enough to give away to the neighbors. Although a blacksmith by trade, now, he had never ceased practicing with the longbow he and his father had made years before from an imported Spanish yew stave. They had cured and gradually carved it over several years, to ensure an especially fine draw and the power suitable for his strong, nearly six-foot frame. His father had lamented the decision by the Queen to replace archers with gunners. He always insisted that Aaron had the potential to become the best he had ever seen, much more than just maintaining the family archer tradition. When Aaron found forests and game surrounding his new home, he quite naturally unpacked his treasure from its woolen wrappings and entered the woods. The Bhils quickly recognized a kindred spirit in the soft-spoken man with the blue eyes and deep chest. Although they made fun of his longer bow at first, it was after all, more difficult to maneuver through the forests and required more space to shoot, he silenced them when he put 10 straight arrows into a tree at over 200 yards. Although a few of the best Bhil archers could duplicate the feat, none of them used a bow with anywhere near the power. Two months after he arrived, a small group of Bhils, along with their new friend, were a long way from Udaipur, tracking deer. They had left the early warning posts miles behind and were closing in on the herd, when the deer unexpectedly bolted. About to curse his luck, Rhun, the Bhil leader, spotted movement at the forest's edge. He froze everyone with a gesture. His keen eyes found five Moghuls, advancing almost silently through the forest in a way that defined a scouting party. It was blind luck that they had spooked the deer. The Bhil leader had to admire the skill that had allowed them to get so close to Udaipur without being detected. With sharp, precise motions, he directed part of the group to move to a good ambush position. The others would go with him, to take out the horses and rear guard he knew couldn't be far away. They almost didn't make it. The horses were across a wide, flat field hidden in a copse of thick trees and brush. Halfway there, one of the two sentries saw their careful progress and alerted the other. They scattered all but two of the Arabians with a slap to their flanks, and rode away at a gallop on the remaining pair. The Bhils stood, and shot their arrows as fast as they could. One hit a Moghul in the arm, but the rest missed. They were disconsolate; the Moghuls were out of their range, and free to report. But Aaron hadn't loosed, yet. He tracked the rear warrior, and shot. It was difficult, even by his standards: a moving target at more than 300 yards. He hit him square in the back, and he went down, the distance making it a silent fall. There was one left. Four long seconds later, his bow was ready again. This last rider was at what his father called 'stupid range'; it was near the very limit of his bow. Without effort, he eliminated all distractions and concentrated only on the bright retreating chain mail of the Moghul. His fingers released without thinking. The arrow sped high and out of sight until it appeared under the shoulder blades of the remaining rider. A few seconds later, he slumped to the side and dropped. The Bhils stood and stared at Aaron as he lowered his bow. Rhun slapped him on the back, and white, even teeth showed themselves. Then they ran for the men. The last man was alive, but only briefly. The shot had punctured a lung and he was coughing up frothy, red blood. He died before they could get anything from him. Rhun was disgusted. He hoped the others were having better luck capturing Moghuls to interrogate. They were. * * * * * * * * * * Rana Pratap pointed to the board, showing where the invading armies were forming and explained the Moghul strategy. They would hit Mewar in two parts: The bulk of the army would attack in the North at Haldhigati Pass with 150,000 men. His old adversary, Man Singh, would be in charge. Apparently, they planned to hit Mewar hard and hope that sheer numbers would be the key to victory, as it had been in 1576. If they broke through, Mewar would be open for destruction. Another, smaller force, would be invading from the east through the Aravalli hills to threaten Udaipur, hoping to divert forces from the main battle. It would have a good strategy a few months ago. Despite Mewar's recent successes against the Moghuls, at that time, they had only about 2,000 rifles and limited ammunition of dubious quality. Working day and night, they now had over 5,000 rifles and hundreds of thousands of rounds. The first battle of Haldhigati had been barely lost with 20,000 of his men against 80,000 Moghuls, but it had forced him into the hills for several long years. Akbar must be desperate to fight before Mewar's strength became too strong for him. It was a good thing that the Englishman had such skill with the bow. That act had given them at least a couple more days to prepare, an eternity in war. * * * * * * * * * * Hassan and Sir Walter stood together, as each spoke to their teams. Hassan's team already knew what would happen if they lost. They and their families would be butchered in a bloodbath and Mewar would be a memory. Hassan only reminded them that this attack was done in response to their efforts; that now, the mighty Akbar feared Mewar's strength. Although none of them were of the warrior caste, he knew they would do their duty. Sir Walter had a different problem. After only two months in India, his men were now unexpectedly in a life and death struggle. Most were here to get away from the restrictions of England and for adventure. Many of the men were here because of Sir Walter's charisma and reputation. A lot depended on how he acted. Fortunately, Jayti and Pratap had given his men an extra incentive; more than half of his men had girl friends, and they were itching to prove themselves to their Rajput hosts, who weren't quite sure what to make of them. He would set the tone: "Most of you came here for adventure and a new life. We have found it. We have been treated well and welcomed by the Maharana to this new land. As yet, it's been Mewar that's been doing the giving. We've been treated with honor, something they have in abundance." He paused in his pacing, and faced them, making sure he made eye contact with everyone in the room. "But make no mistake, they look to us as men with valued skills, but have no idea of our true mettle. There are those who say we aren't as brave as the Kshatrias, and therefor we aren't good enough for their women." Sir Walter was pleased to see that it hit home. Men who traveled 10,000 miles to an unknown future normally didn't lack courage. "We didn't ask for this fight, but I welcome it. We've been given the chance to show what we're made of, and to make our place in this land. What we do during this battle will affect our children and their children. A hundred years from now, our descendents will look back with pride at what we do; the day we showed the Rajputs that the English have as much honor and bravery as any man alive!" Hassan didn't understand more than a word or two of it, but if the reactions of the men were any indication, it was a good speech. In the meantime, they had a few last minute things to finish. It would be a long night. * * * * * * * * * * Prince Amar hadn't been to Udaipur in some time, spending most of his time either in the field, commanding troops against Moghul caravans, or setting ambushes when he wasn't in the fortress of Khumbalgarh. When he received the telegraph of the invasion, he left as quickly as he could to defend the city his grandfather built. His father would defend the Haldighati Pass with 25,000 men and 4,000 rifles against 150,000 Moghul troops. To him, was left the task of defending Udaipur. He didn't know who had the easier job. They all met in the Palace, a day before the attack, his Commanders, Hassan, Sir Walter Raleigh, the Bhil commanders, and finally, Jayti, the woman from Jodhpur his father talked about so much. This was the first time they had met. Hassan's team had come through again. Whatever happened tomorrow, when the Moghul troops attempted to pass through the woods filled with Bhils and cross the Ahar River, they wouldn't be surprised. They had made a hot air balloon with a long rope and telegraph wires attached. Observing the country at one thousand feet over the hills, the enemy would do little he wouldn't know about almost instantly. Claymores, he was already familiar with; he had used them many times on ambushes and knew their effectiveness. Hassan's team and this new group of Englishmen were working feverishly to make as many as they could. Jayti supervised English metal workers making several large rifles and a small production line of large bottle shaped bullets. They were long range elephant killers, she explained, something the smaller rifles didn't do very well. Most of them would be sent to support his father. * * * * * * * * * * Rana Pratap prepared his troops for possibly the last time. He was now much older than that first battle and was nearing 50. His old armor had to be modified to fit his new girth, and his faithful horse, Chetak, was long gone. This new horse, at least, would carry the same well-known colorful armor with the false trunk designed to scare horses and fool enemy elephants; he wouldn't hide from his old foe. Now, all he needed to have a chance were those new rifles Jayti promised him. Time was getting late, but surely the Gods wouldn't let him get this far without granting him the final victory. * * * * * * * * * * Man Singh mounted the final hill overlooking the pass. His advance scouts were correct; somehow, Rana Pratap knew they were coming, and his forces were entrenched around the kilometer-wide pass. He knew there would be no success drawing him out from the hills, no more than last time. In fact, with those damn rifles, Pratap actually had the advantage if he sat still. He could pick his troops off at long range, out of range of everything except his cannons, and he barely had an advantage there. It wouldn't matter in the end. Throwing everything at him at once would overpower him. He was outnumbered at least six to one and he couldn't have that many rifles. * * * * * * * * * * As far as Muhammad Bakshir, the Moghul Commander of the southern force attacking Udaipur later recalled, the first sign that something might not have been quite right were the sounds of about 50 distant booms. He had no way of knowing they were sighting-in 50-caliber rifles. Man Singh's instructions were clear. He was to take Udaipur if he could, but to be sure he tied up as many resources as practicable to ensure that Man Singh had as much of an edge as possible at Haldighati Pass. To him, the instructions he just tie-up resources were ludicrous. With 50,000 men, a fair amount of cavalry, and 200 war elephants, Muhammad Bakshir thought he could probably conquer the entire province of Mewar after he had eliminated their weapons manufacturing facility in Udaipur. * * * * * * * * * * As soon as the 50 caliber rifles were sighted-in, Prince Amar sent eight of the ten rifles, along with 1,000 rounds, to Haldighati Pass under guard, keeping two for himself. He already had reports coming in from the south road, where 50 cannon and supplies were about 30 miles away and moving slowly towards Udaipur. Prince Amar was never one to miss an opportunity; the enemy attack wasn't supposed to come until tomorrow. As far as he was concerned, he had an entire free day to create havoc with the Moghuls. Once again, he praised his father for having the foresight to run telegraph lines throughout Mewar. A wild plan began to form in Amar's mind. * * * * * * * * * * Commander Hassim Baktyar had little warning of the ambush, and could hardly believe its ferocity. One of the advance guard cried out a warning when they were halfway through the pass. Suddenly, pandemonium broke out. From the tree line on the right, perhaps 200 yards away, several hundred rifles barked almost as one. The man riding with him, who had just been discussing plans for his new house with him, went down when his head exploded. His own horse reared, and he knew the stallion had saved his life when he felt the passage of a bullet just past his eyes. In less than a minute, more than half of the 3,000 men guarding the train were down. The rest were hiding behind the wagons; their backs against a sheer wall, only partially concealed from the murderously accurate fire. A few were escaping by riding forward, or returning the way they had come. Riding individually towards their