The night lingered heavy over Fort Panhala, the embers of the destroyed Mughal siege engines glowing faintly in the distance. Vidur Pant stood atop the ramparts, his eyes scanning the battlefield below. The fires from their desperate sabotage mission had died down, but the Mughals hadn't retreated. Far from it. They were regrouping, their soldiers milling about like ants, preparing for the next strike.
"They're not leaving,"
Narayanrao said quietly, stepping up beside Vidur, his voice hoarse from exhaustion.
Vidur's jaw tightened, his gaze locked on the enemy camp. "No. They won't leave until they've taken the fort."
The Maratha soldiers stood ready along the walls, their faces pale with fatigue but their eyes hard with determination. They had held off the Mughals once—barely. Vidur knew they wouldn't get another easy chance like that again. The next attack will be worse. It always is.
"We slowed them down with the fire," Narayanrao continued, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, "but we're running out of tricks. They'll come at us hard next time."
Vidur nodded, his eyes darkening as he studied the Mughal camp. "We need to be smarter. They're expecting us to hold the walls, to stay behind our defenses. We have to surprise them."
Narayanrao glanced at him, a question forming on his lips, but before he could speak, a scout appeared, his face pale with urgency.
"Vidur," the scout called, his breath short. "There's movement. The Mughals—they're preparing for something."
Vidur's heart sank. Already?
It didn't take long for Vidur to see what the scout had meant. From his vantage point on the ramparts, he could see the Mughal soldiers forming ranks in the distance. Siege ladders were being raised, and the remaining trebuchets were repositioned, their dark shapes looming against the pale light of the coming dawn.
"They're bringing ladders this time," Narayanrao muttered, his eyes narrowing as he watched the activity below. "They'll try to scale the walls."
Vidur nodded grimly. "They're coming for us directly. No more slow sieges. They want to overwhelm us."
His mind raced as he calculated their defenses. The gates were reinforced, the walls held for now, but if the Mughals reached them with ladders and siege towers, the fight would spill into the fort itself. And they didn't have the numbers for a prolonged, hand-to-hand battle.
"They'll try to split our forces," Vidur said, more to himself than to Narayanrao. "We have to be everywhere at once."
Narayanrao frowned. "We're spread thin as it is, Vidur. What's the plan?"
Vidur's eyes flicked between the walls and the approaching enemy. "We hit them where they're weakest. We need to target their siege ladders before they reach us. If we can take out enough of their infantry, they won't be able to get to the walls."
Narayanrao hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I'll gather the men."
The courtyard of Fort Panhala was alive with activity as Vidur moved swiftly through the ranks of soldiers, checking on the defenses. The men were exhausted, their faces lined with dirt and fatigue, but they moved with purpose. They had fought too hard to let the fort fall now.
"Oil pots to the west wall!" Vidur called out, his voice steady. "We'll need them when the ladders come!"
The soldiers moved quickly, carrying barrels of oil toward the vulnerable sections of the wall. Vidur watched them for a moment, his mind turning over the plan. If we can keep them off the walls, we stand a chance.
"Vidur!"
Narayanrao's voice called from across the courtyard, drawing Vidur's attention. He was standing with Santaji Ghorpade, both of them looking grim.
"They're almost ready to move," Santaji said as Vidur approached. "The siege ladders are rolling out, and they've formed a line of infantry behind them."
Vidur's stomach twisted. "They're going to push hard."
Narayanrao nodded, his face tense. "We'll need to hit them before they can get close."
Vidur met his gaze, his voice calm but firm. "Archers. We need every bow ready on the ramparts. When the ladders come, we hit them with everything we've got."
Santaji crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "And the infantry?"
Vidur exhaled slowly. "We hold back until they're on the ladders. Then we use the oil. If we can't stop them there, we fight them on the walls."
The first light of dawn had barely touched the horizon when the Mughals began their assault. The sound of drums echoed across the battlefield, a deep, rhythmic beat that sent a chill down Vidur's spine. From the ramparts, he watched as the Mughal soldiers surged forward, their siege ladders towering above them as they advanced toward the fort.
"Archers, ready!" Vidur shouted, his voice cutting through the rising tension.
The Maratha archers stood in position, their bows drawn, waiting for the signal.
"Wait for them to get closer," Vidur muttered, his eyes locked on the approaching enemy. Closer. Just a little closer.
The Mughals reached the base of the walls, their ladders scraping against the stone as they prepared to ascend.
"Now!" Vidur shouted. "Fire!"
A volley of arrows shot through the air, raining down on the Mughal soldiers below. The first line of attackers crumpled, but more pushed forward, hoisting the siege ladders up against the walls. The sound of wood scraping against stone filled the air as the Mughals began to climb.
"They're coming!" Narayanrao shouted, his sword drawn as he stood beside Vidur.
Vidur's heart pounded in his chest, but his mind remained clear. "Oil! Pour it now!"
The soldiers moved quickly, tipping barrels of oil over the edge of the walls. The Mughal soldiers climbing the ladders barely had time to react before the oil cascaded down, coating them in thick, flammable liquid. With a flick of a torch, the oil ignited, sending flames roaring up the ladders.
Screams filled the air as the fire spread, engulfing the Mughal attackers. But even as the flames raged, more soldiers climbed over the bodies of their fallen comrades, determined to breach the walls.
"They're not stopping," Narayanrao muttered, his face tense as he swung his sword at the first Mughal soldier to reach the top of the wall.
Vidur fought beside him, his movements swift and deadly. "We can't let them overrun us."
The battle on the walls was fierce. The Mughals fought with brutal efficiency, their swords flashing in the dim light as they clashed with the Maratha defenders. Vidur's muscles burned as he blocked strike after strike, but he didn't relent. We have to hold.
Just as Vidur thought they might be able to push the Mughals back, a new sound reached his ears—a deep, rhythmic pounding, different from the siege drums. His heart sank as he turned to look beyond the walls.
"They've brought another battering ram," Narayanrao said grimly, following Vidur's gaze.
Vidur's eyes narrowed as he saw the massive wooden structure being rolled toward the gate. It was larger than the last, reinforced with iron, and designed to break through even the strongest defenses.
"We can't stop that," Santaji muttered, his voice tight with fear.
Vidur gritted his teeth, his mind racing. If that ram reaches the gate, we're finished.
"Archers! Focus your fire on the ram!" Vidur shouted, his voice rising above the noise of battle. "We need to slow them down!"
The archers shifted their aim, launching arrows at the soldiers pushing the battering ram, but it wasn't enough. The Mughals were determined, and the ram kept moving forward, inching closer to the gate with every second.
Vidur turned to Narayanrao, his voice low but urgent. "We have to stop that ram."
Narayanrao's eyes widened. "Vidur, no. We barely made it back last time. You can't go out there again."
Vidur's face was hard. "We don't have a choice. If the gate falls, it's over."
Narayanrao hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Then we'll go together."
Vidur met his gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. This was their last chance.