indemnity of about a million and a quarter, to surrender certain districts, and to imprison the two Hindú ministers – who in the meanwhile were murdered by the slaves of the harím. Aurangzíb must have gnashed his teeth when he heard that his son had tamely surrendered the fruits of his victory: but he pretended to approve the terms of peace, whilst privately telling Sháh-'Álam what he thought of him. The Prince was recalled.
Aurangzíb, however, was not, perhaps, sorry to leave Golkonda alone for awhile, as he was now fully occupied with his invasion of Bíjápúr. This kingdom, though more important, and far less accessible, by reason of its fortified mountain passes and the scarcity of forage and water, was in little better case for resistance than its sister State. Its outlying cities had already fallen to the Mughals, and its western districts were in the greedy hands of the Maráthás, who, nevertheless, had been a chief cause why it had not so far succumbed to the imperial attacks. Now that Sivají was dead, this source of protection had vanished, and Prince A'zam was deputed to achieve the long deferred conquest. The Bíjápúrís, however, resorted to their usual tactics: they laid waste all the country round the capital, till the Mughal army was half famished, and they hovered about its flanks and harassed its movements with a pertinacity worthy of Sivají himself. In August, 1685, however, Aurangzíb, appeared upon the scene in person. Under his searching eye the work of intrenching and mining round the
