by M. M. Kaye
‘I still say you should have brought at least three of your sowars with you. And your syce,’ said Ash angrily. ‘I would never have agreed to meet you here if I'd dreamt that you'd be such a chucklehead as to ride out without a proper escort. For God's sake, don't any of you realize what is going on around here?’
‘Faith, and that's a foine way to talk to a feller on his birthday, so it is,’ grinned Wally, unabashed. ‘Yes, you old ass, of course we do. I'll have you know we're not nearly as stupid as you think. In fact that's precisely why I came here on the sly with only Taimus, instead of attracting a lot of attention to myself and stirring up the angry passions of the locals by clattering out with an armed escort at my heels.’
‘That's as maybe,’ retorted Ash, still shaken. ‘But I understand the Amir himself has advised your Chief to avoid riding through the streets for a time.’
‘Through the streets, yes. His Nibs seems to think it would be better if we weren't seen going about his city just now. But there are no streets here and it's a long way from the city – and where did you hear that, anyway? I thought that particular bit of advice had been given to Sir Louis on the quiet. It's not at all the sort of thing he'd like every Tom, Dick and Harry to know.’
‘I don't suppose they do know,’ said Ash. ‘I heard it from that pensioner of ours, Risaldar-Major Nakshband Khan. Who incidentally got it from the horse's mouth – Sir Louis himself.’
‘Did he now,’ murmured Wally, lying back on the grass and firmly shutting his eyes. ‘And I suppose it was yourself put that old spalpeen up to calling at the Residency to warn us that the city was full of rude, rough boys from Herat, and that if we didn't hide indoors until they went away, some of them might call us naughty names or even thumb their noses at us? Sure I might have known it. No, don't be telling me that it's all in the line of duty, because I know it is. But dammit, today's my birthday, so can't we just for once forget the political situation and all this Intelligence business and talk about other things for a change? Pleasant things…’
There was nothing that Ash would have liked better, but he hardened his heart and said: ‘No, Wally: I'm afraid we can't, because there are several things I have to say to you. To begin with, you're going to have to stop these mounted sports you've been arranging between your fellows and the Afghans.’
Wally abandoned his restful pose and sat bolt upright, staring and indignant. ‘Stop them? What the blazes for? Why, the Afghans love ‘em! – they're damned good horsemen and they thoroughly enjoy competing against my chaps. We always have a huge turn-out, and there couldn't be a better way of getting on friendly terms with them.’
‘I can see why you think so. But then you don't understand how these people think. They see it quite differently, and far from encouraging friendly feelings it has caused great offence. The truth is, Wally, that your sowars are too damn good at this type of sport, and the Kabulis have been saying that you hold them solely in order to show how easily you can defeat them, and that when your men ride at a dangling lemon and slash it in half with a sabre, or spear a tent-peg out of the ground on the point of a lance, they are merely demonstrating how they would cut down or spear their enemies – in other words, the Afghans. If you'd been able to stand among the spectators and listen, as I've done, and hear what they say among themselves as they watch, you wouldn't talk so glibly about “establishing friendly relations with the Afghans”, when in point of fact all you are doing is helping to make them a deal sourer than they are already; which God knows is sour enough.’
‘Well if that isn't the outside of enough!’ exploded Wally. ‘So that's why you were dressed up like a scarecrow and carrying off the prizes for the opposition that day. I couldn't think what you were playing at, and for two pins I'd have –’ Words appeared to fail him and Ash had the grace to look ashamed of himself and say defensively: ‘I didn't do it for fun, whatever you may think. I hoped it might even up the balance a bit and take some of the heat out of the situation. But I didn't think you'd recognize me.’
‘Not recognize you? When I know every trick of riding you possess and the way you always - Holy smoke! It's yourself who's mad, so it is. Have you any idea of the risks you were running? It's all very well for me to spot you, but I'm willing to lay you a year's pay to a rotten orange that there isn't a single jawan in the Escort who doesn't know by now who you are.’
'I wouldn't take you,’ said Ash with a crooked smile. ‘I imagine they know a lot more than you think. But they also know how to keep their mouths shut. Have any of them, for instance, reported to you that whenever they show their faces outside the citadel, the Kabulis don't just insult them, but make the worst kind of abusive remarks about you and Kelly and Jenkyns, and particularly about Cavagnari? No, I can see they haven't! And you can't blame them. They'd be ashamed to let any of you know the sort of things that are being said about you in the bazaars; which is your bad luck, because if they spoke out you might learn a thing or two.’
‘God, what a people,’ said Wally disgustedly. ‘That Sikh obviously knew what he was talking about after all.
‘What Sikh?’
‘Oh, just a Havildar of the 3rd Sikhs I was talking to one day when we were in Gandamak. He was scandalized by the Peace Treaty and the fact that we were pulling the army out of Afghanistan, and seemed to think we were all mad. He wanted to know what kind of warfare this was, and said, “Sahib, these people hate you and you have beaten them. There is only one treatment for such shaitans (devils) – grind them to powder.” Perhaps that is what we should have done.’
‘Perhaps. But it's no good talking about that now, because the main thing I came here to tell you about is a deal more important than your mounted sports. I know I've brought this up before, but this time, whether you like it or not, you're going to have to talk to Jenkyns about it. As I've already told you, the Amir has allowed a rumour to get around that the Mission is only here to act as paymaster and general benefactor: in other words, to be milked of rupees like an obliging cow. Almost everyone believes this to be true, so the sooner Sir Louis persuades the Viceroy to let him act the part, and sends him enough money to pay off the arrears owed to the troops, the better. It's the only thing that may stop the pot from boiling over and scalding everyone within sight, because the minute that starving rabble from Herat have been given their just dues, they'll leave Kabul; and once they are out of the way the disaffected elements in the city can simmer down a bit and give the Amir a chance to get a firmer grip on his country and restore some respect for authority. I'm not saying that a large injection of cash will solve all that wretched chap's problems, but at least it'll help to shore him up and delay the roof falling in on him – and on your precious Mission as well.’
Wally was silent for a moment or two, and then he said irritably: ‘It would take a deuce of a lot of money, and I don't see why we should be expected to stump up the arrears of pay that are owed to the armed forces of a country that we have been at war with – an enemy country! Do you realize that a large part of what these fellows claim they are owed seems to be back pay, so that if we were fools enough to foot the bill we'd actually be paying those men for fighting us? Paying them for killing Wigram? – and a whole lot more of our fellows too? No, it's obscene! It's a monstrous suggestion and you can't possibly mean it.’
‘But I do mean it, Wally.’ Ash's voice was as grim as his face, and there was a note in it that Wally recognized with a curious sense of shock as fear: real fear. ‘It may sound like a monstrous suggestion to you, and I'm not even sure that it would work, except as a temporary measure. But it would at least remove the immediate threat and give your Mission a breathing space. It would be worth it for that alone. What Cavagnari needs most is time, and it doesn't look to me as though he's going to get it unless he buys it.’
‘Then you're really suggesting that he sends for these mutinous divils and hands them out –’
‘No I am not. I am not suggesting that he, personally, pays anything directly to the
Herati regiments (who, by the way, were never in action against us and don't believe we won a single battle). But I'm willing to bet that he could galvanize the Viceroy into sending the Amir, immediately, a sum sufficient to cover what his troops are owed. It wouldn't even need to be a gift, because it could be counted as part of the yearly subsidy that was promised him by the terms of the Peace Treaty, which amounts to six crores a year. Damn it, Wally, that's six million rupees. Even a small part of that would wipe out the Amir's debt to his troops. But if the money isn't forthcoming soon, it won't be long before the whole Afghan Army is faced with the choice of starving or stealing; and believe me, they'll choose the latter, as the Heratis have done. And as you yourself would do, if you were in their shoes!’
‘That's all very well, but –’
‘There's no “but” about it. Hunger can do a lot of strange things to people as I've learned at first hand, and I only wish I could talk to Cavagnari myself. But I promised the Commandant I wouldn't, because… Well, anyway, it seems young Jenkyns is our only hope; and after all he is supposed to be the Political Assistant. You'll have to pass it on to him – tell him you had it from old Nakshband Khan – tell him anything. But for God's sake get it into his head that it's deadly serious, and that if Cavagnari hasn't realized this already, which he may well have done, he has got to realize it now. As for you, Wally, if you've any sense at all, you'll stop these sports of yours and warn the Rosebud' (this was a reference to Ambrose Kelly, who for obvious reasons was known in the Guides and to his friends as ‘Rosie’) ‘to write off his equally well-meaning scheme for starting a free dispensary, because it is already being said in the city that the Sahibs are planning to use this as a means of poisoning anyone who is foolish enough to attend.’
‘The Black Curse of Shielygh on them,’ sighed Wally with feeling. ‘May the divil fly away with the spalpeens: he's welcome to them. When I think of all we meant to do – and dammit, will do – to help these ungrateful bastards to have a better life and fairer laws, I could spit, so I could.’
Ash frowned and observed with an edge to his voice that possibly they did not want to be helped by foreigners – except financially. Money was the one and only thing that could help the Amir and his people, and save the foreigners in the Residency from disaster. ‘If the troops get paid you may all still have a chance of scraping through with nothing worse than a bloody nose and a few bruises. But if it doesn't, I wouldn't bet a brass farthing on the safety of the Mission, or the future prospects of the Amir either.’
‘Faith, what a cheerful little ray of sunshine you are,’ observed Wally with a wry smile. ‘I suppose you'll tell me next that every mullah in the place is calling for a Holy War?’
‘Oddly enough, they aren't. Or only a very few. There is a fiery gentleman down Herat way who is being very vocal, and an equally vocal fakir here in the city. But by and large the majority of mullahs have been remarkably pacific and seem to be doing their best to keep things on an even keel. It's a pity they haven't got a better Amir; one can't help feeling sorry for the poor fellow, but he's not half the man his father was – and he, Heaven knows, wasn't anything to write home about. What the Afghans need now is a strong man: another Dost Mohammed.’
‘Or a fellow like that one over' there,’ suggested Wally, nodding his head in the direction of Barbur's tomb.
‘The Tiger? God forbid!’ said Ash fervently. ‘If he'd been in command here, we would never have got further than Ali Masjid. Now there's someone you should write an epic poem about: Ode to a Dead Emperor. Hic jacet ecce Barbur, magnus Imperator. Fama semper vivat*… “Lie lightly on him, gentle earth.” ’
Wally laughed and said that he would try his hand at Barbur when he had finished with ‘The Village of Bemaru’, which was still giving him trouble. The political situation was not mentioned again and the talk turned to pleasanter subjects: to books and horses, mutual friends and the prospects of shikar in the cold weather. ‘Do you remember that Christmas we spent at Morala,’ said Wally, ‘and the evening we brought down eight teal between us at one go, and seven of them fell into the river and we had to go in after them because the shikari couldn't swim? Do you remember –’
A sudden and stronger gust of wind whined through the bushes and raised a cloud of dust that set him coughing. Mingled with the dust were a few rain drops, and he scrambled to his feet, exclaiming: ‘Glory be! I believe it's going to rain. That's something to be thankful for. We could do with a good downpour provided it doesn't wash the whole place away in a river of mud. Well, I must be off. Time I got back to my neglected duties if I don't want to get a rap over the knuckles from my respected Chief. See you sometime next week. And in the meantime I'll have a talk with William, and think about discontinuing the sports – though I suspect you're exaggerating, you old Job's Comforter. No, don't see me to the gate: Taimus is out there. Salaam aleikoum!’
‘And the same to you, you poor purblind blinkered off-scouring of an Irish bog. And for God's sake don't go trailing your coat riding around the countryside without an escort again. It's too damned unhealthy.’
‘ “Too rash, too unadvised, too sudden,” ’ declaimed Wally soulfully. ‘Ah, away with you! It's a pessimist ye‘are and I don't know how I put up with you at all, at all.’ He laughed again, and gripped Ash's hand: ‘Be easy now; I'll watch out for myself, I promise. Next time I'll bring a posse with me, all armed to the teeth. Will that satisfy you?’
‘I shan't be satisfied until you and Kelly and the rest of our fellows are safe back in Mardan again,’ replied Ash with a worn smile, ‘But for the present I suppose I shall have to settle for an armed posse. Mind now that you don't move without it, you benighted bog-trotter.’
‘Cross-me-heart,’ said Wally cheerfully, suiting the action to the word. ‘Not that I shall get the chance if your depressing view of the future turns out to be correct. Ah well, as Gul Baz would say “All things are with God”. Ave, Ashton, morituri te salutant!’ He flung up an arm in the Roman salute and strode off singing ‘Kathleen Mavourneen’ in a loud, tuneful voice and as though he had not a care in the world.
62
Apart from an occasional spatter of drops, the threatened storm did not break until close on sunset, and Wally arrived back at the Residency only lightly bespeckled by raindrops and in excellent spirits. But once there he had been brought sharply back to earth, for he was met with a message that ordered him to report to Sir Louis Cavagnari the instant he returned.
As the order had been given more than two hours earlier, the reception he received from his Chief was not cordial. Sir Louis had suffered a severe blow to his self-esteem and he was still fuming with anger and inclined to blame all those who had witnessed the mistreatment of the Hindu by the Afghan sentries, but failed to inform him of it. In particular the officer in command of the escort, whose business it was to have known of the incident and reported it at once, either to him or to his secretary, Jenkyns.
If young Walter knew about it and had said nothing, by God he'd give the boy a piece of his mind. And if he did not know, then he should have known. His Indian officers ought to have told him about the disgraceful treatment that had been meted out to a Hindu gentleman who had merely called to pay his respects to the British Envoy. How many others had also been refused admittance by the Afghans? Was this the only would-be caller who had been turned away, or merely the latest?
Sir Louis required an answer to these questions at once, and the fact that Lieutenant Hamilton, when sent for, could not be found, had done nothing to soothe his ill-humour, and Wally, who had never seen his hero really angry before and thought of him as a man whom nothing and no one could ruffle, discovered his error within minutes of his return.
The Envoy had found relief for his pent-up rage in giving his military attaché not the ‘rap over the knuckles’ so recently and lightly referred to, but a coldly furious dressing-down of major proportions. A hail of questions had rattled about Wally's ears, and when at last he was given the opport
unity to speak, he had disclaimed any knowledge of the incident involving the Hindu, promised to speak severely to all those under his command who had seen it and not reported it, and suggested that they had only kept silent out of consideration for Sir Louis, as it reflected great shurram (dishonour) on the Envoy and every member of the Mission that such things should be done by the Afghans, and even greater shurram to speak of it and thereby put the Sahibs to shame. But he would certainly talk to them and make them understand that any further incidents of this kind should be reported at once.
‘That will be unnecessary,’ said Sir Louis icily. ‘I intend to ensure that there shall be no more. You will go at once to the Afghan guard and tell them that I do not desire their services any longer, and that they are dismissed and will leave immediately. See to it please. And mount a double guard of your own men. Now send Jenkyns to me.’
A curt nod dismissed Wally, who saluted smartly and withdrew, conscious of an odd feeling that his knees were made of india-rubber and that he had recently been run over by a railway train. The sweat that was running down his face and neck was not solely due to the heat, and he mopped it dry with his handkerchief and having drawn a deep breath and let it out again slowly, shook himself like a dog coming out of water and went off to fetch William and dismiss the Afghan guard.
The guard commander had questioned his authority to do so, insisting that his men were there by order of the Amir and for the protection of the ‘foreigners’. But Wally's command of Pushtu was excellent (Ash had seen to that) and smarting from the effects of that tongue-lashing from his Chief, he was in no mood to put up with what he regarded as Afghan shennanigans. Just as Cavagnari had vented his pent-up wrath on Wally's head, so Wally in turn found relief for his own feelings in telling the Afghans what they could do with themselves and why. They had not lingered.
That done, he had turned his attention to speaking strongly to his jawans on the unwisdom of keeping silence when they saw dishonour being put upon them themselves and the entire British Mission. But the replies he had received had shaken him, for they confirmed everything Ash had said about the insults that were hurled at any soldier or servant from the Residency who had the temerity to appear in the city, and the reason why this had been kept from the Sahibs.
