by Harold Lamb
I saw it all. It could not have happened had we and our men not been idle in Khanjut after many labors. We had starved and grown lean in the hills. Now we ate and slept. At such a time a warrior grows sluggish and his wits become dull and the sight of a shapely woman is not unwelcome.
This is the tale. There be few to tell it, for many in Khanjut died quickly and went to paradise or to the devil, after the coming of Krishna Taya.
The days had become still and the warmth of the sun tranquil, as Autumn spread its arms over the hills of Badakshan. The sheep from the hills were pasturing in the valley as Jani Beg, in his camp at Balkh, sought out the tent of Krishna Taya. I was not there to see, but much I heard from one of the eunuchs of Said Afzel, and more came to my ears from a woman of the Uzbek harem.
Krishna Taya was no better than a slave. Said Afzel had seen her when he was with the Mogul, and Jahangir, the Mogul, had her carried off to please the prince, since Said Afzel s father was Jani Beg, who commanded twelve thousand swords and twice that number of horses.
She was playing with pigeons in a pear garden when they took her. She had come from the Rajputs. There she had been a free woman and high-born, yet Jahangir was Mogul of India, lord of the Deccan, Kashmir and Sind. She was given as slave to Said Afzel, who was well pleased, for she was fair of face and body. Many thought—so said the eunuch—that Krishna Taya would slay herself, being of the Rajputs, where no women may be slaves.
Whether it was because she was a child, or for another reason, I know not, but Krishna Taya did not thrust a dagger into her throat. She became the property of Said Afzel and said little, waxing thinner of face as dark circles came under her calf-like eyes.
Said Afzel tired of her swiftly. Those who eat much opium are not firm of purpose. He left her in the tents of the Uzbek harem, where she was dressed in the white silk trousers and cap of cloth-of-silver that the Uzbek women wear. Said Afzel s eunuchs kept her from meeting with the Rajputs who sometimes came from the camp of Jahangir, fearing that they might do her harm. By the law of the Marwar, no high-born woman may be a slave to an enemy.
Krishna Taya had broken this law. She had not done as her ancestors, who dressed in their bridal clothes and followed the queen of the Rajputs into the funeral flames when Chitore fell to the enemy.
Yet—so the eunuch whispered—she was but a child and might well fear the cold touch of death. Likewise, she ate opium, which kept her quiet and wrought upon her fancies. She had been partaking of it when Jani Beg visited her.
He sat on the carpet by her and talked. He was a shrewd man and her brain was aflame with the drug.
“The Ferang is the shield on the arm of Shirzad Mir," he said. “He is like to a devil loosed from the Christian purgatory. Without him, Shirzad Mir would fare ill at our hands. He it was who took my son prisoner."
She lifted up her soft eyes at this and plucked at the cap which she wore instead of the veil of her people.
“Yet he is his own man," continued Jani Beg. “He serves himself. None other. What reward he seeks I know not, save that he has sworn to obtain certain trade concessions from the great Mogul. Jahangir will not see him so long as he fights with the rebels of Shirzad Mir."
Aye, Jani Beg, who was an Uzbek of low birth, dared to name Shirzad Mir, whose father and father s father ruled in Badakshan, a rebel.
“Mayhap," whispered Jani Beg, “Sir Weyand does not know that I am allied to the Mogul. If he knew this—" Jani Beg smiled— “I might forget certain wrongs he has done me. Aye, and Jahangir might also forget, for the Mogul has counted the swords I lead. Say this to the Ferang—"
“How?" asked Krishna Taya softly.
The woman of the harem was listening behind the hangings of the tent and heard what passed.
“It is in my mind," said Jani Beg, stroking his long beard, “to send a present to this Ferang dog. He is a merchant, and when did a merchant mis-like the sight of gold? I will send a Persian sword with gold hilt, certain rubies, and woven cloth-of-gold. I will send—" he touched the long hair of the girl, and Krishna Taya 's cheeks grew red—“you."
The girl was silent, being afraid to speak.
“The Ferang," went on Jani Beg, “has a heart for fighting. But now there is a truce. I have willed it so. The men of Shirzad Mir think I am weak." He laughed and closed his hand on the girl s arm so her fingers became numb. “As for you, be not so blind. I am master of Badakshan, a frontier of the Mogul. I can ask and receive much, and I seek much." He broke off to finger his beard again. “Win me the Ferang; aye, win me Sir Weyand. I reward those who serve me."
He unwound a long string of small pearls from his turban, where he had placed it in imitation of the Mogul fashion. This he laid about her throat and peered at her curiously.
“Can my words aid you, my lord?" she said, feeling the pearls with a trembling hand.
“Aye," smiled Jani Beg. “Put this thought in his head and you will serve me well."
“How?"
His brows knit together in a swift frown. He plucked forth his dagger and, so quickly that she had no time to draw back, passed the blade before both her eyelids, which fluttered in alarm. So near came the blade that it touched the skin. So said the woman who saw.
“Are you a begum—a wife of a noble—to question my words? So! Tell me in one word. Will you do this thing faithfully? If not—" His glance strayed to the dagger.
Perhaps he would have liked to slay her, for the blood lust was strong in him. I have seen Said Afzel, who was his son, wring the neck of a white pigeon in order to feel the life quiver out through his fingers. Nevertheless, Jani Beg was an excellent soldier and full of guile.
He had stirred the girl.
“Aye," she cried, looking wide-eyed at the dagger, “I will sever the prop from him who seeks the throne of Badakshan!"
“It is well," he said indifferently and rose. “Say what I have told you."
He lowered his voice, so the woman behind the curtain did not hear. Presently he laughed in his beard.
“So, Krishna Taya! Soon six men will stand alone together but, before they part, they shall be four and two."
This is what they said in the tent of Krishna Taya that night. I did not hear of it until long after—until what Jani Beg had promised had come to pass and ten thousand Uzbeks were storming the walls of Khanjut.
II
It was a late watch in the afternoon and I was drowsy, for the sun was warm on the stones of Khanjut and no wind stirred in the dried leaves of the poplar trees that fringed the garden of the castle.
Past the corner where I sat on my heels one of the hillmen bore a jar. He had come from the cellars of the castle and I suspected there was wine in the jar, so I rose and followed silently.
Truly, I was a follower of the prophet, but my thirst was great. Where there was wine, I knew there would be drinking. I dogged the hillman past the battlements to the center garden. He went down some steps and I did likewise.
I came full upon my lord, Shirzad Mir, and the Englishman, lying on some pleasant carpets under the trees. The bearer was just setting down the jar between them. Said Afzel was nearby, lying at full length.
“Ho, Abdul Dost!" cried Shirzad Mir, who had a quick eye. “You have come like a dog at the smell of meat in the pot. Nay, do not leave us. Come, here is another bowl. Said Afzel will not need his. He is rightly named the dreamer; he has taken opium until he is like a full-fed snake."
I looked at the Uzbek. His head was slack on the carpet, crushing the white heron plume on the turban. His olive face was red and he breathed heavily, while his slant eyes were glazed. They looked at me but seemed to see not. Truly they were like those of a snake. A snake that smelled of musk and attar of rose.
“Peace be unto you, my lord!" I greeted Shirzad Mir, and sat. “I do not seek the wine."
“A lie!" cried Sir Weyand jovially, shaking his yellow head. “Come, let me fill your bowl, Abdul Dost."
But I would not, as it would put me in the wron
g. Then there came a soldier from the gate.
“A message comes for the lord Ferang," he said, after his salaam. We saw coming toward us under the trees a fat eunuch leading a slim girl by the wrist, and after them a white horse of excellent breed. The saddle cloths were silk and there were jewels in the peak of the saddle. A scimitar with gold hilt and some rich stuffs were on the saddle. I stared and Sir Weyand sat up and looked at this curiously.
The eunuch dropped to his knees and made the triple salaam, beating his head against the ground. The girl, who was veiled, fell also to her knees.
“What means this?" asked Shirzad Mir in surprise.
“It is a small, a very small gift from the treasury of Jani Beg, O lord of Badakshan and descendant of illustrious ancestors, O most munificent Shirzad Mohammed el Baber Hazret Mir," whined the eunuch.
“Ho!" muttered my master, who was not slow of wit. “Jani Beg sends me a horse and sword that I may mount and fight him. Then I will send back a silk rug of Persia and a spindle, for he seems more inclined to sit in a corner than to fight—"
“Thrice blessed, pardon!" the eunuch chattered. “The gift is for the Ferang. It is for the illustrious stranger in our country. Jani Beg does not wish to be thought an ungenerous foe."
“For me!" Sir Weyand looked from the eunuch to the girl and then to the horse.
“Aye, may it be pleasant in the sight of your nobleness! Truly, the woman is of the Rajputs and surpassingly fair. I have guarded her with zeal. There is not a blemish on her—"
“Please!"
Sir Weyand s cheeks became red. Shirzad Mir began to laugh.
“Jani Beg honors you with a wife," he chuckled. “Now that you have taken Khanjut, he sends you a slave."
I did not laugh, considering what this might mean. The eunuch plucked the veil from the woman s face, enough to show her beauty.
“It is a slave," he boasted. “And such a slave. I will take good care of her for my lord the Ferang. I like not the service of Jani Beg."
He caught sight of Said Afzel and gasped. The poet 's heavy eyes had turned slowly to the girl and he was twisting his thick black beard. The miserable guardian of the harem quivered in fright like a fish caught between two nets.
But Sir Weyand looked long into the dark eyes that sought his and fell silent.
“She is not ill to look upon," commented Shirzad Mir gravely. “Jani Beg is unusually thoughtful. I would have said this woman was chosen by Said Afzel, if we had him not prisoner for the last moon."
“A royal gift to one who deserves it, lord," whined the eunuch, who thought this, at least, was safe to say.
“And are you also a royal present?" demanded my master quickly.
“Nay," the fat one salaamed. “I am but dirt from a dunghill."
“Do we deserve dirt?"
“Nay," the unhappy man wriggled, fearing that his death was near, but voluble after his kind. “I meant that I was but a servant who had come to a garden of paradise from a swine-pen."
“From the Uzbeks?" The merry eyes of Shirzad Mir twinkled.
The eunuch lifted his head long enough to see that Said Afzel was listening.
“Have mercy, lord! What was in my mind was that your presence has made me blessed, like one who comes from darkness to light. Now that I know the gift of the illustrious Jani Beg has been well received—"
“Enough!"
Shirzad Mir frowned. He whispered to Sir Weyand that a eunuch was a breeder of trouble.
“Get to your feet, O dunghill-that-came-to-the-garden-of-para-dise! Abdul Dost, go to the battlements and take up the first bow that comes to hand. This dog may now begin to run out of the gate. Bring him down with an arrow, if you can, from the wall. If not, he goes free."
He waved his hand and the fat man galloped off like a frightened elephant. I, also, made speed to the wall. I would have been well content to plant a shaft in his haunches.
But when I gained the battlement he was far below me. He had rolled from the winding road down the slope of the cliff. His bones must have been well shaken; still, he saved his life.
So it happened that when I reached the spot under the trees again, all were gone but the soldier, who was taking a drink from the jar. I upbraided him well, for I had remembered the jar and was still thirsty.
He said the girl had fallen to weeping and Sir Weyand had softened to her tears when she cried that it would be her death to send her back to Jani Beg.
The Ferang had offered her a room in his residence. The horse and sword he had presented to Shirzad Mir, who had taken them readily, saying that he would ride the one and cut off Jani Beg s head with the other.
But I was not content, knowing it was not wonted that a woman of the Rajputs should consent to be a slave.
I dismissed the man. There was still some wine in the jar and no one was looking.
So the girl of the Rajputs came to Khanjut.
But I knew that any gift from Jani Beg was not meant for our happiness. I sent the soldier who had drunk from my jar of wine— Bihor Jan, a long-legged Afghan with nimble wits and a quick ear—to Sir Weyand to serve as a guard for the woman. Thus Bihor Jan would tell me what she did.
A day passed and then another. Then I sought out Bihor Jan, who was squatting on the stone of the entrance hall of the castle. I asked him what had passed between the woman and Sir Weyand.
“Eh!" The Afghan spat and looked about him. “The Ferang has seen her but once. It was when she carried his curry and wine from the kitchen to his room."
“What did Sir Weyand?"
“The Ferang? What you or I would have done, Abdul Dost. He ate of the food."
“And the woman?"
“She said in a soft voice, so I could scarce hear, although the door was open, that she was his slave. She asked why he turned his face from her service."
“What said he?"
“He became red and said that in his country they had no slaves. He did not wish her to wait upon him."
That was well, so far. But before long the Afghan came to my room—an alcove opening from that of Shirzad Mir—and greeted me. I saw from his dark face that he had news on his stomach and invited him to kneel and eat, as I was doing.
This he did readily, scooping up in his dirty fingers some choice sugared fruit that I had selected for myself.
“This day," he grunted between mouthfuls, “Krishna Taya seated herself by the embrasure of the Ferang's room and waited for his arrival. When he came she salaamed and cried that her heart was troubled with loneliness."
He took up the bowl of jelly for which I had been about to reach. Now that it was too late, I pretended that I did not want the jelly.
“She was lonely with desire for her own country. She asked the Ferang if he would help her to get back to Rajputana. Then he questioned her concerning the Rajputs and their alliance with the Mogul. I could not hear what they said after that, though I sat with my back to the door. But the name of Jani Beg was spoken."
From this time forth I sometimes saw Sir Weyand walking about the garden with the woman. They talked much, for she was trying to teach him the language of the Rajputs and he was anxious to learn.
How is a man to scent danger in the perfume of a woman 's robes or the quick glance of dark eyes?
Once, when they had been sitting under the bare pomegranates, I watched her walk back to the castle. She carried herself proudly, for all she was a slave.
“Eh, Sir Weyand," I said curiously, “she is fair. Jani Beg sent you a princely gift."
“Nay, I know not what to do with her, Abdul Dost," he said quickly. “Jani Beg will not take her back, nor will her own people, now that she is under the cloud of dishonor. “
“Why not sell her? It would not be hard to find a buyer."
“That I will not do—unless it should be her will."
Truly, the Ferang had a strange nature The woman embarrassed him; he would not let her serve him and wait on him; yet he would not take a round sum for her or even
sell the fine necklace she wore.
Then I saw he was frowning, looking out under the trees. I also looked and noted that the Uzbek prince had stopped her. Said Afzel was leaning close and whispering, fingering the pearls at her throat, for he knew not we watched.
She listened to what the Uzbek said, but when the poet laid hand on her arm, she freed herself and ran off into the building.
“Once," I whispered, wishing to test the Ferang, “Said Afzel owned Krishna Taya. He it was who took her for a slave against the law of her people. Perhaps she loves Said Afzel."
He looked at me keenly.
“Think you so, Abdul Dost?"
“Aye," I lied; “why else did she not slay herself, as is the custom of her people after an injury that they cannot avenge?"
He fell silent, but the look he cast after the languid figure of the Uzbek was not friendly. I thought of the verses in the Koran which say that fire, once kindled, is put out with difficulty. Why had the Ferang named the girl Rose Face if his heart had not warmed to her?
For the moment all thought of the girl was driven from my mind. Bihor Jan approached and said that Shirzad Mir demanded my presence.
A rider had been sighted in the plain before the citadel. He had made signs to our outposts that he was on a mission of peace and would speak with those in Khanjut.
It was Shirzad Mir s order that I should mount and ride to meet this man. I donned a clean tunic over my mail and wrapped a white turban about my head. I chose a good sword and a sightly horse.
While the others watched from the wall, I passed down the cliff road, over the drawbridge and neared the rider. Then I saw that it was Raja Man Singh, one of the highest ameers of the Mogul court and general to Jahangir himself, also leader of the Rajputs.
He was very elegantly dressed, with a jeweled sword stuck through his girdle and a single large diamond on the front of his turban. He rode excellently well and seemed quite fearless. He had a neatly combed black beard divided on each side of his chin, and his glance was that of a man of many followers.
Raja Man Singh greeted me in soft Persian, somewhat contemptuously. I did not dismount, despite his high rank, for I considered myself the emissary of Shirzad Mir. Besides, I was the older man.
