Vitkevich’s imitation of a camel clearing its throat with a va t’en was immaculately plausible, and Burnes laughed immoderately. ‘I am deeply hurt,’ he said cosily, ‘by the failure of our national literature to spread beyond our shores, I have to say.’
‘On the contrary,’ Vitkevich said, ‘it is read everywhere.’
‘I wonder if you know our national poet, Shakespeare?’ Burnes said.
‘Indeed, of course,’ Vitkevich said. ‘Incorrect, of course, but full of beauties.’
‘And yet,’ Burnes said, ‘I feel that his greatest beauties are appreciated only by his countrymen. I wonder if The Tempest, for instance, is known at all well in Russia?’
‘Sir, I know it intimately,’ Vitkevich said. ‘A most beautiful play.’
‘A curious subject,’ Burnes pursued. ‘And an unsatisfactory ending. I wonder, truly, whether Prospero had the right to abandon his island.’
‘Sir?’
‘To have journeyed, even unwillingly, to an uncivilized place – to have educated and taught the natives, and then to abandon them so readily. Or perhaps, sir, you feel that we have no right to impose our ways on a native, alien way of life?’
‘I do not recall the play at all well,’ Vitkevich said carelessly.
‘I wonder whether you feel, as I always do, that Prospero’s magic was a great benefit, in the end, to Caliban and his island, that he did a better thing in coming there than in leaving it?’
‘I do not remember the play at all well,’ Vitkevich said again. ‘I am sure you are right in everything you say. Tell me, in your travels, have you found camels or horses the more serviceable beasts? For myself …’
Burnes considered himself entirely outdone; and everyone knew that camels were of no use in mountainous country. Although Vitkevich’s conversation roamed freely and extravagantly, it was clearly fenced off, and there were some places to which he would not allow himself to be led, even by the most indirect route of a conversation about Shakespeare.
The fellow was a gentleman, Burnes said to himself again, hours later. He was woozy and pleasured with overeating, and as Vitkevich rose to go, they seemed, unmistakably, to be friends; sad, momentary friends, because there would and could be no sequel to this amiable festivity, but unmistakably friends.
‘Thank you, sir,’ Vitkevich said. ‘I had not expected such a pleasant evening could be afforded me by Kabul. But I see – well, thank you, sir.’
‘The pleasure is mine,’ Burnes said in the formal Persian response, and Vitkevich broke into a broad smile. ‘Tell me – how long do you plan to remain in Kabul?’
The smile dropped like a stone. ‘That is not quite a question I can answer,’ Vitkevich said smoothly.
‘Well, I wish you every happiness,’ Burnes said weakly. They stood there for a moment, knowing that they could not decently wish each other success, and then Burnes said a terrible thing. ‘I expect your return will take you to Herat, where I understand you have friends waiting for you.’
Vitkevich did not break his conversational stride. ‘Our plans are not yet settled,’ he said. ‘I wish you a most pleasant Christmas.’ And then he was gone. Burnes would have done anything to take back his last comment. He was left alone in the room, and the pleasure seemed to disappear like the afrit’s palace. He had – he supposed – wanted to let Vitkevich know what he knew, but now he felt that he had blundered; that he had laid his knowledge open to the Russians, who would now safeguard themselves against it. What would follow, he had no idea; he felt simply assured that he had provided them with something which would enable them to destroy his chances. As the servants came in to remove the remains of the feast, he saw what would happen; he might be here for weeks longer, for months, but his mission, now, might as well be over. And the next day he would send the Russian every single English novel he and his party could muster.
The kitchen boys, unfed in this hall of food, hung back silently, waiting. And as the silver dishes were carried back from the English feast with their fine wrecked freight of meat, fruit and roots, they flung themselves forward, seizing each one. This was their ancient right, and they fell on them like beasts, like crows, like – better – like fish, crowding to the rich surface of the water. Onto the dishes they fastened their little hungry mouths, and sucked and licked, puckering their mouths, their eyes closed in pleasure at the rich remainders, polishing the imperial silver with their tongues. The feast was over, and, as they fought and pushed over its residue, they gave no thought to it, or to the fine ambassadors, or to the labour they had expended, which had ended in these few scraps. They surrendered themselves to pleasure as if no one was – as if no one ever could be – watching them.
TWENTY
1.
THE RUSSIAN AMBASSADOR was speechless with rage. Never – never in his life – had he stood up in these circumstances. In the vast hall of the minister’s golden office, there were five chairs only; and the minister sat on one, behind his vast desk, and four chinless advisers and clerks, behind him, sat on the others. Every other chair had been removed from the room, and the ambassador stood, and fumed. Outside, the London spring continued in its half-hearted way, the birds in the park peeping faintly. The minister turned over one paper after another, in a leisurely, unhurried way, as of one who knows the game is his, and did not speak.
‘I wonder if I might have a chair to sit upon,’ the ambassador said firmly. He was not prepared to be treated like this, whatever the circumstances. The minister looked up, amused, and down again. In a moment or two he reached out, and rang the bell on his desk.
‘The Russian ambassador,’ he drawled, when the attendant came in, ‘has asked if he may have a chair.’ He smiled, sardonically, his mouth closed, not revealing his teeth just yet. The attendant left, and the ambassador knew he had been given instructions that, in this eventuality, he was not to return. The ticking of the clock in the room was loud, and the ambassador waited and filled with pointless fury.
‘Your gentlemen have been most busy, recently,’ the minister said finally. He did not look up, and his voice was muffled by the weight of papers before him. Behind him, his officers and envoys engaged the Russian’s gaze unabashedly, and grinned wolfishly. ‘We have been most interested to learn of their activities in – ah – in a most valuable and important region of the world.’
‘The minister must be prepared to specify the matter under current consideration.’ The ambassador’s English was excellent, once the ear had become accustomed to his rich, gurgling accent. He was clenching and unclenching his fists in the rhythm of his heartbeat, like a washerwoman wringing a handkerchief.
‘Indeed, indeed,’ the minister said. ‘I apologize for delaying in coming to – ah – the very curious point Her Majesty wishes to make to His Excellency. Indeed. Well, it seems that Your Excellency has carelessly omitted to tell us of some events and interests which must directly bear on our oriental possessions. Perhaps you would care to enlighten us, concerning the – ah – the intentions of the great power which Your Excellency so ably represents? For instance – let us see – the matter of Herat. I am sure Your Excellency is as pleased as we are to hear that the inhabitants of that unhappy city have been relieved from their besiegement by Persian soldiers. Herat, Your Excellency, a city somewhat to the east of the Shah’s accepted territories, and to which, happily, that great Emperor has now relinquished any claim.’
‘Once the warships of Her Majesty’s Navy, in its wisdom, had dropped anchor in the Persian Gulf, sir, I hardly feel that the Shah could have failed to see sense, but—’
‘Sense,’ the minister said calmly, raising his calm smiling face and looked directly into the ambassador’s eyes. ‘Sense, indeed; that is a quality which Her Majesty most sincerely values in her cousins, and her ambassadors. So I wonder if Your Excellency has any comment to make on this most interesting and incontrovertible information regarding the siege of Herat?’
He raised a piece of paper, fluttering it approximately
in the ambassador’s direction. The ambassador was ten feet from the desk, and would not compromise his dignity by walking forward, like a clerk. ‘If Her Majesty’s minister will be so good as to explain?’ he said.
The minister dropped the paper casually on the desk. ‘We are puzzled, sir, most sincerely puzzled. It seems – no, sir, I know not seems—’ His attendants broke into an ecstasy of preening at their minister’s learning. ‘—we have learnt that the Shah was aided in his most futile and detestable attempt at the walls of Herat by outside forces. By Russians, sir, by Russians!’ The ambassador looked back levelly as the minister broke into a terrifying shout. He would not budge an inch.
‘Sir, your information is erroneous,’ he said. ‘This cannot be.’
‘This, cannot, be,’ the minister said, purring. ‘And yet it is the case. Were it not for the fortuitous presence of a most brave English officer within the unhappy city, we have no doubt that the Shah, or rather, sir, the Tsar, would now be in possession of Herat. There is no doubt whatever.’
‘Sir, these are matters of which I know nothing,’ the ambassador said bravely. ‘Her Majesty’s minister astonishes me with these unfounded claims.’
‘Unfounded, sir? Unfounded? Let us move on, before you see how much knowledge of these extraordinary activities we have acquired. Indeed, sir, we found it so impossible to believe that the Tsar could act in such a manner, we dismissed any but the most incontrovertible reports. Let us move on, sir, to another and still more alarming report. What can you tell us of a gentleman named Vitkevich?’
‘Sir?’
‘Vitkevich, Your Excellency.’ The minister paused, and looked at the ambassador patiently. He stood in silence, incredulous at this treatment. ‘We know, sir, that there are Russians at the court of Dost Mohammed, the Amir of Kabul, and that they are presently received with every mark of favour. With every mark of favour, sir. Their commanding officer is named Vitkevich. Now, what can the meaning of this be?’
‘I know nothing of any Vitkevich, sir.’
‘Nothing? Let us see. Until six months ago, we had a most valued envoy to the Amir’s court, and the most friendly relations. And six months ago, the Amir made a most unreasonable demand of our envoy, that we should send him troops to invade the territories of one of his neighbours, a most valued ally. Sir, I hope you are listening to this very serious story. And six months ago, our envoy was abruptly dismissed, and the Amir, to our astonishment, began to receive the attentions of this gentleman Vitkevich. This, sir, must not continue. It must not.’
‘Sir, I know nothing of anyone of that name.’
‘Very well,’ the minister went on. ‘Most serious steps will be taken at any suggestion that military aid is being offered to the Amir. Most serious steps, indeed, are being undertaken at this very moment, of which you and the world will shortly learn. Her Majesty is most displeased at these extraordinary Russian activities, and wishes to learn what steps are to be undertaken to restore the previously excellent state of relations between our two governments. We look forward to your response, sir. That will be all.’
The ambassador stood, trembling with rage. Never – never – had he been spoken to in such a manner, and it took him a full minute to realize that the audience was over. He turned on his tail, and stalked to the door. By either side stood a footman, and that was where they remained, making no move to open the great mahogany door. The ambassador stood there, looking from one to another, but they were impassive, and finally he had no alternative; he took the door handle and pulled it furiously. Every single man in the building had known of his humiliation; every one, before it had happened. Never – never – never – but he had lost, and the mild laughter which accompanied his departure told him that everyone in London knew it.
2.
Vitkevich did not know it; he stood in the halls of the Bala Hissar, and saw nothing but the moment of his triumph. He had achieved greatness here. The English were long gone, dismissed, destroyed, and here was Vitkevich. He had done everything, and soon the time would come when he would return to Petersburg, and enter the court of the Tsar in splendour and triumph. He closed his eyes, and saw his return, shining clear as a jewel against the black velvet of his mind. The princes of the Amir’s court would ride with him to the borders of the Amir’s empire, and the kingdoms would open up before him, and the angels would conduct him along the silver road to the deep North. He knew it; but he knew nothing.
3.
The two men walked at dawn in the gilded city, among the fantastic golden pinnacles of Runjeet Singh’s palaces and temples, picking their way through the narrow paths between the smooth dark pools, drifting with weed. It was cold at this early hour in this northern city, and both wore shawls, wrapped tight about their shoulders. The washerwomen, at work already, ignored the two men; the English and their guides were no longer an interesting sight, after a few weeks living here.
‘So it is settled,’ Mohan Lal said, full of amusement. They were talking of Runjeet Singh’s demands, which had been presented to the Governor General the day before.
‘It is very much like a dowry,’ Burnes said. ‘I suppose that is the customary thing here. I had expected rather more in the way of statements of friendship, but it all seems to be a matter of money and jewels and sheep. Very curious sort of document, but of course we shall go along with it, and ensure that when Shah Shujah is king in Kabul again, his one-eyed neighbour receives everything he asks for.’
‘So it is settled?’
‘It appears so,’ Burnes said. ‘If Auckland had ever been inclined to think that Runjeet Singh could evict Dost Mohammed with his own forces, this document would change his mind. One who thinks so much on what he can extract in the way of tribute from his neighbours cannot be the repository of our trust. So we are to join with the Sikh forces – well, let us say things as they are – we are to go into Kabul and install this poor Shah Shujah as our own Amir. Shah Shujah will have his throne, and the Lion of the Punjab will have his annual tribute, and Dost Mohammed will be dead or in hiding, and we, I suppose, will be most happy. It all makes the most perfect sense, to Auckland, if not to anyone else, but you and I will say nothing for the moment.’
‘And Runjeet Singh’s demands?’
‘You never saw the like. Well, it is fair to say that he has agreed to send fifty-five loads of rice annually to his beloved neighbour and cousin, once we have succeeded in installing Shah Shujah in Kabul. But in return he demands fifty-five high-bred horses of approved colour and pleasant paces, scimitars, poniards, twenty-five mules, melons, grapes, pomegranates, apples, quinces, almonds, mulberries, raisins, pistales, all, it is specified, in abundance, two lakhs of rupees annually, jewels, women – no, not women. But on it goes. Mulberries! Are we to suppose that Runjeet Singh’s preference for Shah Shujah is founded in the belief that he is more likely to send him mulberries?’
‘Few things have ever surprised me,’ Mohan Lal said. ‘But I had never thought to see the great might of the British soldiery embarking on an invasion for no better reason than to ensure the supply of fruit. Poor Dost Mohammed.’
‘There, I cannot agree with you,’ Burnes said. ‘He has brought this upon himself, and has found that his new friends, the Russians, have disappeared from his side like snow in May.’
‘But if the Russians have withdrawn from Kabul,’ Mohan Lal said. ‘Why are we troubling to invade? What threat does Dost Mohammed, friendless, present to anyone?’
Burnes could not answer that one.
4.
The order went forth, and the Army of the Indus began to draw itself together. From Bengal came a brigade of artillery and of cavalry, of two infantry divisions, the 16th Lancers, the 13th Foot and the 3rd Buffs, came the Company’s European Regiment, two regiments of native light cavalry, and twelve battalions of sepoys. Summoned. And from Bombay, a brigade of cavalry, a brigade of artillery, a brigade of infantry, the 4th Dragoons, the 2nd Royals, the 17th Foot; the regiments and the battalions and the
brigades received their orders, and drew themselves northwards and eastwards in their thousands. The orders had been sent, and the Governor General and his suite awaited the arrival of these tens of thousands, glittering in the clear sun of the northeast.
Macnaghten had never known such success, such utter transformation in his standing. A matter of weeks ago he had been a bore from whom everyone slid away, however informative what he had to say. Now he was, it seemed, the most desirable of dining companions, and finally detached from Elphinstone. Everyone wanted to hear his disquisitions; Elphinstone, by contrast, gloomily mouthing predictions of catastrophe, could find no one but sepoys willing to attend to him. It was Macnaghten’s moment, and he was seizing it with both hands.
Tonight, he had actually been placed next to the Governor General’s sister at a most intimate dinner – there were no more than ten of them, in the smaller dining room in the palace which Runjeet Singh had placed at Auckland’s disposal. He wanted to hug himself, but for the moment he was doing as he had seen other people doing, nodding and smiling charmingly as Miss Eden told an amusing story of her evening with Runjeet Singh, the night before.
‘I knew,’ Emily Eden was saying, ‘that the old man was fond of his drink, but it is too much to inflict it on us. He offered me a glass, and, naturally, I took it. No sooner had I placed it on my lips than I felt my lips began to blister. A terrifying concoction. Happily, I was placed on his blind side, and felt no compunction about pouring it directly onto the carpet. Well, sir, in only a moment, he turned to face me, and was most impressed to see how rapidly I had despatched his favourite punch, and ordered another glass for me. That, of course, went the way of the first, the moment he turned his blind side to me, and the third and the fourth. He was truly astonished to see how very well an Englishwoman can hold her drink.’
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