Hart of Empire (24 page)

'What do you know of my people, Angrez? Nothing. Believe me when I tell you they will understand my reasons. It is the rebels I flee, not my people.'

'Quite right, Highness,' said his wazir, Shah Mohammed, seated to his right. 'Once those dogs have been defeated, we can return to Kabul with honour.'

George ignored the wazir. 'Do you really believe, Your Highness, that your people will forgive you for deserting to the British?'

'I am not deserting them,' said Yakub. 'I am removing myself from Kabul for my own safety.'

'But is that how they will see it?'

'They might, if I can persuade your General Roberts not to enter Kabul. All I need is time to restore order among my troops and to punish those who attacked the Residency. What does he say in his letter? Does he hold out any hope of a delay?'

'I'm afraid not,' said George, removing the message from inside his
kurta
and handing it over. 'He's determined to advance as quickly as possible to assist Your Highness in putting down the rebellion and carrying out the necessary punishments. He says that British public opinion won't accept any delay, and that other British columns are advancing on Kabul from the south and the east.'

Yakub read the letter, then passed it to his wazir. 'I must do something before it's too late,' he said to George, almost in tears. 'I must speak to General Roberts, face to face, and persuade him to change his mind.'

'He will not.'

'He may if I explain to him that an Angrez army at Kabul will provoke a national uprising.'

'I am not sure that will sway him.'

'Why?'

'Because,' said George, 'that's exactly what he and the hawks in the Indian government want. It will give them the excuse they need to depose you and annex the country. They're already blaming you for Cavagnari's death.'

'But I had nothing to do with it. You were there. You saw my efforts to stop the fighting.'

'Indeed I did,' said George, but did not add that the amir's efforts had been less than wholehearted. 'And I said as much to the general. But he seems only too happy to see the worst in you, and claims to have intelligence that you have been encouraging the hill tribes to oppose his advance.'

Yakub seemed caught off guard by the accusation, his eyes darting sideways to his wazir for reassurance. 'Lies, all lies,' he said, without conviction. 'Why would I do that?'

George raised his eyebrows, as if the answer was clear. 'To slow Roberts's advance, of course, and to give you a chance to shore up your authority and win kudos among your countrymen in the event of a British defeat. Who knows? But it's immaterial because Roberts has made up his mind that you're not to be trusted. Make no mistake, he'll welcome you with open arms and expressions of friendship but he'll watch you like a hawk and ignore any request you make to slow his advance. Kabul will be his in a matter of days.'

'In that case,' said Yakub, 'my family are doomed.'

'Is your family not with you?'

'Only my son, Musa Khan. He's seven and is travelling in one of the covered carriages. But the rest of my household - my sister Yasmin, my wives and servants - are still in the Bala Hissar. I wanted to bring them with me, but Shah Mohammed advised against it.'

'And with good reason, Highness,' interjected the stern-faced wazir. 'It would have been impossible to move them all in carriages to Beni Hissar without arousing the suspicion of the mutinous soldiery.'

'So instead you abandoned them to the depredations of those same soldiers.' George was appalled by Yakub's weak and unchivalrous behaviour, and no less furious with the wazir. 'How could you?'

'Shah Mohammed said it was for the best,' said Yakub, defensively. 'And I didn't abandon them. They still have Walidad Khan and the palace guard to protect them.'

'How strong is the guard?'

'Two hundred picked men.'

'And can they be trusted?'

'Of course. They have all sworn a personal oath of allegiance to me. But already they are outnumbered by mutineers, and if Roberts continues his advance, as you say he will, other regiments at Sherpur may break out and attack the citadel. If that happens, my family will be in grave peril.'

'All the more reason for you to return to Kabul, or at least send your escort back to collect them.'

'I . . . don't know,' said Yakub, hesitating. 'Shah Moham-
med?'

'Ignore the Feringhee, Highness,' growled his wazir. 'The rebels will arrest you if you return, and if you don't they will never allow your family to join you. It's hard, I know, but the women must fend for themselves. You must put your throne before your family.'

Yakub nodded his assent. 'You see, Captain Hart? I have no choice. I must go on, and hope that General Roberts takes pity on my poor womenfolk.'

Fat chance of that, thought George. He looked from Yakub to his wazir - they were as bad as each other, with their weasel words and cowardly actions. Yakub in particular was beneath contempt and Afghanistan, he decided, would be better off without him. 'I can see that your mind is made up, and that any further discussion is pointless,' he said coldly. 'With your permission, therefore, I will take my leave.'

'What?' exclaimed Yakub. 'Will you not escort me as far as the British camp?'

'I promised General Roberts that I would see for myself the lie of the land as far as Kabul, and that is what I mean to do.'

'Goodbye, then, Captain Hart. And have a care. The country will be crawling with rebels anxious to oppose the Angrez invasion.'

'Or patriots, Your Highness,' was George's parting shot. 'They could be either.'

George cursed. He knew from the position of the sun, low to the west, that it would soon be dark and too dangerous to travel. Yet he also knew that the bridge over the river Logar at Zahidabad was barely a mile distant, and that it was the last major hazard he and Ilderim had to negotiate before the road divided: left, through the hills to Ghazni, a distance of fifty miles, and right along the familiar, shorter route to Kabul. Ilderim was expecting him to take the road to Ghazni, but George was seriously considering the alternative. It made little sense, he knew, but a voice inside his head kept telling him that Princess Yasmin was the last hope for Afghanistan.

Ilderim turned in his saddle. 'Is something wrong,
huzoor
?'

'It's nothing. I'm just anxious to get across the river this evening.'

'Never fear. There are two shallow fords nearby that we can use if we have to.'

It was dusk as they approached the stone bridge up a narrow road flanked with high banks and much cut up by dry canals and small water-channels. They could just distinguish the large village of Zahidabad to their left, between the road and a bend of the river, but there was little sign of life. The bridge, too, appeared to be deserted. But as they closed to within three hundred yards of the river Ilderim laid a hand on George's arm. 'I can see someone,
huzoor
.'

'Where?' whispered George, squinting into the darkness.

'Just beyond the bridge, to the left, a sentry with his rifle slung.'

George could see a shape that he would never have identified as a soldier, and marvelled again at Ilderim's eagle eyesight. 'Is he a rebel, do you think?'

'Almost certainly,
huzoor
. He's wearing uniform.'

'Are there others?'

'I can't see any, but their camp might be in the dead ground beyond.'

'In that case we'd better use the fords and hope they aren't guarded. Do you know exactly where they are?'

'No,
huzoor
, only that they lie to the right of the bridge.'

'We'll head in that direction, then,' said George, dismounting and leading his horse over the high bank and into the cultivated field beyond. Though harvested of standing crops, the land was still criss-crossed with irrigation channels, and it took them a good ten minutes to reach the willows at the edge of the river, and another five to locate the cut in the embankment that marked the ford, by which time they were thankful for the inky blackness. Before attempting to cross, they listened hard for any sounds that would indicate the ford was guarded. There were none, though they could hear voices and see the twinkle of fires closer to the bridge, confirming Ilderim's suspicion of a rebel camp.

'Let me go ahead,
huzoor
,' said Ilderim. 'If it's clear I'll hoot like an owl.'

George waited nervously as Ilderim led his horse into the river, the slap of hoofs against water sounding impossibly loud. At every moment he expected a challenge, or a gunshot, but the far bank was quiet and, after what seemed an age, Ilderim's comical hoot signalled the all-clear. With his carbine slung on his back, pistol in one hand and reins in the other, George edged forward into the river, the icy-cold river soaking his shoes and trousers, and causing goose-bumps to rise on his thighs. By mid-stream, with the water waist-high, he was shivering. But the snap of a twig from the bank to his left banished all thoughts of discomfort and he paused, ears alert to further sounds. He heard a soft footfall. Someone was approaching. He raised his pistol, ready to fire. The footsteps were closer. Then a loud groan, and they stopped.

'
Huzoor
, hurry!' hissed Ilderim, from the bank.

George splashed through the shallows, pulling hard on his uncooperative mount, as a voice called, from the direction of the camp, 'Have you been at the arrack, Hazrat Khan? I've heard less noise from a buffalo in a thicket.'

George was nearing the bank when the same voice cried, more urgent this time, 'Hazrat Khan? Have you fallen into the river?'

'Quick,
huzoor
,' whispered Ilderim, out of the darkness. 'It won't be long before they investigate.'

'What did you do with the body?'

'I left it in the shallows.'

A shout came from their left. George could see men running towards them with flaming torches. He swung into the saddle and dug in his heels, his horse following Ilderim's up the cut. As they reached level ground a soldier with a torch appeared to their left, dropped to his knee and fired, the bullet pinging uncomfortably close to George's ear. He fired back and instantly regretted it as the flash from his muzzle gave away his position. The response was a volley of shots, but all were fired in haste and passed harmlessly overhead.

'This way,
huzoor
,' shouted Ilderim. 'The road can't be far.'

George urged his horse on, praying it wouldn't stumble in a ditch, or a lucky bullet find its mark. Having reached the road unscathed, they turned away from the rebel camp and towards Kabul.

'Fear not,
huzoor
,' said Ilderim, once they had left the shouts and gunshots far behind, 'we can work our way back to the Ghazni road later. There's a turning up ahead.'

'We won't need it. I've decided to make for Kabul first,' replied George, surprising even himself with the suddenness of his decision.

'I don't understand,' said Ilderim, drawing rein. 'When we left the amir you said our destination was Ghazni. That is where we will find the cloak, not in Kabul. Why not proceed by the quickest route?'

'Because there's something I must do in Kabul. I would have mentioned it before, but I've only just convinced myself it's the right thing.'

'What must you do,
huzoor
?' asked an exasperated Ilderim. 'What could be worth the risk of returning to that rebel-infested slum? Jewels? Bullion? And if it's not money there's only one thing I know that can cause a man to lose his senses, and that's a woman. But it can't be a woman because . . . because . . .'

Ilderim took George's silence as a bad sign. 'Please,
huzoor
, tell me it's not a woman.'

'I'm sorry but it is. That spineless amir has left the women of his household in the Bala Hissar with barely two hundred soldiers to protect them. They're at the mercy of the rebels and I must help them.'