Hart of Empire (30 page)

'Fazel,' said the leader to the second man, 'go and see if it contains the cloak. If it does, raise your right hand and I will release the Feringhee. If it doesn't, show your left and I'll kill him.'

Fazel nodded and rode on. Once level with the tree, he dismounted and scrambled down the bank. George's heart was in his mouth as the man unhooked the bag and looked inside. His left hand was on the point of being raised when a shot rang out. The man staggered and fell down the rest of the bank into the stream.

'Treachery!' shouted Ahmed, as he scrabbled for his pistol. With his hands bound and helpless, George could only pray that Ilderim wouldn't miss with his second shot. But he did, the bullet pinging harmlessly off the rock behind Ahmed who, by now, had drawn his pistol and was swinging it round to fire. In desperation, George dug his heels into his pony and sent it barrelling into Ahmed's mount, the shock enough to spoil the Afghan's aim. The bullet passed a couple of inches above George's head, the explosion ringing in his ears. Ahmed aimed again and, knowing that he wouldn't miss a second time, George threw himself from his pony as the Afghan fired, hitting the ground hard with his right shoulder and jarring his wounded leg. Ignoring the pain, he looked up, expecting a third shot. But Ahmed's saddle was empty, his crumpled body lying beside his mount. Ilderim, George realised, must have fired simultaneously, and this time he hadn't missed.

George waited anxiously for Ilderim to appear, fearful that the mullah and his men would have heard the shots and be rapidly approaching. The sound of hoofbeats provided confirmation and George began to panic. Did Ilderim think he was dead? He tried to cry out that he was alive, but his gag muffled the sound. The hoofbeats were getting louder and George knew that the game was almost up. He tried to drag his battered body into the cover of some nearby bushes, but had covered barely half the distance when a noise like an oncoming train sounded on the hillside above him. He looked up to see a huge rock bounding down the hillside, loosening scores of smaller ones as it went. The landslide gathered pace and crashed into the floor of the defile at the moment that the first of the mullah's riders emerged from the narrow path, consuming both horses and men in its lethal torrent of earth and rock.

As the dust settled, and the cries of wounded men and horses echoed along the defile, George understood why Ilderim had chosen this location for the 'exchange'. The rockfall had sealed the entrance of the narrow section to a height of more than fifteen feet. It would take the mullah's men hours to remove the obstacle, giving George and Ilderim plenty of time to escape. George shook his head in admiration. The resourcefulness of his Afghan companion knew no bounds.

Minutes later Ilderim appeared, leading the two horses that Yasmin had taken. He ran over to George, who was still prone on the ground, and released his gag. 'It's good to see you with your skin in one piece,
huzoor
,' he said, with a grin.

'You too,' replied George, his swollen tongue making his voice barely recognizable. 'Now cut my ties and help me on to a horse.'

Ilderim did as he was asked, and after twenty minutes of hard riding they were clear of the defile and into open country, heading north towards Kabul. But the action of riding over broken ground soon proved too painful for George and he signalled to Ilderim to slow to a walk. 'Would you like to stop and rest,
huzoor
?'

'No,' said George, though he would have liked nothing better. 'We must put as much distance between ourselves and the defile as possible. I'll feel better in a while, and we can press on. But thank you for saving my life again. You didn't have to come back for me. Why did you?'

Ilderim smiled. 'Because I like you,
huzoor
, and because my father would never have forgiven me if I'd returned without you.'

George nodded. 'And the cloak?'

'That faithless bitch has it still. When I recovered the horses at Mahmud's tomb, she was long gone and the cloak with her.'

'Have you any idea where she may be and why she took it?'

'No,
huzoor
. Though it's possible she went north to Kohistan.'

'Why there?'

'Her mother was a Kohistani. She's dead, but the princess has other family in the north.'

'Does she now? Well, if that is so, we must follow.'

'
Huzoor
, you're in no condition to ride that far. You must rest until your leg is better.'

'There isn't time. But you're right: I can't ride all that way. You'll just have to find me some alternative transport. For now I'll have to grit my teeth and bear the pain. Let's go,' he said, jabbing the pony with his one good leg.

That night they camped in hills seven miles north of the defile. Again George slept fitfully, and dreamt of dungeons and falling rocks. When he woke the air was chilly and the fire Ilderim had built to keep them warm had dwindled to a few smoking embers, yet his skin was burning. He threw off his blanket and tried to sit up, but he lacked the strength and slumped back to the ground.

Ilderim stirred. 'Huzoor?'

'My skin's hot and I feel as weak as a newborn.'

Ilderim came over and placed a palm on his forehead. 'You have a fever, huzoor. Let me look at your leg.' He carefully unravelled the soiled bandages that covered George's right calf and gasped. The puckered entry hole at the right rear of the swollen muscle was neat enough, but on the far side the jagged exit wound was the size of a crown and crawling with tiny white maggots. 'It's infected, huzoor, and if it's not treated soon you will die.'

'Are you certain?' asked George.

'I've seen enough bullet wounds to know when one is infected. And likely the bone is broken too, or chipped at best. Either way you need rest.'

'Very well,' said George, his palms raised in submission. 'I'll rest for a while. But where?'

'My uncle Sher Afzul, my mother's brother, has a house in the hills south-west of Kabul. I haven't seen him for many years, but he always liked me and will surely help us. Anyway, he has to - he's family.'

'How far?'

'Twenty miles. Can you make it that far on horseback, or shall I steal a cart?'

'I can make it.'

Chapter 17

Sher Afzul's fort, south-west of Kabul

George sat up in bed, and looked round the bare, unfamiliar room. Its few sticks of furniture were rough-hewn and of poor quality, but the view through the open window of snow-capped mountains, their peaks bathed in morning sunshine, was one of the most beautiful he had seen.

Where on earth am I? he wondered. And then he remembered the conversation with Ilderim about his uncle, and the long, difficult ride through the hills to Sher Afzul's fort, by the end of which he had been barely conscious and had had to be tied to his saddle.

'Greetings, Angrez,' said a voice from the door. 'You're awake at last. I'm Sher Afzul, Ilderim's uncle.'

The speaker was of middle height and thick-set, with a white beard and an easy smile. His
kurta
and sash were clean and well made, rather than extravagant, and denoted a man of means, but not great wealth or power. He pulled up a chair and sat down.

George nodded. 'I remember arriving, but nothing after that. How long have I been here?'

'Three weeks.'

'Three
weeks
? Have I been unconscious all that time?'

'For most of it, yes,' said Sher Afzul. 'You were very feverish when you arrived and rambling. My wife made up a poultice for your leg and at last it seems to have worked. She tells me the wound is healing well and that the bone is unbroken.'

George touched his lower leg. 'It's still a little sore, but much better. Will you thank her for her kindness?'

'You may thank her yourself.'

'I will. But what of Ilderim? Is he still in the fort?'

Sher Afzul shook his head. 'He waited two weeks for you to recover. When you did not, he went to visit his father. He should be back soon.'

'I'm glad. I have much to thank him for. He saved my life three times. Did he tell you that?'

'No, Angrez, but he did say you had both been in great danger, and were fortunate to be alive.'

'Very fortunate,' said George. 'But, tell me, what news of the British? Have they taken Kabul?'

'They took it in early October, after dislodging the rebels from a strong position in the hills above Charasiab. But much has happened since then, and none of it to the credit of the Angrez chief.'

'I take it you mean General Roberts?'

'I do. Since reaching Kabul he has levied a huge fine, placed the entire city to a distance of ten miles under martial law, and set up military courts to try those responsible for the death of the resident. He has also made the carrying of any weapon - firearms, swords
and
knives - an offence punishable by death, and ordered the arrest of the amir's chief advisers for complicity in the massacre at the Residency and the resistance at Charasiab.'

'Is the wazir among them?

'He is. Do you know him?'

'Not well, and what I saw I didn't like. But accusing Shah Mohammed Khan of conspiracy is tantamount to accusing the amir himself. Do they have any credible evidence that he was involved?'

'I couldn't say, Angrez. What I
have
heard is that scores of Afghans have been executed without any proof of their guilt.'

'But not Yakub's advisers?'

'Not yet. But the other killings have created much bad feeling, as has the Angrez practice of collecting grain and forage supplies by force, leaving the people with nothing for themselves. This leaves them easy prey to the hotheads and religious extremists who talk of
jihad
, and who, only two days ago, killed Mohammed Hussein Khan, the man appointed by the Angrez general to rule the region to the east of here.'

'Was Mullah Mushk-i-Alam of Ghazni involved?'

'I'm certain of it. Most believe the assassination was the work of Bahadur Khan, a Ghilzai chief in the Dara Nirikh valley, whose villages were destroyed because they refused to hand over supplies. But if he did it, he was acting on the orders of the mullah and his military commander, Mohammed Jan. For weeks the mullah has been gathering large bodies of armed men with his fiery speeches at Ghazni. He even sent emissaries here to ask if I would join the fight.'

'Were they looking for me?'

'I think not.'

'So how did you get rid of them?'

'It wasn't easy,' said Sher Afzul, stroking his beard. 'I told them I'd consider their proposal. But they'll be back, and when they come I'll find it even harder to refuse them. Since Yakub's abdication, I can no longer plead loyalty to the amir.'

'Yakub has
abdicated
? When?'

'A few days ago. The Angrez general issued this proclamation,' said Sher Afzul, producing a yellow slip of paper from his pocket and handing it to George. It read:

I, General Roberts, on behalf of the British government, hereby proclaim that the amir, having by his own free will abdicated, has left Afghanistan without a government. In consequence of the shameful outrage upon its resident and suite, the British government has been compelled to occupy by force of arms Kabul, the capital, and to take military possession of other parts of Afghanistan.

The British government now commands that all Afghan authorities, chiefs, and sirdars do continue their functions in maintaining order, referring to me whenever necessary.

The British government, after consultation with the principal sirdars, tribal chiefs, and others representing the interests and wishes of the various provinces and cities, will declare its will as to the future permanent arrangements to be made for the good government of the people.

George handed back the proclamation. 'I can understand why Yakub did it: ever since joining Roberts at Kushi he's been a virtual prisoner of the British. And by abdicating he's revealed Roberts and the Indian government for what they are - not allies here to help, but foreign invaders, plain and simple. Well, now that they have Kabul
and
the government of the country, they won't relinquish it without a fight.'