1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net

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A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR
“Sit down there, then,” he said, “and I will go and see what can be
done in the harem for these new arrivals. Come along with me,” he
went on, as he preceded the women in the direction of the house, which
was protected by a second enclosing wall.
“Tell the Bibi that four women selected by Agha have been sent here
from the camp,” he said to a slave girl, who met the party on the
threshold.
“Nam-e-Khuda, what are we to do with them?” the girl ejaculated; “we
are already so crowded we have to sleep like sheep in a yard.” Then,
turning to look at them, “Hazaras!” she said. “Oh, the y can sleep
anywhere; put them in the stable.”
“Peace, girl,” the old man said angrily, “and be more careful with that
tongue of yours or you may find yourself without it some day. You
don’t know what you are talking about. Take my message to the Bibi
and tell her that one favoured by Ferad Shah, with free attendants, has
arrived, and that a room must be cleared for them in the house. It can
be quite small, the y are only four, and, coming late at night, must be
satisfied with what the y can get.”
The girl disappeared, to return presently.
“Bibi sa ys she has had no orders about the arrival of any women, and
that if you wish them housed, you must house them yourself.”
The old man was ver y wroth. “Tell your mistress that I say the women
are to be received and properly treated, fed, and clothed, or it will be
the worse for her when Agha returns,” then he stooped and whispered
something in her ear.
The girl glanced at Gul Begum, who, almost unconscious of what was
going on around her, was still gazing at the beauties of a semi-tropical
garden in full bloom, the gigantic scarlet briar roses and the brilliant
yellow and orange ones a little further on, and, above all, the beautiful
spreading trees in which the turtle doves were cooing o ne another to
sleep. She had never seen the like, never dreamt of such a glory of
colour.
Almost in equal wonder the slave girl gazed for a moment at the travelstained
new arrival. It was not her beauty that impressed her, nor yet
her size – there were plent y of girls as tall in the harem – she could not
have said what it was. Perhaps it was the fearlessness that comes of
freedom, the possession of a soul that could forget the physical
discomforts of its shell in the contemplation of the simple beauties of
nature. Perhaps it was her quiet dignity.
Gul Begum was quite unconscious of having produced any impression,
but the girl went quickly into the house, to return with a more civil