1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net

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110 A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR and as the thought recurred to her again and again, the colour deepened on her cheek. “God! what am I to do?” she murmured to herself, and the tears started unbidden to her eyes. “What am I to do? was ever girl more wretched?” The lad y saw the distressed look in the girl’s face, but failed to divine the cause. “I am not angry with you,” she said, not unkindly. “You have not offended me. You need not feel distressed.” Just then a slave girl entered with some tea on a tray, but, tripping on a stool that had got out of place by the door, she fell, upsetting several cups and the sugar as she did so. Instantly the mistress was on her feet, and darting towards the girl before she had had time to recover herself, dealt her blow after blow in the most savage manner on her head, her back, her chest, wherever she could see an unprotected place. Tired at last with her exertion, she was returning to her seat when the sight of a broken cup animated her afresh. “The whip! bring my horse whip here,” she cried. “Fetch it at once.” “Oh, not the whip, not the whip!” the poor girl pleaded, sobbing, “with your hands and feet as much as you please, Bibi, but not with the whip. Spare me, spare me!” “Ah, bad one,” her mistress screamed, kicking her. “Do you cry now? I’ll make you dance directly,” and she seized the whip that one of the other girls had brought her. Gul Begum felt sick, she would have protected the girl had she dared, but there were a dozen women at least helping their mistress, and she felt that any effort on her part might be worse than useless, so she waited, silent but horrified. Such treatment for such a little offence! “Curse you!” shouted the girl in pain, “and curse your father and your mother. Curse all your father’s children.” “Ah, wretch,” yelled the lad y, “you dare, do you?” and giving her a cut straight across the face she bade the other women remove her. “You will hear more of this, my girl,” she said. “We shall see who is to be the accursed one. You all heard her, all heard what she sa id?” she went on, appealing to those who stood round. “She cursed both Ferad Shah’s father and mother-in-law. You all heard that?” “We did indeed, yes, that we did,” replied first one and then another all round. Not one would have dared to have opposed her in that temper, even had they wished to do so, and yet each girl knew that her turn would come some day, and that exactly the same thing might happen to her, and that no one would raise a finger to help her.

111 A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR Soon, however, the storm was over, the lady recovered her temper and returned to her seat, but no fresh tea was ordered. Gul Begum felt sorry, she would have liked some. Instead, the y were ordered to sit on a carpet at the far end of the room and do absolutely nothing – the occupation, indeed, that all the other women shared. “Has no one any work to do?” Shereen whispered to her cousin. “What does she say?” asked the Bibi, but neither of the girls answered. “Do you hear me?” she asked again angrily. “What did that girl say?” “I said it was kind of you not to set us to work,” Shereen prevaricated skilfully. “If that was all why did you not answer at once?” Ferad Shah’s wife went on sharply. “No one is going to hurt you for speaking.” “Of your kindness, excuse her,” whispered Shereen’s mother nervou sly. The lad y turned to the lad y next her, whispered something, and both burst into a fit of forced laughter. The Hazaras sat still, feeling uncomfortable; they knew the y were being laughed at. All the rest of that day they spent with the ladies and women of the household, and at two o’clock in the morning the y were sitting in the reception room, still, silent, and unoccupied. Even Shereen did not venture on a remark. Next day they were not sent for, nor the next. They had their meals alone, and were little noticed by any one, but the third night Gul Begum was startled from her first sound sleep. “God, what was that?” she said. Halima, too, had heard something. “Hark! said Shereen, after a pause, “what’s that?” It was as though several people were struggling in a padded room through which nothing could be heard distinctly. Then all was perfectly silent. The women sat up still, listening, the y knew not for that. After a time, the door leading into the beautiful garden in which Gul Begum so longed to wander opened, and some one rapped noisily at the door of the house. “Open here, some of you,” the door-keeper’s voice called out. “What’s going on in there? What was that noise?” A voice gave some answer that the listeners upstairs could not catch, but which seemed to pacify the old man, for he took his departure without proceeding further, murmuring as he went, “Cursed be the fathers of these women! Why can’t the y keep quiet and peaceable?

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begum

mohamed

ameer

kabul

hossain

ferad

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