1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net

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A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR
the prison with an order from the Ameer, and by that order I was forced
to leave my mother and to follow him. I am a free gift from the Ameer
to him, to be his slave, to do his bidding, to work for him, and, if
necessary, to die in his service; but with you, old man, I have nothing
to do. Go your way quietly to your grave, and let me go mine to my
slaver y. Why should we quarrel? We have noting in common, you and
I, and absolutely nothing to do with one another.” She turned as if to
go.
“Stay here, girl,” the Mir called out peremptorily, “sta y here. What do
you say? That we have nothing in common and nothing to do with one
another? Do you still misunderstand your position so entirely? Do you
still realise so little. What it is to be a slave, that you do not know that
your master has ‘fu ll power over you to keep you, or to give you, or to
kill you, or to sell you? Do you understand that, madwoman? That you
are as much his as is this table or this carpet, and will be as much mine
as is this stick,” and as he spoke, he threw the heavy, gnarled rod with
which he supported himself during his long wanderings across the
mountains over at her, half in scorn and half as a menace.
The girl stooped and picked it up. The old Hakim’s eyes glistened. She
was pla ying up well after all. He had feared she would give in.
“Now listen to me, old man,” she said. “I am a slave, a prisoner, m y
master’s chattel, but with this difference, and in this I resemble neither
the table nor this stick, to which you have compared me. I am a living,
breathing chattel, a chattel who cannot be forced or stolen without a
struggle. A chattel who has brains and strength and who knows how to
use them, and who will use them as lo ng as I have a breath in my body.
I will appeal to the law, to the high priest, as to whether my real and
rightful captor the Ameer Sahib, having given me to be my present
master’s slave, he has either the right or the power to give me in
marriage to a man who has not five years of natural life to live, and to
whom I object as a husband. He has full rights over me for himself,
that I must perforce and do acknowledge, but I deny that he can force
me to be another man’s wife. It is against the law and again our holy
religion. My father has told me this many times, and he knows. So hark
you, holy man, I protest against your desires, your passions, and your
shamelessness.”
“Again you forget that you are a slave,” the Mir replied satirically, and
with a gleam of triumph. “Your father seems to have taught you
carefully, if injudiciously, as to the things which concern free women,
but he has omitted to teach you the law relating to salves; he does not
seem to have contemplated the possibilit y of your ever occupying that
position. For the slave there is no law, no choice, no will except her
master’s. Do you understand now, girl?” he almost hissed; “you are
beyond the protection of the law. We can do with you whatsoever
seems good to us. You are the daughter of a rebellious subject, taken in
arms against his sovereign.”