1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net

169
A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR
old woman, one for the keep of the animals, and one for you. Come,
that’s fair.”
“Quite fair,” the door-keeper said, grinning, “but it won’t suit me. You
can go on your way. I’m not particular,” and he shut the door in their
faces. But presently there was a knock, as indeed he knew there would
be. The terms were soon agreed upon, and the woman marched in,
leading the monkeys by a rope. The bear could not be trusted without a
man to look after it. In a moment Gul Begum had recognised old
Miriam, and she shuddered as she met her eyes.
“Ha! Ha! My fine beauty,” the old fortune -teller cried out, “I did not
forget you, as you thought I would, I daresay. I’ve come to see how
you are getting on, and whether you have not long since regretted your
cruelt y to old Miriam. Don’t vex yourself, child. You cross my hand
with silver, and you’ll see I’ll have something better to tell you this
time. Oh, I owe you no grudge, poor dear. Why should I? You tried to
turn me out and you have been punished. I am more than satisfied, nay,
I would undo it if I could. Let me now prophesy for your, favour in
your master’s eyes, a happy marriage, and a son.”
Gul Begum blushed and withdrew. Nothing could have been more
disasterful to her. Hers was rather a peculiar position in the household,
one generally given to some old servant or member of the master’s own
family. So far no remarks had been passed on it by the other women,
and here had this wretched old hag come putting all sorts of upsetting
false notions into their heads.
“This is the old fortune-teller I told you about,” Shereen whispered to
the others. “She never makes a mistake. Offer her something and she’ll
tell you what your future is to be.”
The small possessions of all the party were ransacked, and as the old
woman seemed satisfied with what was put before her, she began
looking at their hands, first one and then the other.
“Now, Miriam, tell me something good,” Shereen said when it came to
her turn. “I want mone y and the best husband in the world. One who
won’t want to make me work. I care nothing as to his nationalit y; I
only want quiet and peace.”
Long did Miriam gaze at the extended palm. “You are young,” she said,
“you can afford to wait, and you must wait. Fortune does not come to
you easily, only after many years. There is exile, and there are pr isons
and slaver y, and a life of obscurit y in your hand. Then there comes a
change. Your whole natio n recovers, or rather the branch to which you
belong, and you return to your old home and to your old position for a
time, but then you wed, and wed happily, and – let me see – one, two,
three children, and two of them sons. There now, Gul Begum, what
better could you wish than that? Come, let me see that hand of yours