1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net

185
A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR
“I may be only a girl, and to you I may seem unworthy of confidence,
but I understand more than you think, and though I have not said so, I
have long noticed that you are troubled, and have griefs and anxieties
of which you do not speak. Tell me about them; can I do nothing to
relieve you.”
“You could, you could,” Gul Begum said eagerly, “b ut there, you
won’t, so what’s the good of my asking? none of you will. It all falls
on me – ever ything. Even Sardaro has given up every one of her duties.
I have the whole weight to bear alone. This constant service is too
much for me. I cannot remember everything. I cannot do ever ything,
and then I get curses and abuse, and this morning it even went so far as
blows.” The girl put her hand on her heart as she spoke, and a look of
agony passed across her face.
“That was an insult indeed, and how incredible !” Gulsum murmured.
“We thought things were so different, that you were so highly
favoured, perhaps even loved.”
A look of triumph succeeded the look of pain. It had been like the
thrust of a knife to speak so of her master, her beloved, but her object
was achieved, Gulsum had been drawn off the track. It had been worth
it. Her master could not escape unaided. Who, was to help him, if not
she? and to help him effectually none must know or suspect her love
for him; that would be fatal indeed. Rather let it be thought that she
feared him, and cherished a secret hatred for him which she dared not
show.
Gulsum was mollified. In the first place, she had got some news for an
employer who paid her well for the little she could tell him, and in the
second place she had now something to gossip about in the house. The y
had all been deceived then. There was no attachment between her
master and the Hazara beauty. It could not be for her sake that he was
refusing the handsomest and richest girls in Kabul. There must be some
other reaso n. What could it be? One thing was all right, she felt sure,
Gul Begum did not suspect her; on the contrar y, she had her
confidence, she could work that, by being very sympathetic and
helpful. The head slave would never accept her offers of help, she was
thankful for that knowledge, but she could at least proffer them; and as
to her master! What was he to her? What had he ever done for her?
Called her a laz y good-for-nothing, told her not to dare to appear
before him, as it made him sick to look at such a slatternly object. She
certainly owed him no duty beyond the work that was thrust on her.
She had herself and her own interests to look after, and Mohamed Jan
had promised her jewels, pearl ear ornaments. She would risk a good
deal to get those. Her tombons (full Turkish trousers) were soiled, she
had not washed them for a month. Her peran was torn, she was the most
untid y girl in her master’s establishment – but she longed for pearl ear
pendants. She would never have dared to wear them before her
companions, lest inquiries should be made as to where she got them;