1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net

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A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR
TWILIGHT in Afghanistan lasts but the very shortest time, and the
darkness of the night during the moonless half of the month seems,
perhaps, the deeper, because during full moon the night is so
particularly, so startlingly light. In fact, so white do the flat roofs of
the mud-houses seem, that on a sharp, cold wintr y night it is difficult to
tell whether there has a fall of snow or not.
It was on a bright moonlight night such as this that a man in the dress
of a court official accompanied by a single servant, rode up to a small
encampment of soldiers some thirt y miles out of Kabul, among the wild
hills that form the natural boundary between Afghanistan and the
adjoining countries.
“A salam, Aeikum Mir Munshi Sahib,” the chief of the group said,
advancing to receive him, and in that bright moonlight recognizing him
at once, “ What, in the name of God, brings you here attended by o nly
one servant, at this time of day? It is not safe. This place is simply
infested by robbers. We ourselves never stir from camp, less than four
or five together, after the sun has set.”
“You are ver y right ” , the official said calmly, sitting down b y the
campfire, and stretching out his hands to the warm embers, “ but for me
it is quite different. Here, imbecile,” addressing his servant, “come and
get warm too. You were complaining of cold upon the road.” Then,
turning to the soldiers: “That is the best servant I have,” he said. “ He
is mute, so can carry no tales, and does not anno y me with conversation
on the road. Moreover, I am never tempted to send a verbal message by
him, because I know he can’t deliver it. Whatever he has to convey,
must be written, so he has got me into less trouble than any one of m y
messengers, and he is ver y faithful, as all these poor deficient creatures
are.”
“Tongue been cut out?” the man to whom the official addressed the
conversation chiefly asked in a whisper. Even among those w ild
mountains, far removed from any human habitation save the caves in
the hillside, such a question could only be asked with bated breath.
“Oh no, born so,” the master replied indifferently. “He was in a pitiable
state of neglect when I first got him, but he is getting on well now.”
“Still he is by no means sufficient guard for a man in your position,
Sahib, especially at his hour. It is not safe ” .
“Ah, that is just where you are mistaken, my friend ” , the other returned,
unconcernedly “ . You are most wise and prudent, and are, in fact,
obeying the Ameer, our master, in never leaving the camp alone, but for
me it is quite different. You are placed here by the Ameer to keep these
mountain passes safe for travelers and pilgrims, and to prevent the hilly
tribesmen from carrying on their old trade of robbery and murder. The y
are your enemies now, and their sons will be your enemies after you,
for generations. It is in the ver y nature of things in this country, that
this should be so, but with me it is quite different. I am a man of peace,