1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net

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A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR
my business is reconciliation, not war. God has caused me to find favor
in the sight of the Ameer, and sometimes I have been able to help these
very men you speak of, and to lessen their punishments, or even get
them off altogether on certain occasions, when the y have been brought
before him for trial, and so they are my friends, and their sons will be
my sons’ friends after me?
“Ah, God be praised, that is true,” the sergeant and leader of the little
party said fervently. “There are few families in this part of Afghanistan
who do not owe you gratitude for favors done to them, or to some of
their relations. You ought to be able to travel alone with a sack of
rubies on your back, from one end of the country to the other. But the
people about here are Shinwaris, Sahib, and you know the old saying,
“Trust a scorpion, but not a Shinwari.” Be wise, wherever you may be
going tomorrow, stay here tonight with us; we have but little to offer
you, but you can have food, protection and my charpoi (bed) for the
night. That’s right! Here comes the tea, we have not much to offer, but
there are hard-boiled eggs, and bread, and curds poor fare, but it’s
about the best we can do in the wa y of food when we want it in a hurry
out here. You must not expect to find Kabul luxuries among the hills,
Sahib.”
“And what better fare can a hungry man want?” the official replied
graciously; “strangers ma y sa y that Afghans have many faults, but they
cannot touch them in one thing – in the matter of hospitalit y. When a
man gives the best he has, if it be but a crust, he spreads a feast.”
The soldier put his hand upon his heart and bowed. There was not a
man in Afghanistan who would not have been glad to have been so
spoken to by the Ameer’s Chief Secretar y.
“You will stay the night with us, Sahib?” he asked. “I will give orders
for you to be attended to at once.”
“No, my friend, that I cannot,” the official replied firmly. “I merely
looked in on you to cheer you on your lonely watch among these hills.
I am due at the Zearat near here to -night. How far off is it, b y the way?
I don’t know these parts as well as I thought I did.”
“Why, it’s a full hour’s ride from here. You must let me send some of
my men with you, if you really cannot stay,” the soldier insisted.
“They can remain the night too, and bring you safely back to -morrow
morning. M y life would answer for it if you were killed, and the Ameer
heard you had left m y camp alone by moonlight. It is as much as my
life is worth.”
This was not easy to refuse, but the Chief Secretary was a man of many
resources.
“Look here,” he said, “I will tell you something in secret that you may
understand. I have been in disfavour of late, not real disfavour, but my