1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net

41
A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR
“Then we can have fresh tea made,” one of the soldiers said surlily.
“Of course you could,” their unwilling host replied, “but that would
delay you again, and we have orders from your most honoured colonel
that you are not to be dela yed.”
“You have too much to say, my friend,” another of the soldiers
answered. “You are here to obey, we to command; now show us your
house, and then we will go on and look at the others. Have the water
for the tea kept boiling, and when we come back, we’ll soon have what
we require.”
The wretched man walked dejectedly back to his house. He felt that in
the meantime there was no use resisting, and he could only long and
pray for the arrival of his friends from the neighbouring villages.
“Why, you’ve hardly rooms in the whole place sufficient to house us
decently. You’ll have to clear all these houses here. Those pig-st ys you
can keep, the y well do well enough for Hazaras, but they won’t suit
us.”
“You can have my house, certainly,” the Mir said politely. “I’ll see
about getting my women and children decently provided for directly.
But all these houses you cannot possibly have; there would not be a
respectable woman or child under shelter to-night, and the spring winds
are not over yet. Those huts you have rejected are the herds’ dwellings;
we could not sleep in those even were there accommodation for so
many people in them.”
“’Can’s possibly,’ that sounds pretty calm,” one of the Afghans
returned; “it’s wonderful what’s possible at times. Do you see this?”
drawing his sword, “it’s wonderful how quickly this little instrument
clears houses.”
“Don’t be in too great a hurry,” one of the others whispered;
“remember we are three to God knows how many;” then aloud, “Come,
we’ll have our tea now, and b y the time we have finished, we shall
expect to find those houses cleaned and ready for us.”
But when they had had their tea, all of the houses were of course not
cleaned; the Mir’s was, however, deserted. “I have sent m y wife and
children to my sister-in-law,” he said with well-assumed civilit y; “my
dwelling is at your disposal.”
“And where is your sister-in-law’s house, pray?” one of the Afghans
asked with almost unbearable impudence.
“It’s there, through that gateway and down that lane.”