1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net

45
A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR
evidently. The cuckoos are to be turned out of the nests they have
occupied so long. The y must find shelter elsewhere – among the kites
and eagles perhaps.
He spoke bitterly, then took up the letter Wali Mohamed had brought,
and commenced reading, at first aloud, but gradually his voice sank
into a whisper. Then the words were uttered so rapidly as to be
inaudible, then ceased, only the reader’s eyes skimmed over the paper
rapidly, and then he dropped it. “May God, this is too much,” he cried.
“What’s the matter, Ghulam Hossain? Speak! In the name of God what
is it?” the big little man said hurriedly. “Why this agitation? Is there
anything wrong? Has he sent for our submission to the Afghan rule?
Speak, man, what has happened ?”
“He has sent for Gul Begum, for my child – my beloved,” the Vizier
replied quietly. The blow had stunned him. “Are our very daughters to
be torn from us and violated at their pleasure? My God, this is not war.
What is it?”
“’I hear you have a niece,’ he says, ‘a tall handsome girl, whose name
is, I think, Gul Begum. I require her; send her to me b y my messenger,
and mind, no delay, or, mark my words – and I am not a man to trifle
with – I will come and fetch her m yself or will send such messengers
as you are not likely to refuse anything to .’”
“My God, the dogs!” the chief said suddenly, looking out on to the
plain as though he already half expected to see them come tearing up
the slope. “I hear he keeps a whole pack of them – this slave-boy
monster whom the Ameer has raised to the rank of colonel. What shall
you answer, brother?”
“That he must send his wolf-hounds, or must come himself to fetch her.
There can be no other answer to such a demand. Where is the
messenger? Let us find out how far his master is from here – or stay,
what is the use of asking? He would not tell us. Let us send some polite
message to gain time. It will take some consideration to come to any
conclusion as to what we had better do.”
“Look here, brother,” the little chief said firmly. “Listen to me, I have
a proposal to make. This colonel is a great man, and powerful I’d give
Gul Begum to him in marriage if I were you . Make legal marriage the
condition, of course,” he added, seeing that the man he was addressing
had moved impatiently and was evidently preparing to put the idea
aside as impossible. “She is a handsome girl, and clever, and has
whining ways when she chooses. This marriage might save our whole
village from much trouble and molestation. It’s a good idea, and will at
any rate gain time. I’d send a message to him expressing satisfaction at
the proposal and –“