1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net

63
A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR
Good gracious, are you all asleep in your village that you know nothing
of the war?”
“And what of my father?” the girl asked eagerly. “Say he is well,
mother, say he is well,” and she almost shook the elder woman as she
spoke.
“I know nothing of him at all, nothing at all,” poor Halima replied,
almost weeping, “only that he left here with almost every men in the
village that could hold a gun, and that he has not returned.”
“And my uncle?” gasped Gul Begum.
“And your uncle with him,” the wretched woman murmured; “we are
all left, all deserted. If the Afghans find their way here we shall meet
with the fate of many another flourishing village. Our homes will be
left desolate, our goods will be at their mercy, and we ourselves shall
be carried off as slaves. This is no way of defending the country. I say,
leaving only a few old hoary-headed dotards and herds to look after the
homes, while all the men march off, God knows where, to meet the
enemy.”
“Oh, mother,” the girl said piteously, “what a home-coming!”
“Yes, what a home-coming indeed,” her mother answered sadly. “But
that reminds me, what brings you home? What has become of Mohamed
Jan? Is he, too, at the war? And even if so, why does he send you
here?”
“Mother,” the girl said, hanging her head, “Mohamed Jan has not gone
to the war, and he has not sent me home. Dear mother, forgive me,” the
girl went on almost weeping, “I have run awa y – protect me,” and she
tried in a few words to tell her mother all that had occurred .
Their talking brought the old grandmother to the door, anxious to know
what news there was, but little expecting to see her granddaughter,
whom, truth to tell, she looked upon as practically married and done
for.
“Well, I never,” the old lad y said, when she heard all that Gul Begum
had to say. “Well, I never! To think that Mohamed Jan should have
turned round on you like that, just because he had heard of our
misfortunes, and knew that there was but a poor chance of his ever
getting a dowry. As a matter of fact, as I always said , if you were to go
to that man at all, you ought to have gone to him as his wife, taking
your dowry with you at the time of your marriage I never did hold with
that arrangement of your father’s, and no more I ever shall. I alwa ys
said no good would come of it.”
“Well, let me in and let me rest,” the girl said wearily. “I have had
hardly any food for the last three days, and I feel weak and faint for
want of something to eat,” and so she entered her home and rested, and