1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net

81
A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR
“Is your father not here then?” the man asked angrily.
“Oh no, he’s not here, or he would have come out and spoken to you;
he is away – at the war.”
“The bird has flown, my men,” the same voice called out. “We have
lost him again. I thought we had tracked him this time. That devil of a
Mohamed Jan must have misled us. I’ll make him sing for this, taking
our pay just to misled us.”
“Mohamed Jan!” Gul Begum put her hand to her forehead as though she
had been shot. “We have traitors in our very midst,” she murmured.
The men outside seemed to be holding a council. The y had ceased
knocking, but they were talking too low for the girl to catch what they
said.
“I hope I did not do wrong to tell them he is not here. He will be safe
now. They cannot follow him on horseback where he can gone, and
only a Hazara and one who knows the way could take them to the
caves. But what about Mohamed Jan? which Mohamed Jan? There are
many of that name,” she said to herself, “many Afghans as well as
Hazaras. It need not necessarily be that fiend.”
But somehow the more she thought of it the more convinced was she
that the man who had laid this trap for her father was none other than
the wretch whom had had trusted with the greatest treasure he
possessed – his daughter. He had been faithless and worse in the one
case – what was to prevent his being a traitor to his countr y?
Suddenly, above the murmur of the many voices just outside the door,
above even the roar of the elements – the raging of the storm – another
sound made itself heard, and struck terror into the hearts of the two
women who stood listening inside. Shriek after shriek rent the air – the
yells of a man in the agony of torture, then a dull thud.
A shriek – a thud. “Ah, they are using the fauna. Poor wretch! Who can
it be, and what is it for?” Gul Begum cried. “Quick, mother, let us
undo the door.”
“My God! M y God! I have led you right,” the wretched victim called
out. “I hate the man myself, and for my own sake would willingly
deliver him to you. I tell you he is inside. Those women are deceiving
you; he is there; search the house, he is there,”
Again there was a rush of many feet towards the door, which now stood
open, so that any one could enter.
“Where is Ghulam Hossain?” a gruff voice asked peremptorily.