The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [486]
In Gul Baz's opinion too many people already knew that Pelham-Sahib could pass as a frontier tribesman. The story of the pursuit of Dilasah Khan had leaked out and been told and re-told with countless additions and embroideries in every bazaar from Peshawar to Rawalpindi, and Gul Baz did not want to hear it revived again. He therefore kept his two companions engaged in talk until Wally called to him by name, when he hurried over to receive his orders and returned saying that the Sahib had met with an acquaintance – an Afridi horse-dealer – and that as the day was too hot for riding he would stay and talk with the man and take the road later. Meanwhile he desired that the servants would go on ahead in the tonga to Attock dâk-bungalow, where they would engage a room and order a meal for him and wait until he arrived: they need not hurry, as he himself did not intend to set out until late in the afternoon.
‘Which means that they'll probably spend the next few hours resting at Hasan Abdal, and arrive in Attock only just ahead of us,’ said Wally, watching the tonga rattle past and disappear round a bend in the road, before turning back to resume his interrupted conversation with the pseudo-horse-dealer.
They had not seen each other for almost two years, but in spite of all that had happened during that time it was as though they had parted only yesterday and were continuing a conversation that had been temporarily interrupted. The rapport between them remained unchanged and they might almost have been back in their shared quarter in 'Pindi, talking over the day's work; for Ash had refused to launch into any explanations until he had first heard all Wally's news, partly because he wanted to establish the old footing before he told his own, but largely because he knew that once it was told, neither of them were likely to talk of anything else.
So Wally had talked, and Ash had listened and laughed as he was brought up to date on a dozen matters, regimental, social and general. He learned that the Guides were in ‘tremendous shape’, the Commandant and the other officers the ‘best of fellows’, and Wigram Battye (recently promoted to Captain) in particular an ‘absolute corker’. In fact the words ‘Wigram says’ appeared with such frequency that Ash was conscious of a fleeting twinge of jealousy, and a regret for the old days when he himself possessed the major share of Wally's admiration – together with the tallest pedestal in his private pantheon. But those days were gone, and Wally had acquired other gods and made other friends; which was not surprising in someone so eminently likeable.
He was talking now with enormous enthusiasm of the Deputy Commis-ssioner of Peshawar – that same Major Cavagnari who had instigated and planned the operation against the Utman Khel tribesmen in which Zarin had been wounded, and a later one against Sharkot where Wally had experienced his first taste of active service. It was immediately clear that the personality and talents of this oddly named man had made a deep impression on the impressionable Wally.
‘Faith, it's the jewel of a fellow he is, Ash. A real out-and-outer. His father was a French count who was an aide-de-camp or a military attaché or something of the sort to one of Bonaparte's brothers, and he speaks Pushtu like a native and knows more about the tribes than anyone else on the Frontier. And would you believe it, he's actually a kinsman of mine? We're both related to the Lawrences, because Lord John's wife is my mother's sister-in-law, and mother was a Blacker, and one of the Blackers had a daughter who married a Frenchman – an officer in the Cuirassiers – and their daughter married Major Cavagnari's father. Which makes us vaguely related.’
‘ “Vaguely” sounds right,’ murmured Ash satirically. ‘Holy Saint Patrick, what a mixture!’
‘Be damned to you for a benighted Sassenach,’ retorted Wally, unruffled; and