The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [556]
‘If you've any sense,’ said Ash, ‘you'll put up a prayer that this particular clutch turns out to be addled.’
‘Addled? What on earth do you mean by that?’ demanded Wally blankly.
‘I mean that when the late Amir, Shere Ali, was trying to get it into the heads of our Lords and Masters that his people would never take kindly to the establishment of a British presence – or, for that matter, any foreign presence – in his country, he pointed out that no Amir of Afghanistan could possibly guarantee the safety of such foreigners “even in his own capital”. Wally, don't you ever read anything but poetry?’
‘Don't be an ass. You know I do.’
‘Then you must have read Kaye's history of the First Afghan War, and ought to remember his conclusions – which should have been written up in letters a foot high over the entrance to the War Office, and over Viceregal Lodge and Army Headquarters in Simla as well! Kaye wrote that after an enormous waste of blood and treasure we left every part of Afghanistan bristling with our enemies, though before the British Army crossed the Indus the name of England had been honoured in Afghanistan, because the people associated it with vague traditions of the splendour of Mr Elphinstone's mission; but that all they remembered now were “galling memories of the invasion of a desolating army”. That is still true today, Wally. And that is why this Mission has simply got to be called off. It must be stopped.’
‘It won't be. It's too late for that. Besides –’
‘Well, postponed then – delayed for as long as possible, to allow time for every effort to be made to build up confidence and establish really friendly relations with the Amir and his people. Above all to allay their fears that the British mean to take over their country as we took over this one. Even at this late date that might still be done if only men like Lytton and Colley and Cavagnari could be persuaded to try a different approach – to lay aside the big stick and see what moderation and good-will can do instead. But I promise you, Wally, that if Cavagnari really means to take this disastrous Mission to Kabul, he'll never come back alive. Nor will you or anyone else who goes with him – you've got to believe that.’
Wally, who had been listening with ill-concealed impatience, said: ‘Ah, blather!’ and pointed out that the Amir himself had agreed to accept the Mission.
‘Only under duress,’ corrected Ash sharply. ‘And if you think his subjects have accepted it, you're a long way out. They are as much against it as they ever were: more, if anything, after this war. And it's their wishes that count and not the Amir's a fact that he is so well aware of that he came to the Gandamak Conference prepared to fight against it every inch of the way, and nothing that the Generals or the Politicals could say could make him budge. He stuck out against them all, and it was only when Cavagnari demanded that he be allowed to talk to him alone, without anyone else being present that he
‘I know. You don't have to be telling me. Dammit, I was there!’ interrupted Wally irritably. ‘And what's more, Cavagnari talked him round.’
‘Did he? I take leave to doubt it. I imagine he threatened him, and pretty strongly. All that anyone knows for certain is that he forced the Amir to give in – and boasted afterwards that he had “rated him as though he had been a mere Kohat Malik”. It's no use shaking your head at me, for it's true. If you don't believe me, ask him yourself – he won't deny it. But he would have done better to have kept quiet about it, because it got about, and I cannot believe that it will have helped him to make a friend of the Amir. Or of his people either, who are not ready to accept a British presence in Afghanistan