The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [567]
An uninstructed bystander listening to that light-hearted leave-taking would never have suspected either of the principals of harbouring any fears, for Cavagnari had long since regained the equanimity that had briefly deserted him when he saw the magpie, and both men were in the best of spirits as they renewed a promise to meet again in the cold weather, shook hands, and wishing each other God-speed, turned to go their separate ways.
But they had ridden no more than fifty yards when some impulse made them stop and turn simultaneously to look back at each other.
Wally, instinctively checking his own horse, saw them exchange a long look and then move quickly forward and, without speaking, grip hands once more before parting again. It was a curious incident, and to Wally, an oddly disturbing one. It seemed to take much of the brightness from that exhilarating day, and when the party camped for the night at the western foot of the Pass, he lay down with his carbine at his side and his service revolver under his pillow, and did not sleep any too soundly.
Five days later the British Mission was received in Kabul with the same honours that had been accorded to General Stolietoff and his Russians, the two state entries into the capital differing only in size (Stolietoff's retinue having been far more numerous and imposing) and the fact that a different National Anthem was played.
Neither entry had been regarded with favour by the population. But a show is always a show, and as before, the citizens of Kabul turned out en masse to enjoy a free tamarsha and watch the state elephants sway past, carrying another foreign Envoy and his political assistant in their gilded howdahs, and closely followed by another military escort – a mere handful this time: only two Sahibs and a detachment of twenty-five cavalrymen.
But whatever the crowds might think, Sir Louis had no criticism to make. The men of the Afghan regiments who lined the route and held back the jostling staring crowds saluted, albeit raggedly, as he passed, and as he entered the Bala Hissar the din of military bands blaring out ‘God Save the Queen’ was almost drowned by the thunder of guns firing a Royal Salute. It was an eminently satisfactory welcome: the triumphal vindication of his policy, and the crowning moment of his life…
The guns and the bands, the good-tempered crowds, the capering, shouting children and the affability of the officials who had been sent out with the bedizened elephants to welcome him and escort him into the Afghan capital had all served to convince him how right he had been to insist that the Amir kept to the letter of the Gandamak treaty and accepted a British presence in Kabul without further delay. Well, that presence was now here, and establishing it was clearly going to be easier than he had thought. The moment he and his party had settled into their quarters he would set about making a personal friend of Yakoub Khan and getting on good terms with his ministers, as a first step towards forging strong and lasting ties between Great Britain and Afghanistan. Everything was going to be all right.
The Envoy was not the only one to be pleased at the reception accorded to the Mission, and heartened by the good humour of the vast crowds that had turned out to see its arrival.
The members of his suite had been equally impressed, and Wally, searching the sea of faces as he rode by in the hope of seeing Ash, had noted the expressions on those faces and thought: ‘What an old scare-monger the dear fellow is. Won't I just pull his leg about this when I see him! All that blather about the whole place boiling with unrest and the Afghans hating our guts and loathing the very idea of any foreigners setting up house in their capital city. Why, you