The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [578]
‘That he would never do,’ said Ash.
‘No. Yet there is little else that he can do, for he must know that the quarters in which he and his Mission live cannot be defended against attack. Therefore if he treats all warnings lightly and replies to them with brave words, this may well be because he is wise, and not, as you suppose, because he is either blind or foolish. He will know that his words will be repeated, and the very fact that they are bold and fearless may well give the hot-heads pause; and placed as he is that is wisdom, not foolishness. I have called on him before, but if you and the Sirdar-Sahib wish, I will certainly do so again and see if I cannot enlighten him as to the ill-will against the Mission that prevails in the city. Though I think you will find that he already knows this.’
The promised visit had been made that very day. But this time the caller had not succeeded in seeing the British Envoy, for the Afghan sentries who by the Amir's orders stood guard by the entrance to the compound (ostensibly for the greater safety and protection of the British Mission) had not only turned him away, but had abused and stoned him as he left. ‘I was struck several times,’ reported the Hindu, ‘and when they saw me stagger they laughed. This is no longer a safe place for men such as myself, or for foreigners of any persuasion. I think it is time I left Kabul for a while and went south to visit my relations.’
He had refused categorically to make any further attempt to see Sir Louis, and true to his word had left Kabul a few days later. But the tale of his friend's treatment at the hands of the Afghan sentries had disturbed Sirdar Nakshband Khan almost as much as it had shaken Ash, and though after his previous visit to the Residency the Sirdar too had sworn that he would not go there again, he had done so.
Sir Louis had greeted him graciously enough, but made it clear from the outset that he was already fully informed as to the situation in Kabul and needed no further information on that head, and though pleased to see the ex-Risaldar-Major, was unfortunately too busy to spare as much time as he would wish to on purely social calls.
‘Indeed so. That is understood,’ agreed the Sirdar politely. ‘As is also the fact that your Honour has many sources of information and therefore knows much of what goes on in the city. Though not all, I think,’ and he had told Sir Louis how a well-known and much-respected Hindu who had called at the Residency desiring to speak with him, had been refused admittance and driven away with stones and abuse by the Afghan sentries.
Sir Louis' eyes blazed as he listened and even his luxuriant black beard seemed to bristle with anger. ‘That is untrue,’ rasped Sir Louis. ‘The man lies!’
But the Sirdar was not to be intimidated by the Envoy's wrath. ‘If the Huzoor does not believe me,’ he replied calmly, ‘let him ask his own servants, several of whom witnessed the stoning of the Hindu, as did many of the Guides also. The Huzoor has only to ask; and when he does so he will learn that he is little better than a prisoner. For what profit is there in remaining here if he is not permitted to see men who only desire to talk truth to him?’
The suggestion that he was not a free agent touched the Envoy on the raw, for Pierre Louis Cavagnari was an intensely proud man, so much so that he had frequently been accused by those who did not share his views, or had been treated to the rough side of his tongue, of being insufferably arrogant. It is certain that he had a high opinion of his own capabilities and did not take kindly to criticism.
Sirdar Nakshband Khan's story struck at his personal pride as well as his official dignity as the representative of Her Britannic Majesty the Empress of India, and he would have liked to disbelieve it. Instead he replied coldly that he would inquire into the