The Far Pavilions (121 page)

‘As soon as Wigram can fix it with the Commandant. I can't go without his permission, and for all we know he may not give it.’

‘He will,’ said Wigram. ‘He's been just as worried about this business as I have – and half the Frontier Force too, for that matter. We're the ones who'll have to do the fighting if that gilded crew in Simla gets hold of the wrong end of the stick and proceeds to stir up a hornets' nest with it. He may take a bit of persuading, but I think you'll find that he'll see it as a good idea and a possible life-line. And Cavagnari will jump at it. It's just the sort of thing that will appeal to him no end.’

Wigram had been right on both counts.

The Commandant had been talked round, and the Deputy Commissioner had shown considerable enthusiasm for the idea. He had a love of the dramatic, and Ash's story as related to him by Captain Battye enthralled him: ‘But if he is to work for me I must see him before he goes, since it will be better if he reports direct to me through the only one of my agents whom I allow to come into Peshawar rather than to one of your men, who will be expected to take any message to you or your Commandant first, leaving one of you to bring it to me. That won't do: the less people involved in this the better – especially for his own safety, as I hope you will explain to him, and to your Commandant. A divided authority always leads to muddle, and as the type of information required will be of no use at regimental level, I prefer that the young man should work exclusively for me. And by the way if, as I understand, he is at present still on leave, I would suggest that he is not permitted to return to Mardan. It would look odd for him to come back to duty for a few days only to leave again.’

‘Yes, sir. That has already been thought of. He will be leaving from Attock: it was his own idea.’

‘And a very sensible one,’ approved Cavagnari. ‘Please arrange for him to meet me before he goes.’

Wigram saw no point in telling him that when Ash had volunteered to go into Afghanistan as a spy he had made two conditions, one of which might well have prevented him from going at all. He had insisted that he must be allowed to discuss the whole project with Koda Dad, and that if the old man did not approve, then it would have to be abandoned. The other condition had been that the Guides must promise to look after Anjuli and see to it that she received her rights as his lawful wife in the event of his failing to return

The latter had been agreed, but when Wigram had expressed doubts about the wisdom of allowing any outside person to learn of Ash's activities, Ash had retorted that he would in any case be telling Zarin, and that he would trust Zarin's father with his life. ‘I've known him since I was about six, and I value his opinion more than anyone else's. If he thinks I can do any good then I'll go; but you have to remember that he's a Pathan, and as such a citizen of Afghanistan, so he may take a poor view of spies – even those whose intentions are to prevent a war: I don't know. But I must talk to him first before I decide.’

Wigram had shrugged and said: ‘Be it on your own head. It's your life. What do you think his verdict will be?’

‘Oh, I should say the chances are that he'll agree with you, as Zarin will too. I admit I haven't much hope that he won't. In fact I'm probably wasting my time as well as his, but I have to make certain.’

‘… and to receive his blessing,’ murmured Wigram in an undervoice. He had spoken a thought aloud without knowing it and the words had been barely audible, but Ash had caught them and said quickly and in a tone of surprise: ‘Yes. How did you know?’

Wigram had looked embarrassed and said awkwardly: ‘It may sound absurd in this day and age, but my father gave me his before I sailed for India, and I've often found it a comfort to remember that. I suppose it harks back to the Old Testament, when a patriarch's blessing really meant something.’

‘ “
And Esau said… bless me, even me also, O my father,
” ’ quoted Wally, speaking for the first time in a long while. ‘I hope you'll get it, Ash: for all our sakes.’

Wigram had risen briskly to his feet and said that it was high time they left, adding that he hoped Ash would not be too long over seeing Zarin's father, as he personally had a strong feeling that there might be very little time to spare, and that what they had was running out far too quickly. ‘If the Commandant agrees, how soon do you think you could start?’

‘That depends on Koda Dad; and on Cavagnari. I shall try and see Koda Dad tomorrow or the next day. Are you two going back to Mardan tonight?’

‘We weren't, but we can.’

‘When you do, will you take a message from me to Zarin. Tell him that I have to see his father as soon as possible and ask him to let me know if he thinks the old man would be well enough to receive me – I gather he's been ill of late. If so, when and where; but that I'd rather not be seen in his village if it can be avoided. He needn't send word here. Tell him I'll be at the banyan tree near the first mile-stone outside Nowshera by sunset tomorrow, and that I'll wait there until he comes. He may be on duty, but I expect you can arrange for him to get away.’

But no one was ever to know what Koda Dad would have advised, for he was dead. He had died at about the same hour as Wally and Wigram Battye, on their way to Attock, rode away from Mardan; and because the weather at that season is always cruelly hot he had been buried before nightfall, so that by the time Ash reached the banyan tree on the Nowshera road where Zarin waited for him with the news, Koda Dad Khan, one-time Master of Horse in the little principality of Gulkote, had lain a full twenty-four hours in his grave.

Two days later the Deputy Commisioner of Peshawar and Captain Battye of the Guides Cavalry rode out together, ostensibly to look for possible camp sites in the open country to the south-east of Peshawar.

They went unescorted, and at a time of day when all sensible folk are taking a siesta and the land appears to be deserted. Nevertheless in the course of their ride they met and conversed with another horseman, a lone Afridi whom they found resting in the shade of a tall outcrop of rock, and who might almost have been waiting for them.

To begin with, Cavagnari had done most of the talking, while Ash had confined himself to insisting that he would only agree to collect and send back information provided it was clearly understood that he would report the truth as he found it, even if it should turn out to be a view of the question that the officials in Simla did not wish to hear. ‘If I cannot do that, then there is no point in my going,’ said Ash. To which Cavagnari had replied with a shade of acidity that naturally he would be expected to keep an open mind, that went without saying; adding that the Commandant, with permission from the appropriate authority, had assigned Lieutenant Pelham-Martyn to act as his, Cavagnari's, personal intelligence officer for a period of six months, irrespective of whether war was declared during that time or not, while giving Cavagnari the right to terminate the arrangement at any moment if he thought fit. ‘In which case you would of course return immediately to regimental duty. With a brevet if you wish; you will certainly have earned it and “the labourer is worthy of his hire”.’

Ash made a face of disgust and remarked tartly that he had not volunteered for this job in the expectation of reward, and that he had thought that the whole point was having a spy who wasn't getting paid for it. His services were not for hire, and what he was doing could be regarded as repayment – repayment for benefits received, as the Guides had been very good to him and he had done little to repay them.

‘You will have a chance to do so now,’ observed Cavagnari with an approving nod, and moved on to a discussion of other matters. There were many of these – including the question of arranging for funds to be made available not only to Ash in Afghanistan but to Juli in Attock, together with the various details that would have to be worked out if the story that Lieutenant Pelham-Martyn had been sent off on a ‘Course' somewhere down south on the eve of his returning to Mardan was to be believed. The meeting had lasted for some considerable time, and only when the shadows began to lengthen did the two Englishmen turn back to Peshawar, while the Afridi trotted eastward on his gaunt scissor-hocked pony, heading for Attock.

Ash had crossed the Rubicon and now it only remained to tell Anjuli; which was something he had put off doing as long as he could, just in case it should not be necessary – there being always the possibility that Cavagnari, or perhaps the Commandant, would change his mind at the last moment and cancel the venture as too dangerous or impractical; as there had once been the chance that Koda Dad would disapprove.

Telling her had been the hardest thing of all. Even harder than he had thought, for she had implored him to take her with him, insisting that her place was by his side now – doubly so if he were going into danger, because in addition to being able to cook and care for him, her presence would serve to deflect suspicion from him, since who could possibly expect to find a spy accompanied by his wife? The very idea was absurd and would therefore serve to protect him. ‘And I would learn to shoot,’ pleaded Anjuli. ‘You have only to teach me.’

‘But you cannot speak enough Pushtu, my Heart.’

‘I will learn – I will learn! I promise you I will learn.’

‘There is no time, Heart's-dearest, for I must go at once; and if I took you with me and you were unable to speak freely with the women-folk of the country, they would begin to ask questions, and that could be very dangerous – both for our safety and for the work that I have to do. You know that I would take you with me if I could, but I cannot, Larla; and it is only for six months. I will leave Gul Baz here, and you will be safe in the care of the Begum; and – and I will be far safer alone.’

It was in the end this last statement that persuaded her, because she knew in her heart that it was true, and knowing it she pleaded no longer but said only: ‘Then I will send my heart with you – it is already in your keeping. Bring it back to me soon, and in safety.’

Ash had assured her that she need have no fears for him. But though he could make light of the danger in words, his body betrayed him: his love-making that night had been different from other nights in that it conveyed a disturbing sense of desperation… almost as though he were trying to make the very most of every moment for fear that there would be no tomorrow. So might a man lie with his love on the eve of some hazardous venture: a great battle, or a long and dangerous journey from which he might never return…

On the following night when all the household were safely asleep and the moon had not yet risen, Ash slipped quietly out by the back gate of Fatima Begum's garden and set his face towards the hills. And less than twelve hours later he was across the Border and had vanished into Afghanistan: dropping out of sight as completely as a pebble that falls into a deep pool.

51

That summer of 1878, the famine that had taken such a terrible toll in the south crept northward into the Punjab. For once again, for the third year in succession, the monsoon had failed; and when at last the rain fell it was not in the steady downpour that the thirsty land needed, but in fitful and capricious gusts that did little more than turn the surface dust to mud, leaving the earth beneath still iron-hard.

There were other things, apart from the failure of the crops and the fear of war, that made this an evil year, for dissension and disease were rife.

In Hardwar, where the sacred River Ganges enters the plains and vast numbers of pilgrims from all parts of India gather to bathe in its hallowed waters, cholera had struck during the annual festival and thousands died within a matter of hours. The news that Russia had attacked Turkey, and of her victories in the field, had encouraged a number of Indian journalists (always impressed by success and military might) to fill columns in the vernacular press with a spate of inflammatory words in praise of the victors, and when the Government took no notice they became bolder and began to advocate that India join forces with Russia for the overthrow of the Raj, and to urge their countrymen to assassinate British officers. At which point the Government decided that such stuff endangered the ‘safety of the state’ and passed the Vernacular Press Act, designed to curb the mischief-making proclivities of news-sheets that were not printed in English. But the Act caused as much disaffection as the rabble-rousing articles and incitements to murder had done; and rumour took the place of the printed word.

There were a great many rumours in circulation that year and few were encouraging, except possibly to those who favoured a war with Afghanistan. Some told of Russian armies advancing on the Oxus River in numbers that grew as the tale was passed from mouth to mouth. An army of fifty thousand… of sixty thousand. No, eighty thousand…

‘I have been reliably informed,’ wrote Major Cavagnari in a letter to Simla, ‘that the Russian force at present advancing on the Oxus consists of a total of fifteen thousand four hundred men, divided into three columns: two of which are seventeen hundred strong, and one of twelve thousand. Also that a Russian Mission, consisting of General Stolietoff and six other officers with an escort of twenty-two Cossacks, left Tashkent late in May in advance of the troops. It is believed that the Amir's family and friends, who fear that the Russo-Turkish affair may lead to hostilities between Russia and Great Britain, have been putting pressure on the Amir to choose between these two rival powers, but that His Highness cannot make up his mind and remains undecided. I must add that in the opinion of my informant (whose views, I would stress, are strictly personal), the Amir would much prefer to avoid declaring for either side, being convinced that his country should strive to remain independent of both. I have given the Government Agent in Peshawar a confidential letter which will be forwarded to you. It was sent to me by the same hand, and purports to be an exact copy of the terms laid down by a Russian Native Envoy who visited Kabul late last year. I cannot, of course, vouch for its accuracy, nor would it be advisable for me to disclose the source of my information. But I can assure you that I have every reason to believe that it is reliable.’

The document referred to was duly forwarded to Simla, and proved to be of considerable interest, the terms stating, among other things, that the Amir should permit the location of Russian Agents at Kabul and other places within his territories; that Russian troops should be quartered at ‘four suitable places’ on the borders of Afghanistan; and that the Russian Government should be permitted to construct roads and set up telegraph wires linking Samarkand with Kabul and Kabul with Herat and Kandahar. Also that the Afghan Government should establish agents in the capitals of Russia and Tashkent, and permit the passage of Russian troops through their territory, ‘if it became desirable that the Russian Government should send an expedition to wage war on India’.

In return the Amir was assured that Russia would regard his enemies as theirs, in no way interfere in the administration and internal affairs of his country, and ‘allow the continuance of Afghanistan to the representatives, successors and heirs of the Amir in perpetuity’.

Major Cavagnari had admitted somewhat grudgingly that the unnamed person who had obtained that copy and smuggled it out of Afghanistan had been at pains to point out that though, to the best of his belief, the original document was genuine and that these terms had in fact been drawn up, there was no evidence to suggest that the Amir had either seen them or would have considered accepting them if he had; while on the other hand there was ample evidence that His Highness was much alarmed by the advance of Russian troops towards his borders, and greatly angered by the news that a Russian Mission was on its way, uninvited, to Kabul.

‘There are times,’ observed Major Cavagnari tartly to Captain Battye, who was in Peshawar for talks on Divisional Training and had asked for news of Ash, ‘when I begin to wonder whose side your friend is on. Ours or the Amir's.’

Wigram smiled a little lop-sidedly and said with a hint of remonstrance: ‘I wouldn't say it was a question of sides, sir. If you ask me, I should say rather that he can't help seeing both sides of a question, while the majority of us tend to see only one – our own. Besides, he's always had an obsession about being fair: you could almost call it a bee in his bonnet. If he thought there was something to be said for the Amir, it simply wouldn't occur to him not to say it. We did warn you about that, sir.’

‘I know, I know. But I could wish he would not say it so often,’ snapped the Deputy Commissioner. ‘Fairness is all very well, but one must not forget that what he has to say in defence of the Amir can only be based on hearsay, and what I require is information, not personal theories. In any case his opinions do not square with the facts, since we know that General Stolietoff's Mission is on its way to Kabul, and I myself do not believe for one moment that it is going there uninvited. The Russian Government would never have allowed it to set out unless they had every reason to believe that it would be welcomed in Kabul, for they would not risk a rebuff: and that, to my mind, makes it crystal clear that Shere Ali has been intriguing with them.’

‘Then you don't believe,’ ventured Wigram, ‘that Ashton -’

‘Akbar,’ corrected Major Cavagnari sharply. ‘I consider it essential to avoid mentioning him by any other name even in the course of a private conversation. It is safer.’

‘Of course, sir – that Akbar is right in thinking the Amir is anything but pleased by the news that the Mission is on its way?’

‘That is something that your – that Akbar cannot possibly know for certain. And to be plain with you, I am beginning to find the tone of his reports disturbing. They display an increasing tendency to put the Amir's view-point rather than our own, and there are times when I am not entirely sure that he is… let us say,
sound.
’

Wigram said stiffly: ‘I assure you there is not the least danger of his turning traitor, if that is what you mean sir.’

‘No,
no
!’ disclaimed Major Cavagnari testily: ‘I meant no such thing. You take me up too quickly. But I must confess that in spite of your warning, I had supposed that as an Englishman he would be able to recognize the Amir's double-dealing for what it is, instead of making excuses for the man which is what he is doing. He sends me information, some of it of considerable interest, and then confuses the issue with a piece of special pleading on behalf of the Amir, with whose problems he would appear to be too much in sympathy. But there is a simple solution to those problems: let Shere Ali ally himself with Great Britain and cease trafficking with Russia. It is his refusal to do the first and his persistence in the second that is causing the present tension, and I cannot agree with the view put forward by – by Akbar, that he would lose face with his subjects if he acceded to our request, and might even be deposed. Once he has openly declared in favour of an alliance with us, there would be no further danger of Russian aggression, as they would know that any move against Afghanistan would mean war with Great Britain. And with that danger removed, their troops would go home and the situation would return to normal.’

‘Except,’ remarked Wigram reflectively, ‘that there would be a British Mission and British officers in Kabul, instead of Russian ones.’

The Deputy Commissioner's eyebrows twitched together in a frown and he favoured Captain Battye with a long, suspicious stare, and then inquired abruptly if he had been receiving communications from his friend.

‘From Ash – Akbar? No,’ said Wigram. ‘I wasn't quoting. I've heard nothing about him until now, and I did not know if you had. In fact I wasn't even sure he was alive. That's why I called in to ask if you had any news of him, and it's a relief to me to learn that you have. But I'm sorry that he is not proving to be as useful as you had hoped.’

‘He is useful. In some ways, exceedingly useful. But he would be even more so if he would confine himself to what is actually happening in Kabul, instead of indulging in what one can only regard as thought-reading. The matter of greatest concern is the whereabouts of this Russian Mission. Has it reached the borders of Afghanistan yet, and will it be refused entry into the country? Or will the Amir throw aside deception, and show himself in his true colours by receiving it at Kabul and thereby declaring himself to be our enemy? Time will show. But we know from several sources that Stolietoff and his Mission must be nearing the end of their journey, and if your friend should send word that they have been welcomed, we shall know where we stand. And so will he, I trust. It should at least open his eyes and show him the folly of attempting to find excuses for Shere Ali's behaviour.’

Time had shown even more quickly than Major Cavagnari had expected, for that very night he had received a brief message to say that the Russian Mission had entered Afghanistan and been accorded a public reception in Kabul. That was all. But the die had been cast, and from that moment a second Afghan war became inevitable.

Details had followed later. The Mission, it appeared, had been welcomed with all honour by the Amir. Elephants had been sent out to meet them, and mounted on these and attended by Afghan ministers and nobles, Stolietoff and his officers had ridden in state through the town of Kabul to the Bala Hissar, the ancient citadel that includes the royal palace of the rulers of Afghanistan, where the Amir Shere Ali and his court had waited to greet them. They had been housed in the Residency, which lies within the Bala Hissar, and accorded a strong guard: and ten days later a splendid military review had been held in their honour. But Louis Cavagnari's confident assertion that his ‘unsound’ spy would be unable to find any further excuses for Shere Ali proved incorrect.

‘Akbar’ had found several. He had even suggested that in the circumstances it was to Shere Ali's credit that he had stood out against Russian pressure as long as he had, while as for that review, it had, in his opinion, almost certainly been held less from a desire to do the self-invited visitors honour than as a covert warning – a visual demonstration of the military strength that Afghanistan could bring against any would-be aggressor…

‘It is believed in Kabul,’ wrote Akbar, ‘that the Amir has not only come to no arrangement with the Russian Envoy, but is at the moment only playing for time until he sees what action the British Government will take to counter this move. You will undoubtedly hear reports that he has spoken with great bitterness of the way in which he has been treated by Her Majesty's Government; but I have not heard it suggested that he has any intention of yielding to a new friend what he has refused to an old ally, and I would emphasize yet again, and most strongly, that everything I have seen and heard, both in Kabul and elsewhere in Afghanistan, confirms my belief that Shere Ali is neither pro-Russian nor pro-British, but merely an Afghan who is striving to preserve the independence of his country against heavy odds – to name only two, a revolt by the Herati Ghilzais and the fact that his exiled nephew Abdur Rahman, now living under Russian protection, is widely believed to be willing to accede to any terms that his hosts may choose to demand, in return for his uncle's throne.’

But no amount of ‘special pleading’ could offset the shock and anger of the Viceroy and his advisers on hearing the news that a Russian Envoy had been received by the Amir, and welcomed with all honour, after Great Britain herself had been refused permission to send a similar mission to Kabul. This was an affront that no patriotic Englishman could be expected to stomach, and urgent letters were dispatched to London, pressing for permission to demand that the perfidious Shere Ali should consent to receive a British Mission in Kabul without any further shilly-shallying.

Faced with the irrefutable fact that a Russian Envoy had indeed been received by the Amir, the Foreign Secretary had given his consent, and the Viceroy had immediately set about selecting members for the Mission. The Commander-in-Chief of the Madras Army, General Sir Neville Chamberlain, was chosen to lead it, with two officers – one of them Major Louis Cavagnari – appointed to accompany him for ‘political duties’. The party would include a Military Secretary and two aides-de-camp, and Lieutenant Colonel Jenkins was given command of the escort, drawn from his own Regiment and consisting of Major Stewart, Captain Battye, a hundred sabres of the Cavalry and fifty bayonets of the Infantry of the Queen's Own Corps of Guides.