To Herat and Cabul: A Story of the First Afghan War

by G. A. Henty

"I hear that you speak the language of our country. How is that?" the Afghan asked suddenly.

"I do not speak it well, your highness," replied Angus, who had thought is possible that this question might be asked him. "Having known for some time that I should make this journey hither, I studied for a time with a slave who had been bought by a merchant of my employer's acquaintance, who had himself bought him from the Turkomans in a journey that he made in their country. But I speak it only well enough to make my way through the country, and to obtain such necessaries as may be required on the journey, and to converse in some fashion with such travellers as I might meet on the road or in the khans."

"It was reported to me that you spoke so that all could understand you," he said. "It was this that seemed strange to me that you, a Persian, should speak Pushtoo. I will speak to you further another day."

As Angus returned to the khan, he felt that he was an object of suspicion. Up to the point when the Prince had sharply and suddenly asked how he came to speak Pushtoo, his bland manner had led him to believe that he had been simply desirous of obtaining the last news from the frontier. But this showed him unmistakably that the Prince had learned something which had excited his suspicions that he was there either as an emissary from Kamran, or of Russia or Persia, desirous of ascertaining the position of affairs at Candahar, the forces at the disposal of the princes, and the feeling among the people in general with reference to a protectorate, or occupation by one or other of those powers. Angus knew the naturally suspicious character of Eastern princes. In Persia no one ever ventured to discuss any public affairs openly. In Herat, hated as Kamran and Yar Mahomed were, no one dared breathe a word of aught but adulation, for the slightest suspicion of disloyalty sufficed to bring about the ruin and death of the unfortunate man on whom it fell.

The last words of the Prince were in fact a sentence of imprisonment to the city for an indefinite time. The Prince might not send for him again for months. But the mere intimation that he would do so was sufficient. He could not continue his journey without running the risk of being pursued and brought back again, in which case he might first be tortured to extract any secret he might possess, and then be put to death. He might, for aught he knew, be already spied upon, and everything that he said or did reported. Consequently, when he reached the khan, he took care to evince no appearance of thoughtfulness or uneasiness, but chatted with the traders there upon commercial matters, respecting the advantages of Cabul and Candahar as trading centres, the amount of the taxes laid upon goods in the two cities, and other topics that would naturally be of interest to a merchant intending to establish himself in Afghanistan.

He was under no uneasiness as to Azim. He had instructed him carefully in the account he should give of himself, the city from which he came, the merchants whose agent he was, the route he had followed, and other similar matters, so that their stories should correspond in all respects. When all had lain down for the night, Angus was able to think over quietly what was to be done. As to remaining where he was, it was clearly out of the question. For aught he knew, the British force said to be gathering to advance on Cabul might be months before it was put in motion, or the expedition might be abandoned altogether. Even if the advance was made, it might not pass through Candahar, and he might be detained in that city for an indefinite time. It was evident, therefore, that he must somehow escape. The question was how this could be managed. What disguise could he adopt, and how could he evade the vigilance of those who were watching him? The matter was rendered all the more difficult by the fact that there were practically but two roads open to him, that through the Kojak Pass to Quettah, and that to the north-east through Kelat-i-Ghilzye and Ghuznee to Cabul. If he moved off either of these regular lines of traffic he would be unable to give any reason for his divergence, and in any case would be subject to plunder. Even on these roads it was only as a travelling merchant he would be respected, and as a travelling merchant he would be quickly overtaken by the Prince's followers.

Think as he would, no plan occurred to him, and he at last went to sleep determining to consult Azim, in whose sharpness he had much faith. In the morning, accordingly, as soon as he was up, he sauntered across the yard to where the boy was watching the horses feed, and preventing other less fortunate animals from robbing them.

"Azim," he said, "the Princes have their suspicions of me, and have as much as ordered me not to leave the town; try and think over some manner in which we may get away, and if overtaken may not be recognized. I do not wish to talk with you now, because for aught we know a spy may be at present watching us, but at mid-day I will come out and speak to you again. In the meantime think it over. Now, when the horses have done feeding, take your basket, go into the bazaar, and buy food for our dinner, so that anyone who may be watching us may suppose that I have merely been giving you orders what to purchase."

He then went out into the town, and spent the morning looking into the shops, and asking questions as to the prices of the goods, so that he might appear to be ascertaining what profits would be made. He also went to several shops which happened to be untenanted, asked the rent, and made enquiries about the accommodation. At dinner-time he went over to where Azim was squatting, attending to two earthenware pots that were simmering over a small charcoal fire, which he was fanning to keep it going.

"I can think of nothing, master."