These would-be Turkmans are in reality Tymúri horsemen, lately in the service of Ataullah Khán, their tribal chief. This man was one of the chiefs of the Tátár tribes settled about Herat since the invasion of Tymúr Lang or Tamerlane, and named after that devastating conqueror. In 1857, when the prince-governor of Khorassan, Sultán Murád Mirzá, Hisámussaltanat, of Mashhad, attacked Herat, this chief, with his following, joined the Persian standard. On the retreat of the Persian army from Herat territory, Ataullah, by way of reward for his services, and compensation for the compromise his conduct had brought about, was transported, with four hundred families of his tribe, to the Kohi Surkh district of Turshíz, and granted the villages of Kundar, Khalilábád, Dihnan, Majdí, Sarmujdí, Bijingar, and Argi, in military fief for their support.
During the famine last year, these men, becoming hard pressed for food, threw off the restraint of their chief, and took to the more congenial occupation of plundering the caravans from Herat to Tehran, and were soon joined by other adventurers and robbers, who grow in this country like mushrooms on mould. Their depredations led to such widespread complaint, that the governor of Mashhad sent the Imami Jumá to inquire into the conduct of the tribe, redress complaints, and restore the plundered property. Ataullah, hearing of this, himself fled and joined the robbers, but was conciliated, and persuaded to tender his submission at Mashhad. The subsequent conduct of his people, however, who waylaid and murdered a party of government officials on their way across Reg Amráni towards Tabbas, has still further compromised their chief with the Government, and Ataullah is now a close prisoner at Tehran, and it is supposed will answer with his life for the conduct of his tribesmen. This history, interesting in itself, is eminently characteristic of the state of society and weak government on this frontier.
Our route from Dashtí Pyáz was W.N.W., ascending a long upland or chol separated from the Gúnábád plain on the right by the Laki ridge of hills, and from the Munawáj glen on the left by a broken chain of hillocks. Passing a roadside ábambár about half-way, we halted at the sixth mile at a willow-fringed tank near the picturesque little castle of Sihúkri for breakfast. Here we found some fine elm and walnut trees. The rise is about 900 feet above Dashtí Pyáz, and affords an extensive view of the Nímbulúk plain and country to the southward. Our baggage, with the escort of hired matchlockmen, went on ahead, and we followed an hour and a half later.
Onwards from this, our route was N.N.W., through a narrow winding gorge bounded by low hills of slate and magnesian limestone, in which we found some fossil bivalves and oysters. A gradual ascent of four miles brought us to the Gudari Kakhak, a narrow watershed pass that marks the boundary between the districts of Gháyn and Tabbas. Its elevation is about 6838 feet above the sea, and 1408 feet above Dashtí Pyáz. It is closed for two months in winter by snow, and in wet weather is difficult for laden cattle, owing to the loose marly soil becoming a deep slippery mud.
The descent is gradual, through a long drainage gully receiving branches on either side down to a wide boulder-strewn ravine with high banks, which opens on to the Gúnábád plain, near Kakhak. At three miles down the gully we came to an ábambár, where a road branches off to the left direct to Kakhak over the hills, but it is difficult for laden cattle. At this spot, too, a branch gully comes down from the right. In it is said to be a copper-mine, which has been abandoned for some years, owing to the vein being lost. We noticed that the surface was strewed with stones of a bright greenish blue colour, as if coated with acetate of copper.
The hill slopes on each side of the gully are cultivated in terraces, and irrigated by streams led along their brows; and on our way down, we passed several black tents of ilyát families occupied in the preparation of cheese and the peculiar round balls of that substance known by the name of cúrút. At the lower part of the gully we turned to the left out of it, beyond the castellated village of Mullahabad, and at a mile farther on came to our camp, pitched on an open gravelly surface near some gardens at a short distance from Kakhak. This is a flourishing town of about four hundred houses, surrounded by fruit gardens and corn-fields, and protected by a citadel. A prominent object of attraction is the mausoleum erected to the memory of Sultán Muhammad, a brother of Imám Razá, the saint of Mashhad. It stands on a commanding eminence, and has a handsome dome of glazed tiles, the bright colours of which are set off to the best advantage by the whitewashed portals of its groundwork. Ferrier, in his “Caravan Journeys,” mentions this place as being the site of one of the most bloody battles ever fought between the Afghans and Persians. It occurred in 1751, when Sháh Ahmad’s (Durrani) Baloch allies, under their own chief Nasír Khán, defeated the Persians and slew their leader, ’Ali Murád Khán, governor of Tabbas, who came here to give them battle. By this victory Tabbas was annexed to the Durrani kingdom.
A finer sight for a fair fight could not be found. The ground dips down to the wide plain or júlagah of Junabad in an uninterrupted slope, and affords a splendid field for the use of cavalry, as is expressed in the name, applied generally to the succession of valleys or plains that characterise the physical geography of this country. Júlagah is evidently the diminutive form of júlangah, which means a plain suited to military exercises, or any level ground for horsemanship.
Kakhak seems to have suffered severely during the famine, but the accounts we received as to the extent of loss were so contradictory that it was impossible to get at the truth or an approximation to it. Numbers of beggars, sickly, pale, and emaciated, wandered timidly about our camp, craving in piteous tones a morsel of bread. Poor creatures! nobody cares for them, even the small coins we give them are snatched away by the stronger before our eyes. Truly if fellow-feeling makes wondrous kind, fellow-suffering makes wondrous unkind.
14th April.—Kakhak to Zihbud, sixteen miles; route nearly due west, hugging the hill range on our left, with the great Gúnábád valley down to the right. The centre of the valley is occupied by a succession of considerable villages, with gardens, vineyards, and corn-fields, watered by numerous kárez streams. To the east it communicates through a gap in the hills with the great desert of Kháf, which extends south-east to Ghoryán and Herat. To the northward it is separated from Bijistan on the one hand and Reg Amráni on the other by a low range of hilly ridges or tappah, over which are some easy passes on the direct route through the valley.
At Kakhak we parted from the mihmandár appointed to accompany us on the part of the governor of Gháyn, and were joined in the like capacity by Muhammad Ali Beg, the zábit or ruler of Gúnábád. He is a very ferocious-looking man, with square bull-dog features, and a heavy coarse mustache, that completely conceals the mouth, and curls over the short-trimmed wiry whiskers, all dyed bright orange with henna. His manner, however, is very quiet and friendly. He welcomed us to the Tabbas district, and promised we should receive very different treatment from that we had experienced at the hands of Mír Ali Khán of Gháyn. He had heard of his conduct; considered he had acted host very indifferently; reckoned he would be called to account for it by the Sháh; thought that the prince-governor of Mashhad would profit by the opportunity to injure him; and, for his own part, hoped he would come to condign grief.