Hart of Empire (11 page)

'Show Mr Harper out.'

'At once.' He turned to George. 'This way, Harper Sahib.'

George followed Pir Ali out of the room and, as they reached the top of the stairs, put his arm on the
munshi
's shoulders. 'I must speak with you in private. My real name is Captain George Hart. I've been sent by the Foreign Office on a secret assignment.'

Pir Ali seemed mystified. 'I'm sorry, sahib, I don't understand.'

So convincing was Pir Ali's disavowal that for a second George feared he had the wrong man. Then he remembered the password. 'Himalaya,' he said, without explanation.

Instantly Pir Ali's demeanour changed. 'Welcome, sahib. Follow me.'

At the bottom of the stairs, Pir Ali led George along a short corridor and into a small, windowless room. A table was piled high with papers. 'My office,' explained Pir Ali. 'Now what can I do for you, sahib?'

'You can start by convincing your arrogant, short-sighted chief that you're all living on borrowed time.'

Pir Ali laughed. 'I've been trying to do that for months. My instructions from the Foreign Office are to watch for any signs of disaffection, and to warn Cavagnari Sahib accordingly, which I have. But he ignores me. It's as if he welcomes an explosion.'

'My thoughts exactly,' responded George. He explained his assignment to secure the Prophet's Cloak.

'I fear your task here has been compromised,' said Pir Ali, ruefully. 'Only the other day I overheard Cavagnari Sahib tell his secretary, Jenkyns Sahib, that it was vital he got his hands on the cloak before the Foreign Office did. It was the first time I'd heard him speak of it.'

'But how could he have found out?'

'Perhaps the Indian government has a spy in the Foreign Office. It wouldn't surprise me. But Cavagnari Sahib didn't mention you by name so he may not know your identity.'

George breathed a sigh of relief. 'That's something. If he did suspect anything just now, he didn't let on. Then again, he could hardly have been ruder. What do you think he plans to do with the cloak?'

'I couldn't say, sahib. It's possible he intends to give it to the mullah. That way a rebellion is certain. It will be followed by a British invasion. The resident has often talked of annexation as the only way to guarantee India's security. I suspect he covets the post of governor. You must never forget, Hart Sahib, that the cloak means power.'

George nodded. 'That's why I must get to it first. I was told you'd know how to find it. Do you?'

'I did. But I heard only yesterday that it had been moved from the shrine of Kharka Sharif in Kandahar.'

'Do you know by whom, and where it is going?'

'No, I do not. But the people who have it are either acting for Cavagnari Sahib or the mullah. I will ask my contacts. Now you had better go, sahib, or you'll arouse suspicion. Come back tomorrow and I should have some news for you.'

'I'll do that, but please don't take any unnecessary risks. The success of my mission depends on your information. One more thing: where can I spend the night?'

'Try the Shalimar Hotel on Faizabad Street. It is cheap and clean, and out of the way. But don't go out after dark. It is not safe in these troubled times.'

Chapter 7

George took Pir Ali's advice and shared a room with Ilderim at the ramshackle Shalimar Hotel. They regretted it the following morning, having been eaten alive by fleas, and it was as much as George could do to prevent Ilderim assaulting the owner.

Ilderim was still cursing as they rode back up the hill to the Bala Hissar, but the faint sound of fifes and drums caused George to interrupt: 'Hush! Listen!'

Ilderim cocked an ear. 'It sounds like soldiers,
huzoor
.'

They both swung round in their saddles and looked out across the dusty plain that separated the city from the Sherpur cantonment to the north. Advancing steadily up the road that skirted the city and led directly to the Bala Hissar they saw a great straggling mob of soldiers. The head of the column had just crossed the Kabul river, barely a mile distant, and would be with them in fifteen minutes. 'They must be the Herat troops,' said George. 'We'd better warn the resident.'

They clattered to a halt at the gatehouse. There was no sign of the surly havildar, but his replacement looked no more pleased to receive them. Once again Ilderim did the talking and they were soon waved through. At the Residency George was pleased to note that the guard had been strengthened, with six on duty at the entrance to the outer compound and another six on the inner gate. 'It seems our warnings weren't entirely disregarded,' he said to Ilderim, as they dismounted.

'Maybe not,
huzoor
, but what can twelve do against many thousands?'

They explained to the guards they had an appointment with the
munshi
and hurried into the main house where George almost collided with the resident who, having just returned from his morning ride, was still wearing his jodhpurs and hacking jacket. 'Ah, it's Harper, the Cassandra,' sneered Cavagnari, 'come to warn us the sky is about to collapse. I thought I made my feelings plain yesterday.'

'You did, perfectly,' said George, ignoring the sarcasm. 'But events have moved on since then. As we rode up the hill from the city just now we could see the Herat troops marching across the plain.'

'What of it? Like as not they're coming to receive their pay.'

'And what if there isn't money to pay them?'

'Then they'll come back when there is.'

George frowned. 'I believe you're being a little optimistic. If you only knew the temper of the troops you'd be taking every precaution. They'll be here in minutes.'

'I've heard enough of this,' said Cavagnari. 'Jemadar!' An immaculately dressed Sikh officer appeared from a side room. 'Escort this pair out of the compound without delay, please.'

The jemadar was about to comply when the sound of shouting caused him to pause. Cavagnari strode over to the door and opened it. The shouts and yells were much louder now, as if they were getting closer. He turned to the native officer. 'Jemadar, take two men and find out what's happening.'

'Sir.'

Minutes later the jemadar returned, his chest heaving with exertion. 'Sahib, come quick! Hundreds of unruly soldiers have entered the outer compound.'

'Why didn't the guard stop them?' asked Cavagnari.

'They didn't want to shoot for fear it would make matters worse.'

'Where's Hamilton?'

'He's at the cavalry lines, sahib, trying to stop the crowd looting.'

'I must speak to them,' said Cavagnari. 'Pir Ali!'

The
munshi
appeared from his office and acknowledged George with a slight dip of his head. 'Yes, sahib?' he said to Cavagnari.

'Come with me. I need you to translate.'

'Shall we come too?' asked George.

'If you must.'

They hurried through the gate into the outer compound and past the infantry barracks. Up ahead, stretching from the cavalry lines to the low mud wall, stood a thin picket of Guides, rifles at the ready. Beyond them raged a huge crowd of infuriated half-savage soldiery in their undress uniform, clutching clubs, wooden staves and stones, and shouting curses and threats.

They ran forward to the centre of the thin khaki line where they were met by Lieutenant Hamilton, who had reinforced the initial guard with another twenty men. He gestured towards the mob. 'They're demanding their arrears of pay, sir.'

'Are they indeed?' said Cavagnari. 'Cheeky blighters. I'll soon set them straight.'

'Sir Louis,' said George, 'if you have the money it might be the safest option to pay them.'

Cavagnari gave George a withering look. 'Nonsense. They're the amir's soldiers, not mine. If he doesn't stand on his own two feet now, he never will. Stand aside!'

The guard complied, enabling Cavagnari and Pir Ali to walk through the picket and stop within ten yards of the mutinous soldiers who, having recognised the resident, had fallen silent.

Prompted by Cavagnari, the
munshi
spoke to the crowd: 'His Excellency Sir Louis Cavagnari, Envoy and Minister Plenipotentiary to His Royal Highness the Amir of Kabul, wishes me to tell you that, even if he wanted to, he could not furnish your arrears of pay because he does not have enough money.'

The angry yells began again.

'But,' continued Pir Ali, forced to shout to make himself heard, 'he will speak to the amir today to try to ensure that you are paid what you are owed as soon as possible. In the meantime he asks you to cease this disorder and return quietly to your barracks.'

The crowd responded by jeering and throwing rocks, one of which narrowly missed Cavagnari's head. But Pir Ali was not so fortunate, a missile catching him flush on the forehead. The crack as stone met skull was quickly followed by the boom of shots from the Guides' Sniders. Three Afghans fell to the ground, as did Pir Ali, while the crowd scattered in all directions.

George and Ilderim rushed forward and dragged Pir Ali to safety as the crowd rapidly funnelled out of the compound.

'Will he live?' asked Cavagnari, as they placed Pir Ali's unconscious body gently on the ground.

'I don't know,' replied George, feeling his wrist. 'His pulse is weak. He took quite a blow to the head.'

'Hamilton, order four of your men to carry Pir Ali back to the Mess House so Dr Kelly can examine him. Then withdraw the rest of the guard to the barracks and the inner courtyard. Make sure all the doors are barricaded and the roofs manned. They've dispersed for the moment but they might return.'

'I'd say that's very likely, sir,' said George. 'My guess is they've gone to loot the armoury and rouse their fellows.'

Cavagnari cleared his throat. 'It seems, Harper, you were right all along. I apologize for doubting you. How long do think we've got?'

'An hour, maybe less. Your best course is to appeal to the amir for protection. If he sends some of his own regiments to intervene, the Herat troops would never dare to attack.'

'I'm sure you're right. Hamilton, who would you recommend as a messenger?'

'Sowar Taimur, sir. He's descended from the Sadozai amirs of Kabul and speaks the lingo. If he takes off his uniform, he shouldn't arouse too much suspicion.'

'Taimur it is, then. Tell him to collect the letter from my house in five minutes. And can you also provide Harper and his guide with Sniders and ammunition from the armoury? We'll need their help if the mob returns.'

'Sir.'

As Cavagnari returned to his house, Hamilton turned to George. 'Are you armed, Mr Harper?'

George patted the shoulder holster he was wearing under his jacket. 'I have a revolver.'

'What about Ilderim Khan?'

'He has his Khyber knife.'

'Much good that will do him. Has either of you used a Snider before?'

'No,' said George, 'though I have fired a Martini-Henry.'

'I have handled neither,
huzoor
,' put in Ilderim. 'When I was a Guide we used muzzle-loading Enfields.'

Hamilton laughed. 'One ahead of his time, one behind. But no matter, you're both familiar with firearms and a quick demonstration will set you straight.'

'If I may ask,' said George, 'why
are
you still armed with the Snider? The British Army stopped using it years ago.'

'Which is why we have it now. Since the Mutiny, there's been an understandable mistrust of native soldiers and a deliberate policy to keep them at a slight disadvantage by issuing them with the previous generation of firearm to that used by the British Army. So when British troops got the Martini-Henry a few years ago, our men were given their Sniders.'

'Doesn't that benefit our enemies?'

'Not in Afghanistan. Oh, I know what they say about the Snider - that it's a breech-loading conversion of the old Enfield rifle, whereas the Martini-Henry was custom-built. And that's all true. But the Snider still has a couple of major advantages: it's accurate to a thousand yards, which is further than the Martini-Henry, and its slug packs a greater punch.'