by Harold Lamb
“What did Muhammad Asad prophesy?" he asked swiftly.
I had no answer to that, as the kwajah was a holy man. Nevertheless, I had been thinking. Wise men in the mosques have said that a holy man who fasts can perceive the thoughts of others. Perhaps Muhammad Asad did but echo the thought he had caught from Sir Weyand.
“Be there many Uzbeks in Balkh?" he asked meditatively.
“Nay; they are in the field with Jani Beg. The people of Balkh are of every race.
“Then we will seize the city."
“God writes the future in the book of fate. But it is madness to seek to write therein ourselves."
Then I told him how Balkh was like a hub, a hub in the wheel of Badakshan. Its people were traders and were very wealthy. They cared little what master they served so long as the caravans came and went. And, like ants, the riders of Jani Beg scurried over the spokes of the wheel of Badakshan. He kept in touch with the wealthy city, although his forces were pinning Shirzad Mir to the hills in the East.
We were even then in danger of discovery and death, but Sir Weyand would not listen.
“We have had an omen, Abdul Dost. And, as for fate, did not Muhammad Asad make a prophecy?"
II
Thus did the mad whim of Sir Weyand lead us to Badakshan's great city of Balkh. It was useless to argue with him. He had the stubbornness of a wild ass and the quick wit of a falcon. When I said that Shirzad Mir had ordered me to keep him from danger, he asked if I was growing old, that I feared sharp sword strokes. He cried that with the jewels and lakhs of rupees he had in his saddlebags he would buy me a silk carpet from Isphahan and a soft wife from Persia to comfort my old age.
When I asked how we, who were but two, and marked men, could take a walled city, he made answer in curious fashion.
“In Cathay—" by which he meant the Han Empire of China— “it is said there are dwarfs with two heads, one looking forward and one back. Thus their face will speak one tongue, and their back another. We will make ourselves two-headed and speak with two tongues. In this way we shall be masters of Balkh."
This was madness, and I made no answer except to say that there would then be four heads instead of two to place on spears at the gates of the city when Jani Beg should hear of our folly. And I paid little heed to his questions about the two great gates of Balkh which are the only entrance through the walls, and the evil bazaars wherein the hillmen find their bhang and opium and women of Persia—also the distance from Balkh to the camp of Jani Beg. It was but a day's fast ride.
I liked the venture little, although I would have risked much to attack Khanjut, because Balkh was a city of trade; and what would the bazaars and the marble palace avail us, who even then were fugitives from the power of the Mogul?
So I brooded as we rode to Balkh, keeping to the by-paths and riding at night. Sir Weyand still had a grain of sense, for he brought a dirty shepherd's khalat to put over his strange clothes, and a greasy turban which he bound over his cap with a grimace.
Thus it was at night that we entered the east gate of Balkh. There were no guards, for traders are slack in such matters. Nevertheless, the walls loomed over us like grim things of evil omen. No horse could jump them, and the gates could be closed.
We were like antelope walking into the nets of hunters. On each side of the gate I saw some dried heads hung in cages. Jani Beg was a hard master and he inspired submission by blood. A night-bird flew away at our approach.
At Sir Weyand's bidding, I led him to the bazaar quarter where are the caravansaries under the eastern wall. Here, there were much light and noise. The curtains over the fronts of the shops were closed, but candlelight shone through them.
The caravansaries were aglow with torches, for many hillmen had brought in sheep and skins to trade—and to steal what they might. The mud-and-thatch taverns were tumultuous with merrymaking and the laughter of light women.
Odors of musk, civet, stale wine and dirt crept into my nostrils. It was like a den of animals. And we had come into the pen.
It did not displease Sir Weyand. I had thought that he would turn back when he saw the numbers that were in Balkh. But he gazed keenly at the figures that slipped past us in the shadows. And he dismounted at a tavern somewhat back from the others—a mere roof of cane, over some carpets on which many men lay drunk with wine of Shiraz cooled by snow brought from the mountains.
I loosened my scimitar and tethered the horses well in back of the place, as I knew it was a den of the hillmen, where a man's life hangs lightly.
Still, I would not draw back, for his taunts had angered me and I had ceased to point out his folly.
Madder than ever he appeared that night. He stepped over the squatting Afghans and Ghils, heedless of the sharp looks they cast at us. The light from a few candles was bad, so they did not at first mark him for a Ferang. Nevertheless, they were astir with curiosity and watched while he drank in the corner he had chosen and laughed as he pointed at the harlot that had brought him his wine. Beside her toddled a Khotanese dwarf—one of the wretches that dance in the bazaars to earn the leavings of wine and meat that are tossed to them.
“A second omen, Abdul Dost," he whispered.
“Nay; it is a misshapen thing. These men have marked us. Tomorrow the word of our coming will be through the bazaars."
“Know they your face?" he asked sharply. “Are there Uzbeks here? I do not think so."
“They are not Uzbeks—" I glanced covertly around the place— “but they are masterless men who would cut your throat for a single jewel of those you carry." As I spoke, I noticed a hillman watching us. “There is one who knows me. Kur Asaf, a low-born Ghil whose name is thievery, who is an evil snake, a toad, who can not frame a word but it is a lie—"
“Good," he broke in. “Summon him hither."
If I had needed further proof of his folly, here it was. Given a glimpse of the coins and jewels the Ferang carried, and we should not live to be staked on Jani Beg's spears. Kur Asaf would slit our throats and bury us in the mud behind the bazaars. “Eh," he grinned as he squatted in front of us, with two yellow teeth showing through his thin mustache.
“Peace be upon the worthy Abdul Dost," he muttered unctu-ously—he had never taken off his shoes within a temple. “What brings the mansabdar to Balkh, which is the city of Jani Beg?"
I would have answered sharply, but Sir Weyand pressed my knee with his arm.
“Spoil, Kur Asaf," he smiled back.
The Ghil—may his ancestors have sorrow from his knavery— drank a bowl of rank wine to hide his surprise at sight of the Ferang. I think he had never seen such a man before.
“There is spoil to be had in Balkh, Kur Asaf," repeated Sir Weyand.
The hillman was at a loss. He could not guess what lay behind Sir Weyand's words, nor why I should be with him. His curiosity grew, and the mention of loot was like added brush to a fire.
Then Sir Weyand, before I could prevent, plucked out a double handful of silver coins, with several good diamonds, and showed them to Kur Asaf.
“Here is some," he said softly, “and we will gain more. I am a merchant and I will not waste my time without profit. Abdul Dost says that you are a shrewd man. Doubtless you have followers in the bazaars."
Kur Asaf drew a long breath at sight of the money. He peered at Sir Weyand keenly. Truly, he knew not what to think. Nor did I—save that my friend must be mad.
“Ten score," he said, and lied. Perhaps he had two score. He was a power among the thieves.
“Good." Sir Weyand leaned close to him, in spite of the smell. “I find you to my liking. Come here after sunset tomorrow night, and we will talk together, you and I. There will be spoil for you."
The Ghil looked knowing, but he was as much at a loss as I. He could not believe the good fortune that had brought Sir Weyand to his hand for the plucking. I think he suspected we were spies for Shirzad Mir. Yet the thought was strong upon him that we might have betrayed Shirzad Mir and joined Jani Beg.
> “Say nothing of our coming to other than your own men," I cautioned him, thus arousing his curiosity further.
“We are not strangers to Jani Beg," added Sir Weyand calmly.
Was there ever such a man? It was all I could do to keep from a grunt of surprise. I looked wise, yearning for a chance to speak alone with Sir Weyand.
This mystified the Ghil the more.
“It shall be done," he said at length.
“Good," echoed the Ferang, and handed him a large diamond. He put it in a fold of his turban, looking around to be sure he was not observed.
As he left the tavern, Kur Asaf spoke briefly with some of the hillmen. I guessed that he told them to watch us, and not to harm us until he should order it. Verily, we must have aroused his curiosity.
“Kur Asaf," Weyand said thoughtfully, “will not lift weapon against us until he knows for certain what master we serve. Likewise, Abdul Dost, is it not true that he will keep the other thieves from us until then?"
He was a shrewd man, my comrade, but he had the Ferang's intolerance of robber folk which I did not share, being wise in those matters.
Whereupon he said that he would sleep. Later, he added, I might do so, for I would need my strength presently. He fell into slumber while I meditated upon what had passed. I could not tell head from tail of the matter. Nevertheless, it was clear that Sir Weyand was acting upon a plan. And from this I took some comfort, not knowing at that time the gigantic folly of what was in his mind.
As he had ordered, I slept for some hours after he had wakened at dawn. Being a little wearied by the ride and more by the heat of the place, I did not arouse until after the midday prayers.
We were alone in the tavern, although men came from time to time to look in on us, and I guessed they were friends of Kur Asaf who wished to satisfy their curiosity. Our plight was that of a bullock bound.
“We will take Balkh, you and I," he said idly.
“How?" I asked.
He had no answer save a jest.
“Have you forgotten your own words? You said, Abdul Dost, that if we had two heads and they were set on the gate-posts, we would face two ways."
B’illah—he angered me! He would say no more, only cautioning me to help him make Kur Asaf believe we had much wealth to reward the Ghils with. Truly, this mattered little, for the Ghils would cut our throats as readily for a single silver coin as for many.
“Is it your thought," I asked, “that with the score of thieves we may take Balkh? That may not be. The townsmen, although merchants, are like dogs that lick the sandals of Jani Beg. And they are ten thousand with swords."
“We will not strike a sword-stroke," he made reply. Then I knew he must be touched with madness. He threw off his khalat and the greasy turban and washed himself. I did likewise, wishing to perform my lawful ablutions before the angel of death summoned me. Then he slumbered, and I watched until after the evening meal and sunset prayers. I heard the mullahs call the holy words, and the sound was as welcome as a mountain breeze in the filth of the bazaars. With darkness came various painted women and the dwarf. Guitars and tambours struck up around us. Still our tavern was empty of men, which I took for a bad sign.
Then came Kur Asaf, swaggering, and squatted down on the carpets in front of the Ferang. With him entered a score of men—I counted thirty, and well-armed—who stared at my comrade.
Kur Asaf waited for Sir Weyand to speak the first word. I, likewise, waited, being angry. When he spoke it was not what I thought.
“Have you kettledrums?" he asked sharply. The words had the ring of an order. Kur Asaf growled that the drums might be bought in the bazaars. Sir Weyand tossed one of the Ghils money and the man went out.
The men pressed closer at this, but Sir Weyand did not look up, nor did he move. This impressed them and they fell to talking among themselves. Their curiosity was great. Also, they were afire to learn how they could gain the more spoil—by robbing us here, or robbing others for us and keeping the reward for themselves. God has sown naught but evil thoughts in the hearts of Ghils, although they are bold men after a fashion.
They stirred and scratched uneasily as the silence grew. They were slender, dark-faced folk, dirty of dress, yet with excellent weapons. Jani Beg had many in his army, as he paid well.
“I have come as I promised," uttered Kur Asaf when the drums were brought. “And here be my men. What have you to offer us?"
“Are you afraid to take a risk?"
“Nay," replied the Ghil complacently, “we have no fear."
“Then I will divide among you a lakh of rupees and diamonds —one to each man. Also a handful of pearls to the one that bears my message to Shirzad Mir. You will be paid when our task is finished."
I pricked up my ears at this. As for the Ghil, he was more mystified than before. First Sir Weyand had spoken the name of Jani Beg. Now he named Shirzad Mir. The men of Balkh—even the hillmen—were little better than driven dogs that fawn upon a master. Aye, that is the curse of India—save for the Rajputs and mayhap the Pathans—that they are born to feel the yoke of a master. Kur Asaf dared not offend an envoy of Jani Beg, lord of ten thousand Uzbek swords, nor did he desire the enmity of Shirzad Mir, who loosened the arrows of vengeance swiftly, and might again be in power as he once had been.
“This is the message," continued the Ferang before the other could meditate fully upon the matter, “to be delivered by word of mouth. It is that Shirzad Mir should pick twenty-five score good riders and come by night to the ravine just north of the great well of Ghori."
Now, the three places of Balkh, Khanjut and the camp of Shirzad Mir make a triangle—such as is used by the astrologers— a triangle with the sides equal. And the camp of my master lay to the east of the triangle. Khanjut was to the South, and Balkh to the West.
The ravine north of the well of Ghori was just in the center of the three points. So much I knew.
“Say to Shirzad Mir," added the Ferang, “that I, Sir Weyand, send the message. He is to be at this place of meeting by the third watch of tomorrow night. He must not fail. By this sign he will know the message is true."
The Englishman took from his hand a ring Shirzad Mir had given him. It was a fine sapphire. Also, he dropped into the claw of the Ghil three small pearls.
“The rider who carries the word," he explained, “will have twice this number of pearls when I rejoin him at the well of Ghori."
The thought came to me that the rider would not take the message to Shirzad Mir, but to the Uzbeks, and claim a greater reward. Sir Weyand's next words showed that he had reasoned upon this also.
“The rider must go swiftly, for this matter affects Jani Beg." He lowered his voice, but not so the others could not hear. “Jani Beg's men will be in Balkh by nightfall on the morrow. There will be a tumult in Balkh, Kur Asaf, and those who are nimble of wit will not lose thereby. Aye, blood will be shed at the gates and spoil taken in the bazaars. Much hangs upon this—even the power of the Mogul."
By now Kur Asaf was groping for the meaning of this in darkness. How was he to know what we were? The Ferang's words had hinted we were traitors to Shirzad Mir. Our presence in Balkh seemed to confirm this, yet the message was to Shirzad Mir.
I, also, was puzzled. Perhaps Sir Weyand meant but to deceive the Ghils. Yet why had he appointed a meeting-place with my master?
Kur Asaf whispered to one of his men and gave him two pearls. The other he kept for himself. I have keen ears and I overheard him say to deliver the message as he had heard it if he would keep his hide whole.
The Ghil scented mighty deeds, and his greed was inflamed. Whatever happened, he could slay Sir Weyand and me and take our wealth. At the same time he was sure he was aiding either Shirzad Mir or Jani Beg—he thought the Uzbeks.
Sir Weyand allowed him no time to meditate further.
“Ho, Kur Asaf," he cried, rising and stretching himself, “are you a man for a daring deed? Do you fear to take plunder from these fat swine of merchants? Will y
ou join forces with me and Abdul Dost?"
Will a jackal go to the smell of meat? The Ghil's small eyes gleamed. He would come with us, he said. Verily, he did not want to let us escape from his sight with the lakh of rupees.
“Good!" cried the Ferang with his broad smile. “Then choose a dozen of your men. They must ride a circuit around Balkh with break of day. They must make a chain in the plain without the walls and keep back any that seek to leave the town from dawn until dark."
This promised well and the Ghil did as he was directed, counting off and dismissing twelve of his rascals. This left sixteen in the tavern.
These Sir Weyand divided into two equal groups.
“What is it you seek to do?" asked Kur Asaf shrewdly.
“Soon you will see. Remember I do this for one who is greater than I. You and I, Kur Asaf, will take the kettledrums and go to the eastern gate. The other party, under Abdul Dost, will seek the western gate. There are but two. Then we will seize the gates."
I stared, and the Ghils grunted their surprise. But I was more surprised than they. Seize the gates of Balkh! When we were no better than outlaws! When a day would bring an armed party from the Uzbeks to cut us down—
But Sir Weyand had me by the arm.
“You will act as follows, Abdul Dost," he said loudly. “When you are at the west gate, close it so only one man can slip through. Station men outside and within. Remain without, yourself. To those who approach Balkh from the plain, say that Shirzad Mir has captured the city. To the townspeople within, say that Jani Beg has closed the gates for two nights and a day."
His stern face became harder as he spoke.
“Slay any who try to force the gate!" he ordered. Then, sinking his voice as he strode to the door of the tavern: “Take your horse. Keep him near. Send messages by the outer riders to me as long as all is well. By nightfall on the morrow you will hear shots.
Mount at once and ride through the town to me. Cut down any who get in your way."