Complete Works of Talbot Mundy

by Talbot Mundy

  “I shall name a price,” said Ranjoor Singh. “A low price. We shall both be content with our bargain, and possibly Wassmuss, too, may feel satisfied for a while.”

  “Nay, you must be a wizard!” said the Kurd. “Speak on!”

  “Tell me first,” said Ranjoor Singh, “about the party who went through this defile two days ahead of us.”

  “What do you know of them?” asked the Kurd.

  “This,” said Ranjoor Singh. “We have followed them from Mosul, learning here a little and there a little. What is it that they have with them? Who are they? Why were they let pass?”

  “They were let pass because Wassmuss gave the order,” the Kurd answered. “They are Germans — six German officers, six German servants — and Kurds — twenty-four Kurds of the plains acting porters and camp-servants — many mules — two mules bearing a box slung on poles between them.”

  “What was in the box?” asked Ranjoor Singh.

  “Nay, I know not,” said the Kurd.

  “Nevertheless,” said Ranjoor Singh, “my brother is a man with eyes and ears. What did my brother hear?”

  “They said their machine can send and receive a message from places as far apart as Khabul and Stamboul. Doubtless they lied,” the Kurd answered.

  “Doubtless!” said Ranjoor Singh. By his slow even breathing and apparent indifference, I knew he was on a hot scent, so I tried to appear indifferent myself, although my ears burned. The Kurds clustering around their leader listened with ears and eyes agape. They made no secret of their interest.

  “They said they are on their way to Khabul,” the Kurd continued, “there to receive messages from Europe and acquaint the amir and his ruling chiefs of the true condition of affairs.”

  “How shall they reach Afghanistan?” asked Ranjoor Singh. “Does a road through Persia lie open to them?”

  “Nay,” said the Kurd. “Persia is like a nest of hornets. But they are to receive an escort of us Kurds to take them through Persia. We mountain Kurds are not afraid of Persians.”

  “Which Kurds are to provide the escort?” Ranjoor Singh asked him, and the Kurd shook his head.

  “Nay,” he said, “that none can tell. It is not yet agreed. There is small competition for the task. There are better pickings here on the border, raiding now and then, and pocketing the gold of this Wassmuss between-whiles! Who wants the task of escorting a machine in a box to Khabul?”

  “Nevertheless,” said Ranjoor Singh, “I know of a leader and his men who will undertake the task.”

  “Who, then?” said the Kurd.

  “I and my men!” said Ranjoor Singh; and I held my breath until I thought my lungs would burst. “Persia!” thought I. “Afghanistan!” thought I. “And what beyond?”

  “Ye are not Kurds,” the chief answered, after he had considered a while. “Wassmuss said the escort must consist of three hundred Kurds or he will not pay.”

  “The payment shall be arranged between me and thee!” said Ranjoor Singh. “You shall have all the gold of this next convoy, if you will ride back to Wassmuss and agree that you and your men shall be the escort to Afghanistan.”

  “Who shall guard this pass if I ride back?” the Kurd asked.

  “I!” said Ranjoor Singh. “I and my men will wait here for the gold. Leave me a few of your men to be guides and to keep peace between us and other Kurds among these mountains. Ride and tell Wassmuss that the gold will not come for another thirty days.”

  “He will not believe,” said the Kurd.

  “I will give you a letter,” said Ranjoor Singh.

  “He will not believe the letter,” said the Kurd.

  “What is that to thee, whether he believes it or not?” said Ranjoor Singh. “At least he will believe that Turks brought you the letter, and that you took it to him in good faith. Will he charge you with having written it?”

  “Nay,” said the Kurd, nodding, “I can not write, and he knows it.”

  “Do that, then,” said Ranjoor Singh. “Ride and agree to be escort for these Germans and their machine to Afghanistan. Leave me here with ten or a dozen of your men, who will guide me after I have the gold to where you shall be camping with your Germans somewhere just beyond the Persian border. I will arrange to overtake you after dusk — perhaps at midnight. There I will give you the gold, and you shall ride away. I and my men will ride on as escort to the Germans.”

  “What if they object?” said the Kurd.

  “Who? The men with the box, or Wassmuss?” asked Ranjoor Singh.

  “Nay,” said the Kurd, “Wassmuss will be very glad to get a willing escort. He is in difficulty over that. There will be no objection from him. But what if the men with the box object to the change of escorts?”

  “We be over two hundred, and they thirty!” answered Ranjoor Singh, and the Kurd nodded.

  “After all,” he said, “that is thy affair. But how am I to know that you and your men will not ride off with the gold? Nay, I must have the gold first!”

  Ranjoor Singh shook his head.

  “Then I and my men will stay here and help seize the gold,” the Kurd said meaningly.

  “Nay!” said Ranjoor Singh. “For then you would fight me for it!”

  “Thou and I have eaten bread and salt together!” said the Kurd.

  “True,” said Ranjoor Singh, “therefore trust me, for I am a Sikh from India.”

  “I know nothing of Sikhs, or of India,” said the Kurd. “Gold I know in the dark, by its jingle and weight, but who knows the heart of a man?”

  “Then listen,” said Ranjoor Singh. “If you and your men seize the gold, you must bear the blame. When the Turks come later on for vengeance, you will hang. But if I stay and take the gold, who shall know who I am? You will be able to prove with the aid of Wassmuss that neither you nor your men were anywhere near when, the attack took place.”

  “Then you will make an ambush?” said the Kurd.

  “I will set a trap,” said Ranjoor Singh. “Moreover, consider this: You think I may take the gold and keep it. How could I? Having taken it from the Turks, should I ride back toward Turkey? Whither else, then? Shall I escape through Persia, with you and your Kurds to prevent? Nay, we must make a fair bargain as friend with friend — and keep it!”

  “If I do as you say,” said the Kurd, “if I take this letter to Wassmuss, and agree with him to escort those Germans across Persia, what, then, if you fail to get the gold? What if the Turks get the better of you?”

  “Dead men can not keep bargains!” answered Ranjoor Singh. “I shall succeed or die. But consider again: I have led these men of mine hither from Stamboul, deceiving and routing and outdistancing Turkish regiments all the way. Shall I fail now, having come so far?”

  “Insha’ Allah!” said the Kurd, meaning, “If God wills.”

  “Since when did God take sides against the brave?” Ranjoor Singh asked him, and the Kurd said nothing; but I feared greatly because they seemed on the verge of a religious argument, and those Kurds are fanatics. If anything but gold had been in the balance against him, I believe that Kurd would have defied us, for, although he did not know what Sikhs might be, he knew us for no Musselmen. I saw his eyes look inward, meditating treachery, not only to Wassmuss, but to us, too. But Ranjoor Singh detected that quicker than I did.

  “Let us neglect no points,” he said, and the Kurd brought his mind back with an effort from considering plans against us. “It would be possible for me to get that gold, and for other Kurds — not you or your men, of course, but other Kurds — to waylay me in the mountains. Therefore let part of the agreement be that you leave with me ten hostages, of whom two shall be your blood relations.”

  The Kurd winced. He was a little keen man, with, a thin face and prominent nose; not ill-looking, but extremely acquisitive, I should say.

  “Wassmuss holds my brother hostage!” he answered grimly, as if he had just then thought of it.

  “I have a German prisoner here,” said Ranjoor Singh, with the
nearest approach to a smile that he had permitted himself yet, “and Wassmuss will be very glad to exchange him against your brother when the time comes.”

  “Ah!” said the Kurd, and —

  “Ah!” said Ranjoor Singh. He saw now which way the wind blew, and, like all born cavalry leaders, he pressed his advantage.

  “Do the Turks hold any of your men prisoner?” he asked.

  “Aye!” said the Kurd. “They hold an uncle of mine, and my half-brother, and seven of my best men. They keep them in jail in fetters.”

  “I have five Turkish prisoners, all officers, one a bimbashi, whom I will give you when I hand over the gold. The Turks will gladly trade your men against their officers,” Ranjoor Singh assured him. “You shall have them and the German to make your trade with.”

  It was plain the Kurd was more than half-convinced. His men who swarmed around him were urging him in whispers. Doubtless they knew he would keep most, if not all, of the gold for himself, but the safety of their friends made more direct appeal and I don’t think he would have dared neglect that opportunity for fear of losing their allegiance. Nevertheless, he bargained to the end.

  “Give me, then, ten hostages against my ten, and we are agreed!” he urged.

  “Nay, nay!” said Ranjoor Singh. “It is my task to fight for that gold. Shall I weaken my force by ten men? Nay, we are already few enough! I will give you one — to be exchanged against your ten at the time of giving up the gold in Persia.”

  “Ten!” said the Kurd. “Ten against ten!”

  “One!” said Ranjoor Singh, and I thought they would quarrel and the whole plan would come to nothing. But the Kurd gave in.

  “Then one officer!” said the Kurd, and I trembled, for I saw that Ranjoor Singh intended to agree to that, and I feared he might pick me. But no. If I had thought a minute I would not have feared, yet who thinks at such times? The men who think first of their charge and last of their own skin are such as Ranjoor Singh; a year after war begins they are still leading. The rest of us must either be content to be led, or else are superseded. I burst into a sweat all over, for all that a cold wind swept among the rocks. Yet I might have known I was not to be spared.

  After two seconds, that seemed two hours, he said to the Kurd, “Very well. We are agreed. I will give you one of my officers against ten of your men. I will give you Gooja Singh!” said he.

  Sahib, I could have rolled among the rocks and laughed. The look of rage mingled with amazement on Gooja Singh’s fat face was payment enough for all the insults I had received from him. I could not conceal all my merriment. Doubtless my eyes betrayed me. I doubt not they blazed. Gooja Singh was sitting on the other side of Ranjoor Singh, partly facing me, so that he missed nothing of what passed over my face — as I scarcely intended that he should. And in a moment my mirth was checked by sight of his awful wrath. His face had turned many shades darker.

  “I am to be hostage?” he said in a voice like grinding stone.

  “Aye,” said Ranjoor Singh. “Be a proud one! They have had to give ten men to weigh against you in the scale!”

  “And I am to go away with them all by myself into the mountains?”

  “Aye,” said Ranjoor Singh. “Why not? We hold ten of theirs against your safe return.”

  “Good! Then I will go!” he answered, and I knew by the black look on his face and by the dull rage in his voice that he would harm us if he could. But there was no time just then to try to dissuade Ranjoor Singh from his purpose, even had I dared. There began to be great argument about the ten hostages the Kurd should give, Ranjoor Singh examining each one with the aid of Abraham, rejecting one man after another as not sufficiently important, and it was two hours before ten Kurds that satisfied him stood unarmed in our midst. Then he gave up Gooja Singh in exchange for them; and Gooja Singh walked away among the Kurds without so much as a backward look, or a word of good-by, or a salute.

  “He should be punished for not saluting you,” said I, going to Ranjoor Singh’s side. “It is a bad example to the troopers.”

  “KUCH — KUCH — ,” said he. “No trouble. Black hearts beget black deeds. White hearts, good deeds. Maybe we all misjudged him. Let him prove whether he is true at heart or not.”

  Observe, sahib, how he identified himself with us, although he knew well that all except I until recently had denied him title to any other name than traitor. “Maybe we all misjudged,” said he, as much as to say, “What my men have done, I did.” So you may tell the difference between a great man and a mean one.

  “Better have hanged him long ago!” said I. “He will be the ruin of us yet!” But he laughed.

  “Sahib,” I said. “Suppose he should get to see this Wassmuss?”

  “I have thought of that,” he answered. “Why should the Kurds let him go near Wassmuss? Unless they return him safely to us we can execute their hostages; they will run no risk of Wassmuss playing tricks with Gooja Singh. Besides, from what I can learn and guess from what the Kurds say, this Wassmuss is to all intents and purposes a prisoner. Another tribe of Kurds, pretending, to protect him, keep him very closely guarded. The best he can do is to play off one tribe against another. Our friend said Wassmuss holds his brother for hostage, but I think the fact is the other tribe holds him and Wassmuss gets the blame. I suspect they held our friend’s brother as security for the gold he is to meet and escort back. There is much politics working in these mountains.”

  “Much politics and little hope for us!” said I, and at that he turned on me as he never had done yet. No, sahib, I never saw him turn on any man, nor speak as savagely as he did to me then. It was as if the floodgates of his weariness were down at last and I got a glimpse of what he suffered — he who dared trust no one all these months and miles.

  “Did I not say months ago,” he mocked, “that if I told you half my plan you would quail? And that if I told the whole, you would pick it to pieces like hens round a scrap of meat? Man without thought! Can I not see the dangers? Have I no eyes — no ears? Do I need a frog to croak to me of risks whichever way I turn? Do I need men to hang back, or men to lend me courage?”

  “Who hangs back?” said I. “Nay, forward! I will die beside you, sahib!”

  “I seek life for you all, not death,” he answered, but he spoke so sadly that I think in that minute his hope and faith were at lowest ebb.

  “Nevertheless,” I answered, “if need be, I will die beside you. I will not hang back. Order, and I obey!” But he looked at me as if he doubted.

  “Boasting,” he said, “is the noise fools make to conceal from themselves their failings!”

  What could I answer to that? I sat down and considered the rebuff, while he went and made great preparation for an execution and a Turkish funeral. So that there was little extra argument required to induce one of our Turkish officer prisoners — the bimbashi himself, in fact — to write the letter to Wassmuss that Ranjoor Singh required. And that he gave to the Kurdish chief, and the Kurd rode away with his men, not looking once back at the hostages he had left with us, but making a great show of guarding Gooja Singh, who rode unarmed in the center of a group of horsemen. That instant I began to feel sorry for Gooja Singh, and later, when we advanced through those blood-curdling mountains I was sorrier yet to think of him borne away alone amid savages whose tongue he could not speak. The men all felt sorry for him too, but Ranjoor Singh gave them little time for talk about it, setting them at once to various tasks, not least of which was cleaning rifles for inspection.

  I took Abraham to interpret for me and went to talk with our ten hostages, who were herded together apart from the other ten armed Kurds. They seemed to regard themselves as in worse plight than prisoners and awaited with resignation whatever might be their kismet. So I asked them were they afraid lest Gooja Singh might meet with violence, and they replied they were afraid of nothing. They added, however, that no man could say in those mountains what this day or the next might bring forth.

  Then I asked them about
Wassmuss, and they rather confirmed Ranjoor Singh’s guess about his being practically a prisoner. They said he was ever on the move, surrounded and very closely watched by the particular tribe of Kurds that had possession of him for the moment.

  “First it is one tribe, then another,” they told me. “If you keep your bargain with our chief and he gets this gold, we shall have Wassmuss, too, within a week, for we shall buy the allegiance of one or two more tribes to join with us and oust those Kurds who hold him now. Hitherto the bulk of his gold has been going into Persia to bribe the Bakhtiari Khans and such like, but that day is gone by. Now we Kurds will grow rich. But as for us” — they shrugged their shoulders like this, sahib, meaning to say that perhaps their day had gone by also. I left them with the impression they are very fatalistic folk.

  There was no means of knowing how long we might have to wait there, so Ranjoor Singh gave orders for the best shelter possible to be prepared, and what with the cave at the rear, and plundered blankets, and one thing and another we contrived a camp that was almost comfortable. What troubled us most was shortage of fire-wood, and we had to send out foraging parties in every direction at no small risk. The Kurds, like our mountain men of northern India, leave such matters to their women-folk, and there was more than one voice raised in anger at Ranjoor Singh because he had not allowed us to capture women as well as food and horses. Our Turkish prisoners laughed at us for not having stolen women, and Tugendheim vowed he had never seen such fools.

  But as it turned out, we had not long to wait. That very evening, as I watched from between two great boulders, I beheld a Turkish convoy of about six hundred infantry, led by a bimbashi on a gray horse, with a string of pack-mules trailing out behind them, and five loaded donkeys led by soldiers in the midst. They were heading toward the hills, and I sent a man running to bring Ranjoor Singh to watch them.

  It soon became evident that they meant to camp on the plains for that night. They had tents with them, and they pitched a camp three-quarters of a mile, or perhaps a mile away from the mouth of our defile, at a place where a little stream ran between rocks. It was clear they suspected no treachery, or they would never have chosen that place, they being but six hundred and the hills full of Kurds so close at hand. Nevertheless, they were very careful to set sentries on all the rocks all about, and they gave us no ground for thinking we might take them by surprise. Seeing they outnumbered us, and we had to spare a guard for our prisoners and hostages, and that fifty of our force were Syrians and therefore not much use, I felt doubtful. I thought Ranjoor Singh felt doubtful, too, until I saw him glance repeatedly behind and study the sky. Then I began to hope as furiously as he.