In the Far Pashmina Mountains

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘A splendid idea,’ John agreed. ‘If there’s the slightest hint of trouble, we’ll retreat to the fort.’

  Later that day, Colin was brought to the farmhouse and laid on a charpoy by the open door of a courtyard room where he could catch the breeze. The chief sent for a local physician to treat him with poultices and some strange-smelling concoction. Florentia elected to come down from the fort too, bringing Dinah, baby Julia and her ayah. Alice brought Gita and the boys. As she had hoped, John moved into Colin’s room across the courtyard, next to three other officers.

  At night they sat around on palliasses eating under the stars, the men smoking and chatting with the chief. Although the women of the household stayed hidden in an inner courtyard, the British women were welcomed to dine with the men. Alice was acutely aware of how often John glanced across at her. Her heart began a steady thudding at the desire she felt rising inside her. She knew from his look that he felt the same.

  In the middle of the night, when the moon had dipped and when everyone had gone to their beds, a sleepless Alice padded out into the courtyard. A hound lay sleeping across the entrance to the house. The mulberry trees that lined the courtyard threw the edges into inky shadow. She breathed in the sweet smell of the trees and felt the cooling night breeze caress her skin.

  ‘Alice.’ John’s deep voice was like a vibration through her. She turned towards it. He was a dark figure in the deep shadow beneath one of the trees, standing waiting for her. He held out his hand. Alice moved silently towards him and placed her trembling hand in his. John pulled her into the blackness. For a moment they stood there holding each other, looking into each other’s eyes. Despite the darkness, Alice could see the gleam in his. It made her sick with wanting. She put a hand to his face and, leaning up on tiptoes, brushed his lips with hers.

  ‘My darling,’ she whispered.

  She could feel the tension in him. He was wondering what her coming to him meant. Alice took John’s hand and placed it inside her loose tunic, pressing it to her breast. Under his hold her heart banged furiously.

  ‘Make love to me, please,’ she urged him.

  John bent and kissed her eagerly. Without pausing, he drew her down onto the blanket that he had spread under the tree as his bed. She had known he would be out sleeping in the open air. They kissed each other as they lay down, their hands exploring beneath their clothing. Alice pulled off his shirt; she wanted to feel his skin, his hair, his sweat on her. She had not touched his body since she had nursed and bathed him through his fever at the lighthouse so many years ago. His was now the hard muscled body of a soldier, yet he was as tender and gentle as the young man she had first fallen in love with.

  John covered her in delicious kisses; she had to smother her gasps of delight as he touched her. Trying to keep silent while he pleasured her was sweet agony. She pulled at his hair and writhed in ecstasy as she wrapped her limbs around him. It was even more exquisite than she had imagined his lovemaking would be. If she was never to see another day, Alice would die knowing what true loving felt like. She knew she would never have any regrets about coming to him in the warmth of an Afghan night. She loved John completely, and he loved her.

  Lying in his arms, John stroked her hair and murmured passionate words in her ear that sent desire pulsing through her again. They made love once more before she pulled on her tunic and pantaloons and slipped back across the courtyard.

  The next day, Alice could hardly stop smiling. Each time she caught John’s eye she saw the grin spread across his face. They were like conspirators relishing their secret. She wanted to shout to the world how much she adored him – desired every inch of him – but instead she helped Dinah cope with a colicky Julia, while she waited impatiently for night-time to come again.

  That night, Alice fell asleep in John’s arms after they had made love and it was only the sound of the call to prayer just before dawn that woke her and got her scrambling into her clothes. The sound of John’s suppressed laughter had her smiling as she hurried back to her room.

  The third night, their lovemaking was more languid. The night sky was shrouded in cloud and a mist had crept up from the river, cocooning them in a private world.

  ‘Let’s stay here forever,’ whispered John, ‘and live with the Hazaras. I shall hunt and you will go about with your sketching paper and draw charming pictures of their people.’

  ‘And what about our friends?’

  ‘They are welcome to stay too. Colin will and the Aytons. Would you like that?’

  ‘I’d love that.’ Alice smiled. ‘And Dinah will have to stay. I’m growing very fond of Julia.’

  ‘Then we will have our own children too,’ murmured John. ‘Start our own tribe.’

  Alice had a sudden twist of grief for Lotty. Tears welled in her eyes. John was immediately contrite.

  ‘I was just being foolish. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just I would like nothing more than to raise a family with you, my darling Alice.’

  She turned and kissed his mouth. ‘And I too.’

  But it left her feeling sad and in the morning Alice felt the weight of reality pressing on her heart. Lotty was lost to her and someday soon she would have to return and face Vernon. This glimpse of paradise with John, playing at being man and wife, could never be more than that. Or could it? They had not spoken of what life might hold for them if they ever made it back to Kabul alive; their situation still seemed so precarious despite Saleh Mohammed’s support.

  Alice felt a new determination rising inside her, spurred on by knowing how much John loved her. She would never go back to living with Vernon. She did not care how much of a scandal leaving Vernon would create; Alice would do it. She would run off with John and never look back.

  That day, startling news came from beyond the valley. There was insurrection in Kabul; the Kazilbashis had risen against Akbar and he had fled to the Ghilzais in the mountains near Kandahar. Pollock’s army was halfway to Kabul and Nott’s forces were almost there. And most thrilling of all was the report that a detachment of troops was being sent to the aid of the British hostages.

  The excitement among the former captives rose to fever pitch. Pottinger and Shelton at once began making plans to march to meet the force.

  ‘There’s no point staying here any longer than necessary,’ said Pottinger. ‘There’s still a chance that the Uzbeks will come down from Khullum to recapture us.’

  ‘But won’t we be in danger from Akbar’s supporters if we leave the valley?’ Alice asked.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Sandy, ‘it might be another trap – Akbar trying to lure us out of our safe eyrie.’

  ‘Well, I think we should show more spirit than that,’ said Florentia with impatience. ‘Our men are on the way to save us. I think we should leave and make their job easier.’

  Florentia and the senior officers prevailed. Alice could not hide her reluctance. Her few days of heaven were to be ended abruptly. That night would be her last chance to lie with John under the stars; tomorrow they would once again be on the march. Alice was impatient to be alone with him so that they could discuss their future plans. She knew he would help her stand up to Vernon and that gave her courage.

  But John wasn’t at supper that evening and, when she went looking for him in the dead of night, there was no sign of him or his rug under the mulberry tree.

  ‘Alice.’ A woman’s voice startled her. She swung round to see Florentia standing in the courtyard draped in a blanket. ‘Can’t you sleep, my dear?’

  ‘No,’ said Alice, stepping guiltily away from John’s tree.

  The older woman sighed. ‘Neither can I. I can’t wait for us to be on the road again. I’m hoping it’s my husband who is coming to our rescue. I imagine you do too? Separation is difficult, isn’t it?’

  Alice’s heart thudded. She decided to be frank. She and Florentia had been through so much hardship together.

  ‘I don’t find it difficult,’ Alice said quietly. ‘It’s been a relief not
to have Vernon with me.’

  ‘Ah,’ Florentia said. ‘I’m sorry to hear it.’ Florentia stood looking up at the sky and then turned to give Alice a direct look. ‘I’m aware that you and Captain Sinclair have grown close,’ she said, nodding in the direction of the mulberry tree.

  Alice flushed. ‘Yes, we have. John and I have been in love since I was seventeen and he was a trainee cadet. If we hadn’t been betrayed by my brother, we should have been married many years ago.’

  ‘Oh my dear, that is sad,’ said Florentia, putting out a hand to squeeze Alice’s arm. ‘I will say nothing of what I have seen between you and Captain Sinclair in Bamian – and I have sympathy for you, Alice. You have been through a great deal and can’t be blamed for taking solace where you can find it. But when we get back to Kabul and our husbands, it will be a different matter. As wives we have responsibilities.’

  Alice felt annoyance at her friend’s blunt warning and pulled away. ‘My husband,’ she said with distaste, ‘does he not have responsibilities?’

  ‘Of course—’

  ‘Well, he has broken all his vows to me long ago,’ Alice hissed. ‘He is an adulterer and a bully. He neither loves me nor shows me respect. He only married me for my wealth and now he has spent most of that. I have lived under his cruel rule for long enough and I shall not be going back to it.’

  Florentia gaped at Alice. Alice thought she would rebuke her for her outburst. But she let go a weary sigh. ‘I didn’t know,’ she said. ‘I heard rumours of course about his philandering in Kabul and I can’t condone the way he sometimes spoke to you in captivity – but I put that down to his illness and being under great strain. I never knew how unhappy he made you.’ Florentia gave her a pitying look. ‘You must do what you think is best. I wish you luck, dear girl.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Alice said, feeling a pang of gratitude. They said no more as they padded back to their rooms.

  CHAPTER 41

  By dawn, the former hostages were packing up their few possessions and making ready to leave. Alice was worried that there was still no sign of John.

  ‘Perhaps he’s gone on ahead with Saleh Mohammed,’ suggested Sandy, ‘to make sure the route is safe. I’m sure we’ll meet up with him later in the day.’

  The officers were buoyed up by the Afghan general’s decision to issue them all with muskets to protect the group on the journey. They would meet their comrades on an equal footing and not as prisoners.

  Alice’s heart was heavy as they said goodbye to the pastoral people who had befriended and looked after them. The one thing that cheered her was that Colin was finally making a recovery from the fever that had bedevilled him all summer. He was thin and wan but insisted on riding a pony to allow Dinah a seat in his camel pannier where she could hold onto Julia.

  Soon their caravan of camels and mules was wending its way out of the valley and back towards the Kaloo Pass. With each step of her mule, Alice was inching back towards Kabul and a confrontation with Vernon. She glanced back at the Bamian valley lying golden in the sunshine and fretted about John. Where was he? Why hadn’t he told her he would be travelling separately? She would only be able to bear the future if she knew he would be there beside her. She doubted she could stand up to Vernon on her own.

  At midday, they halted and took shelter under some huge rocks from the hot sun. Naan breads and fruit were passed around while Gita’s sons helped fetch water from a nearby stream. They were told they would not linger long. Their Afghan escort was tense. Alice suspected they feared meeting Akbar’s avenging troops on the road. Yet in the heat, Alice and the other women dozed. Suddenly they were brought wide awake. The ground began to shake beneath them. Alice could see from the alarm on Emily’s face that she thought the same thing: an earthquake.

  But it soon became clear that the pounding noise was not an earth tremor but horses’ hooves. The riders were yet to appear but from the hoof-beats they were riding rapidly from the Bamian direction. The women began to scramble to their feet and call for their children as the men picked up their muskets.

  ‘Uzbeks?’ Pottinger called up to the sentry who was keeping watch above.

  ‘A dozen at the most,’ the soldier called down.

  ‘We can handle that,’ Shelton said bullishly, loading his gun.

  At once, Saleh Mohammed was ordering his men into defensive positions on the rocks above.

  ‘Spread out in a line,’ he commanded, ‘and they will think there are more of us.’

  The women and children were hurried behind the rocks. They crouched together, Alice holding tight to Alexander as Emily clung to a protesting, wriggling Walter. Heart pounding, Alice squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that they would not end their lives here on this barren mountainside, slaughtered like sheep.

  A distant shot rang out in the clear air. There was shouting above. The Afghan soldiers were arguing with the British officers, their voices angry. Emily began to cry.

  ‘Hold your fire!’ Pottinger barked. ‘The general’s right – they’re Hazaras.’

  ‘It’s Kurrim Beg,’ Sandy cried.

  ‘And bloody Sinclair!’ Shelton shouted. ‘What the devil . . . ?’

  Alice pushed Alexander into his mother’s hold and scrambled out from under the rocky overhang. A group of horsemen cantered towards them in a cloud of dust. It took her a moment to spot John among them, riding behind the Hazara chief, Kurrim Beg. Relief surged through her. What had delayed him?

  Saleh Mohammed went out to greet them. It was only as they drew closer and slowed their pace that Alice saw John was holding something in front of him. Her breath froze in her chest. She hurried forward, ignoring Shelton’s protest for her to stay back.

  She could see John looking about, searching for her. Their eyes met and he grinned in triumph. He bent his head and spoke to the child in his arms – a child with golden hair who grasped onto the horse’s mane.

  ‘Lotty?’ Alice gasped, her legs almost giving way.

  John was swinging out of the saddle, and lifting the girl with him. Alice stumbled towards them. ‘Lotty!’

  The girl saw her. Instantly, her eyes widened. She threw out her arms to her mother.

  ‘Mummy!’

  The sound of her daughter’s voice was like the sweetest music she had ever heard.

  ‘My darling!’ Alice held out her arms, tears springing to her eyes.

  John carried the girl towards her and placed her carefully into Alice’s hold. Lotty buried her head in her mother’s neck. Alice hugged her tight, still in disbelief. She kissed her fiercely and stroked her tangled hair.

  Around her, Alice’s friends began to clap. Sandy raised three cheers for them.

  ‘Hip, hip, hooray!’

  Alice was laughing and crying and squeezing her daughter to make sure she was real. Lotty seemed suddenly overwhelmed by the attention and hid her face in her mother’s shoulder. Alice’s gaze met John’s.

  ‘How did you . . . ?’

  ‘Saleh Mohammed heard a rumour,’ said John. ‘Kurrim Beg sent men to recce the village on the border where she was being held. Last night we went to fetch her. I didn’t want to raise your hopes in case it wasn’t her.’

  Alice knew that it could not have been that simple. These men had risked their lives to save her daughter.

  ‘I can never thank you enough,’ Alice said tearfully. ‘All of you.’ She looked around and smiled at the Afghan general and the Hazara chief.

  Suddenly Alexander appeared at Alice’s side. He tugged at her arm.

  ‘Hello, Lotty,’ he said, grinning up at his old playmate.

  At the sound of his voice, the girl lifted her head from Alice’s shoulder and looked down at him. She stared at him in puzzlement.

  ‘It’s Alexander,’ Alice said. ‘You remember him, don’t you?’

  Abruptly Lotty smiled, that dimpled smile that Alice thought she would never see again. Emotion caught in Alice’s throat.

  ‘Zander,’ Lotty said.

  Alice
kissed her in delight. ‘Yes, Zander!’

  The children giggled at each other. Joy lifted Alice’s heart. The miracle she had prayed for these past nine months had come to pass.

  They did not linger. The Hazaras also carried alarming news that scores of horsemen from Khullum were in pursuit of the escaping British. They pressed on at once, Lotty riding in front of Alice. She knew now what Emily had experienced since Alexander’s return; she didn’t want to let Lotty out of her sight for a second.

  The girl seemed remarkably unaffected by her ordeal; Alice shuddered to think what it might have involved and it was probable that she would never know. But Lotty seemed content to sit in the saddle and look around her, pointing and saying things in a jumble of English and words Alice didn’t recognise. Perhaps there were those among her kidnappers who had been kind to the girl. Alice prayed that that was the case. She silently vowed that nothing would ever part her from her precious daughter again. She would spend the rest of her life making amends to Lotty and letting her know how much she loved her.

  The armed caravan pressed on until after dark. If they got beyond the Kaloo Pass there was less likelihood of the Uzbeks pursuing them. The danger then would come from tribesmen loyal to Akbar.

  They camped out just below the pass, not bothering to erect tents but lying on the stony ground in case they had to flee. The night air was chilly and Alice bedded down with Lotty tucked into the same blanket. Despite the anxiety that gripped the travellers, Alice revelled at the feel of the girl’s warmth, the beating of her heart and the smell of her soft skin. Her hair smelt of smoke and hay.

  In the moonlight she watched John sitting on the ground sharing a water-pipe with the Afghan guard. With his beard and native clothing, he could be mistaken for one of them. Most of the British officers had taken to wearing loose Afghan clothes and had let their beards and hair grow. What would their fellow officers make of them? Alice wondered in amusement. She gazed at John’s broad shoulders and handsome profile. Her heart overflowed with gratitude. She had everything she wanted right here on this windy Afghan mountainside; her beloved daughter and the love of her life. Longing for John stirred inside and kept her sleepless. Soon – God willing – they would be able to start their new life together.