‘You see how anxious he is to receive you,’ Dost Mohammed said. ‘But I would have him entertained. Dance for me.’
Laura stared at him in consternation. ‘But there is no music.’
‘That is unimportant. I wish to see you move, as a woman. Dance for me.’
Laura pushed herself off the divan and made herself move as she had seen the nautch girls do.
‘Loose your hair,’ he commanded.
As she danced, she put up her hands and released the pins holding her hair, which promptly tumbled over her shoulders.
‘Magnificent,’ he said. ‘Magnificent.’ He watched her body begin to gleam with sweat. ‘Now come to me,’ he said.
She went to his arms. ‘Will you send me back to Bombay, Your Excellency?’ she asked.
He laughed, and kissed her before arranging her to his satisfaction. ‘As I have said, that would be a waste.’
*
It was difficult not to feel an afterglow of contentment as she lay in his arms, even if she was determined not to, to hate everything that had happened to her. The Amir was clearly at least as big a monster as Batraj, but he was an equally formidable lover. Perhaps, she thought, I was born to be a courtesan amongst bandits and robber chieftains.
‘Do not the British wish my husband returned to them as well?’ she asked.
‘Indeed they do. I think they want Batraj more than you.’
Laura sat up to look down at him. ‘Will you surrender him?’
Dost Mohammed smiled. ‘After he has sent you to my bed? That would be an act of treachery, would it not? In any event, why should I humour the John Company? They are my enemies, and Batraj may well be useful to me in the future. Do not fear for your husband, my dear.’
And Laura was pulled back into his arms.
*
She supposed she had now plumbed the very depths of degradation, for Dost Mohammed sent for her at least once a month thereafter. What his own wives and concubines thought of it, she dared not suppose.
Batraj pretended to be outraged, but she soon realised that he was secretly pleased to be sharing his ‘wife’ with the Amir; it made them something closer than brothers-in-law.
Dost Mohammed lavished presents upon her, mostly of jewellery, and Batraj felt he had to match his rival, although his store of money and emeralds was by now rather low. She was also established as one of the great aghas of Kabul, entirely abandoning the veil, and in good weather she walked abroad, accompanied by Nanja and Vijay, and by Miljah and her children, with complete freedom, her head held high and her back as straight as it had ever been, while proud chieftains bowed to her and stepped out of her path. Again this was approved by her lovers, who wanted the whole world to see the beauty which submitted to them.
Dost Mohammed, indeed, was utterly blatant in his adoration. He introduced her to his sons, grave young men who clearly disapproved of her. Laura began to wonder if Batraj was as safe in Kabul as he supposed, not from the Company but from his host.
The thought of being forever incarcerated in the Amir’s harem kept her awake at night.
*
To Laura’s surprise, she was even invited to tea by the Russian ladies, who could converse with her in very limited Persian. They were of course consumed with curiosity, both as to her past, of which they had heard the wildest rumours, and her present, which clearly at once scandalised and titillated them. Laura saw no reason to be the least reticent with them, as they knew her position in Kabul society, and indeed, rather enjoyed the temptation to shock them. So she confessed freely that she was a high priestess of the goddess Kali, and left them aghast...and eager to ask her again.
Thus life settled in to a very regular pattern. The winters in Afghanistan were very cold, and for several months all intercourse with the outside world was ended. Then it was a time for staying at home curled up in front of a roaring fire, teaching the children English and about England. But in the summer, it seemed all of Central Asia came to Kabul. Caravans came from China in the East, and from the Ottoman Empire in the west, and the Afghan capital became a huge continuous market, in which the most exotic goods, from silk and perfumes to girls and boys, could be bought at will. Laura indulged herself to the utmost. As Miljah was growing infirm, she actually purchased a Chinese girl named Wu Li, principally as a nursemaid for Sivitraj and Mary, but also as a personal maid for herself. Wu Li, who was fourteen, was pretty and energetic as well as intelligent, and tremendously anxious to please; she rapidly learned a smattering of both English and Persian. Laura grew very fond of her.
In 1836, Sivitraj was ten years old, and already nearly as tall as his father had been, thanks to Laura’s own height. Mary was seven. Laura herself was twenty-nine and, she felt, in her very prime. It was a shame that her beauty had to be wasted upon robber chieftains, yet it nonetheless continued to ensure her domination of Afghan society.
She supposed she would end her days in Kabul. Batraj seemed to have entirely given up his dreams of leading a holy war against the British, or even of regaining Sittapore; he had taken a command in the Afghan army, and was content to be one of the Amir’s tuman-bashis, or divisional commanders. Sittapore itself seemed like another world. Laura felt that Sivitraj’s birthright was forever lost, but then she reflected that he was probably happier in Kabul, where he had made many friends and where he was not forced to undertake any responsibilities. Only the knowledge that in a few years Batraj would wish him to become a soldier bothered her, but now Afghanistan was at war with no one.
However, in 1836 Dost Mohammed’s kingdom was invaded by the Persians.
*
The Russians, who had become fed-up with Dost Mohammed playing them off against the British, wished to bring matters to a head without actually becoming involved militarily.
When the news of the Persian invasion of the western borders, several hundred miles from Kabul, was received, there was great excitement and some hysteria. Returning from the market one day, Laura and her servants watched in horror as some Persians were chased into an alley by the mob; the men were castrated and the women raped before having their throats cut.
They hurried home, and encountered Batraj, wearing his uniform and preparing to leave. ‘The army is marching for Herat,’ he announced grandly.
*
In fact, the Afghan army was incredibly slow to mobilise, as men had to be summoned from their mountain villages and armed and equipped. A Company army could have taken over the entire country before the army finally marched out, almost a year after the first act of war. Fortunately, the Persian advance was even slower, and finally ground to a halt before the city of Herat, some four hundred miles due west of Kabul.
The Persian offensive began in November 1837, and the Afghan army did not attempt to mount a relief until the following spring. The situation was saved by a British officer, Captain Eldred Potter of the Company’s Army, who made his way to Herat in disguise, offered his services to the Afghan commander, and so organised the defences that a huge Persian assault was repulsed. The Persians then settled down to a regular siege, while both besiegers and besieged were cut off from the outside world by heavy snow. When the Afghan army finally approached in the summer, the two forces skirmished for weeks without ever actually coming to grips in a major battle, and then, in September 1838, the Persian king Mohammed Shah called the whole thing off and took his army home.
As wars went, Laura thought this one could be considered a complete fiasco, but it was to have momentous consequences for them all. Throughout the two years of hostilities, the Russian embassy remained in Kabul, officially condemning the Persian action. This hypocrisy was accepted by Dost Mohammed, who wished to continue his policy of matching British and Russian interests against each other for his own profit. But as the Russian armies conquered the Syr-Darya valley and thus brought their empire to the very borders of Persia and Afghanistan, the Governor-General, Lord Auckland, determined to act. To the consternation of Dost Mohammed, Auckland concluded a tre
aty with Ranjit Singh of the Sikhs, and announced his intention of restoring Shah Shuja to the Afghan throne.
Kandahar, 30 April 1839
Yesterday we occupied this city, one of those founded by Alexander the Great so many centuries ago (Kandahar is apparently a corruption of Alexander). I have been mentioned in despatches, both for efficiency in scouting for the advance guard and for my behaviour in combat. I must confess that this is most gratifying, as it is the first concrete evidence of any approval from the powers-that-be of military ability on my part.
I can scarcely claim to have fought a battle, as the enemy simply melted away in front of us, yet it is impossible not to feel a sense of exhilaration at this first triumph. Undoubtedly there will be battles enough ahead, before we march into Kabul. The thought makes my blood tingle.
The first we knew of it was when Sir John Keane arrived, and told us, ‘We are going to Kabul,’ and mobilisation began.
Ever since Burnes returned from his embassy in Kabul seven years ago, to tell the world that he had sat next to the Dowager Rani of Sittapore at a banquet in Dost Mohammed’s palace, I have found it difficult to prevent myself thinking of that far off place.
Laura was alive and living in splendour! She was still married to her Hindu husband, of course. Had she then risen forever beyond my reach, or sunk forever beneath my grasp? It was difficult to decide which. I only knew that she was there, and would haunt me forever.
But that was seven years ago. Does she still live and prosper? Is she still as beautiful as ever? It is now eleven years since I have laid eyes on her, or she on me.
And what will be her fate when we enter Kabul? There is no Statute of Limitations for murder...
Naturally I volunteered. There was some suggestion that married officers might be omitted from such an arduous campaign, but — I may as well admit it — my marriage has not been blessed. I have no children; my dog is dead, and my wife wishes only to leave India and follow her parents to England. When I explain to her that this is impossible, as we shall have nothing to live on, she merely becomes angry or tearful, according to her mood at the time.
I wonder I do not let her go by herself, to do the best she can. Pride, I suppose. And perhaps a sense of duty, that as I allowed myself to accumulate this burden I must shoulder it to the bitter end.
When I told my wife that I was accompanying my regiment to war, she stared at me as if I were mad, and in fact said she thought I was, on several occasions. I suspect she hopes I shall not return, leaving her free to follow her own inclinations. Whereas, to escape Prudence on a regular campaign has always been my dream.
Lord Auckland’s decision to replace Shah Shuja upon the Afghan throne has not been received with universal acclaim amongst the pundits. It seems that Bentinck, one of Auckland’s predecessors here, has called the project an act of incredible folly, and it is rumoured that even the Great Duke, when he heard of it, spoke of it as being certain to engage the Company in endless war. However, our master has been urged on by the gallant McNaghton, who has lived most of his life in India and has made a lifelong study of the people and their leaders, and is acknowledged as the greatest expert on local affairs in the sub-continent. He has expressed repeatedly the opinion that most Indians, and particularly the mountain men, are like children, who need only to be shown the stick to retreat into a corner.
On the evidence of what we have seen so far, McNaghton is correct, and such gentlemen as Bentinck and Wellington are out of touch with the realities of India, or the power of John Company.
This is not to say that our opponents are not a mob of vicious and beastly murderers. On our march through the mountains one of our patrols was ambushed and taken prisoner. We found them the next morning, staked out on the hillside, stripped naked, and with their privates cut away, as well as their eyelids, ears, noses and tongues, and with their eyes gouged out. Our guides tell us that this horrible deed was undoubtedly perpetrated by the Pathan women!
But such terrors merely harden our hearts for the triumph that lies ahead, when we shall exact a full and just retribution.
We muster twenty-one thousand men. The Bengal Division, commanded by Sir Willoughby Cotton, has for this great adventure been united with the Bombay Division led by Keane, who is in overall command. Only a small proportion of these are British, of course, but the Sepoys make a brave show and, stiffened as they are by our own good lads, seem to be more than a match for the Afghans. It is our intention to be in Kabul well before the onset of next winter for, as we have recently found, winters in these mountains can be severe.
When I mentioned twenty-one thousand men, I am of course referring to the fighting elements of the Bombay army. For the rest, we muster very nearly a hundred thousand all told. With us march Shah Shuja’s army, a band of desperadoes who remind me of the Iron Duke’s remark during the Penisular War that some of his new recruits from England frightened him far more than they were likely to frighten any enemy. Whether we actually need quite so many people is open to question. I know of an officer in the Lancers who is travelling with a retinue of forty servants. My own establishment, consisting of the faithful Ramjohn and five others, is far more modest.
However, the army needs to be supplied every inch of the way. We have a large baggage train, containing everything that an army might need, from bullets to boots, from whisky to water, from grain to girls; this means we have to employ a huge retinue of civilians; thus the baggage train has to be made even larger, to feed them, and so on in a horrifying geometric progression.
Ranjit Singh, the wily old Sikh leader, although declaring himself to be our ally against Dost Mohammed, has refused us permission to march through his territories. Thus we have had to come up through Baluchistan, or Sind as it is sometimes called, a vast area of desert, and where there is no food or fodder to be had; we are accompanied by thirty thousand camels.
The Baluchis, I may say in passing, are a sullen and mutinous lot who pay lip service to the Company and no doubt mutter rebellion behind our backs.
From Baluchistan we used the Bolan Pass to enter these forbidding mountains and come to this place.
The next thing is the coronation of Shah Shuja, which will take place within the next fortnight, following which we will march upon Kabul.
My one disappointment is that my brave Rufus is not with me. How he would have loved the opportunity to snap at some Afghans’ heels. But no doubt he is looking down from his dog-heaven and urging me onwards: he was fond of Laura, and would eat from her hand.
Who can tell what I will find at my journey’s end, triumph or tragedy?
9 The Reunion
‘They are marching on Ghazni,’ Batraj told Laura. ‘We will meet them there, and destroy them. You would do well to remain indoors until my return.’
He kissed her farewell, and left to join the army. It was the second time in three years that the Afghan soldiers had marched off to war.
Laura watched from the upstairs windows of her house; remembering the fate of those hapless Persians three years ago, she had no intention of venturing out, even if she found it difficult to believe that anyone in Kabul would wish, or dare, to harm her.
She was more uncertain of her own emotions. After more than eleven years’ total separation from her own people, of any contact with them save for that one meeting with Alexander Burnes, they were seeking her out. More than twenty thousand of them, Batraj had said.
Perhaps they were not actually seeking her, but they would know she was there. And now she was identified not only with Batraj but with Dost Mohammed, the man they were intending to overthrow.
She wished the British would go away again. But she knew that would only happen if the Company army were to be defeated, for if it were to he defeated in these mountains, so far from its base in Bombay, it would be annihilated. She could not bring herself to wish for that.
So what could she truly wish for? Only that there might be a negotiated peace before Kabul was actually occupied. But t
hat would necessarily entail Dost Mohammed’s abdication, and what would then become of her?
*
It was a matter of waiting, as spring turned into summer. News came back from the Afghan encampment outside the historic city of Ghazni, where Dost Mohammed was preparing to halt and defeat the invaders. The Company army was slowly making its way over the mountains, but no one could say when the battle would be fought.
July came, and Kabul baked in the inevitable summer heat. The fact that the country was at war seemed to make little difference to the traders, and the usual number of caravans made their way south from Balkh to keep the city busy.
By now Laura had got over her fear of being attacked as an Englishwoman, and had resumed a normal life. Both Batraj and Dost Mohammed were at Ghazni, and thus her time was entirely her own.
Yet she too waited for news, until she was distracted: upon unexpectedly entering Sivitraj’s apartment one afternoon she found him and Wu Li naked on the divan.
*
They both sat up in surprise, while Laura stared at them, no less dismayed. Of course Sivitraj was now thirteen, and she could tell at a glance that he was entirely mature, but the idea of him being old enough for this had not crossed her mind.
Wu Li realised that she, as the older of the two and as the slave, would have to be the one to suffer. Without a word she left the divan and knelt at her mistress’s feet, her back arched to receive the whipping she anticipated.
‘It was my wish,’ Sivitraj said.
‘Is this the first occasion?’ Laura demanded.
Sivitraj hesitated. ‘No, Mother.’
‘I see. Can you give me one reason why I should not flog you both?’
Another brief hesitation. ‘No, Mother.’
Wu Li trembled.
But Laura’s anger was already fading. Of course the boy had to have a woman, and her own slave was the obvious answer. It gave her a hold over him with which to combat Batraj, who would undoubtedly wish to provide a woman of his own for his stepson.
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