Part 30 (2/2)
Ignoring her, he pointed outside. ”Nur Rahman, you will sleep in that tent over there. My servant Ghulam Ali will give you food.”
Ghulam Ali had survived the journey after all! He had found Ha.s.san, and given him her second letter....
Mariana breathed in, trying to grasp her situation. Ha.s.san's carpeted tent was lovely, with its small quilt-covered table on one side, and its pile of silk bolsters. Nevertheless, she felt a sudden pang of homesickness for her aunt and uncle, for Dittoo and Yar Mohammad. How would they manage without her? They were her family.
”Go,” Ha.s.san snapped.
Nur Rahman did not reply. As he walked out of the tent, a single sob floated behind him.
He had only been trying to protect her. All this time he had treated her with respect, and no one had bothered to tell him the truth.
”Wait,” she called, stumbling after him. ”That man is my husband,” she said to his back.
He stopped short. ”Your husband? husband? Why did you not tell this to Aminullah Khan?” Why did you not tell this to Aminullah Khan?”
Already turning back, she did not reply.
She found Ha.s.san bending over a saddlebag, his back to her.
”You must write to your uncle,” he said briskly, as he took out paper, a quill pen, and a bottle of ink, and laid them aside. ”Tell him you are safe. Tell him that I have undertaken to escort you to Lah.o.r.e.” He straightened, frowning. ”And take off that dirty chaderi.
”I would have brought the rest of your family with me,” he added, as she pulled off the yards of enveloping cotton and raked her fingers through her tumbled hair, ”but it would be disrespectful for them to leave Aminullah Khan.”
He held out the paper and pen. ”Write,” he said, then strode from the tent.
When he returned with Nur Rahman, she was folding her letter. He took it from her and handed it to the boy. ”Deliver this without your disguise,” he ordered. ”Be careful.”
Dearest Uncle Adrian, the letter said, My husband Ha.s.san has arrived from India. I am safe with him. My husband Ha.s.san has arrived from India. I am safe with him.
Sadly, we must now part. It was not my intention to desert you at this difficult time, but by calling on Ha.s.san I have somehow broken a Pashtun rule, and now may not return to Aminullah's camp. Furthermore, it would be most unwise for us to interfere with Aminullah's arrangements for you and the servants.
Please forgive me, and give all my love to Aunt Claire. G.o.d willing, we will meet again in India.
After Nur Rahman had trotted away, Ha.s.san turned to Mariana and looked silently at her. Something in his tired face made her want to close her eyes.
She must tell him how she felt now, before she lost her courage. She must voice her remorse and hope before it was too late.
”I am so- so-” she began.
He silenced her with a raised hand, then took her arm and guided her to the sandali with its pile of bolsters.
”You did not write,” she said, as she stretched her legs beneath the table, toward the warmth of the brazier.
He did not reply or look at her, but as the shawls across his chest rose and fell, a wave of feeling seemed to come from him, as it had once, long before. It crossed the s.p.a.ce between them and washed over her. Her breathing quickened.
”You asked Aminullah Khan for panah,” he said softly, ”and brought those whom you love to safety.”
She nodded.
What did he want from her? She would die if he did not...
His eyes flicked away from hers. He reached into his clothes and pulled out a worn, stained paper. It crinkled between his fingers. ”Do you remember this?” he asked, smiling.
”I said too much,” she whispered, her face heating. ”I did not-”
Beneath his warm, compelling perfume lay the sharp scent of his skin. He put the letter down, and leaned toward her. ”Search out a man,” ”Search out a man,” he murmured as he reached to open the front of her sheepskin cloak, he murmured as he reached to open the front of her sheepskin cloak, ”whose own breast has burst from severance, that I may express to him the agony of my love-desire.” ”whose own breast has burst from severance, that I may express to him the agony of my love-desire.”
Love-desire. His eyes on her face, he reached inside her cloak, and, with his damaged hand, drew a slow circle on one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then the other. His eyes on her face, he reached inside her cloak, and, with his damaged hand, drew a slow circle on one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then the other.
”And though in my grief I stripped off my feathers and broke my wings, even this could not drive from my head this rough pa.s.sion of love.”
His eyes were half closed. She took his damaged hand and kissed the stump of his missing finger.
”I love you,” she breathed. ”I have loved you from the moment I first saw you.”
As soon as she said those words, she realized they were true.
January 5, 1842 She awoke the next morning to see Ha.s.san bending over her, fully dressed but for his boots. He held the gold medallion on its chain.
”I believe this is yours,” he said, holding it out. ”I must buy provisions, and a mount for your journey to Lah.o.r.e,” he added, as he padded to the doorway. ”Ghulam Ali and Nur Rahman will look after you until I return, as will my own servants. I will be back, Inshallah, by late morning. When I return, we will prepare to depart.”
After the tent flap fell shut behind him, she closed her eyes.
”Nur Rahman,” she called, ”I want tea!”
Ha.s.sAN AND Zulmai waited on their horses at the head of a file of eight unburdened mules. ”There is no point in going to the city,” Zulmai pointed out. ”All the shops will be closed. The British retreat is to take place tomorrow. Everyone is preparing to see the show. We should go instead to one of the forts near the Sher Darwaza. Someone there will be willing to sell us food for our journey.” ”Show?” Ha.s.san frowned. ”So there is to be shooting.” Zulmai shrugged. ”Akbar Khan may have offered the British safe pa.s.sage, but he will never control the Ghilzais who want revenge for being cheated of their payments. And in any case, the British army is four thousand strong. It is not a merchant kafila. Fighting is an army's life.”
”And what is that large army's condition?”
”From what I hear, they are weak from hunger, but hungry or not, fighting is what they will do. Even if they have shown little courage in the past weeks, they will fight tomorrow. ”
”And they will have no chance at all.”
”None,” Zulmai agreed. ”Gunmen are already waiting for them in the Khurd-Kabul pa.s.s, and in the Haft Kotal. As the army pa.s.ses, more men will come, and lie in wait at Tezeen and Jagdalak. But now,” he concluded, clucking to his horse and signaling to the mule drivers, ”let us stop talking and go.”
The fort he chose was on a slope overlooking the Kabul River. It was not as impressive as some of the strongholds they had pa.s.sed on their way to Kabul, but it was substantial enough, with its corner towers and high, irregular walls. Ha.s.san and Zulmai left the road and turned toward it, then stopped a respectful distance from the main entrance, their mules lined up behind them, and waited for someone to take notice of them.
Almost immediately men with jezails appeared on the parapet. Moments later, the tall doors were flung open, and a group of men galloped out.
Their leader was a thickly built man with a startling red beard.
”Peace,” he offered politely, a hand over his heart.
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