Betty began to understand Grace’s reasons for taking on the dangerous employment. ‘So, you’ll get alongside Sourayah and encourage her to go in the right direction? But isn’t that a bit dangerous, Grace? They’re all firmly Muslim – you won’t exactly be doing this with the goodwill of most of the country, I’ll bet,’ said Betty shrewdly. ‘The Mullahs, surely, won’t be very happy with these schemes? You could run into some fearsome opposition.’
Betty looked again at the hills rising in jagged ranks, tier upon tier of rugged desolation until they reached the towering peaks of the snow-lined Hindu Kush, and she could no longer fight back a sense of foreboding. On an impulse, she reached forward and seized Grace’s hands. ‘Change your mind, Grace! It’s not too late! Don’t go up into that wilderness!’
Chapter Five
Glad to have a moment or two together, Betty and James Lindsay sat together on the roof of the fort.
‘So glad you’re here, Bets!’ said James sentimentally, reaching out to hold her hand, having first made sure that no disapproving eye would observe this erotic proceeding.
‘Well, at least I’ll mastermind your dinner party,’ said Betty comfortably, ‘and I’ll do place names if you like. Who would you like next to you, for a start?’
‘It’s not a question of who I’d like, it’s who I should have and I suppose I should have that stupid old fool Burroughs on one side and Rathmore on the other. Put Zeman Khan next to little Miss what’s ’er name… ’
‘ Coblenz,’ Betty supplied.
‘Yes, that’s right. Put Zeman next to Lily Coblenz and put Grace on his other side to keep an eye on him.’
‘And where do you want me?’
‘Oh, you can handle the dashing Group Captain and Zeman’s mate. I wish this party was over! I’m quite hopeful that no one will kill anyone else but it’ll be touch and go! That Lily is trouble on two legs if ever I saw it! I can’t imagine how they ever allowed her to come up here! But there we are!’
They stepped out of the shade into the searing sunshine and looked down on the busy life of the fort.
‘I must say, I could do with a swim!’ said Betty.
‘Don’t even think of it! And don’t let that blasted Lily think of it either!’
And they went their separate ways, Betty to oversee the preparations for the evening – though oversee was hardly the word since it seemed unlikely that the Pathan cooks would take much notice of her – and James to conduct a tour of the fort. He had wondered very much whether Zeman and Iskander should be part of this. After all, potentially they were his enemies. He decided in the end that such was the excellence of his defensive arrangements, it could do no harm to show the tribesmen, through Zeman, what they were up against.
Accordingly the tourist party formed up on the parade ground. Lord Rathmore, continuing to resent finding himself one of a party, was acutely aware that his status was not being adequately recognized. Zeman was eloquent with a friendly babble of question and comment but Iskander hardly spoke. Though seemingly indifferent, he nevertheless had eyes everywhere and, while he did not exactly have a notebook open on his knee, he wasn’t missing much and in particular he was noticing the high state of readiness of the Scouts’ garrison. ‘Good!’ thought James. Fred Moore-Simpson was cheerful and tactless, his very English voice perpetually rising above the muttered responses of the other men. No problem there, thoroughly dependable and entertaining chap, James thought.
No, if there were going to be difficulties they would start with Lily Coblenz. She chattered and exclaimed, eyeing the men with unblushing appreciation, asking Zeman, to whom she seemed to have attached herself, indiscreet questions touching on the status of women in the tribal areas, perpetually pressing for a chance to leave the safety of the fort to try the alleged dangers of tribal territory. Her introduction to the two Afghan guests had been a warning. Strangely, it had been Iskander who had initially claimed her total attention. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him and James could quite see why. The chap was a particularly handsome specimen. Iskander, outwardly at least, had not welcomed the attention and after an initial startled gaze, almost certainly his first close sight of an American woman, he had, in the polite Pathan way, avoided looking at her, not difficult when a good twelve inches higher than the object of one’s scorn. James cringed as he remembered the first exchange between them. Looking boldly up at the tall Pathan she had said, ‘Tell me, how did you come by those green eyes, Mr Khan?’ And James remembered Iskander’s level response, ‘The same way you came by your green eyes, Miss Coblenz.’
It had been Zeman who came smoothly to the rescue. ‘I always say he found them under a gooseberry bush!’ he said and all were relieved to join in the laughter.
‘Joe’s supposed to be in charge of this girl, blast him!’ thought James resentfully. ‘I think he might have taken the trouble to explain that downcast eyes would not have been out of place. And that’s the very least. If I had my way I’d put her in an all-enveloping, ankle-length burkha for the duration!’ And he could have done without the hissing intake of appreciative breath when elements of Zeman’s Afghani escort stalked by. ‘Ah, well,’ he thought with resignation, ‘a few more hours, that’s all we have to get through.’
James gathered his group around him and cleared his throat loudly to call them to order. ‘Well, if the brass hats expect me to behave like a ruddy Cook’s Tours guide, I’ll give them their money’s worth!’ he had warned Joe and he began.
‘Gor Khatri!’ he announced. ‘That’s where you are but how many of you know what the name means? No one? I’ll tell you. It means “The Warrior’s Grave”. Now we don’t know what warrior or precisely where his grave is located but one day perhaps we will. I hope so. This has always been a strong place. You will have appreciated its geographical and strategic advantages: within an easy ride of Peshawar, covering the trade routes of the Khyber and the Bazar Valley, close to the river yet not dependent on it – we have three deep wells all safely within the confines of the walls. And as you see we are by no means the first to exploit the situation. Its origins are lost in antiquity; we know it was used by the Kushan kings of Gandhara over two thousand years ago and I like to imagine Alexander the Great passing through and feeling safe here. Marco Polo visited the fort in 1275 or thereabouts.’ James smiled. ‘It’s reported that he found this a place where “The people have a peculiar language, they worship idols and have an evil disposition.” ’
‘But of course, nowadays we no longer worship idols,’ Zeman said helpfully to Lily. She tried to stifle her laughter.
James continued, ‘The Moghul Emperor Babur established a fortified caravanserai on this spot in the fifteen hundreds and Mountstuart Elphinstone found shelter here in the last century.’
‘Say, James, weren’t there ever any women here? I mean, we surely can’t be the first to visit, can we?’ Lily interrupted.
‘As a matter of fact, there are evidences of a Hindu shrine which could well be the work of the daughter of Shah Jehan… ’ James went on.
‘He’s making this up!’ thought Joe. ‘Surely?’
‘… and who knows? Perhaps I should expand my standard speech to mention that Lily Coblenz, the Calamity Jane of the twentieth century, left her mark.’
Lily very much appreciated this and was the first to burst out laughing. The company trailed after James in good humour as he led them around the fortifications.
‘This,’ said James, ‘is one of the oldest parts of the fort. That tower is a hundred years old, maybe two hundred years old. You can’t tell because the style didn’t change for longer than that. And that alarm bell is about as old. We don’t use it but there it is. When we first moved here it was there to summon help – to turn out the guard. I suppose if this was a ship you’d say to signal “All hands on deck”. Even we have something a little more sophisticated now in the form of a siren if we need it but I’ve left the bell there. It’s part of the history of the place.’ And the inspection continued.