Josiah the Great: The True Story of The Man Who Would Be King. Ben Macintyre

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ produced a man who had once been part of the garrison at Tak; this ‘secret messenger was accordingly dispatched to the head of the Rohillah garrison of Tak, with private instructions to tamper with his late comrades if he found their leader accessible to our design’.

      Sirwa Khan, Harlan reasoned, held his fort only by virtue of force, and by force, or bribery, he might therefore be legitimately deprived of it. Alexander, after all, had not hesitated to subdue and subvert local chiefs in building his empire. ‘The strong fortress of Tak,’ Harlan wrote, is ‘one of those many retreats and fastnesses which the feudal system has made an essential construction for the safeguard of fortuitous power. Its possessor portrayed in his precautions the precarious nature of authority where might governs right by tyranny.’

      While awaiting word from Tak, Harlan was visited by an Afghan noble, a member of the Saddozai clan and a relative of Shah Shujah. This fellow claimed to have been in service with Gul Khan, and described the Rohillah as a turncoat of the worst sort, who had had his hand cut off for treason. Harlan put the story down to malice.

      Meanwhile his convoy was growing, with the addition of a group of Afghan pilgrims returning from Mecca to Peshawar who asked if they could join them on the march north for protection. Harlan was impressed by the resilience of these humble Muslims, whose resolute piety seemed reminiscent of his own Quaker faith. He did not have the heart to turn them away.

      With pilgrims in tow, the army made its way through ‘flat country densely covered with camels, grazing in great herds upon the everlasting tamarisk’, guarded by a lone herdsman armed with a matchlock, sword and shield. Harlan was fascinated by these ungainly but hardy beasts, and he began to take copious notes of their habits and peculiarities, their food, character, milk, speed, voice and gait. The camel might be mocked as a horse designed by committee, but the committee had done its research and this peculiar animal was ideally adapted to its world. Harlan described it in his own intimate, inimitable style:

      

      The camel is a great eater of fresh forage, with which he swells himself out thoroughly. He browses throughout the day, resting during the noon heat, and ruminates immediately after he ceases to feed. His forage sometimes ferments upon the stomach when his eructations become disgustingly offensive. When his food is digested he has a habit of gritting his teeth. Nothing can be more vociferous than the camel in his intercourse with man; he never allows his person to be touched either to load or unload without roaring louder and not unlike a tiger. The simultaneous preparations of the camp followers when about to march with the roaring camels creates a tremendous uproar and noise that rouses all the camp however desirous one may be to indulge undisturbed in the sweet luxury of a matin slumber. The horse is an excellent carrying beast but the camel less costly, more hardy, surer, is better adapted to the poor man, and his slow methodical gait is congenial to his driver’s indolent habits. His great strength and a rude diet make him an invaluable auxiliary. He is a hard working creature and when in health a faithful attendant, but he has a delicate temperament. The camel is perfectly docile in his temper and of admirable tractability. His gait is patient, moving both feet at the same, and will go at his utmost speed one hundred miles daily in consecutive marches with proper periods of rest and food. Camel milk is nutritious and used with avidity by the tribes who have access to it. They say the matrons amongst the Arabs who are anxious for their daughters to appear attractive in the eyes of an intended husband cause the affianced bride to drink freely and profusely of it until the victim rapidly increasing in obesity becomes grossly fat. In that state, the lady is an object of admiration.

      

      Over the years Harlan would assemble an immense dossier on camel behaviour. Afghan camels, like the fruits of Kabul, would become a fixation.

      A march of three days brought the troop to Surgur, the fiefdom of one Asad Khan, who duly appeared with food and forage in abundance as the men were making camp. Asad Khan was a striking figure in full tribal regalia, a great beard reaching to his waist and a long talwar thrust in his belt. This was the first Afghan chief Harlan had met, and he was struck that his ferocious-looking visitor made no demands in return for his generosity except ‘a request for medicine modestly proffered’. Hitherto the army had encountered only the tribes of the Indus valley, but now Harlan was entering the country of the Pathans, the frontier tribe ruled by an uncompromising code of personal honour valuing hospitality and revenge above all else. Winston Churchill, who encountered the Pathans in 1897 as a twenty-two-year-old soldier, wrote: ‘The Pathan tribes are always engaged in public or private war. Every family cultivates its vendetta; every clan its feud. The numerous tribes and combinations of tribes all have their accounts to settle with one another. Nothing is ever forgotten and very few debts are left unpaid.’ Pukhtunwali, the way of the Pathans, was strict and uncompromising: anyone seeking asylum or hospitality, even an enemy, should be welcomed, and any injury or insult, or offence to a Pathan’s personal honour, should be met with retaliation. In time, Harlan would adopt much of the code as his own.

      Word of Harlan’s medical skill travelled ahead of him, and every morning a line of sick and injured people could now be found waiting silently outside his tent. ‘During my frequent halts, numbers of the people applied for medical aid, upon all of whom I conferred the benefit of my clinical experience,’ wrote Harlan, who never turned a patient away. Eye diseases, and particularly cataracts, were endemic. In some cases Harlan was able to restore the sight of cataract sufferers by means of a simple operation. ‘My fame in this particular department of surgery had been conveyed from one to another, until the miracle of curing blindness by the touch was accredited to me,’ he wrote with some embarrassment. His cataract operation was crude in the extreme, requiring only ‘a steel lancet, a copper needle similar to a bodkin’ and a steady hand. One such operation was particularly memorable:

      

      An elderly woman came to me who had been totally blind many years. When I alluded to the precarious nature of remedial measures and told her the painful nature of the means by which she could hope for relief, she promptly replied, with a firmness of invincible decision: ‘Why should I fear? Am I not an Avghaun?’ The lens of the right eye was depressed, the patient refusing to have her head restrained. She remained unmoved as the point of the lancet penetrated the eye, and in a moment the light of day again illumed the vision that had been so long extinguished. I told her to look up, which she did, and with a calm and pious fervour she ejaculated her gratitude to Heaven. I desired to apply the usual dressings, consisting of a compress and bandage lightly bound, but she resisted and explained: ‘Let me first look upon the face of my deliverer to whom I owe a second creation.’ She prostrated herself before me with expressions of devout adoration whilst I endeavoured to proceed with the bandaging.

      

      Having given instructions for her convalescence, Harlan told the delighted woman she should now go home.

      

      This she would by no means agree to, insisting that I would ‘thrust the lancet into the other eye’. I found it impossible to satisfy her importunity without complying with her request as she repeated ‘I am an Avghaun. Proceed. I fear nothing.’ After the operation she rose up from the carpet upon which she had been seated, invoked endless blessings upon myself and posterity for seven generations, and suffered herself to be led away, repeating as she walked off with surprising self-confidence in her step and exultation in her voice: ‘God is great! Thanks and praise be to God, and blessing on the Christian!’

      

      After a three-day pause the party resumed its progress up the west bank of the Indus towards Dera Ismail Khan, passing through a landscape of desert scrub, jungle and rocky outcrops. The few inhabitants seemed peaceable, but food and forage were becoming scarce. Harlan always offered to pay for what he needed, a gesture that puzzled the locals, who were more used to being pillaged than paid: ‘Their surprise at just treatment from one who had the power to СКАЧАТЬ