Flashman Papers 3-Book Collection 1: Flashman, Royal Flash, Flashman’s Lady. George Fraser MacDonald

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СКАЧАТЬ among his own people; well, who’s to blame him? And I tell you, I believe you wrong Akbar Khan; in our meetings he has impressed me more than any other Afghan I have met. I judge him to be a man of his word.”

      “The Douranis are probably saying that, too,” says I, and had the icy spectacles turned on me for my pains. But Mackenzie took me up fast enough, and asked me what I thought.

      “I don’t trust Akbar either,” says I. “Mind you, I like the chap, but he ain’t straight.”

      “Flashman probably knows him better than we do,” says Mac, and McNaghten exploded.

      “Now, really, Captain Mackenzie! I believe I can trust my own judgement, do you know? Against even that of such a distinguished diplomatist as Mr Flashman here.” He snorted and sat down at his desk. “I should be interested to hear precisely what Akbar Khan has to gain by treachery towards us? What purpose his proposal can have other than that which is apparent? Well, can you tell me?”

      Mac just stubbed out his cheroot. “If I could tell you, sir, – if I could see a definite trick in all this – I’d be a happier man. Dealing with Afghans, it’s what I don’t see and don’t understand that worries me.”

      “Lunatic philosophy!” says McNaghten, and wouldn’t listen to another word. He was sold on Akbar’s plan, plain enough, and so determined that next morning he had Muhammed and Hamet in and signified his acceptance in writing, which they were to take back to Akbar Khan. I thought that downright foolish, for it was concrete evidence of McNaghten’s part in what was, after all, a betrayal. One or two of his advisers tried to dissuade him from putting pen to paper, at least, but he wouldn’t budge.

      “Trouble is the man’s desperate,” Mackenzie told me. “Akbar’s proposal came at just the right moment, when McNaghten felt the last ray of hope was gone, and he was going to have to skulk out of Kabul with his tail between his legs. He wants to believe Akbar’s offer is above board. Well, young Flash, I don’t know about you, but when we go out to see Akbar tomorrow I’m taking my guns along.”

      I was feeling pretty nervous about it myself, and I wasn’t cheered by the sight of Elphy Bey, when McNaghten took me along to see him that afternoon. The old fellow was lying on a daybed on his verandah, while one of the garrison ladies – I forget who – was reading the Scriptures to him. He couldn’t have been more pleased to see me, and was full of praise for my exploits, but he looked so old and wasted, in his night-cap and gown, that I thought, my God, what chance have we with this to command us?

      McNaghten was pretty short with him, for when Elphy heard of Akbar’s plan he looked down in the mouth, and asked if McNaghten wasn’t afraid of some treachery.

      “None at all,” says McNaghten. “I wish you to have two regiments and two guns got ready, quickly and quietly, for the capture of Mohammed Khan’s fort, where we shall met Sirdar Akbar tomorrow morning. The rest you can leave to me.”

      Elphy looked unhappy about this. “It is all very uncertain,” says he, fretting. “I fear they are not to be trusted, you know. It is a very strange plot, to be sure.”

      “Oh, my God!” says McNaghten. “If you think so, then let us march out and fight them, and I am sure we shall beat them.”

      “I can’t, my dear Sir William,” says old Elphy, and it was pathetic to hear his quavering voice. “The troops aren’t to be counted on, you see.”

      “Well, then, we must accept the Sirdar’s proposals.”

      Elphy fretted some more, and McNaghten was nearly beside himself with impatience. Finally he snapped out: “I understand these things better than you!” and turned on his heel, and stamped off the verandah.

      Elphy was much distressed, and lamented on about the sad state of affairs, and the lack of agreement. “I suppose he is right, and he does understand better than I. At least I hope so. But you must take care, Flashman; all of you must take care.”

      Between him and McNaghten I felt pretty down, but evening brought my spirits up, for I went to Lady Sale’s house, where there was quite a gathering of the garrison and wives, and found I was something of a lion. Mackenzie had told my story, and they were all over me. Even Lady Sale, a vinegary old dragon with a tongue like a carving knife, was civil.

      “Captain Mackenzie has given us a remarkable account of your adventures,” says she. “You must be very tired; come and sit here, by me.”

      I pooh-poohed the adventures, of course, but was told to hold my tongue. “We have little enough to our credit,” says Lady Sale, “so we must make the most of what we have. You, at least, have behaved with courage and common sense, which is more than can be said for some older heads among us.”

      She meant poor old Elphy, of course, and she and the other ladies lost no time in taking his character to pieces. They did not think much of McNaghten either, and I was surprised at the viciousness of their opinions. It was only later that I understood that they were really frightened women; they had cause to be.

      However, everyone seemed to enjoy slanging Elphy and the Envoy, and it was quite a jolly party. I left about midnight; it was snowing, and bright moonlight, and as I walked to my billet I found myself thinking of Christmastime in England, and the coach-ride back from Rugby when the half ended, and warm brandy-punch in the hall, and the roaring fire in the dining-room grate with Father and his cronies talking and laughing and warming their backsides. I wished I was there, with my young wife, and at the thought of her my innards tightened. By God, I hadn’t had a woman in weeks and there was nothing to be had in the cantonments. That was something I would speedily put right after we had finished our business with Akbar in the morning, and things were back to normal. Perhaps it was reaction from listening to those whining females, but it seemed to me as I went to sleep that McNaghten was probably right, and our plot with Akbar was all for the best.

      I was up before dawn, and dressed in my Afghan clothes; it was easier to hide a brace of pistols beneath them than in a uniform. I buckled on my sword, and rode over to the gate where McNaghten and Mackenzie were already waiting, with a few native troopers; McNaghten, in his frock coat and top hat, was sitting a mule and damning the eyes of a Bombay Cavalry cornet; it seemed the escort was not ready, and Brigadier Shelton had not yet assembled the troops who were to overpower the Douranis.

      “You may tell the Brigadier there is never anything ready or right where he is concerned,” McNaghten was saying. “It is all of a piece; we are surrounded by military incompetents; well, it won’t do. I shall go out to the meeting, and Shelton must have his troops ready to advance within the half hour. Must, I say! Is that understood?”

      The cornet scuttled off, and McNaghten blew his nose and swore to Mackenzie he would wait no longer. Mac urged him to hold on at least till there was some sign that Shelton was moving, but McNaghten said:

      “Oh, he is probably in his bed still. But I’ve sent word to Le Geyt; he will see the thing attended to. Ah, here are Trevor and Lawrence; now gentlemen, there has been time enough wasted. Forward!”

      I didn’t like this. The plan had been that Akbar and the chiefs, including the Douranis, should be assembled near Mohammed’s Fort, which was less than a quarter of a mile from the cantonment gates. Once McNaghten and Akbar had greeted each other, Shelton was to emerge from the cantonment at speed, and the Douranis would be surrounded and overcome between our troops and the other chiefs. But Shelton wasn’t ready, we didn’t even have an escort, and it seemed to me that the five of us and the native troopers – who were only half a dozen or so strong – might have an СКАЧАТЬ