Read Online TW06 The Khyber Connection NEW by Simon Hawke - Free Book Online
Authors: Simon Hawke
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the Ghazi sentry. His deeply sunken eyes were dark and their gaze was indeed mad. They never seemed to blink. His dark skin was etched with lines of age and his hair was long, almost to his waist, and utterly white. His head was bare, as were his feet. He wore a long white robe and many amulets and charms around his neck. He sat cross-legged on a rug inside his tent, which was filled with the fumes of bhang. His eyes glittered.
"How many?" he said, his voice soft and low.
"Three, perhaps four squadrons, Your Holiness," said the sentry. "You have but to give the word and we shall sweep down upon the infidel
firinghi
and destroy them before they can arrive at the Malakand fort!"
"No," said Sadullah.
The sentry was taken aback. "But Your Holiness, if we do not attack now, they shall surely reach the Malakand fort! Then they can join forces with the firinghi soldiers there and march to relieve Chakdarra!"
"I want them to reach the Malakand fort," Sadullah said.
"But ...
why
, Your Holiness?"
"Do you question me?" Sadullah said, his voice deadly.
The sentry dropped down on all fours. "No, Your Holiness! You speak with the voice of the Prophet! It is not for one so humble as Ito question your methods. I only seek understanding."
"It is well," Sadullah said. "All men should seek to understand, though few succeed. Understand this, then.
When the time is ripe, I shall destroy the British. I will not require the help of followers such as yourself. You may all do as you please. Your faith shall be judged in Paradise. Come the Night of the Long Knives, I shall call forth and the heavens shall open. A great host shall descend and slaughter the infidel to the last man, woman, and child. They shall be driven from our land and their blood shall nourish the soil. Those who join with me in that great, final battle shall win their way to Paradise. They shall be invulnerable. With one wave of my hand the bullets of the British will turn to water. With another their shells shall disperse upon the wind. Only those who lack true faith will be struck down. The pure of heart shall be immune to death. Thus it is written, thus it shall be.
"In the meantime, let the lancers pass. Let them ride on to the fort at Malakand, and with them, the foot soldiers who will surely follow." Sadullah slowly raised his hands and cupped them. "The Malakand is a great cup. At its bottom, there lie the infidel
firinghi
. At its rim, all around upon the cliffs, are we. Let the soldiers go into the cup, together with those who are already trapped there. When they are all together in one place," he slowly raised his hands to his mouth, "we shall take this cup ... and drink."
"I do not understand," said Winston Churchill. "We have made almost our entire journey unimpeded. Where arc the mujahidin of the jehad? Why have they not tried to stop us?"
"They'll be up there in them bloomin' rocks, sir," said Mulvaney, "starin' down at us an' smirkin' up their sleeves."
"Smirking?" Churchill said. "I fail to see what there would be to smirk about, Private. Sixty-eight hundred bayonets, seven hundred sabres, and twenty-four guns would hardly seem a smirking matter."
"Beggin' your pardon, sir," Mulvaney said, "an' if you don't mind me speakin' frankly, not meanin' to sound insubordinate—which ain't 'ardly on me mind —but I'd say your green was showin'."
Churchill frowned. "My green? Explain yourself, man."
"Well, you'e a mite young, me son—sir. I mean," Mulvaney said. "It's all very fine to get yourself a transfer from the 4th 'Ussars so you can write up this 'ere campaign for the London
Daily Telegraph
—nice way to get a bit o' action an' pick up an extra quid or two, if l say so myself—but there's a world o' difference between writin' dispatches and anticipatin' Pathans, sir. For the one you need a bit o' learnin', which you seem to 'ave done plenty of, sir. For the other you need experience, which you ain't 'ardly old enough to 'ave received very much
"How many?" he said, his voice soft and low.
"Three, perhaps four squadrons, Your Holiness," said the sentry. "You have but to give the word and we shall sweep down upon the infidel
firinghi
and destroy them before they can arrive at the Malakand fort!"
"No," said Sadullah.
The sentry was taken aback. "But Your Holiness, if we do not attack now, they shall surely reach the Malakand fort! Then they can join forces with the firinghi soldiers there and march to relieve Chakdarra!"
"I want them to reach the Malakand fort," Sadullah said.
"But ...
why
, Your Holiness?"
"Do you question me?" Sadullah said, his voice deadly.
The sentry dropped down on all fours. "No, Your Holiness! You speak with the voice of the Prophet! It is not for one so humble as Ito question your methods. I only seek understanding."
"It is well," Sadullah said. "All men should seek to understand, though few succeed. Understand this, then.
When the time is ripe, I shall destroy the British. I will not require the help of followers such as yourself. You may all do as you please. Your faith shall be judged in Paradise. Come the Night of the Long Knives, I shall call forth and the heavens shall open. A great host shall descend and slaughter the infidel to the last man, woman, and child. They shall be driven from our land and their blood shall nourish the soil. Those who join with me in that great, final battle shall win their way to Paradise. They shall be invulnerable. With one wave of my hand the bullets of the British will turn to water. With another their shells shall disperse upon the wind. Only those who lack true faith will be struck down. The pure of heart shall be immune to death. Thus it is written, thus it shall be.
"In the meantime, let the lancers pass. Let them ride on to the fort at Malakand, and with them, the foot soldiers who will surely follow." Sadullah slowly raised his hands and cupped them. "The Malakand is a great cup. At its bottom, there lie the infidel
firinghi
. At its rim, all around upon the cliffs, are we. Let the soldiers go into the cup, together with those who are already trapped there. When they are all together in one place," he slowly raised his hands to his mouth, "we shall take this cup ... and drink."
"I do not understand," said Winston Churchill. "We have made almost our entire journey unimpeded. Where arc the mujahidin of the jehad? Why have they not tried to stop us?"
"They'll be up there in them bloomin' rocks, sir," said Mulvaney, "starin' down at us an' smirkin' up their sleeves."
"Smirking?" Churchill said. "I fail to see what there would be to smirk about, Private. Sixty-eight hundred bayonets, seven hundred sabres, and twenty-four guns would hardly seem a smirking matter."
"Beggin' your pardon, sir," Mulvaney said, "an' if you don't mind me speakin' frankly, not meanin' to sound insubordinate—which ain't 'ardly on me mind —but I'd say your green was showin'."
Churchill frowned. "My green? Explain yourself, man."
"Well, you'e a mite young, me son—sir. I mean," Mulvaney said. "It's all very fine to get yourself a transfer from the 4th 'Ussars so you can write up this 'ere campaign for the London
Daily Telegraph
—nice way to get a bit o' action an' pick up an extra quid or two, if l say so myself—but there's a world o' difference between writin' dispatches and anticipatin' Pathans, sir. For the one you need a bit o' learnin', which you seem to 'ave done plenty of, sir. For the other you need experience, which you ain't 'ardly old enough to 'ave received very much
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