“‘A Gilzai and a grandmother for scandal’,” I quoted. “Mind your own dam’ business. And now, be a good lad, and get me that outfit and pony.”
He summoned one of his rascals, and asked if the tortured Thug was dead yet.
“Nay, but he has no more to tell,” says the other. “For he said nothing when I –” You wouldn’t wish to know what he said next. “Shall I pass him some of his own tobacco?”12 he added.
“Aye,” says Ilderim. “And tell Rafik Tamwar I want all his clothes, and his knife, and his horse. Go thou.”
For answer the sowar nodded, took out his Khyber knife, and stepped back under the trees to where his companions were guarding the prisoner, or what was left of him. I heard him address the brute – even at that time and place it was an extraordinary enough exchange to fix itself in my mind; one of the most astonishing things I ever heard, even in India.
“It is over, deceiver,” says he. “Here is the knife – in the throat or the heart? Choose.”
The Thug’s reply was hoarse with agony. “In the heart, then – quickly!”
“You’re sure? As you wish.”
“No – wait!” gasps the Thug. “Put the point … behind … my ear – so. Thrust hard – thus I will bleed less, and go undisfigured. Now!”
There was a pause, and then the sowar’s voice says: “He was right – he bleeds hardly at all. Trust a deceiver to know.”
A few moments later and Rafik Tamwar appeared, grumbling, in a rag of loin-cloth, with his clothes over his arm, and leading a neat little pony. I told Ilderim that Skene sahib must see his kit replaced, and he could have my own Pegu pony, at which the good Tamwar grinned through his beard, and said he would willingly make such an exchange every day. I slipped into his shirt and cavalry breeches, drew on the soft boots, donned his hairy poshteen,a stuck the Khyber cleaver in my sash, and was winding the puggaree round my head and wishing I had a revolver as well, when Ilderim says thoughtfully:
“Where wilt thou go, Flashman – have ye an eyrie to wait in where no enemy can find thee?”
I confessed I hadn’t, and asked if he had any suggestions, at which he frowned thoughtfully, and then smiled, and then roared with laughter, and rolled on his back, and then stood up, peering and grinning at me.
“Some juice for thy skin,” says he. “Aye, and when thy beard has grown, thou’lt be a rare Peshawar ruffler – so ye swagger enough, and curl thy hair round thy finger, and spit from the back of thy throat –”
“I know all about that,” says I, impatiently. “Where d’you suggest I do all these things?”
“In the last place any ill-willer would ever look for a British colonel sahib,” says he, chortling. “Look now – wouldst thou live easy for a spell, and eat full, and grow fat, what time thou art preparing to play the game against these enemies of the Raj? Aye, and get well paid for it – 24 rupees a month, and battab also?” He slapped his hands together at my astonishment. “Why not – join the Sirkar’s army! What a recruit for the native cavalry – why, given a month they’ll make thee a daffadar!”c He stuck his tongue in his cheek. “Maybe a rissaldar in time – who knows?”
“Are you mad?” says I. “Me – enlist as a sowar? And how the devil d’you expect me to get away with that?”
“What hinders? Thou hast passed in Kabul bazaar before today, and along the Kandahar road. Stain thy face, as I said, and grow thy beard, and thou’lt be the properest Sirkar’s bargain in India! Does it not meet thy need – and will it not place thee close to affairs – within reach of thine own folk, and ready to move at a finger-snap?”
It was ridiculous – and yet the more I thought of it, the more obvious it was. How long did I want to hide – a month? Two or three perhaps? I would have to live, and for the life of me I couldn’t think of a more discreet and comfortable hiding-place than the ranks of a native cavalry regiment – I had all the qualifications and experience … if I was careful. But I’d have to be that, whatever I did. I stood considering while Ilderim urged me, full of enthusiasm.
“See now – there is my mother’s cousin, Gulam Beg, who was malikd in one of my father’s villages, and is now woordy-majore in the 3rd Cavalry at Meerut garrison. If thou goest to him, and say Ilderim sent thee, will he not be glad of such a fine sturdy trooper – ye may touch the hilt, and eat the salt, and belike he’ll forget the assamif for my sake. Let me see, now,” says this mad rascal, chuckling as he warmed to his work, “thou art a Yusufzai Pathan of the Peshawar Valley – no, no, better still, we’ll have thee a Hasanzai of the Black Mountain – they are a strange folk, touched, and given to wild fits, so much may be excused thee. Oh, it is rare! Thou art – Makarram Khan, late of the Peshawar police, and so familiar with the ways of the sahibs; thou hast skirmished along the line, too. Never fear, there was a Makarram Khan,13 until I shot him on my last furlough; he will give thee a shabashg from hell, for he was a stout rider in his time. Careless, though – or he’d have watched the rocks as he rode. Well, Makarram –” says he, grinning like a wolf in the gloom “– wilt thou carry a lance for the Sirkar?”
I’d been determining even as he talked; I was in the greatest fix, and there was no other choice. If I’d known what it would lead to, I’d have damned Ilderim’s notion to his teeth, but it seemed inspired at the time.
“Bind thy puggaree round thy jaw at night, lest thou babble in English in thy sleep,” says he at parting. “Be sullen, and speak little – and be a good soldier, blood-brother, for the credit of Ilderim Khan.” He laughed and slapped my saddle as we shook hands in the dark under the trees. “When thou comest this way again, go to Bull Temple, beyond the Jokan Bagh – I will have a man waiting for an hour at sunrise and sunset. Salaam, sowar!” cries he, and saluted, and I dug my heels into my pony and cantered off in the dawn, still like a man in a wild dream.
a Sheepskin coat.
b Field allowance.
c Cavalry commander of ten.
d Headman.
e Native adjutant of Indian irregular cavalry. (Since the 3rd were not irregulars, Flashman seems to have misused the term here.)
f In this sense, a deposit paid by a recruit on enlistment.
g Hurrah, bravo.