At the Court of the Amîr: A NarrativeGray, John Alfred
History
At the Court of the Amîr: A Narrative
Gray, John Alfred
'Abd al-Rahman Khan, Amir of Afghanistan, -1901; Afghanistan -- History
Everyone in the Durbar Hall feasted his eyes upon this beautiful thing,
and the courtiers edged anxiously nearer the royal chair, in the hope
that “Amîr Sahib” might perhaps, as he sometimes did, bestow a present
upon a “faithful and deserving slave.” The Amîr slowly cast his eyes
round the ring, and each heart beat high, as the Amîr’s eyes rested a
moment on this man or that. Suddenly, the Amîr called out,
“Nassir, Pesh biár,” “come forward.”
Out of a far corner came Nassir. The Amîr turned to the anxious circle,
and said,
“Look upon this man. He was with me in Samarcànd.” The hearts of the
courtiers sank; Nassir, then, was to be the recipient of the shield.
“He was with me in Samarcànd, and for a little thing he turned and
cursed me. These were his words”--and the Amîr repeated the curse. “Is
this so?” he said to Nassir. The old man hung his head in shame.
“He cursed me; he half drew his sword on me, his master. What is this
man worthy of?”
There was a dead silence: the shield was forgotten, for behold Nassir’s
day had come. It had; but not in the sense anticipated.
“Give him the shield,” said the Amîr. “He was with me in Samarcànd.”
I should finish the story by saying Nassir treasured the shield as the
apple of his eye, and shewed it me with honest pride--but no, he sold
it next day for what it would fetch. Afghanistan!
When I went to see him he was suffering from lumbago. He was a courtly
old man, and he gave me black tea to drink, in a Russian tea-glass.
I saw him at the Court, some time afterwards, and he came up to speak
to me. He had a stoop in his shoulders, and the tailor had not cut his
tunic properly, so that he had unbuttoned the top two or three buttons
to release his throat. It was a gorgeous tunic, richly embroidered with
gold; his sword-belt and scabbard were loaded with plates of solid
gold, and he had an old-fashioned bowler hat, too large for him, on
the back of his head. I was sorry. It took so from the dignity of his
appearance; at least in my eyes: not so in the eyes of the Afghans, to
them it was quite _en règle_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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