The Broken Road

  THE BROKEN ROAD

  BY A.E.W. MASON

  AUTHOR OF "FOUR FEATHERS," "THE TRUANTS," "RUNNING WATER," ETC.

  1907

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I. THE BREAKING OF THE ROAD

  II. INSIDE THE FORT

  III. LINFORTH'S DEATH

  IV. LUFFE LOOKS FORWARD

  V. A MAGAZINE ARTICLE

  VI. A LONG WALK

  VII. IN THE DAUPHINE

  VIII. A STRING OF PEARLS

  IX. LUFFE IS REMEMBERED

  X. AN UNANSWERED QUESTION

  XI. AT THE GATE OF LAHORE

  XII. ON THE POLO-GROUND

  XIII. THE INVIDIOUS BAR

  XIV. IN THE COURTYARD

  XV. A QUESTION ANSWERED

  XVI. SHERE ALI MEETS AN OLD FRIEND

  XVII. NEWS FROM MECCA

  XVIII. SYBIL LINFORTH'S LOYALTY

  XIX. A GIFT MISUNDERSTOOD

  XX. THE SOLDIER AND THE JEW

  XXI. SHERE ALI IS CLAIMED BY CHILTISTAN

  XXII. THE CASTING OF THE DIE

  XXIII. SHERE ALI'S PILGRIMAGE

  XXIV. NEWS FROM AJMERE

  XXV. IN THE ROSE GARDEN

  XXVI. THE BREAKING OF THE PITCHER

  XXVII. AN ARRESTED CONFESSION

  XXVIII. THE THIEF

  XXIX. MRS. OLIVER RIDES THROUGH PESHAWUR

  XXX. THE NEEDED IMPLEMENT

  XXXI. AN OLD TOMB AND A NEW SHRINE

  XXXII. SURPRISES FOR CAPTAIN PHILLIPS

  XXXIII. IN THE RESIDENCY

  XXXIV. ONE OF THE LITTLE WARS

  XXXV. A LETTER FROM VIOLET

  XXXVI. "THE LITTLE LESS--"

  CHAPTER I

  THE BREAKING OF THE ROAD

  It was the Road which caused the trouble. It usually is the road. Thatand a reigning prince who was declared by his uncle secretly to have soldhis country to the British, and a half-crazed priest from out beyond theborders of Afghanistan, who sat on a slab of stone by the river-bank andpreached a _djehad_. But above all it was the road--Linforth's road. Itcame winding down from the passes, over slopes of shale; it was builtwith wooden galleries along the precipitous sides of cliffs; it snakedtreacherously further and further across the rich valley of Chiltistantowards the Hindu Kush, until the people of that valley could endure itno longer.

  Then suddenly from Peshawur the wires began to flash their quiet andominous messages. The road had been cut behind Linforth and his coolies.No news had come from him. No supplies could reach him. Luffe, who was inthe country to the east of Chiltistan, had been informed. He had gatheredtogether what troops he could lay his hands on and had already startedover the eastern passes to Linforth's relief. But it was believed thatthe whole province of Chiltistan had risen. Moreover it was winter-timeand the passes were deep in snow. The news was telegraphed to England.Comfortable gentlemen read it in their first-class carriages as theytravelled to the City and murmured to each other commonplaces about theprice of empire. And in a house at the foot of the Sussex DownsLinforth's young wife leaned over the cot of her child with the tearsstreaming from her eyes, and thought of the road with no less horror thanthe people of Chiltistan. Meanwhile the great men in Calcutta began tomobilise a field force at Nowshera, and all official India said uneasily,"Thank Heaven, Luffe's on the spot."

  Charles Luffe had long since abandoned the army for the politicalservice, and, indeed, he was fast approaching the time-limit of hiscareer. He was a man of breadth and height, but rather heavy and dull offeature, with a worn face and a bald forehead. He had made enemies, andstill made them, for he had not the art of suffering fools gladly; and,on the other hand, he made no friends. He had no sense of humour and nogeneral information. He was, therefore, of no assistance at adinner-party, but when there was trouble upon the Frontier, or beyond it,he was usually found to be the chief agent in the settlement.

  Luffe alone had foreseen and given warning of the danger. Even Linforth,who was actually superintending the making of the road, had been kept inignorance. At times, indeed, some spokesman from among the merchants ofKohara, the city of Chiltistan where year by year the caravans fromCentral Asia met the caravans from Central India, would come to his tentand expostulate.

  "We are better without the road, your Excellency. Will you kindly stopit!" the merchant would say; and Linforth would then proceed todemonstrate how extremely valuable to the people of Chiltistan a betterroad would be:

  "Kohara is already a great mart. In your bazaars at summer-time yousee traders from Turkestan and Tibet and Siberia, mingling with theHindoo merchants from Delhi and Lahore. The road will bring you stillmore trade."

  The spokesman went back to the broad street of Kohara seemingly wellcontent, and inch by inch the road crept nearer to the capital.

  But Luffe was better acquainted with the Chiltis, a soft-spoken race ofmen, with musical, smooth voices and polite and pretty ways. Buttreachery was a point of honour with them and cold-blooded cruelty ahabit. There was one particular story which Luffe was accustomed to tellas illustrative of the Chilti character.

  "There was a young man who lived with his mother in a little hamlet closeto Kohara. His mother continually urged him to marry, but for a longwhile he would not. He did not wish to marry. Finally, however, he fellin love with a pretty girl, made her his wife, and brought her home, tohis mother's delight. But the mother's delight lasted for just five days.She began to complain, she began to quarrel; the young wife replied, andthe din of their voices greatly distressed the young man, besides makinghim an object of ridicule to his neighbours. One evening, in a fit ofpassion, both women said they would stand it no longer. They ran out ofthe house and up the hillside, but as there was only one path they ranaway together, quarrelling as they went. Then the young Chilti rose,followed them, caught them up, tied them in turn hand and foot, laid themside by side on a slab of stone, and quietly cut their throats.

  "'Women talk too much,' he said, as he came back to a house unfamiliarlyquiet. 'One had really to put a stop to it.'"

  Knowing this and many similar stories, Luffe had been for some while onthe alert. Whispers reached him of dangerous talk in the bazaars ofKohara, Peshawur, and even of Benares in India proper. He heard of thegrowing power of the old Mullah by the river-bank. He was aware of theaccusations against the ruling Khan. He knew that after night had fallenWafadar Nazim, the Khan's uncle, a restless, ambitious, disloyal man,crept down to the river-bank and held converse with the priest. Thus hewas ready so far as he could be ready.

  The news that the road was broken was flashed to him from the nearesttelegraph station, and within twenty-four hours he led out a small forcefrom his Agency--a battalion of Sikhs, a couple of companies of Gurkhas,two guns of a mountain battery, and a troop of irregular levies--anddisappeared over the pass, now deep in snow.

  "Would he be in time?"

  Not only in India was the question asked. It was asked in England, too,in the clubs of Pall Mall, but nowhere with so passionate an outcry as inthe house at the foot of the Sussex Downs.

  To Sybil Linforth these days were a time of intolerable suspense. Thehorror of the Road was upon her. She dreamed of it when she slept, sothat she came to dread sleep, and tried, as long as she might, to keepher heavy eyelids from closing over her eyes. The nights to her wereterrible. Now it was she, with her child in her arms, who walked forever and ever along that road, toiling through snow or over shale andfinding no rest anywhere. Now it was her boy alone, who wandered alongone of the wooden galleries high up above the river torrent, until aplank broke and he fell through with a piteous scream. Now it was herhusband, who could go neither forward nor backward, since in front andbehind a chasm gaped. But most often it was a man--a young Englishman,who pursued a young Indian along that road into the mists. Somehow,perhaps because it was inexplicable, perhaps because its details were soclear, this dream terrified her more than all the rest. She could tellthe very dress of the Indian who fled--a young man--young as hispursuer. A thick sheepskin coat swung aside as he ran and gave her aglimpse of gay silk; soft leather boots protected his feet; and upon hisface there was a look of fury and wild fear. She never woke from thisdream but her heart was beating wildly. For a few moments after wakingpeace would descend upon her.

  "It is a dream--all a dream," she would whisper to herself withcontentment, and then the truth would break upon her dissociated from thedream. Often she rose from her bed and, kneeling beside the boy's cot,prayed with a passionate heart that the curse of the Road--that roadpredicted by a Linforth years ago--might overpass this generation.

  Meanwhile rumours came--rumours of disaster. Finally a messenger brokethrough and brought sure tidings. Luffe had marched quickly, had comewithin thirty miles of Kohara before he was stopped. In a strong fort ata bend of the river the young Khan with his wife and a few adherents hadtaken refuge. Luffe joined the Khan, sought to push through to Kohara andrescue Linforth, but was driven back. He and his troops and the Khan werenow closely besieged by Wafadar Nazim.

  The work of mobilisation was pressed on; a great force was gathered atNowshera; Brigadier Appleton was appointed to command it.

  "Luffe will hold out," said official India, trying to be cheerful.

  Perhaps the only man who distrusted Luffe's ability to hold out wasBrigadier Ap
pleton, who had personal reasons for his views. BrigadierAppleton was no fool, and yet Luffe had not suffered him gladly. All themore, therefore, did he hurry on the preparations. The force marched outon the new road to Chiltistan. But meanwhile the weeks were passing, andup beyond the snow-encumbered hills the beleaguered troops stoodcheerfully at bay behind the thick fort-walls.