As Eagles Fly

Lord Athelstan joined her and she saw him for the first time wearing his gold-embroidered diplomatic uniform with glinting decorations on his chest.
He looked resplendent, very dignified and a complete contrast to the gaudy procession of Turks coming towards them down the hill.

“Prince David told me,” Lord Athelstan went on, “that Djemmal Eddin’s baggage consisted largely of books, atlases, paints and drawing materials.”

“Poor Djemmal Eddin!” Natasha exclaimed. “I doubt if he will be allowed to keep them.”

“What do you mean?” Lord Athelstan asked.

“The Imam is very autocratic with his family. His youngest wife, Aminette, was upset that she was not allowed to wear rich clothing. I am sure the Imam will allow his son no reminders of the West, except for those that he carries in his mind.”

It seemed impossible, but Lord Athelstan suspected that it was the truth.

It hurt her to think of what the serfs suffered in Russia, the cruelties inflicted on many of them by their Masters, the manner in which they were of no account as individuals, only a possession, bound to serve and obey without being allowed to have any personality of their own.

He paused to say.

“A concubine, or a wife, approaches the Sultan on her knees and draws nearer to him, starting at his feet – !”

His voice sharpened.

“Can you not understand the significance of that?”

“I have told you that I will die – by my own hand,” Natasha said firmly.

I believe that the East can give solace to my soul and the West – personified in England – all that I need physically, especially being able to think and speak freely.”

“What is more,” Natasha went on, “do you realise that a prisoner’s child, if orphaned, becomes by law what they call ‘Allah’s Own’ and is therefore brought up in the Moslem faith?”

Then as Lord Athelstan, his pistols reloaded, was waiting to fire again, two wolves, obviously more hungry than cautious, fell on the dead bodies of their companions and started to tear them apart.

It was only a few seconds before the rest of the pack followed their example.

It was then easy to shoot them as they quarrelled, snarled and fought amongst themselves, pulling the carcasses to pieces and oblivious of any other danger.

Lord Athelstan shot them down one after another. Finally only half a dozen escaped all dragging with them a part of their mauled and mangled companions.

He fired the remaining bullets in his pistols after them, but it was difficult in the darkness to know whether he had scored a hit.

From the English point of view Shamyl had been an asset, even though they had done nothing to help him.

Prince Bariatinsky even changed the landscape itself.

The great forests had always been Shamyl’s finest natural defence, so much so that not only did he impose very heavy fines on any man cutting down a tree for his own purposes but he often hanged offenders there and then as a warning to others.

Prince Bariatinsky felled the forests, cleared the scrub and bridged the rivers.

Lord Athelstan ate alone because, whatever happened elsewhere, it was impossible in Shamyl’s house for a Christian to sit down with a Moslem.