"For God's sake!" McNaghten cried, and then the pistol banged and he staggered back, clutching at his face. I rode full tilt into the man who had shot him, and the mare reared back on her haunches; there was a mob around us now, slashing at McNaghten as he fell, and bounding over the snow at me. I yelled in rage and panic, and swung my sword blindly; it whistled through the empty air, and I nearly overbalanced, but the mare righted me, and I
slashed again and this time struck something that crunched and fell away. The air was full of howls and threats; I lunged furiously and managed to shake off a hand that was clutching at my left leg; something cracked into the saddle beside my thigh, and the mare shrieked and bounded forward.
Another leap, another blind slash of my sword and we were clear, with the mob cursing and streaming at our heels. I put my head down and my heels in, and we went like a Derby winner in the last furlong.
We were down the slope and across the bridge when I saw ahead of me a little party of horsemen trotting slowly in our direction. In front I recognised Le Geyt - this was the escort that was to have guarded McNaghten, but of Shelton and his troops there was no sign.
Well, they might just be in time to convoy his corpse, if the Ghazis left any of it; I stood up in the stirrups, glancing behind to make sure the pursuit was distanced, and hallooed.
But the only effect was that the cowardly brutes turned straight round and made for the cantonment at full pelt; Le Geyt did make some effort to rally them, but they paid no heed. Well, I am a poltroon myself, but this was ridiculous; it costs nothing to make a show, when all is said. Acting on the thought, I wheeled my mare; sure enough, the nearest Afghans were a hundred yards in my rear, and had given up chasing me. As far again beyond them a crowd was milling round the spot where McNaghten had fallen; even as I watched they began to yell and dance, and I saw a spear upthrust with something grey stuck on the end of it. Just for an instant I thought: "Well, Burnes will get the job now," and then I remembered, Burnes was dead. Say what you like, the political service is a chancy business.
I could make out Akbar in his glittering steel breastplate, surrounded by an excited crowd, but there was no sign of Mackenzie or Lawrence. By God, I thought, I'm the only survivor, and as Le Geyt came spurring up to me I rode forward a few paces, on impulse, and waved my sword over my head. It was impressively bloody from having hit somebody in the scramble.
"Akbar Khan!" I roared, and on the hillside faces began to turn to look down towards me. "Akbar Khan, you for-sworn, treacherous dog!"
Le Geyt was babbling at my elbow, but I paid no heed.
"Come down, you infidel!" I shouted. "Come down and fight like a man!"
I was confident that he wouldn't, even if he could hear me, which was unlikely. But some of the nearer Afghans could; there was a move in my direction.
"Come away, sir, do!" cries Le Geyt. "See, they are advancing!"
They were still a safe way off. "You dirty dog!" I roared. "Have you no shame, you that call yourself Sirdar? You murder unarmed old men, but will you come and fight with Bloody Lance?" And I waved my sabre again.
"For God's sake!" cries Le Geyt. "You can't fight them all!"
"Haven't I just been doing that?" says I. "By God, I've a good mind - "
He grabbed me by the arm and pointed. The Ghazis were advancing, straggling groups of them were crossing the bridge. I didn't see any guns among them, but they were getting uncomfortably close.
"Sending your jackals, are you?" I bawled. "It's you I want, you Afghan bastard! Well, if you won't, you won't, but there'll be another day!"
With which I wheeled about, and we made off for the cantonment gate, before the Ghazis got within charging distance; they can move fast, when they want to.
At the gate all was chaos; there were troops hastily forming up, and servants and hangers-on scattering everywhere; Shelton was wrestling into his sword-belt and bawling orders. Red in the face, he caught sight of me.
"My God, Flashman! What is this? Where is the Envoy?"
"Dead," says I. "Cut to bits, and Mackenzie with him, for all I know."
He just gaped. "Who - what? - how?" "Akbar Khan cut 'em up, sir," says I, very cool. And I added: "We had been expecting you and the regiment, but you didn't come."
There was a crowd round <us - officers and officials and even a few of the troops who had broken ranks.
"Didn't come?" says Shelton. "In God's name, sir, I was coming this moment. This was the time appointed by the General!"
This astonished me. "Well, he was late," says I. "Damned late."
There was a tremendous hubbub about us, and cries of
"Massacre!" "All dead but Flashman!" "My God, look at him!" "The Envoy's murdered!" and so on. Le Geyt pushed his way through them, and we left Shelton roaring to his men to stand fast till he found what the devil was what. He spurred up beside me, demanding to know what had taken place, and when I told him all of it, damning Akbar for a treacherous villain.
"We must see the General at once," says he. "How the devil did you come off alive, Flashman?"
"You may well ask, sir," cries Le Geyt. "Look here!" And he pointed to my saddle. I remembered having felt a blow near my leg in the skirmish, and when I looked, there was a Khyber knife with its point buried in the saddle bag. One of the Ghazis must have thrown it; two inches either way and it would have disabled me or the mare. Just the thought of what that would have meant blew all the brag I had been showing clean away. I felt ill and weak.
Le Geyt steadied me in the saddle, and they helped me down at Elphy's front door, while the crowd buzzed around. I straightened up, and as Shelton and I mounted the steps I heard Le Geyt saying: "He cut his way through the pack of'em, and even then he would have ridden back in alone if I hadn't stopped him! He would, I tell you, just to come at Akbar!"
That lifted my spirits a little, and I thought, aye, give a dog a good name and he's everyone's pet. Then Shelton, thrusting everyone aside, had us in Elphy's study, and was pouring out his tale, or rather, my tale.
Elphy listened like a man who cannot believe what he sees and hears. He sat appalled, his sick face grey and his mouth moving, and I thought again, what in God's name have we got for a commander?
Oddly enough, it wasn't the helpless look in the man's eyes, the droop of his shoulders, or even his evident illness that affected me - it was the sight of his skinny ankles and feet and bedroom slippers sticking out beneath his gown. They looked so ridiculous in one who was a general of an army.
When we had done, he just stared and said:
"My God, what is to be done? Oh, Sir William, Sir William, what a calamity!" After a few moments he pulled himself together and said we must take counsel what to do; then he looked at me and said:
"Flashman, thank God you at least are safe. You come like Randolph Murray, the single bearer of dreadful news. Tell my orderly to summon the senior officers, if you please, and then have the doctors look at you."
I believe he thought I was wounded; I thought then, and I think now, that he was sick in mind as well as in body. He seemed, as my wife's relatives would have said, to be "wandered".