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EX-KING OF AFGHANISTAN

that had since birth been trained to concentrate on the
Faith, forgetting all and renouncing all.

Insh'Allah. It was the will of Allah.

Or, alternatively, it must be left to Allah. He had
but the philosophies contained in that word.

There came fire and want and desperation below him
in the wicked city. There were refugees passing over
the hills, away from the smoking city where, rumour
said, all was pestilence and famine and evil.

There came days of waiting, and afar off the dust of
an approaching army. The city seemed to rise in the
air, atop a cloud of smoke and an explosion. Was it
the end of the world ? The mullah was prepared.

But it was peace. It was peace, after hangings, and
tortures, and months of harrying and want in Kabul
City. The green valley reeked with cruelty and terror.
He looked down with the eyes of sadness.

The months passed, and he learned that a new ruler
was come.- A man of the Faith, strong and sturdy in
Islam. A man of wisdom, as befitted the true Believer.
A man of some years, strong in warfare, old in diplomacy.

Great things were promised. Already it had been
established that he had greeted the mullahs. He had
publicly espoused the cause of Islam, and protested his
desire to lend it strength in Afghanistan. Hopes were
high.

Yet there came to the valley and to Kabul some of
the same Western innovations that had brought ruin in
their wake before. More buildings, higher than the
Mosque, rose in the Plain. Motor cars, never to be seen
without suspicion and doubt, sped along the new roads.
The 'planes cast their shadows over him and his tiny
dwelling in the hills. Could he and his Faith be safe
while such things be ?

The lonely mullah watches, unconvinced.

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