Showing posts with label Yakub Beg. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Yakub Beg. Show all posts

Wednesday, 25 August 2010

Half the art



      If half the art of survival is running, the other half is keeping a straight face. I can’t count the number of times my fate has depended on my response to some unexpected and abominable proposal—like the night Yakub Beg suggested I join a suicidal attempt to scupper some Russian ammunition ships, or Sapten’s jolly notion about swimming naked into a Gothic castle full of Bismark’s thugs, or Brooke’s command to me to lead a charge against a headhunter’s stockade. Jesu, the times we have seen.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.43, Pan Books edition, 1983.

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Monday, 21 June 2010

Club members



      I’d never seen this before, although I’ve seen it more times than I care to count since – one man, mad as a hatter and drunk with pride, sweeping sane heads away against their better judgement. Chinese Gordon could do it, and Yakub Beg the Kirghiz; so could J.E.B. Stuart, and that almighty maniac George Custer. They and Brooke could have formed a club.


Flashman's Lady, p.139, Pan edition, 1979.



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Tuesday, 3 November 2009

All men fear



It is no sin to be fearful, any more than it is a sin to be one-legged or red-haired. All men fear – even Yakub and Kutebar and all of them. To conquer fear, some need love, and some hate, and some greed, and some even – hasheesh.



Flashman at the Charge, pp.283-4, Pan edition, 5th printing, 1979.




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Friday, 25 September 2009

Demon kings and fools



I suppose he was a bit of a demon king, with his forked beard and skull-lock, and that rare thing in Central Asia, which they say is a legacy of Alexander’s Greek mercenaries – the bright blue eyes of the European. And he had the happiest smile, I think, that ever I saw on a human face. You only had to see it to understand why the Syr Daria tribes carried on their hopeless struggle against the Russians; fools will always follow the Yakub Begs of this world.



Flashman at the Charge, p.242, Pan edition, 5th printing, 1979.




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Thursday, 10 September 2009

As the wild sheep defecate




‘You see?’ says Yakub Beg, craning his neck and trying to grin. ‘A dotard, flown with dreams. A badawai zhazh-kayan* who talks as the wild sheep defecate, at random, everywhere. When you and I go hither , Flashman bahadur, we shall leave him, and even the Ruskis will take pity on such a dried-up husk, and employ him to clean their privies –those of the common soldiers, you understand, not the officers.’

*A wild babbler



Flashman at the Charge, pp.220-21, Pan edition, 5th printing, 1979.




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