As for himself, he told me he had to confess that he was not enormously interested. He was now too old, too ill and too tired to care.

It hardly seemed the time or the place to go on to discuss the German Afghanistan Foundation special fund which had supposedly raised four million Deutschmarks for the stray dogs of Herat. Then there were the tons and tons of old clothes which had been collected all over Germany and were still not accounted for. And the maltreated ‘equines’ too would have to wait for other, more sympathetic ears.

Valderano was kind enough to say he had enjoyed meeting me and looked forward to reading my book. I asked if he had ever considered writing his memoirs, to which he replied that, since he was neither a seedy politician, nor a pop-star, nor a mass-murderer, nobody would be in the slightest bit interested in publishing them. Furthermore, he had spent a lifetime cultivating anonymity.

The silence that followed this statement somehow signalled the interview was over. I was left wondering about the purpose of the dukedom. I said nothing, but spotted the blank in his experience. He did not seem to know the Muslim world.