Black Mischief (21 page)

‘Ah,
they are old stagers. Sir Samson is calling out his last reserves.’

March 13th Sunday

No
news Sarah’s trunk. Went to Anglican Cathedral but found it was being pulled
down. Service in Bishop’s drawing-room. Poor congregation. V. silly sermon.
Spoke to Bishop later about cruelty to animals. Unhelpful. Old humbug. Later
went to write name in book at Palace. Sarah in bed. Town very crowded,
apparently preparing for some local feast or carnival. Asked Bishop about it
but he could not tell me. Seemed unaccountably embarrassed. Asked Mr
Youkoumian. Either he cannot have understood my question or I cannot have
understood what I thought him to say. Did not press point. He did not speak
English at all well but
is
an obliging man.

March 14th

Hideous
night. Mosquito in net and v. large brown bugs in bed. Up and dressed at dawn
and went for long walk in hills. Met quaint caravan
—
drums, spears, etc. No news Sarah’s trunk.

Other
people besides Dame Mildred were interested in the little cavalcade which had
slipped unobtrusively out of the city at dawn that day. Unobtrusively, in this
connection, is a relative term. A dozen running slaves had preceded the
procession, followed by a train of pack mules; then ten couples of mounted
spearmen, a platoon of uniformed Imperial Guardsmen and a mounted band,
blowing down reed flutes eight feet long and beating hand drums of hide and
wood. In the centre on a mule loaded with silver and velvet trappings, had
ridden a stout figure, heavily muffled in silk shawls. It was the Earl of Ngumo
travelling incognito on a mission of great delicacy.

‘Ngumo
left town today. I wonder what he’s after.’

‘I
think the Earl’s pretty fed up, Mr Seal. I take his ‘ouse Saturday for the
Museum. ‘E’s gone back to ‘is estates, I expect.’

‘Estates,
nothing. He’s left five hundred men in camp behind him. Besides, he left on the
Popo road. That’s not his way home.’

‘Oh
gosh, Mr Seal, I ‘ope there ain’t going to be no bust-up.’

Only
three people in Debra Dowa knew the reason for the Earl’s departure. They were
M. Ballon, General Connolly and the Nestorian Patriarch. They had dined
together on Saturday night at the French Legation, and after dinner, when Mine
Ballon and Black Bitch had withdrawn to the salon to discuss their hats and
physical disorders, and the sweet champagne frothed in the shallow glasses, the
Patriarch had with considerable solemnity revealed his carefully guarded
secret of State.

‘It
happened in the time of Gorgias, my predecessor, .of evil memory,’ said his
Beatitude, ‘and the intelligence was delivered to me on my assumption of
office, under a seal so holy that only extreme personal vexation induces me to
break it. It concerns poor little Achon. I say “poor little” although he must
now, if he survives at all, be a man at least ninety years of age, greatly my
own senior. He, as you know, was the son of the Great Amurath and it is
popularly supposed that a lioness devoured him while hunting with his sister’s
husband, Seyid, in the Ngumo mountains. My Lords, nothing of the kind happened.
By order of his sister and the Patriarch Gorgias the wretched boy was taken
while under the influence of liquor to the monastery of St Mark the Evangelist
and incarcerated there.’

‘But
this is a matter of vital importance,’ cried M. Ballon. ‘Is the man still
alive?’

‘Who
can say? To tell you the truth I have not visited the Monastery of St Mark the
Evangelist. The Abbot is inclined to the lamentable heresy that the souls in
hell marry and beget hobgoblins. He is pertinacious in error. I sent the Bishop
of Popo there to reason with him and they drove the good man out with stones.’

‘Would they accept an
order of release over your signature?’

‘It is
painful to me to admit it, but I am afraid they would not. It will be a
question of hard cash or nothing.’

‘The
Abbot may name his own price. I must have Achon here in the capital. Then we
shall be ready to strike.’

The
bottle circulated and before they left for the drawing-room M. Ballon reminded
them of the gravity of the occasion. ‘Gentlemen. This is an important evening
in the history of East Africa. The future of the country and perhaps our own
lives depend on the maintenance of absolute secrecy in regard to the Earl of Ngumo’s
expedition on Monday. All inside this room are sworn to inviolable silence.

As soon
as his guests were gone he assembled his subordinates and explained the latest
developments; before dawn the news was in Paris. On the way home in the car
Connolly told Black Bitch about it. ‘But it’s supposed to be secret for a
little, so keep your silly mouth shut, see.’

March 14th (continued)

As Keatings
obviously deteriorated, went to store attached hotel to buy some more. Met
native Duchess who spoke English. V. helpful re bugs. Went with her to her home
where she gave me insecticide of her own preparation. Gave me tea and biscuits.
V. interesting conversation. She told me that it has just been discovered that
Emperor
is
not real heir to the throne. Elderly
uncle in prison. They have gone to get him out. Most romantic, but hope new
Emperor equally enlightened re animals.

March 15th

Better
night. Native Duchess’s insecticide v. helpful though nasty smell. Received invitation
dine Palace tonight. Short notice but thought it best accept for us both. Sarah
says nothing to wear unless trunk turns up.

It was
the first time since Seth’s accession that European visitors had been
entertained at the Palace. The Ministry of Modernization was called in early
that morning to supervise the invitations and the menu.

‘It
shall be an entirely Azanian party. I want the English ladies to see how
refined we are. I was doubtful about asking Viscount Boaz. What do you think?
Will he be sober? … and there is the question of food. I have been reading
that now it is called Vitamins. I am having the menu printed like this. It is
good, modern, European dinner, eh?’

Basil
looked at the card. A month ago he might have suggested emendations. Today he
was tired.

‘That’s
fine, Seth, go ahead like that.’

‘You
see,’ said the Emperor proudly, ‘already we Azanians can do much for ourselves.
Soon we shall not need a Minister of Modernization. No, I do not mean that,
Basil. Al ways you are my friend and adviser.’

So the
menu for Seth’s first dinner party went to the
Courier
office to be
printed and came back a packet of handsome gilt-edged cards, laced with silk
ribbons in the Azanian colours and embossed with a gold crown.

‘It is
so English,’ explained Seth. ‘From courtesy to your great Empire.’

MARCH 15TH

Imperial
Banquet for Welcoming the English Cruelty to Animals

MENU OF
FOODS

At
eight o’clock that evening Dame Mildred and Miss Tin arrived at the Palace for
the banquet. The electric-light plant was working that evening and a string of
coloured bulbs shone with Christmas welcome over the main doorway. A strip of
bright linoleum had been spread on the steps and as the taxi drew up a dozen or
so servants ran down to conduct the guests into the hall. They were in mixed
attire; some in uniforms of a kind, tunic frogged with gold braid discarded or
purloined in the past from the wardrobes of visiting diplomats; some in native
costume of striped silk. As ‘the two ladies stepped from the car a platoon of
Guards lounging on the Terrace alarmed them with a ragged volley of welcome..

There
was a slight delay as the driver of the taxi refused to accept the new pound
note which Dame Mildred tendered him in payment, but the captain of the Guard,
hurrying up with a jingle of spurs, curtailed further discussion by putting
the man under arrest and signified in a few graphic gestures his sorrow for the
interruption and his intention of hanging the troublesome fellow without delay.

The
chief saloon was brilliantly lighted and already well filled with the flower of
Azanian native society. One of the first acts of the new reign had been an
ordinance commanding the use of European evening dress. This evening was the
first occasion for it to be worn and all round the room stood sombre but
important figures completely fitted up by Mr Youkoumian with tail coats, white
gloves, starched linen and enamelled studs; only in a few cases were shoes and
socks lacking; the unaccustomed attire lent a certain dignified rigidity to
their deportment. The ladies had for the most part allowed their choice to fix
upon frocks of rather startling colour; aniline greens and violets with
elaborations of ostrich feather and sequin. Viscountess Boaz wore a backless
frock newly arrived from Cairo combined with the full weight of her ancestral
jewellery; the Duchess of Mhomala carried on her woolly head a three-pound
tiara of gold and garnets; Baroness Batulle exposed shoulders and back magnificently
tattooed and cicatrized with arabesques.

Beside
all this finery time guests of honour looked definitely dowdy as the Lord
Chamberlain conducted them round the room and performed the introductions in
French scarcely more comfortable than Dame Mildred’s own.

Two
slaves circulated among them carrying trays of brandy. The English ladies
refused. The Lord Chamberlain expressed his concern. Would they have preferred
whisky; no doubt some could be produced? Or beer?

‘Mon
bon homme,’
said Dame Mildred severely,
‘il vous
faut comprendre que nous ne buvons rien de tout, jamais’;
an announcement
which considerably raised their prestige among the company; they were not much
to look at, certainly, but at least they knew a thing or two which the
Azanians did not. A useful sort of woman to take on a journey, reflected the
Lord Chamberlain, and inquired with polite interest whether the horses and
camels in their country were as conveniently endowed.

Further
conversation was silenced by the arrival of the Emperor, who at this moment
entered the hall from the far end and took his seat on the raised throne which
had stood conspicuously on the dais throughout the preliminary presentations.
Court etiquette was still in a formative stage. There was a moment of
indecision during which the company stood in embarrassed silence waiting for a
lead. Seth said something to his equerry, who now advanced down the room and
led forward the guests of honour. They curtseyed and stood on one side, while
the other guests filed past in strict precedence. Most of them bowed how in the
Oriental manner, raising the hand to forehead and breast. The curtsey, however,
had been closely observed and found several imitators among both sexes. One
elderly peer, a stickler for old-world manners, prostrated himself fully and
went through the mimic action of covering his head with dust. When all had
saluted him in their various ways, Seth led the party in to dinner, fresh
confusion over the places and some ill-natured elbowing; Dame Mildred and Miss
Tin sat on either side of the Emperor; soon everyone was eating and drinking at
a great pace.