Black Mischief

  Negotiations were resumed after Mass next morning and occupied most of the day; before they parted for the night Earl and Abbot had reduced their differences to a monetary basis. Next morning the price was decided and Achon, son of Amurath, legitimate Emperor of Azania, Chief of the Chiefs of Sakuyu, Lord of Wanda and Tyrant of the Seas, was set at liberty.

  The event took place without ceremony. After a heavy breakfast of boiled goat’s-meat, cheese, olives, smoked mutton, goose and mead — it was one of the numerous feast days of the Nestorian Church — the Earl and the Abbot set out for the hillside unaccompanied except by a handful of slaves. A short climb from the compound brought them to the mouth of a small cave.

  ‘We will wait here. The air is not good.’

  Instead they sent in a boy with lantern and hammer. From the depths they heard a few muffled words and then a series of blows as a staple was splintered from the rock. Within five minutes the shave had returned leading Achon by a chain attached to his ankle. The prince was completely naked, bowed and shrivelled, stained white hair hung down his shoulders, a stained white beard over his chest; he was blind, toothless and able to walk only with the utmost uncertainty.

  The Earl had considered a few words of homage and congratulation. Instead he turned to the Abbot. ‘He won’t be able to ride.’

  ‘That was hardly to be expected.’

  Another night’s delay while a litter was constructed; then on the fifth morning the caravan set out again for Debra Dowa. Achon swung between the shoulders of four slaves, heavily curtained from curious eyes. Part of the time he slept; at others he crooned quietly to himself, now and then breaking into little moans of alarm at the sudden jolts and lurches in his passage. On the eighth day, under cover of darkness, the little procession shipped by side roads and unfrequented lanes into the city, and, having delivered his charge to the Patriarch, the Earl hurried out to the French Legation to report to M. Ballon the successful performance of his mission.

  Meanwhile Dame Mildred was not enjoying herself at all. Everyone seemed to conspire to be unhelpful and disobliging. First there was the intolerable impudence of that wretched boy at the Legation She had attempted to ring them up every morning and afternoon; at last when she had almost despaired of effecting connection Mine Youkoumian had announced that she was through. But it had been a most unsatisfactory conversation. After some minutes with an obtuse native butler (‘probably drinks’ Dame Mildred had decided) the voice had changed to a pleasant, slightly languid English tone.

  ‘I am Dame Mildred Porch. I wish to speak to the Minister.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t suppose you can do that, you know. Can I do anything for you?’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m William.’

  ‘Well, I wish to speak to you in particular … it’s about Miss Tin’s trunk.’

  ‘Drunk?’

  ‘Miss Sarah Tin, the organizing secretary of the overseas department of the League of Dumb Chums. She has lost her trunk.’

  ‘Ah.’

  There was a long pause. Dame Mildred could hear a gramophone being played at the other end of the line.

  ‘Hullo … Hullo … Are you there?’

  Then William’s gentle drawl said: ‘You know the trouble about the local telephone is that one’s always getting cut off.’

  There had been a click and the dance music suddenly ceased. ‘Hullo … Hullo.’ She rattled the machine but there was no answer. ‘I’m convinced he did it on purpose,’ she told Miss Tin. ‘If we could only prove it.’

  Then there was trouble about her money. The twenty or so pounds which she had changed into Bank of Azania currently on her first afternoon seemed to be quite worthless. Even Mr Youkoumian, from whom she had first received them, was unable to help, remarking that it was a question of politics; he could not accept the notes himself in settlement of the weekly hotel bill or in payment for the numerous articles of clothing which Miss Tin was obliged to purchase from day to day at his store.’

  Then there was the Emperor’s prolonged neglect of the cause of animals. The banquet, so far from being the prelude to more practical association, seemed to be regarded as the end of her visit. Her daily attempts to obtain an audience were met with consistent refusal. At times she fell into a fever of frustration; there, all over the country, were dumb chums being mercilessly snared and speared, and here was she, impotent to help them; throughout those restless Azanian nights Dame Mildred was continually haunted by the appealing reproachful eyes, limpid as spaniel puppies’, of murdered lions and the pathetic patient whinnying of trapped baboons. Consciousness of guilt subdued her usually confident manner. Who was she to complain — betrayer that she was of mandril, hyena and wild pig, wart hog and porcupine — if Mr Youkoumian overcharged her bill or mislaid her laundry?

  ‘Mildred, I don’t think you’re looking at all well. I don’t believe this place agrees with you.’

  ‘No, Sarah, I’m not sure that it does. Oh, do let’s go away. I don’t like the people or the way they look or anything and we aren’t doing any good.’

  ‘Basil, Mum wants me to go home — back to England, I mean.’

  ‘I shan’t like that.’

  ‘Do you mean it? Oh, lovely Basil, I don’t want to go a bit.’

  ‘We may all have to go soon. Things seem breaking up here … only I’m not so sure about going to England … Can’t we go somewhere else?’

  ‘Darling, what’s the good of talking … we’ll see each other again, whatever happens. You do promise that, don’t you?’

  ‘You’re a grand girl, Prudence, and I’d like to eat you.’

  ‘So you shall, my sweet … anything you want.’

  Strips of sunlight through the shutters; below in the yard a native boy hammering at the engine of a broken motorcar.

  ‘I am sending Mine Ballon and the other ladies of the Legation down to the coast. I do not anticipate serious trouble. The whole thing will pass off without a shot being fired. Still, it is safer so. Monsieur Floreau will accompany them. He will have the delicate work of destroying the Lumo bridge. That is necessary because Seth has three regiments at Matodi who might prove loyal. The train leaves on the day before the Gala. I suggest that we advise Mr and Mrs Schonbaum a few hours before it starts. It would compromise the coup d’état if there were an international incident. The British must fend for themselves.’

  ‘What is the feeling in the army, General?’

  ‘I called a meeting of the Staff today and told them of Prince Achon’s arrival in Debra Dowa. They know what is expected of them. Yesterday their salaries were paid in the new notes.’

  ‘And the Prince, your Beatitude?’

  ‘He is no worse.’

  ‘But content?’

  ‘Who can say? He has been sleeping most of the day. He does not speak. He is all the time searching for something on the floor, near his foot. I think he misses his chain. He eats well.’

  ‘Mr Seal, I think I go down to Matodi day after to-morrow. Got things to fix there, see? How about you come too?’

  ‘No good this week, Youkoumian. I shall have to wait and see poor Seth’s gala.’

  ‘Mr Seal, you take my tip and come to Matodi. I hear things. You don’t want to get into no bust-up.’

  ‘I’ve been hearing things too. I want to stay and see ‘the racket.’

  ‘Damn foolishness.’

  It was not often that the Oriental Secretary called on the Minister. He came that evening after dinner. They were playing animal snap.

  ‘Come in, Walsh. Nice to see you. You can settle a dispute for us. Prudence insists that a giraffe neighs like a horse. Now, does it?’

  Later he got the Minister alone.

  ‘Look here, sir. I don’t know how closely you’ve followed local affairs, but I thought I ought to come and tell you. There’s likely to be trouble on Tuesday on the day of this Birth Control Gala.’

  ‘Trouble? I should think so. I think the whole thing perfectly disgusting. None of
us are going.’

  ‘Well, I don’t exactly know what sort of trouble. But there’s something up. I’ve just heard this evening that the French and Americans are going down to the coast en bloc by the Monday train. I thought you ought to know.’

  ‘Pooh, another of these native disturbances. I remember that last civil war was just the same. Ballon thought he was going to be attacked the whole time. I’d sooner risk being bombed up here than bitten by mosquitoes at the coast. Still, jolly nice of you to tell me.’

  ‘You wouldn’t mind, sir, if my wife and myself went down on the train.’

  ‘Not a bit, not a bit. Jolly glad. You can take charge of the bags. Can’t say I envy you, but I hope you have a jolly trip.’

  On the morning preceding the gala, Basil went as usual to his office. He found Mr Youkoumian busily packing a canvas grip with the few portable objects of value that had been collected for the museum. ‘I better take care of these in case anything ‘appens,’ he explained. ‘Catching train eleven o’clock. Very much crowded train. I think many wise men will be aboard. You better come too, Mr Seal. I fix it O.K.’

  ‘What is going to happen?’

  ‘I don’t know nothing, Mr Seal. I don’t ask no questions. All I think that if there is a bust-up I will better be at the coast. They were preaching in all the Churches Sunday against the Emperor’s Birth Control. Madame Youkoumian told me which is a very pious and churchgoing woman. But I think there is more than that going to happen. I think General Connolly knows something. You better come to the coast, Mr Seal. No?’

  There was nothing to do that morning; no letters to answer; no chits from the Palace; the work of the Ministry seemed suddenly over. Basil locked his office door, pocketed the key and strode across the yard to see Seth. Two officers at the gate-house hushed their conversation as Basil passed them.

  He found Seth, in an elegant grey suit and pale-coloured shoes, moodily poring over the map of the new city.

  ‘They have stopped work on the Boulevard Seth. Jagger has dismissed his men. Why is this?’

  ‘He hadn’t been paid for three weeks. He didn’t like the new bank-notes.’

  ‘Traitor. I will have him shot. I sent for Connolly an hour ago. Where is he?’

  ‘A great number of Europeans left for the coast by this morning’s train — but I don’t think Connolly was with them.’

  ‘Europeans leaving? What do I care? The’ city is full of my people. I have watched them from the tower with my field-glasses. All day they come streaming in by the four roads … But the work must go on. The Anglican Cathedral for example; it should be down by now. I’ll have it down if I have to work with my own hands. You see, it is right in the way of the great northern thoroughfare. Look at it on the plan — so straight …’

  ‘Seth, there’s a lot of talk going about. They say there may be trouble tomorrow.’

  ‘God, have I not had trouble today and yesterday? Why should I worry about tomorrow?’

  That evening Dame Mildred and Miss Tin saw a very curious sight. They had been to tea with the Bishop and, leaving him, made a slight detour, in order to take advantage of the singular sweetness of the evening air. As they passed the Anglican Cathedral they noticed a young man working alone. He wore light grey and parti-coloured shoes and he was engaged in battering at the granite archway at the West End with an energy very rare among Azanian navvies.

  ‘How like the Emperor.’

  ‘Don’t be absurd, Sarah.’

  They left the grey figure chipping diligently in the twilight, and returned to their hotel where the Youkoumians’ departure had utterly disorganized the service.

  ‘Just when we had begun to make them understand how we liked things …‘ complained Dame Mildred.

  Next morning the ladies were up early. They had been awakened before dawn by the traffic under their windows, mules and ponies, chatter and scuffling, cars hooting for passage. Dame Mildred opened the shutters and looked down into the crowded street. Miss Tin joined her.

  ‘I’ve been ringing for twenty minutes. There doesn’t seem to be a soul in the hotel.’

  Nor was there; the servants had gone out last night after dinner and had not returned. Fortunately Dame Mildred had the spirit stove, without which she never ventured abroad, some biscuits and cubes of bouillon. They breakfasted in this way upstairs while the crowd outside grew every moment in volume and variety, as the sun, brilliant and piercing as on other less notable mornings, mounted over the city. Dust rose from the crowded street and hung sparkling in the air.

  ‘So nice for the Emperor to have a good day for his Pageant. Not at all like any of the pageants I can remember in England. Do you remember the girl guides’ rally when there was that terrible hail storm — in August too? How the Brownies cried.’

  The route of the procession lay past the Hotel de l’Empereur Seth. Shop fronts had been boarded up and several of the householders had erected stands and temporary balconies outside their windows. Some weeks earlier, when the Pageant had first been announced, Mr Youkoumian had advertised accommodation of this kind and sold a number of tickets to prospective sightseers. In the subsequent uncertainty he had abandoned this among other of his projects. Now, however, two or three Indians, a Greek and four or five Azanians in gala clothes presented themselves at the hotel to claim their seats in the stand. They explored the deserted vestibule and dining-room, climbed the stairs and finally reached the bedrooms of the English ladies. Hardened by long exposure to rebuffs and injustice, the Indians paid no attention to Dame Mildred’s protests. Instead, they pulled up the bed across the window, seated themselves in positions of excellent advantage and then, producing small bags of betel nuts from their pockets, settled down to wait, patiently chewing and spitting. Encouraged by this example the other intruders took possession of the other windows. The Greek politely offered Miss Tin a place in their midst and accepted her refusal with somewhat puzzled concern. The two ladies of the Azanian party wandered round the room, picking up and examining the articles on the washstand and dressing-table, and chattering with simple pleasure over the contents of the chest-of-drawers.

  ‘This is an intolerable outrage. But I don’t see what we can do about it at the moment. Sir Samson will have to lodge a complaint.’

  ‘We can’t possibly remain here. We can’t possibly go out into the street. There is only one place for us — the roof.’

  This position was easily accessible by means of a ladder and trap-door. Hastily equipping themselves with rugs, pillows, sunshades, two light novels, cameras and the remains of the biscuits, the resolute ladies climbed up into the blazing sunlight. Dame Mildred handed up their provisions to Miss Tin, then followed her. The trap-door could not be bolted from above, but fortunately the tin roof was weighted in many places by rock boulders, placed there to strengthen it in times of high wind. One of these they rolled into place, then, sliding down the hot corrugations to the low cement parapet, they made their nest in a mood of temporary tranquillity.

  ‘We shall see very well from here, Sarah. There will be plenty of time to have those natives punished tomorrow.’

  Indeed, from where they sat the whole city lay very conveniently exposed to their view. They could see the irregular roofs of the palace buildings in their grove of sapling blue gums and before them the still unfinished royal box from which the Emperor proposed to review the procession; small black figures could be observed working on it, tacking up coloured flags, spreading carpets and bobbing up the path with pots of palm and fern. They could see the main street of the city diverge, to the barracks on one side and the Christian quarter on the other. They could see the several domes and spires of the Catholic, Orthodox, Armenian, Anglican, Nestorian, American Baptist and Mormon places of worship; the minaret of the mosque, the Synagogue and the flat white roof of the Hindu snake temple. Miss Tin took a series of snapshots.

  ‘Don’t use all the films, there are bound to be some interesting things later.’

  The sun rose
high in the heavens; the corrugated iron radiated a fierce heat. Propped on their pillows under green parasols the two ladies became drowsy and inattentive to the passage of time.

  The procession was due to start at eleven, but it must have been past noon before Dame Mildred, coming to with a jerk and snort, said, ‘Sarah, I think something is beginning to happen.’

  A little dizzily, for the heat was now scarcely bearable, the ladies leant over the parapet. The crowd was halloing loudly and the women gave out their peculiar throbbing whistle; there seemed to be a general stir towards the royal ‘box, a quarter of a mile down the road.

  ‘That must be the Emperor arriving.’

  A dozen lancers were cantering down the street, forcing the crowds back into the side alleys and courtyards, only to surge out again behind them.

  ‘The procession will come up from the direction of the railway station. Look, here they are.’

  Fresh swelling and tumult in the crowded street. But it was only the lancers returning towards the Palace.

  Presently Miss Tin said, ‘You know, this may take all day. How hungry we shall be.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking of that for some time. I am going to go down and forage.’

  ‘Mildred, you can’t. Anything might happen to you.’

  ‘Nonsense, we can’t live on this roof all day with four petit-beurre biscuits.’

  She rolled back the stone and carefully, rung by rung, descended the ladder. The bedroom doors were open, and as she passed she saw that quite a large party was now assembled at the windows. She reached the ground floor, crossed the dining-room and opened the door at the far end where, she had been informed by many penetrating smells during the past weeks, lay the kitchen quarters. Countless flies rose with humming alarm as she opened the larder door. Uncovered plates of horrible substances lay on the shelves; she drew back instinctively; then faced them again. There were some black olives in an earthenware basin and half a yard of brick-dry bread. Armed with these and breathing heavily she again climbed to the trapdoor.