Page 18 of Black Mischief


  ‘… my back quite sore … not really accustomed to riding.’

  ‘Poor Mr Raith.’

  ‘The Church party started it. The priests had been haranguing them for days against birth-control. The police learned that an attempt would be made to break up the procession so they arrested the Patriarch just before it was due to start …’

  ‘Troops cleared the streets … fired over their heads … no damage done … a bullet within a few inches, literally inches of my head …’

  ‘Seth went back to the Palace as soon as it was clear the procession couldn’t take place. My word, he looked angry …’

  ‘Young Seal with him …’

  ‘… it wasn’t so bad when the beast was going uphill. It was that terrible sliding feeling …’

  ‘Poor Mr Raith …’

  ‘Then the patrols were all withdrawn and concentrated in front of the Palace. Jagger and I were quite close and saw the whole thing. They had the whole army drawn up in the square and gradually when they realized the shooting was over the crowd began to come back, little knots of sixes and sevens creeping out from the side alleys and then creeping in round the soldiers. This was about half-past five….., and not having proper breeches my knees got so rubbed …’

  ‘Poor Mr Raith …’

  ‘Everyone thought Seth was going to appear. The royal box was still there, shoddy sort of affair, but it provided a platform. Everyone kept looking in that direction. Suddenly who should climb up but the Patriarch, who had been released from prison by the rioters, and after him Connolly and old Ngumo and one or two others of the notables. Well, the crowd cheered like mad for the Patriarch and Ngumo and the soldiers cheered for Connolly and started firing off their rifles again into the air and for a quarter of an hour the place was in an uproar …’

  ‘… and two bruises on the lower part of my shin where the stirrups came …’

  ‘Poor Mr Raith …’

  ‘Then came the big surprise of the day. The Patriarch made a speech, don’t suppose half the people heard it. Announced that Seth had abdicated and that Achon, Amurath’s son who’s supposed to have been dead for fifty years, was still alive and would be crowned Emperor today. The fellows near started cheering and the others took it up —they didn’t know why — and soon they had a regular party going. Meanwhile the Christians had been making hay in the Indian and Jewish quarters, breaking up the shops and setting half the place on fire. That’s when Jagger and I made our get-away …’

  ‘… very stiff and chafed …’

  ‘… poor, poor Mr Raith’.

  ‘All talking shop as usual, ‘ said Sir Samson, as these voices floated in to him through the dining-room windows. ‘And eating me out of house and home,’ he added sourly as he noted that there was a shortage of kedgeree that morning.

  ‘But what about Basil Seal?’ Prudence asked.

  ‘He went off with Seth, I believe,’ said the Bank Manager, ‘wherever that may be.’.

  Lady Courteney appeared among her guests, wearing gum-boots and pushing a barrow and spade. Emperors might come and go, but there was heavy digging to be done in the lily-pond.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘I do hope you all slept well after your adventures and found enough breakfast. I’m afraid this is a very topsy-turvy house party. Prudence, child, I want you to help with the mud-puddle this morning. Mr Raith, I’m sure you’re tired after your ride. Take an easy morning like a sensible man. The Bishop will show you the best parts of the garden. Take some deck chairs. You’ll find them in the porch. Dame Mildred and Miss Tin, how are you both? I hope my maid found you all you needed. Do please all make yourselves at home. Mr Jagger, perhaps you play croquet.’

  The Envoy Extraordinary finished his second cup of coffee, filled and lit his pipe, and, avoiding the social life of the lawn, pottered round by the back way to the Chancery. Here at least there survived an atmosphere of normal tranquillity. Anstruther, Legge and William were playing cutthroat bridge.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you fellows. I just wanted to know whether any of you knew anything about this revolution.’

  ‘Not much, I’m afraid. Care to take a hand, sir?’

  ‘No, thanks very much. I think I’ll have a talk with the Bishop about his Cathedral. Save writing that letter. Dare say everything’ll be all right now that Seth’s left —I suppose I shall have to write a report of this business. No one will read it. But one of you might pop down into town sometimes and see exactly what’s happened, will you?’

  ‘That’s going to be a bore,’ said William, as the Minister left them. ‘God, what a mean dummy.’

  An hour later he visited them again.

  ‘I say, I’ve just got a letter asking me to this coronation. I suppose someone from here ought to go? It means putting on uniform and mine’s got so infernally tight. William, be a good fellow and represent me, will you?’

  The Nestorian Cathedral, like the whole of the city, was of quite recent construction, but its darkness and stuffiness endowed it with an air of some antiquity. It was an octagonal, domed building, consisting of a concentric ambulatory round an inner sanctuary. The walls were painted in primitive simplicity with saints and angels, battle scenes from the Old Testament history and portraits of Amurath the Great, faintly visible in the murky light of a dozen or so branch candlesticks. Three choirs had been singing since dawn. There was an office of enormous length to be got through before the coronation Mass — psalms, prophecies, lections and many minor but prolix rites of purification. Three aged lectors recited Leviticus from manuscript rolls while a band of deacons played a low rhythm on hand drums and a silver gong. The Church party were in the ascendant at the moment and were not disposed to forgo a single liturgical luxury.

  Meanwhile chairs and carpets were being arranged in the outer aisle and an awning improvised through which, after the Mass, the new Emperor was to be led to take the final vows in the presence of the populace. All roads to the Cathedral were heavily policed and the square was lined with Guardsmen. At eleven M. Ballon arrived and took his place in the seats set aside for the diplomatic corps. The Americans had all left the town, so that he was now in the position of doyen. The native nobility had already assembled. The Duke of Ukaka found a place next to the Earl of Ngumo.

  ‘Where’s Achon now?’

  ‘Inside with the priests.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘He passed a good night. I think he finds the robes uncomfortable.’

  Presently the Office ended and the Mass began, said behind closed doors by the Patriarch himself, with all the complex ritual of his church. An occasional silver tinkle from inside informed the worshippers of the progress of the ceremony, while a choir of deacons maintained a solemn chant somewhere out of sight in the gloom. M. Ballon stirred uneasily, moved by tiny, uncontrollable shudders of shocked. atheism. Presently William arrived, carrying cocked hat, white gloves, very elegant in gold braid. He smiled pleasantly at M. Ballon and sat beside him.

  ‘I say, have they started?’

  M. Ballon nodded but did not reply.

  A long time passed and the diplomat shifted from buttock to buttock in his gilt chair. It was no longer a matter of anticlericalism but of acute physical discomfort.

  William twiddled his gloves and dropped his hat and gaped miserably at the frescoed ceiling. Once, absentmindedly, he took out his cigarette-case, tapped a cigarette on the toe of his shoe and was about to light it when he caught a glance from M. Ballon which caused him hastily to return it to his pocket.

  But eventually an end came. The doors of the inner sanctuary were thrown open; the trumpeters on the Cathedral steps sounded a fanfare; the band in the square recognized their signal and struck up the Azanian Anthem. The procession emerged into the open. First came the choir of deacons, the priests, Bishops and the Patriarch. Then a canopy of brocade supported on poles at each corner by the four premier peers of the Empire. Under it shuffled the new Monarch in the robes of state. It was not clear from
his manner that he understood the nature of the proceedings. He wriggled his shoulders irritably under the unaccustomed burden of silk and jewellery, scratched his ribs and kept feeling disconsolately towards his right foot and shaking it sideways as he walked, worried at missing his familiar chain. Some drops of the holy oil with which he had been recently anointed trickled over the bridge of his nose and, drop by drop, down his white beard. Now and then he faltered and halted in his pace and was only moved on by a respectful dig in the ribs from one of his attendant peers. M. Ballon, William and the native nobility fell in behind him, and with slow steps proceeded to the dais for the final ceremonies.

  A great shout rose from the concourse as the Imperial party mounted the steps and Achon was led to the throne prepared for him. Here, one by one, he was invested with the royal regalia. First, holding the sword of state, the Patriarch addressed him:

  ‘Achon, I give you this sword of the Empire of Azania. Do you swear to fight in the cause of Justice and Faith for the protection of your people and the glory of your race?’

  The Emperor grunted and the ornate weapon was laid across his lap and one of his listless hands placed upon its hilt while cannonades of applause rose from his assembled subjects.

  Then the gold spur.

  ‘Achon, I give you this spur. Do you swear to ride in the cause of Justice and Faith for the protection of your people and the glory of your race?’

  The Emperor gave a low whimper and turned away his face; the Earl of Ngumo buckled the spur about the foot that had so lately borne a graver weight. Huzzas and halloaing in the crowded square.

  Finally the crown.

  ‘Achon, I give you this crown. Do you swear to use it in the cause of Justice and Faith for the protection of your people and the glory of your race?’

  The Emperor remained silent and the Patriarch advanced towards him with the massive gold tiara of Amurath the Great. With great gentleness he placed it over the wrinkled brow and straggle of white hairs; but Achon’s head lolled forwards under its weight and the bauble was pitched back into the Patriarch’s hands.

  Nobles and prelates clustered about the old man and then dismay spread among them and a babble of scared undertones. The people, seeing that something was amiss, broke off short in their cheering and huddled forward towards the dais.

  ‘Tcha!’ exclaimed M. Ballon. ‘This is something infinitely vexatious. It was not to be foreseen.’

  For Achon was dead.

  ‘Well,’ said Sir Samson, when, rather late for luncheon, William brought back news of the coronation, ‘I can’t for the life of me see how they think they’re any better off. They’ll have to get Seth back now, I suppose, and we’ve all been disturbed for nothing. It’ll look infernally silly when we send in a report of this to the F.O. Not sure we hadn’t better keep quiet about the whole business.’

  ‘By the way,’ said William, ‘I heard something else in the town. The bridge is down at Lumo, so there’ll be no more trains to the coast for weeks.’

  ‘One thing after another.’

  They were all there, cramped at the elbows, round the dining-room table. Bishop and curates, Bank Manager and Mr Jagger, Dame Mildred and Miss Tin, and they all began asking William questions about the state of the town. Was the fire completely put out? Was there hooting in the shops? Did the life of the place seem to be going on normally? Were there troops patrolling the streets? Where was Seth? Where was Seal? Where was Boaz?

  ‘I don’t think it at all fair to tease William,’ said Prudence, ‘particularly when he looks so nice in his uniform.’

  ‘But if, as you say, this bridge is demolished,’ demanded Dame Mildred, ‘how can one get to Matodi?’

  ‘There isn’t any other way, unless you like to ride down on a camel with one of the caravans.’

  ‘D’you mean to say we must stay here until the bridge is rebuilt?’

  ‘Not here,’ interposed Sir Samson involuntarily, ‘not here.’

  ‘I think the whole thing is scandalous,’ said Miss Tin.

  At last, before coffee was served, the Minister heft the table.

  ‘Got to get back to work,’ he said cheerfully, ‘and I shall be at it all the afternoon, so I’d better say good-bye now. I expect you’ll all be gone before I get through with it.’

  And he left in the dining-room seven silent guests whose faces were eloquent of consternation. Later they assembled furtively in a corner of the garden to discuss their circumstances.

  ‘I must admit,’ said the Bishop, ‘that it seems to me unreasonable and inconsiderate of the Minister to expect us to return to the town until we have more reassuring information about the conditions.’

  ‘As British subjects we have the right to be protected by our flag,’ said Dame Mildred, ‘and I for one intend to stay here whether Sir Samson likes it or not.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Mr Jagger.

  And after further mutual reassurances, the Bishop was sent to inform their host of their decision to remain. He found him peacefully dozing in a hammock under the mango trees.

  ‘You put me in a very difficult position,’ he said when the situation had been explained to him. ‘I wish that nothing of the sort had occurred at all. I am sure you would all be much more comfortable and equally safe in the town, but since you wish to remain, pray consider yourselves my guests for as long as it takes to relieve your apprehensions,’ and feeling that affairs had got completely outside his control, the Envoy relapsed into sleep.

  Later that afternoon, when Lady Courteney had contrived to find occupation for all her guests, some at the bagatelle board, others with Peggity, photograph albums, cards or croquet, the party suffered a further and far from welcome addition; a dusty figure in native costume who propped a rifle against the fireplace before coming forward to shake her hand.

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ she said, ‘have you come to stay with us too?’

  ‘Only for tonight,’ said Basil. ‘I’ve got to be off first thing tomorrow. Where can I put up my camels?’

  ‘Good gracious, I don’t think we’ve ever had such a thing here before. Have you more than one?’

  ‘Ten. I’m passing as a Sakuyu merchant. They’re outside with the boys. I dare say they’ll find a place for them. They’re vicious beasts though. D’you think I could have some whisky?’

  ‘Yes, no doubt the butler can find you some, and would you like William to lend you some clothes?’

  ‘No, I’ll stay in these, thanks. Got to get used to moving about in them. It’s the only way I can hope to get through. They had two shots at bumping me off yesterday.’

  The company forsook their pastimes and crowded round the new-comer.

  ‘How are things in the city?’

  ‘As bad as they can be. The army feel they’ve been sold a pup and won’t leave barracks. Connolly’s gone off with most of his staff to try and find Seth. The Patriarch’s in hiding somewhere in the town. Ngumo’s men have had a big dust-up with the police and are pretty well on top at the moment.

  They’ve got into the liquor saloons which Connolly closed yesterday. As soon as it’s dark they’ll start looting again.’

  ‘There, ‘ said Dame Mildred, ‘and the Minister expected us to leave today.’

  ‘Oh, I shouldn’t count on being too safe here. There’s a gang breaking up the American Legation now. Ballon’s ordered an aeroplane from the mainland. I expect you’ll get a raid tonight or tomorrow. Your sowars don’t look up to much serious work.’

  ‘And where are you going?’

  ‘After Seth and Boaz. We’ve a rendezvous five days’ ride out of town at a farm of Boaz’s on the edge of the Wanda country. There’s just a chance of getting the boy back if he plays his cards properly. But there’s bound to be serious fighting, whatever happens.’

  Shivers of half-pleasant alarm went through his listeners.

  ‘Mr Seal,’ Lady Courteney benignly interposed at last. ‘I think it’s very mischievous of you saying all this. I’m sure t
hat things are not nearly as bad as you make out. You’re just talking. Now go and get yourself some whisky and talk to Prudence, and I think you might put that dirty gun outside in the lobby.’

  ‘Oh, Basil, what is going to happen? I can’t bear your going off like this and everything being so messy.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, Prudence, everything’ll be all right. We’ll meet again, I promise you.’

  ‘But you said it was dangerous.’

  ‘I was just piling it on to scare the old women.’

  ‘Basil, I don’t believe you were.’

  ‘I should think they’ll take you off by air from Khormaksar. You’ve got Walsh down at Matodi. He’s a sound-enough fellow. As soon as he learns what’s happened he’ll get through to Aden and arrange everything. You’ll be all right, just you see.’

  ‘But it’s you I’m worrying about.’

  ‘Don’t you do that, Prudence. It’s one of the things there’s no sense in at all. People are always doing it and it doesn’t get them anywhere.’

  ‘Anyway, you look lovely in those clothes.’

  Basil talked a great deal at dinner; the same large party was assembled, but he kept them all silent with tales of Sakuyu savagery, partly invented, partly remembered from the days of Connolly’s confidence. ‘… shaved all the hair off her head and covered it with butter. White ants ate straight through into her skull … You still find blind old Europeans working with the slaves on some of the farms in the interior; they’re prisoners of war that were conveniently forgotten ,about when peace was made … the Arab word for Sakuyu means Man-without-mercy … when they get drink in them they go completely insane. They can stay like that for days at a time, utterly unconscious of fatigue. They’d think nothing of the road out here if they thought they’d find alcohol when they got here. May I have another glass of whisky? …‘