Authors: Evelyn Waugh
‘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.