Black Mischief (26 page)

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.’