by Wilbur Smith
‘My God!’ Ryder looked aghast. ‘The Emperor has no inkling of this.’
‘Do you have access to him?’ Penrod demanded.
‘I do, yes. I know him well. I shall be seeing him immediately on my return to Entoto in three or four months’ time.’
‘Then give him this warning.’
‘I will – depend on it. He will be grateful. I am sure he will offer his assistance in the rescue of Rebecca and Amber,’ Ryder assured him. ‘But tell me, Ballantyne, why do you offer him this warning? What is it to you if the Dervish invade this country?’
‘Need you ask? Your enemy is my enemy. The evil that is abroad can only be appreciated by those who have witnessed the sack of a city by the Dervish. You were at Khartoum?’ Ryder nodded. ‘Emperor John is a Christian monarch. Abdullahi and his bloodthirsty maniacs must be stopped. Perhaps he will be able to put an end to these horrors.’ Penrod turned to Saffron. ‘What message can I take back to Omdurman for your sisters?’ he asked.
Her eyes glistened with tears in the lamplight as she struggled with her reply. ‘Tell them that I love them both with all my heart, and always shall. Tell them to be brave. We will help them. We shall all be together again soon. But whatever happens I still love them.’
‘I will give them that message,’ Penrod promised. ‘I am certain it will be of great comfort to them.’ He turned back to Ryder, and held out his hand. ‘I think we would be wise to forget our personal differences and work together towards our common goal.’
‘I agree with all my heart,’ said Ryder, and shook the proffered hand.
Penrod stooped over the lamp and blew out the flame, then disappeared out into the night.
It was almost Christmas before Ryder Courtney returned to Entoto, the capital of Abyssinia and the city where he had his main trading compound.
‘This must be the bleakest place in the world,’ said Saffron, as they rode in through the city gates at the head of the caravan of mules, ‘even worse than Khartoum. Why can’t we live in Gondar, Ryder?’
‘Because, Miss Saffron Benbrook, in the near future you will be living in the village of Bishop’s Sutton in Hampshire with your uncle Thomas and aunt Jane.’
‘You are being tiresome again, Ryder,’ she warned him. ‘I don’t want to live in England. I want to stay here with you.’
‘I am flattered.’ He touched the brim of his hat. ‘But, most unfortunately for all concerned, you cannot spend the rest of your life traipsing through the African bush like a gypsy. You have to go back to civilization and learn to be a lady. Besides, people are beginning to talk. You are a child no longer – indeed, you are a big girl now.’
Ah, so you have noticed! Saffron thought complacently. I was beginning to think you, Ryder Courtney, were blind. Then, aloud, she reiterated the promise that was usually enough to satisfy him: ‘I will go back to England without any fuss when Rebecca and Amber have been rescued,’ she spoke with a straight face and total insincerity, ‘and when my uncle Thomas promises to take care of us. He has not replied to your letters yet, and it’s over a year since you first wrote,’ she reminded him smugly. ‘Now, let us speak of more interesting matters. How long will we stay in Entoto, and where will we travel to next?’
‘I have business here that will take some time.’
‘It’s so cold and windy in the mountains after the warmth of the lowlands, and there is no firewood for miles. All the trees have been cut down.’
‘You must have been talking to Empress Miriam. She shares your opinion of Entoto. That’s why the Emperor is moving the capital to the hot springs at Addis Ababa. She is a nag, just like somebody else I know.’
‘I am not a nag, but sometimes I know best,’ said Saffron sweetly. ‘Even though you treat me like a baby.’
Despite her protests, the Courtney compound at Entoto was really very comfortable and welcoming, and she had managed, with the help of Bacheet, to make it even more so. She had even prevailed on Ryder to convert one of the old disused storerooms into a bedroom and studio for her exclusive use. It had not been easy. Ryder was reluctant to do anything that might give her reason to believe that her stay with him was permanent.
In order to procure a studio Saffron had enlisted the help of Lady Alice Packer, wife of the British ambassador to the court of the Emperor, who had taken her under her wing. Of course, her husband had known David Benbrook when they had both worked under Sir Evelyn Baring in the diplomatic agency in Cairo so she felt some responsibility for his orphaned daughter.
Alice was an amateur artist, and when she recognized Saffron’s natural talent in the same field she had assumed the role of teacher. She provided Saffron with paints, brushes and art paper brought in from Cairo in the diplomatic pouch, and taught her how to make her own canvas stretchers and charcoal sticks.
Within the time that they had known each other Saffron had almost outstripped her teacher. Her portfolio contained at least fifty lovingly wrought portraits of Ryder Courtney, most of which had been drawn without the subject’s knowledge, and she had completed numerous African landscapes and animal sketches, which astonished both Alice and Ryder with their maturity and virtuosity. Recently she had commenced a series of drawings and paintings from her memories of Khartoum and the horrors of the siege. They were beautiful but harrowing. Ryder realized that they were a form of catharsis for her, so he encouraged her to continue with them.
Two days after their return to Entoto, Saffron made her way up to the embassy to take tea with Alice. She showed her tutor all the Khartoum sketches, which they discussed at some length. Alice wept as she looked at them. ‘These are magnificent, my dear. I stand in awe of your skill.’
Saffron stopped repacking them and turned to Alice, her eyes full of tears.
‘What is it, Saffron?’ Alice asked kindly. Although she had been sworn to secrecy by Ryder, Saffron blurted out a full account of the nocturnal meeting with Penrod Ballantyne in the Atbara gorge. Alice promised her husband would inform Sir Evelyn Baring at once of the predicament of her sisters and also of Captain Ballantyne. Saffron was much cheered by this. Then, as she was leaving, she asked innocently, ‘If any mail for Mr Courtney has arrived, I would be pleased to deliver it to him, and perhaps save one of your staff the trouble.’
Alice sent down to the chancery and a secretary returned with a stack of envelopes addressed to ‘Ryder Courtney Esq,’ care of the British ambassador at Entoto, Abyssinia.
Saffron examined them as she walked through the town to the market. She recognized the handwriting on the first envelope. It was from Ryder’s nephew, Sean Courtney, at the newly discovered goldfields in the Transvaal Republic of South Africa. Saffron knew that Sean was importuning his uncle to invest several thousand pounds in a new mine. The next was a bill for goods supplied by the Army and Navy stores in London. The third envelope bore the seal of ‘The Office of the Government Assayer of the Cape of Good Hope’, and the fourth was the one that Saffron had been dreading. On the reverse was the inscription:
Sender:
The Reverend Thomas Benbrook
The Vicarage
Bishop’s Sutton
Hampshire. England
She placed the other letters in her pocket, but this one she hid down the front of her bodice. Saffron spent less time than usual in the market. She bought a large bunch of wild mountain gladioli from her favourite flower-seller. Then she came across a handsome silver hip-flask, which she decided might do for Ryder’s birthday. The price was beyond her meagre resources and she was in too much of a hurry to bargain with the merchant, so she promised to return the following day.
She hurried back to the compound and placed the flowers in the tub beside the kitchen door. Then she retired to the earth closet, which was discreetly tucked away in a corner behind the living quarters. She bolted the door, perched on the high seat and carefully split the seal on the fourth envelope. The single sheet was covered with writing on both sides, and dated seven months earlier. She read it avidly;
Dear Mr Courtney,
My wife and I were saddened to receive your letter and to hear of the tragic murder of my brother David in Khartoum, and of the plight of his daughters. I understand your predicament and agree that it is beyond common decency for poor little Saffron to continue in your care, as you are a bachelor and there is no woman with you to see to her upbringing.
I have addressed enquiries to Sebastian Hardy Esquire, my dear brother’s solicitor, as you suggested I might. It pains me to have to inform you that the value of my brother’s few remaining assets are far exceeded by his substantial debts. Sarah, his deceased wife, was a lady of profligate disposition. None of my brother’s daughters will be due any inheritance from his estate.
My wife and I have discussed the possibility of taking Saffron into our home. However, we have nine children of our own to support on my stipend as a country vicar. Alas, we would not be able to feed and clothe the poor orphan. Fortunately I have been able to make adequate arrangements for her to be taken into a suitable institution where she will receive strict Christian instruction and an education that will be adequate for her later entry into respectable employment as governess to a child of the nobility.
If, in your Christian charity, you would be kind enough to provide her with passage to England and the train fare from the port of her arrival to the Bishop’s Sutton railway station, I would meet the poor child there and convey her to the institution. Unfortunately I am not able to contribute to her subsequent upkeep and maintenance.
I wait to hear from you.
Your brother in Christ,
Thomas Benbrook
Slowly, and with relish, Saffron tore the letter into shreds, and dropped each scrap separately into the malodorous pit beneath her. Then she pulled up her skirts and urinated vigorously on the remains of the offending document.
‘A fitting end for such a nasty piece of rubbish,’ she said to herself. ‘So much for an institution, Christian instruction and employment as a governess. I would prefer to walk back to Khartoum on my own bare feet.’ She stood up and smoothed down her skirts. ‘Now I must hurry to see that Ryder’s dinner is ready, and to prepare his whisky peg for him.’
For Saffron, dinner-time was the highlight of her busy day. After she had discussed the roasting of the chicken and yams with the cook, she made certain there was hot water, soap and a clean towel on the washstand in Ryder’s bedroom, and a freshly ironed shirt folded on the bed. Next she laid the table, and arranged the flowers and candles. She would not trust one of the servants, even Bacheet, with such an important task. Then she unlocked the strongroom with the key that Ryder had entrusted to her and brought out the bottle of whisky, the crystal glass and the cedarwood cigar box. She set them on the table at the end of the veranda, from where there would be a fine view of the sunset over the mountains.
She hurried to her own room and changed the clothes she had worn all day for a dress of her own design and creation. With the help of two Amharic women from the town, who were expert seamstresses, she had assembled her own abundant and unusual wardrobe. Lady Alice Packer and even Empress Miriam had complimented her on her style.
While she was still combing her hair she heard the clatter of hoofs in the courtyard as Ryder returned from the palace, where he had been in day-long discussions with the Emperor and various royal functionaries. She was waiting for him on the veranda when he emerged from his private quarters in the fresh shirt, his face glowing from the hot water and his wet hair combed back neatly. He is the most handsome man in the world, but his hair needs cutting again. I shall see to it tomorrow, she thought, as she held the whisky bottle over the glass. ‘Say when,’ she invited.
‘ “When” is a four-letter word that should be uttered only with great deliberation after long reflection,’ he replied. It was their private joke, and she poured him a liberal quantity. He tasted it and sighed. ‘Too good for human consumption! Such nectar should be drunk only by angels in their flight!’ That completed the ritual. He sank down comfortably on to the leather cushions of his favourite chair. She sat opposite him and they watched the sun set in crimson splendour over the mountains.
‘Now tell me what you did today,’ Ryder said.
‘You first,’ she replied.
‘I spent the morning in council with the Emperor and two of the generals of his army. I told them what Penrod Ballantyne had reported about the intentions of the Dervish to attack his country. Emperor John was grateful for this warning, and I think he has taken it seriously. I did not tell him of our plans to rescue your sisters. I thought it premature to do so. However, I believe that he will be helpful when we are in a position to act.’
Saffron sighed. ‘I do wish Captain Ballantyne would be in touch. It seems ages since he was.’
‘He and your sisters have probably been travelling in the entourage of Osman Atalan. Penrod is so closely guarded that he might not have been able to find a reliable messenger. We must be patient.’
‘So easy to say, so hard to do,’ she said.
To distract her he went on with a recital of his day. ‘After I left the Emperor, I spent the rest of the day with his treasurer. He finally agreed to renew my licence to trade throughout the country for another year. The bribe he demanded was extortionate, but in all other respects quite reasonable.’ He made her laugh – he always made her laugh. ‘By the way, I forgot to mention that we are invited to the royal audience next Friday. Emperor John is to award me the Star of the Order of Solomon and Judea, in recognition of my services to the state. I think that the truth of the matter is that Empress Miriam wants to admire your latest high-fashion creation and persuaded her husband to invite us. Either that or she wants you to paint another portrait of her.’
‘How exciting. Will the Star of Solomon be enormous and covered with lots of diamonds?’
‘I am sure it will be gigantic, and perhaps not diamonds, but at least good-quality cut glass,’ he said, and reached across the table to the small stack of mail that Saffron had brought down from the embassy. First he opened the bill from the Army and Navy Stores. ‘Good!’ he exclaimed with pleasure. ‘They have my pair of number-ten rifles ready to ship out to me. I shall arrange payment tomorrow. They should arrive before our next journey to Equatoria where they will be most useful.’ He set aside the bill and opened the letter from his nephew. ‘Sean is insistent that this new gold reef they have opened will persist to great depth. I do not have the same hopes for it. I believe that the reef will pinch out before long and leave him much poorer in pocket, if richer in experience. I am afraid I shall have to disabuse him of his hopes that I might provide any capital for his venture.’ He picked up the letter with the Cape Colony postage stamp, and examined it. ‘I have been waiting for this!’
He opened the envelope, took out the assay report, scanned it anxiously, then smiled comfortably. ‘Excellent! Oh, so very good indeed.’
‘Can you tell me?’ Saffron asked.
‘Certainly! Before we left for Gondar I sent a bag of rock samples to the assay office of the Cape Colony. The year before I was caught up in the siege of Khartoum I gathered them from the mountains a hundred miles east of Aksum while I was hunting mountain nyala. This is the report on those samples. Over thirty per cent copper, and just on twelve per cent silver. Even taking into account how remote the area is, and the difficulty of reaching it, it should be a highly profitable deposit. The only trouble is that I will have to go back to the royal treasurer to ask for a mining licence. He had my skin today, so tomorrow he will want my scalp and my teeth.’
‘Sans teeth and sans hair, you might set a new fashion,’ Saffron suggested, and he laughed.
As usual they sat late after dinner, talking endlessly. When Ryder climbed into his own bed he was still chuckling at her saucy Parthian shot. He blew out the lamp, and as he composed himself for sleep he realized he had not once thought of Rebecca that day.
When they entered the audience hall at the palace, Alice Packer summoned Sa
ffron with a peremptory wave of her fan.
‘Will you forgive me, please, Ryder?’
‘Off you go and do your duty.’ Ryder watched her cross the room, as did almost everybody else. It was not only the yellow dress that was so striking. Youth has beauty inherent in its very nature. He realized he was staring and looked away quickly, hoping no one had noticed.
The rest of the company was made up of a number of Abyssinian princes and princesses, for the Emperor and the other members of the house of Menelik were prolific breeders. There were also generals and bishops, prosperous merchants and landowners, the entire corps of foreign diplomats, with a few foreign travellers and adventurers. The uniforms and costumes were so exotic and colourful that Saffron’s dress seemed restrained and understated by comparison.
Suddenly Ryder became aware that somebody in the throng was watching him. He looked about quickly, then started with surprise. The person who had purchased the Intrepid Ibis from him was standing at the far corner of the room, but even at that range her Egyptian eyes above the veil had a hypnotic quality that could not be ignored. As soon as she had his attention she resumed her conversation with the elderly general beside her who was resplendent in an array of medals, jewelled orders and a cloak of leopardskins.
‘Peace and the blessing of Allah be upon you, Sitt Bakhita al-Masur,’ Ryder greeted her in Arabic, as he came to her side.
‘And upon you in equal measure, Effendi.’ She made a graceful gesture in reply, touching her lips, then her heart with her fingertips.
‘You are a long way from your home,’ he remarked. Her eyes slanted upwards at the outer corners, and her dark gaze was direct, unusual in an Egyptian lady even of the highest rank, yet also mysterious. Some men would find her irresistible, but she was not to Ryder’s taste.
‘I came by the river. In my fine new steamer it was not such a long journey from the first cataract.’ Her voice was soft and musical.