The Kadi himself had no need to be reminded of this fact. ‘Just make sure the damned thing doesn’t turn over!’ he kept saying; although his was not, in fact, the boat that would be making the actual breach. Tucked out of sight beneath the bows of the Kadi’s barge was a smaller vessel which would be sent on ahead, its crew shivering in their sandals.
The river side of the dam was now a solid mass of boats jostling for position. When the dam was broken they would follow the Kadi through in a joyous and noisy convoy. Some would certainly sink, and the most that Owen could hope for was that they would sink far enough along the Canal not to disrupt proceedings. Fortunately, they had all done this lots of times before and knew what was expected of them.
He checked the earth dam for the last time. The Jews had done their work, shaving the wall of the dam to the point where a boat could crash through it, and were now standing resting on their wooden spades.
‘Okay,’ said Owen. ‘Get them away!’
The police closed round them and hustled them out of sight. There had been no trouble. The Muslim gravediggers were sticking to the deal.
Macrae was standing nearby with a bottle in his hand. He held it out to Owen.
‘Have a wee drappie!’ he invited. ‘It’s a cauld night!’
Well, by Egyptian standards it was. Owen accepted gratefully.
From along the river bank came the skirl of pipes; bag, not water.
‘It’s the Camerons!’ cried Macrae.
Not so; into sight came a native Egyptian band, complete with drums, cymbals, hautboys, oods, nays-and bagpipes.
‘Canna ye tell the Camerons, man?’ said Ferguson, scandalized.
‘Ay, but-’ said Macrae, puzzled. Then: ‘Look at the pipes!’ he cried. They were genuine Scottish bagpipes, still covered with the tartans of the clans they had served.
‘All the music shops have them,’ said Owen, taking another swig.
‘Just cut out the drink!’ advised Zeinab, appearing with Labiba Latifa. ‘You know you’ll be useless!’
‘I must thank you for your efforts on behalf of Suleiman, Captain Owen,’ said Labiba, smiling. ‘Now, about circumcision-’
/
‘I have been talking to Mahmoud about it,’ said Owen hurriedly. ‘He’s just over there, I believe.’
‘Is he?’
Labiba plunged into the crowd. Zeinab stayed to address him; forthrightly, it appeared, from the emphaticness of her gestures. However, he couldn’t hear a word because at that moment the Kadi’s barge fired off its cannon. Immediately there were answering sallies from the barges round about and drums began to beat on all the smaller boats. Rockets whizzed into the sky. Humbler fireworks began to crackle along the banks of the canal, their sparks and stars illuminating the faces of the onlookers.
In a momentary lull he heard a familiar voice.
‘But I did see him!’ it insisted.
It was the man from the Khedive’s Office, this time in company with Paul.
‘I am sure you did,’ replied Paul soothingly.
‘But you said he was being tortured!’
‘I did, yes.’
‘You spoke of some Glass House!’
‘Well, yes.’
‘And now he is here!’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Paul, ‘but it is what he is here for.’
‘What is he here for?’
Paul glanced around and then took him conspiratorially by the arm.
‘You see that mound of earth?’
‘The Bride of the Nile, yes.’
‘Well, that’s it.’
‘You are going to put him there?’
‘Spread-eagled. So that he can see the water coming towards him.’
‘They are usually killed first,’ said the man from the Khedive’s Office doubtfully.
‘Yes, but it’s better this way, don’t you think?’
‘Well, yes. I suppose so. But, look, it’s usually a woman. They’re best for this kind of thing.’
‘I agree with you entirely. It was just that in this case I thought-you know, considering what he had done: the insult to the Khedive, the connection with the river-’
‘Using the river to punish for the river?’ said the Khedive’s man, impressed. ‘Well, yes, that is imaginative. I will go and tell His Royal Highness to look out for it as his boat goes through. He probably won’t see anything, but-’
He hurried away. Paul seized Macrae by the arm.
‘Have you got some whisky?’
‘Why, yes, man,’ said Macrae hospitably, offering him the bottle.
‘No, no. You see that chap there?’
He pointed to the pink young man.
‘Yes. He’s my assistant.’
‘It should be easy, then. Look, what I want him to do is drink half a bottle-’
‘Half a bottle! But-’
‘These are instructions from the Consul-General,’ said Paul impressively. ‘The new Manufiya Regulator depends on it!’
‘It does?’
Macrae shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment but strode purposefully towards the pink young man.
Paul caught Owen’s eye and mock wiped his brow.
‘Now where the hell’s the Consul-General’s Lady got to?’ he said, and slipped away.
The band had reached the dam now and, undaunted by the competition, were giving a last mighty blow.
‘Owen,’ said McPhee, ‘have you remembered?’
‘Remembered?’
‘The indecency. The licentiousness.’
‘Well-’
‘Only Her Ladyship is just arriving.’
‘I think she’s too early. It hasn’t begun yet.’
There was a sudden, deafening blare of trumpets. The flotilla beyond the dam began to move. The Kadi was coming!
The din was deafening. Rockets lit the sky in a continuous explosion. Tars clashed, darabukhas drummed. The pipers beside the dam pumped frantically.
From beneath the bows of the Kadi’s barge a small boat shot out and headed for the dam.
The Kadi stood up to read his proclamation, inaudible in the uproar.
And then suddenly you could hear him. The tumult was cut off. The small boat was approaching the dam. The Kadi paused.
The small boat hit the wall and stuck for a moment. There was a concerned gasp from the crowd. But then the specially pointed bows were thrusting forward, the earth on either side falling away, and a great wave of water rushing forward into the canal.
It hit the Bride and dissolved her in an instant. On the banks people began capering in ecstasy.
In a moment the canal was full and the water pouring on downstream. The Kadi’s barge hit the remains of the earth dam, seemed to stick for a second and then surged triumphantly through.
The Khedive’s barge burst through after it, and then a whole line of boats began to come through the gap, their occupants dancing, waving excitedly to the crowds, letting off fireworks and banging every utensil in sight.
On the banks now there was continuous uproar. Musicians were beating the darabukhas frantically. The pipes were piping fit to burst. Almost at once, everyone was dancing.
Over to his right Owen caught sight of Selim at the head of a long line, snaking, or, possibly, lizarding in and out of the cake and sweetmeat stalls. All at once he darted into the crowd and reemerged with a buxom lady, his hands on her hips, at first, and then elsewhere.
‘Owen,’ said McPhee agitatedly, ‘do you think this is entirely suitable?’
On the banks people were stripping off their clothes and diving into the water. Women were brazenly showing off their faces and-was not that an indecent arm? Veils, decency, all was discarded. Well, yes, in some cases, all.
‘Owen,’ began McPhee.
But Zeinab came dancing up and plucked the Mamur Zapt away.
‘Owen,’ tried McPhee again, following them, ‘do you think this is entirely suitable?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Owen over Zeinab’s shoulder. ‘Entir
ely.’
‘I do feel Her Ladyship-’
But Her Ladyship herself came dancing by at that moment with the surprised but ever-adaptable Paul held firmly in her grasp.
‘Dead?’ said a familiar voice.
‘Well, what do you think?’ said Paul, disengaging himself from Her Ladyship and passing her on deftly to the man from the Khedive’s Office. He came and stood beside Owen, who had lost Zeinab for the moment. She had seen Labiba and Mahmoud talking together very seriously and had decided to help her in going in for the kill.
The two men stood for a moment looking down at the Canal bobbing with boats and swimmers and including now in its embraces Selim, entirely divested of his uniform and hot in pursuit of a lady similarly unencumbered.
‘Lizard Man meets Nile Maiden,’ said Paul affectionately.
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