‘I believe it is,’ said Owen.
‘These chaps make use of any material that comes to hand,’ said Paul.
‘Looks a bit of a comic turn to me,’ said John Postlethwaite.
‘Can’t quite make it out,’ said Paul vaguely, who certainly could, and was enjoying it.
Included among the entertainers were various groups of Zikr, which Owen found odd in view of the essentially religious nature of their exercises. The thought came into his mind that Jane Postlethwaite might remark on the fact that for an event ostensibly religious in its inspiration there were singularly few items of specifically religious character, and he hastily pointed out to her that many of the little red and white banners that people were carrying had texts from the Koran inscribed upon them.
‘Thank you, Captain Owen,’ she said politely, and with a certain dryness.
Fortunately, some gorgeous medieval palanquins passed at that moment. They were shaped like the cabins of Venetian gondolas and covered with mosaics of silver, ebony and ivory, as rich as the mosaics on an Indian workbox. Each palanquin was slung between two camels, rather peculiarly slung, since the two camels were fastened so close to each other that the head of the rear camel was right under the palanquin, which guaranteed its occupants a boisterous ride.
The front camel was favoured, doubly so, for not only was its head free and erect but it was crowned with a circlet of silver bells and a splendid plume of scarlet feathers.
‘The trappings go right back to the Middle Ages, Miss Postlethwaite,’ said McPhee learnedly. ‘But then, some of the features of the Zeffa are very odd. They antedate both the Moslem and the Christian era.’
The procession was coming to its climax. The music rose to a new crescendo and along the street came a large cart with a raised platform at the front on which was a royal tableau. ‘The spring king, possibly,’ McPhee suggested. The king was a very young king, about fourteen or fifteen years old, though there was no doubt about him being a king since he wore a crown on his head and was richly, if scantily, dressed. Around him were various courtiers, who alternated obeisances to the king with salutes to the crowd.
As the cart approached, they saw that the king was indeed scantily dressed. He was in fact quite naked below the waist. And, attached to his hips by a sort of harness, was a gigantic dildo, grotesquely painted and about two feet long, which waggled and danced in time to the jolting of the cart, to the great delight and applause of all the spectators.
Well, not all.
‘I’m a broad-minded chap,’ said John Postlethwaite, ‘but—’ He got to his feet. ‘Come on, Jane. I’ve had enough. It’s time we went.’
With a wry glance at Owen, Jane Postlethwaite followed him.
‘Boy, do you pick them!’ said Paul as he set off in pursuit.
The Postlethwaites returned to England on the following day. John Postlethwaite asserted his influence and managed to secure two cancelled bookings.
‘I’ll be back,’ said Jane Postlethwaite.
Fortunately, the end of John Postlethwaite’s visit did not entirely efface the otherwise good impressions he had formed during his time in Egypt, and in future he was able to defend the Administration’s cause with all the authority of first-hand experience.
The Khedive by then was already in Monte Carlo, obligingly furnished with the resources he needed, and content to leave the management of the realm in the capable hands of his new Prime Minister, who happened to be a Copt.
There was a great deal of pleasure at the new appointment—among the Copts, that was—and Owen was greatly surprised to find that the allocation to the Curbash Compensation Fund rose by a third the following (financial) year. He was even able to anticipate part of the increase and meet some of his expenses in the current financial year by special arrangement with one of the senior officials in the Ministry of Finance, Ramses.
Sesostris and Andrus both disappeared from the Cairo scene, Andrus for an austere regimen in a Coptic monastery in the desert, where he devoted his time to prayer and fasting, Sesostris for an even more spartan regimen in a less religious but more solid building near Alexandria.
Yussuf remarried Fatima and, much to his surprise after so many barren years, eight months later Fatima gave birth to a baby boy, who, Fatima and Yussuf’s sister both swore blind, was the spitting image of Yussuf.
And Owen was able to put to rest Zeinab’s fears about the growth of Nonconformist influence in Egypt.
For a time.
If you enjoyed The Mamur Zapt and the Night of the Dog, check out these other great Michael Pearce titles.
It is the beginning of the war and the Mamur Zapt, Gareth Owen, British head of Cairo’s secret police, is called in to investigate a human corpse abandoned in a cat cemetery. Is the villagers’ talk of a mysterious Cat Woman mere superstitious nonsense, or something rather sinister?
The Mamur Zapt is preoccupied with missing guns and dubious ghaffirs, but the face in the cemetery refuses to go away. And Owen comes to realise that it poses questions that are not just professional but uncomfortably personal…
Buy the ebook here
Cairo in the 1900s. As the long period of indirect British rule draws to an end, tensions mount. The attempted assassination of a politician raises the possibility of a terrorist outrage at the city’s religious festival, the Return of the Holy Carpet from Mecca.
When the Mamur Zapt, British head of Cairo’s secret police, begins to investigate, he finds himself in a race against a deadly group of terrorists to protect the city from a catastrophic attack.
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Cairo, 1910. The end of the boom and everyone seems to have money troubles. Then one day a civil servant dies at his desk. Was it pressure of work or something nastier? The whiff of corruption is in the air, with even Gareth Owen, the Mamur Zapt, under suspicion...
Owen’s investigation takes him to the heart of a sinister organization. But will he be up to taking them on? And will he be in time to stop the Camel of Destruction running through the city?
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Cairo in the 1900s. ‘Tourists are quite safe provided they don’t do anything stupidly reckless,’ Owen, the Mamur Zapt, British head of Cairo’s secret police, assures the press. But what of Monsieur Moulin and Mr Colthorpe, kidnapped from the terrace at Shepheard’s Hotel?
Were these kidnappings intended as deliberately symbolic blows at the British? Owen had better unravel it quickly, or else. And where better to start from than the donkey-vous, Cairo’s enterprising youths who hire out their donkeys for rides.
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Egypt, 1908. A young woman has drowned in the Nile, her body washed up on a sandbar. Apparently she had fallen off a boat. Owen, as Mamur Zapt, Britsh head of Cairo’s secret police, deems it a potential crime.
But when the poor girl’s body suddenly vanishes from its resting place, Owen begins a puzzling search for the truth that will take him from Cairo’s sophisticated cafes through its dingiest slums – and into the seething waters of Egyptian politics.
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Cairo, 1908. The Mamur Zapt, Captain Gareth Owen, British head of Cairo’s secret police, turns his attention to the illegal trade of antiquities when Miss Skinner arrives. She’s a woman with the habit of asking awkward questions. But what is she doing looking for crocodiles? And mummified ones at that?
Owen’s new brief is to see that Egypt’s priceless treasures stay in Egypt. But when Miss Skinner narrowly escapes falling under a conveyance, Owen must labour to thwart killers and face an even graver problem: whether to ask the Pasha's lovely daughter to marry him...
Buy the ebook here
About the Author
Michael Pearce was raised in Anglo-Egyptian Sudan, where his fascination for language began. He later trained as a Russian interpreter but moved away from languages to follow an academic career, first as a lecturer in English and the History of Ideas, and then as an administrator. Michael Pearce now
lives in London and is best known as the author of the award-winning Mamur Zapt books.
Also by Michael Pearce
The Mamur Zapt Series
The Women of the Souk
The Mouth of the Crocodile
The Bride Box
The Mark of the Pasha
The Point in the Market
The Face in the Cemetery
A Cold Touch of Ice
Death of an Effendi
The Last Cut
The Fig Tree Murder
The Mingrelian Conspiracy
The Snake-Catcher’s Daughter
The Mamur Zapt and the Camel of Destruction
The Mamur Zapt and the Spoils of Egypt
The Mamur Zapt and the Girl in the Nile
The Mamur Zapt and the Men Behind
The Mamur Zapt and the Donkey-Vous
The Mamur Zapt and the Night of the Dog
The Mamur Zapt and the Return of the Carpet
The Dmitri Kameron Series
Dmitri and the One-Legged Lady
Dmitri and the Milk-Drinkers
The Seymour of Special Branch Series
A Dead Man in Malta
A Dead Man in Naples
A Dead Man in Barcelona
A Dead Man in Tangier
A Dead Man in Athens
A Dead Man in Istanbul
A Dead Man in Trieste
About the Publisher
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