Pharaoh (Jack Howard 7)

by Gibbins, David

  ‘The fate of that place and its people is beyond our control,’ Wolseley replied.

  ‘Then so, it seems, is the fate of General Gordon,’ said Kitchener.

  Wolseley waved the piece of paper again. ‘But our latest intelligence suggests otherwise. This message was written only days ago, and is buoyant.’

  ‘We would be wrong to believe such assurances,’ Buller rumbled. ‘With Colonel Stewart gone, Gordon no longer has Europeans to advise him, only Egyptians and Sudanese who regard him not as a general but as a holy man, their own version of the Mahdi. He even wants a slave-trader to be his deputy, I tell you.’

  ‘Zubayr of the Ja’aliyyin,’ Kitchener said. ‘A venal man by the standards we suppose that we have, but the Sudanese tribesmen understand a slave-trader and respect him more than they do the Ottoman and Egyptian officials.’

  ‘It’s just as it was in China,’ Wolseley muttered. ‘He has always surrounded himself with mavericks and foreigners. His closest confidants have never been men of his own background we can trust, but others like himself who take him even further from our control. In China he locked himself away and brooded for two months before finally capturing Soochow and killing the rebel leaders. He may be in the same state now, and have a surprise in store for us yet.’

  Buller grunted. ‘From what Kitchener tells us, he is now very far from the logic that we propose to apply to his rescue. He may even wish to dig himself deeper into that pestilential hole that looks as if it will become his tomb.’

  ‘He has done everything to increase his isolation,’ added Earle. ‘Even before the telegraph line was cut, he packed up his cipher book and sent it away with his belongings in the steamers. Why did he do that, deliberately cutting himself off from us?’

  ‘A fit of pique,’ Buller said. ‘Disgust that he was being made a sacrificial lamb.’

  ‘It would take someone with a saint’s powers to endure what he has gone through without cracking.’

  ‘It is a test he’s set himself. He’s dragging his own cross through the streets to Calvary. No wonder he was so interested in finding the location of Golgotha on his recent trip to Jerusalem. He was pacing out his march to apotheosis.’

  ‘Gordon’s isolation began before he left England,’ Wolseley said. ‘His furtive departure from Waterloo station in February, with the commander-in-chief packing his bag for him and Lord Baring handing him money, like parents sending off a miscreant son to exile in the colonies. The die was cast the moment that train pulled out of the station. And then the brief for his role at Khartoum which every-one knew he would discard in favour of his own mission, to save the people. I cannot help but see Mr Gladstone behind this.’

  ‘Gladstone does not want a martyr,’ Buller said.

  ‘It might serve him for Gordon to make a fool of himself.’

  ‘There is a fine line between a fool and a martyr.’

  ‘That’s Gladstone’s gamble, and perhaps Gordon’s too.’

  ‘This rescue mission has been hampered from the start by Whitehall,’ Buller said, slapping the table. ‘Who, I wonder, could be behind that? And there is another possibility. Gordon could go down in flames with his city, or he could survive and be captured. That would be the worst of all outcomes for Gladstone. The image of Gordon standing alongside the Mahdi in chains must keep him awake at night.’

  ‘Or not in chains,’ Wolseley said. ‘That would be his worst nightmare.’

  ‘Then we must do everything we can to prevent it.’

  ‘That is why we are here, gentlemen. On with the planning.’

  Mayne felt the sweat prickling on his face. He glanced at Wilson, who appeared to be concentrating on the map. The conversation had veered dangerously close to their own secret purpose in being in the Sudan, and he was beginning to feel on edge.

  Buller banged his hand on the table again. ‘The longer he strings it out, the more intractable he becomes. If he has gone seeking personal redemption like the children of Israel, then I fear he may have become lost in the wilderness.’

  ‘This is a military and logistical matter, not one requiring us to delve into the mind of a latter-day prophet,’ Wolseley said sharply.

  ‘In that you are, in my opinion, entirely wrong,’ Kitchener said quietly.

  Wolseley glared at him, and then put a finger on the map. ‘We are here to discuss a rescue mission. We are at Korti on the Nile. From here, the column under General Stewart will advance across the Bayuda desert, rejoining the Nile where it loops around some hundred miles to the south of us. Meanwhile the column under Earle will continue to make their way up the river through the cataracts.’ He swept one hand across the desert and the other over the eastward loop of the Nile, bringing them together on the river at a point about halfway between Korti and Khartoum. ‘The two columns will meet here at Metemma. Stewart’s column will arrive first, and an advance force will be sent forward to Khartoum in Gordon’s three river steamers that should be waiting for us. When Earle’s river column arrives, the rest of the force will embark on the whaleboats and follow. If the advance contingent in the steamers is successful in retrieving Gordon, then the rest of the force will turn around and withdraw to Korti and the Egyptian border. If we do have to go forward into Khartoum and raise the siege, then so be it. But our intention, gentlemen, is not to save Khartoum or the Sudan. It is to rescue General Gordon.’

  ‘The Mahdi’s army will not stand idle,’ Kitchener said. ‘There will be battle in the desert, mark my words. Days spent dithering and planning now will advance our cause to hopelessness. Time is of the essence.’

  Wolseley tapped his pencil irritably, then leaned forward. ‘After discussion with Colonel Wilson, I have decided to send a man forward to Khartoum in advance of the steamers. His job will be to persuade Gordon of the utmost gravity of his situation, and the imperative for him to leave with our forces when they arrive. Colonel Wilson himself will then accompany the flotilla of steamers up to Khartoum to escort Gordon out. Gordon must be made to understand that the steamers will have room for him alone, and not for the entire damned population of Khartoum as well. If he wishes to save his own skin, he must abandon them. The man I have selected for the job is you, Major Mayne. If Gordon chooses to stay, then his fate is no longer in your hands. Do you understand?’

  Mayne remained stock still. ‘Yes, sir.’

  Wolseley put down his pencil and arched his hands together. ‘Time has run short for us, gentlemen. Colonel Wilson has received intelligence that Russian forces have advanced over the Oxus river near Panjdeh in Afghanistan. It’s the most dangerous escalation since the end of the war in Afghanistan four years ago. If it comes to renewed war now, we will be siding with the Afghans against the Russians. Mr Gladstone has ordered an emergency session of Parliament and the army in India has begun to mobilise. And this won’t just be a British war to curb Russian imperialism on the borders with India. The French will become involved, as they did in the Crimea. The web of alliances across Europe will draw in other nations, some of them itching for an excuse to get at each other’s throats. The greatest fear is that Germany could enter as a belligerent against us and even against the Russians too, and that she could emerge supreme if we overextend ourselves in the east. Gentlemen, for the first time since the war against Napoleon, we could find ourselves leading armies across the English Channel to Flanders and Picardy and Normandy.’

  ‘So Egypt and the Sudan becomes a sideshow,’ Buller rumbled.

  ‘We could be withdrawn at any moment,’ Wolseley replied. ‘We must attempt to reach Khartoum without delay.’

  ‘The Mahdist jihad is as much a threat as the Russian menace,’ Kitchener said.

  Wolseley shot him an annoyed glance. ‘We are here to rescue Gordon, not to put down a desert rebellion that would scarcely concern us were Gordon safe and away.’

  ‘It should concer
n us,’ Kitchener replied forcibly. ‘It threatens Egypt and the entire Arab world. The fires of fanaticism will spread to India. There will be bombings and outrages in Europe.’

  Wolseley waved one hand dismissively. ‘The Mahdi will die, and the rebellion will wash against the borders of Egypt and dissipate. The tribesmen have neither the appetite nor the ability to prosecute war beyond their homeland. They are riven by internal jealousies and feuds that will consume them. Beyond the present question of Gordon, the revolt is of little moment to us as we have no interest in occupying the Sudan.’

  Mayne watched Kitchener bristle but keep quiet. He reflected on the absurdity of a situation where a flashpoint two thousand miles away in Afghanistan had finally lit a fire under Wolseley, when for months now Gordon’s situation had presented the utmost urgency to all other onlookers, up to the Queen herself. Not for the first time he wondered whether Wolseley’s sluggish operation had been deliberately engineered because the relief of Gordon was always going to be problematic; better to be unsuccessful this way and blame the obstinacy of the man himself, rather than fail spectacularly in a risky dash across the desert to Khartoum.

  Wolseley turned to Mayne. ‘You will impress upon General Gordon the urgency of his situation.’

  ‘Mayne will be able to impress nothing upon General Gordon,’ Kitchener interjected. ‘As you yourself are aware, he is a man of the strongest convictions.’

  ‘Major Mayne will follow my orders. Brevet Major Kitchener will remember his rank and focus his attention on the map,’ Wolseley said, his voice strained with controlled anger. He waited until Kitchener had resumed sketching in the lines, and then turned again to Mayne. ‘You will impress upon General Gordon the urgency of his situation,’ he repeated. ‘This may well be his last chance of escape. Kitchener himself carried out a reconnaissance of the shoreline at Khartoum in October, and I have used his information to devise a plan. Kitchener?’

  Kitchener appeared to ignore Wolseley, concentrating on tracing a line on the map.

  ‘Major Kitchener, if you please,’ Wolseley exclaimed impatiently.

  Kitchener carried on for a few seconds more until he had completed the line, and then pointed to a small structure he had drawn on the bank of the Nile opposite the palace. ‘This is a ruined fort,’ he said. ‘It dates from the time of the Egyptian foundation of Khartoum in the 1830s, but is remarkably similar to a fort of the pharaoh Akhenaten I observed further down the Nile. Studying the ancient fort has helped me to understand its function.’

  He eyed Wolseley coldly, then laid his ruler on the map just south of the fort, on a line running across the southern point of Tutti island to the shoreline of Khartoum just north-west of the governor’s palace. ‘To the south of this line, the shore opposite Khartoum is unoccupied by the Mahdi’s forces. At this point the river is some eight hundred yards across, beyond the effective range of their Remington rifles. Instead they’ve occupied Tutti island, close enough for them to fire accurately into the city.’

  ‘So the fort is abandoned,’ Mayne said, peering over Earle’s head at the map.

  ‘It should be your objective,’ Kitchener said. ‘If you arrive under cover of darkness, you should be able to get into the ruins unseen, and from there plan your trip across the river to the governor’s palace.’

  Wolseley tapped his pencil on the fort. ‘This fort is where you will take Gordon. If you succeed in spiriting him away in disguise from the palace and return across the river without being seen, you can hole up in there until our river steamers arrive. Captain Lord Beresford of the Royal Naval contingent will be under instructions to send a landing party to the fort simultaneously with putting a half-company of troops ashore at the governor’s palace.’

  Kitchener had folded his arms and stood aloof, his face set impassively. ‘You may as well order all the troops to make for the fort, as any British soldier who attempts to land at the palace will be shot down by the marksmen on Tutti island.’

  ‘Or by the marksmen on the palace roof, if Khartoum has already been taken,’ Burnaby added, dropping his cigarette on the floor and crushing it.

  ‘If Gordon agrees and comes away to the fort, Mayne’s role in his rescue will be exposed once the steamers arrive,’ Earle said. ‘We had agreed to keep his mission secret.’

  Wolseley nodded. ‘Beresford will find Gordon alone in the fort, because Mayne will have disappeared into the desert once they see the steamers round the bend of the Nile at Tutti island. Gordon will go along with the secrecy, as the last thing he will want is for the world to see that he has agreed to be spirited away. It must seem as if he crossed the river alone in disguise to await our arrival once he had spotted our steamers coming, from a place where he could then direct an assault against Tutti island and return back into the city at the head of our troops. He must be given the opportunity to see that this could happen, even if events turn out otherwise. The press can then report that his move to the fort was in fact an attempt to rescue Khartoum, and that if he leaves with us it was not of his own volition. His reputation would remain untarnished.’

  Buller snorted. ‘Old Charlie Gordon doesn’t care about his reputation any more. All he cares about is his people in Khartoum, and the promises he has made them. He’s their messiah. He’ll go down fighting rather than scuttle out with his tail between his legs. That’s where this plan falls asunder. We’ve left it too late. He won’t want to be rescued.’

  Wolseley pursed his lips, and looked at Wilson. ‘Your opinion? You are my intelligence chief.’

  Mayne held his breath. Suddenly his mission was on a knife edge. Only he knew the thoughts that would be running through Wilson’s mind, the urgency of keeping Wolseley’s plan on course. Wilson looked up. ‘I defer to Kitchener. He’s the last man here to have seen Gordon.’

  Wolseley pursed his lips again, and looked up at the tall man standing impassively opposite him. For once Kitchener was silent, staring at Wolseley with those disarming eyes, his moustache barely twitching. Wolseley turned away and looked at the others.

  ‘Mayne?’ he said.

  Mayne did not dare to glance at Wilson. He could not allow Wolseley to be dissuaded, even though he knew Buller was right. Buller’s scenario was precisely the one that had brought him here. Gordon might die defending Khartoum, but he might also survive and be captured. That could not be allowed to happen.

  He spoke confidently. ‘It can be done. Charrière and I can reach the Blue Nile, and I can make my way across to the palace. I know what to say to General Gordon.’

  Wolseley nodded curtly. Kitchener leaned over and continued transferring his notes to the map as they watched in silence. When he had finished, he stood up, and Mayne pointed at a series of crosses that he had put along the course of the Nile. ‘What do these mark?’ he asked.

  ‘Ancient ruins from the pharaonic period,’ Kitchener replied. ‘A passing interest.’

  ‘A passing irrelevance,’ Wolseley said irritably.

  Kitchener pointed to one cross. ‘Not an irrelevance, sir. This cliff face had a bas-relief showing slaves pulling boats over rocks in the river, apparently undertaking the same exercise as General Earle’s river column, without of course the benefit of Mohawks or Kroomen but with many different dark-skinned men among the team.’

  Earle looked up incredulously. ‘Are you saying that the ancient Egyptians attempted the same exercise, dragging boats through the cataracts?’

  ‘The next scene shows them having abandoned the boats and setting out across the desert. Of course, they had no camels then, the camel only having been introduced by the Arabs, but they have horses and chariots and even the slaves are shown striding off confidently.’

  ‘A lesson for us there, perhaps,’ Buller rumbled, peering at Wolseley.

  ‘Precisely my plan in ordering out the desert column, though we hedge our bets by keeping the river column
going,’ Wolseley said tartly.

  Mayne picked up Wolseley’s pencil and put another cross beside the Nile to the south-east of Korti. ‘Yesterday I was shown an underground chamber found by our sappers beside the third cataract,’ he said.

  Kitchener looked at him sharply. ‘Any inscription?’

  Mayne thought for a moment, and decided not to describe the scene showing the destruction of the Egyptian army. ‘At the far end of one wall was the image of a sun-disc, with its rays carved over the entire relief. In front of it was a man with a distended belly and an elongated face, a pharaoh.’

  ‘Akhenaten,’ Kitchener breathed, looking over at Wilson. ‘It must be.’

  ‘I believe so,’ Mayne said. ‘I saw the same disc when we stopped at Amarna on the voyage south through Egypt and visited the excavations there.’

  Kitchener spoke directly to Wilson. ‘I will visit this site tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Right now, you will finish tracing the desert route,’ Wolseley said, his patience clearly wearing thin. ‘You still need to show Mayne a track from Metemma to Khartoum.’

  Kitchener stood back from the map. Wolseley tapped the pencilled lines between Korti and Metemma, and then between Metemma and Khartoum, and looked at Mayne. ‘If all goes to plan, Wilson will reach Gordon within a day of your meeting with him, giving Gordon as little time as possible to change his mind if you are able to persuade him to leave. Meanwhile the Mahdi might force our hand by ordering the final assault on Khartoum. But we must take our chances. Whether you succeed or fail, Mayne, you will not wait to return on the steamers, but will make your own way back along the Nile to rejoin General Earle and the river column. If we fail to save Gordon, and one of the press correspondents gets wind of the fact that a British officer had managed to reach him beforehand, then there will be hell to pay. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘It would look like a desperate measure that could only have been ordered by the expedition commander. I would rather the blame went higher up the chain of command in Whitehall. Scapegoats will be sought, gentlemen, you can be sure of it. The press and the public will bay for blood, and those on whom the blame should fall for delaying the dispatch of the expedition will be seeking any sign of weakness in our conduct. If my reputation is tarnished, then so is that of every one of you around this table. Major Mayne’s mission must remain secret, known only to those of us in this tent and to Charrière, who will go with you.’