To the General's surprise, the Mirzataher took immediate charge of the proceedings. With him he had brought carpenters, tent pitchers and carpet layers. Under his directions the whole garden was covered with canvas so that it became a great marquee. Thousands of square yards of carpet were brought in wagons to be laid in the street outside, and the floors of all the downstairs rooms were covered in precious rugs. So, too, was the garden and, at its far end, a huge, silk carpet was folded into thirty-two layers and spread with priceless shawls to form a temporary throne on which the King of Kings would sit.
At midday, a score of cooks and confectioners arrived with pots, pans and vast quantities of food, to take over the kitchen. A ton of ice was carried in to cool the wines and sherbets. Meanwhile, upholsterers had draped the whole of the front of the house with gorgeous brocade curtains. The fountains were set playing, flowers arranged in their basins and jars of perfume placed beside them, to be tipped in before the Shah entered the building.
While all this was going on, the French stood about, submitting with such grace as they could to being pushed into comers. Gardane looked on speechless and sour, for the Mirzataher had told him that people honoured by the Shah in this manner always paid the cost of the entertainment and, in due course, he would be told the sum due from him.
Early in the evening the crowd was supplemented by His Majesty's singers, and the Luti Bachi—the Shah's jester— who brought with him a score of jugglers, dwarfs and other mountebanks. The time of the King of Kings' arrival was to be after the evening prayer, and Gardane was told that he must go the Palace to precede his royal visitor in the procession. Making the best of matters, he put on his smartest uniform and sallied forth.
The people of Isfahan, having learned of what was afoot, lined the streets and roof-tops to acclaim their Sovereign during his stately progress. Heading the procession came heralds carrying weighty clubs and trumpets. They proclaimed the mightiness of their master as the Centre of the Universe and by innumerable other titles. Following them came a great body of gorgeously-clad nobles. Then came Gardane with, immediately behind him, the Shah. After them rode two Princes, the Grand Vizier, other functionaries and the royal guards.
When the Shah had duly been escorted through the house to his temporary throne, Gardane,- as he had been instructed was customary, had, to his intense annoyance, to offer his royal guest one hundred gold pieces on a silver salver. The
Shah nodded acceptance of them and through his interpreter told the General that such freely-made tributes inspired confidence and would increase his condescension to his host. The courtiers made numerous speeches to their master, flattering him as the greatest, wisest and most generous monarch under heaven; then his dinner was served.
It consisted of a hundred or more dishes and basins, all of solid gold, heaped with different kinds of food. For some twenty minutes he picked a bit here and a bit there with his fingers. When he had done, the two Princes sat down and set to. Only after them were the senior hosts and the Ministers allowed to cat. The dishes were then carried to the junior members of the mission and the Court officials. Finally the still-plentiful mounds of lamb, chicken, fish, rice, fruit, nuts, cakes and sweets went in turn to the guards, jesters, musicians and servants.
An entertainment followed, the star turn of which was the recitation of new piece by a poet. It lauded the Shah to the skies so satisfactorily that His Majesty ordered the man's mouth to be filled with gold, and the French were astonished to see how many pieces he succeeded in having crammed into it without choking.
It was not until well after midnight that, with much ceremony, the Shah took his departure and his tired hosts were able to discuss the party. Gardane was in an unusually black humour which, at first, Roger attributed to the great expense to which he had been put; but soon learned that it was not for that reason only. The General had optimistically believed that the Shah's visit was to convey to him a reply to the Emperor's letter and, during the course of the conversations that had taken place, he had opened the subject with the Grand Vizier.
The Minister had expressed great surprise and had conveyed the reply, 'Surely you did not expect an important decision concerning war or peace to be decided in the course of a few days? It will be another fortnight at least before you receive a reply to your communication.'
He had then gone on to inform Gardane that meanwhile it was His Majesty's pleasure that his guests should amuse themselves by going on a hunting expedition in the great forests north of Tehran, and that arrangements were already in train for the whole of the mission to set out, with an appropriate escort, the following morning.
Later, when discussing the matter with one of the Shah's gentlemen who spoke a little French and with whom he had become friendly, the General had received a hint that the real reason that lay behind sending the mission away from Isfahan was to deprive the French of any opportunity to bribe Ministers into favouring their designs while their Emperor's letter was under discussion.
Apart from the General and Roger, the others were delighted at the thought of the expedition. The latter was naturally alarmed, as it could deprive him for the next two weeks of further meetings with his adorable Lisala. It struck him, too, as at least a possibility that Alfonso dc Queircoz, having many friends in high places at the Persian Court, might have put the idea into one of the Ministers' heads, with the object of getting Lisala's new admirer out of the way until the reply to the Emperor was ready and the mission no longer had any reason to remain in Isfahan.
He at once told Gardane that he had no desire to go hunting, so would stay on in the capital. But the General would not agree to his doing so. He said that the Grand Vizier had made it plain that the whole mission was to go, bag and baggage, and he dared not risk incurring the Shah's displeasure by leaving a French officer behind. In the circumstances, Napoleon's interests not being involved, Roger could not invoke his privileged position as an A.D.C. to the Emperor; so, seething with internal rage, he was obliged to submit.
Briefly Roger considered making his way as swiftly as possible to his roof-top. But by then it was past one in the morning. Lisala would almost certainly have heard that the mission was giving an entertainment for the Shah that night; and the odds against her still being up there waiting for him were overwhelming. Reluctantly, he abandoned the idea as futile, resigned himself to the fact that he would not even be able to say good-bye to his beloved and went up to his room to pack for the journey.
Next morning, soon after nine o'clock, the mansion the mission had occupied was almost as empty as if they had never entered it. Only two score of trunks filled with surplus clothing, plate, glass, linen that they would not require and, in the basement, a number of cases containing arms, were left behind.
It was on August 18th that, with a considerable retinue of guides, guards and professional hunters, they took the road north to Tehran. They reached the city which—until Shah Abbas had moved to Isfahan and built the marvellous mosques and palaces there—had been the capital of Persia, late on the evening of the 20th and spent the night in a big caravanserai. Their baggage train caught up with them next day and, taking what they needed from it, in the early afternoon they resumed their march towards the great mountain range that now lay ahead of them.
Although it was high summer, some of the peaks were still capped with snow. To the east, along the chain, Mount Damavand rose above the others to nearly nineteen thousand feet; the highest mountain in Asia west of the Himalayas. But their guides led them through a pass and, by nightfall, they were installed in one of the Shah's big hunting lodges.
Next day they went out equipped for the chase. The country was as unlike central and southern Persia as could possibly be imagined. Instead of precipitous, barren ridges of rock and arid, sandy waste, interspersed by fertile valleys, north of the mountains there was one vast forest, extending right up to the southern shore of the Caspian Sea.
The area was alm
ost uninhabited, but teemed with wild life of every description. There were tigers, leopards, bears, antelopes, wild boar, buck and deer in profusion. Their kill far exceeded anything they could possibly have expected; but the French felt themselves shamed because the Persian hunters proved far better marksmen with their bows and arrows than the Europeans with their latest pattern of musket.
For another two days they rode out to kill, and Roger became sickened at this senseless slaughter; so he was much relieved when, on the evening of the 23rd, Gardane decided that they should return to Isfahan; in the hope that, after ten days, the Shah and his Ministers would have come to a decision.
Their journey south was as uneventful as that to the north had been, and they re-entered Isfahan late on the evening of the 27th. Roger had no doubt at all that many days ago Lisala had heard the French mission had left the capital on a hunting expedition; so by going up to his roof-top that night there would not be the least chance of his finding her waiting for him.
But his absence had increased his desire for her a hundredfold. During the journey, and even while shooting dangerous big game, his mind had wandered with great frequency to her. Again and again he had visualised her heart-shaped face; the broad, smooth forehead framed in tresses of rich, reddish hair; the widely-spaced tawny eyes; the full, smiling mouth with its rows of even, white teeth; her slim arms and hands; pouting breasts; Venus-like little stomach and long, shapely legs.
That night, thoughts of her again clasped in his arms and moaning with delight as he possessed her prevented him from sleeping. In the morning, dressed in his best uniform, as early as he decently could, he hurried to the Portuguese Embassy.
To his alarm and dismay, he found it silent and shuttered. In a panic of apprehension he hammered with his riding crop on the door. After some minutes the door was unbolted by a Persian servant. From him Roger learned, to his unutterable dismay, that His Excellency the Ambassador had received letters of recall. He had left Isfahan with his whole family and staff three days before.
The Call of Love
Utterly aghast, Roger gaped at the man; then turned away and, with sagging shoulders, slowly walked off down the street. Enormously as he had looked forward to renewing his liaison with Lisala, not until this moment was it fully brought home to him how much she meant to him. Susceptible as he had always been to the attractions of exceptionally beautiful women, it was not alone Lisala's physical perfection that had utterly bewitched him, nor the wild abandon with which she gave herself to his embraces. It was also the subtle fascination of her unusual personality; her strength of will, contrasting with, at times, a sweet docility; the unpredictability of her moods which could change so swiftly from hilarious laughter to violent anger; her ability to talk of serious matters with sound sense coupled with a childish innocence about many aspects of life, and an insatiable desire to learn more of the great world in which, for so long, he had played a part through his acquaintance with statesmen and monarchs. The thought that he might never sec her again left him completely stricken.
It was a good ten minutes before he had recovered sufficiently to turn about and retrace his steps to the Embassy, in order to find out all he could about the sudden departure of the Portuguese mission.
His first eager question of the Persian servant left in charge of the building was: had any letter or message been left for him? But neither had. He then learned that the summons to return to Portugal must have been received by de Pombal the day after the French mission had set out for Tehran; as it was from that day that the whole Embassy had suddenly become a hive of activity. Everyone there had hurriedly set
about sorting and packing the contents of the mansion. Innumerable crates and cases had been filled and corded, and arrangements made to sell off possessions of all sorts that it had been decided to abandon. The Ambassador and his staff had spent the next few days in a marathon round of visits to take leave of Persian notabilities, and on the 23rd de Pombal had had a final audience with the Shah. On the following day a caravan of over fifty hired camels had been loaded up, and that evening the whole party had taken the road to Shiraz.
From this last piece of information Roger at once concluded that dc Pombal had decided, instead of making the long, overland trek to Antioch, to go down to the Portuguese trading post on the Persian Gulf, there take ship round Arabia up the Red Sea, cross the isthmus and sail again from Alexandria. In mileage, that route would nearly double the length of the journey, but given favourable winds, it should take only a few weeks longer, and be infinitely less of an ordeal.
The Persian could tell Roger nothing of the reason for de Pombal's unexpected recall. Anxious to learn anything he could about it, Roger decided that a fellow diplomat would prove the most likely source of information. Apart from the French mission, the only countries then having one in Isfahan were Russia and Holland; so he hurried round to the Netherlands Embassy and asked to pay his respects to the Ambassador, whom he had already met on several occasions.
After a short wait, the portly Dutchman received him pleasantly. Like everybody else connected with the Court in Isfahan, the Ambassador knew that Roger had been squiring the beautiful Lisala round the city; so he was not surprised by his visitor's enquiry about the sudden departure of the Portuguese.
Thoughtfully stroking his chubby chin, he replied. 'The Marquis did not actually disclose to me the reason for his recall; but from our conversation I formed the impression that, indirectly, your Emperor is responsible for it.'
The Emperor!' Roger exclaimed. 'What possible reason could he have in concerning himself with such a matter?'
The Dutchman shrugged. 'With or without warrant, he has made the affairs of every nation in Europe his concern. And still more so since he announced his "Continental System", by which he hopes to reduce the stubborn English to poverty and impotence. During the past year he has compelled every country under his control to close their ports to British shipping, and one can hardly doubt that he will now exert pressure on the smaller countries that still retain their independence, to come into line. Of these, the most important to him is Portugal. As you may be aware, Portugal is England's oldest ally; but since the death of Pitt, Britain has waged her war against France only in a most half-hearted fashion, so whether she has either the will or the means to enable the Portuguese to defy your Emperor is open to question. However, now that he has inflicted such a crushing defeat on the Czar, it is reasonable to predict that he will next turn his attention to Portugal, with a view to plugging that serious leak in his embargo against trade with Britain.'
'Your Excellency's assumption is soundly based,' Roger agreed. 'But I still do not see why this should have brought about dc Pombal's recall.'
'Do you know anything of his family history?' .. 'I know, of course, that the first Marquis was one of the greatest statesmen that Portugal ever produced; and that, for over a quarter of a century, King Joseph gave him a free hand to revolutionise Portugal's Army, Navy, finances, commerce and educational system. Also that, on the King's death, his widow displayed such hatred for de Pombal that he was dismissed and persecuted; but I know no more than that.'
'Then you know enough to realise that the present Marquis has the blood of a genius in his veins. I do not suggest that he is one himself; but he is highly intelligent, an able diplomat and very knowledgeable about international affairs. Perhaps even more important, he bears a name that is now rightly honoured by the Portuguese people. Does it not seem to you that, in the emergency with which his Sovereign may soon be faced, it would be a wise move to have readily available the advice and support of such a personality?'
Roger nodded. 'In that your Excellency is certainly right. But by his Sovereign I take it you mean the Don Joao, the Prince of Brazil? For many years past, old Queen Maria has been as mad as a hatter.'
'Of course. In '99, Joao was made Prince Regent, and has since performed the functions of a Sovereign. All that I have said is only speculat
ion on my part. But I give it to you for what it is worth.'
Having thanked the Ambassador, Roger took his leave of him no less depressed, but with the feeling that this possible explanation of the sudden departure of the Portuguese was most probably correct.
For the remainder of the day and a good part of the night, he wrestled with the problem of what he should do. Since he was not acting as a British secret agent, duty did not demand that he should remain in Isfahan and, as a lodestone attracts a magnetised needle, he was drawn to rejoin the adorable Lisala at the earliest possible moment.
Should he decide to abandon the French mission and go off on his own? Gardane would protest, but he could do no more than report this desertion to the Emperor. Napoleon's displeasure might lead to a final break with him; but in the past, Roger had on several occasions produced plausible reasons for having apparently abandoned his service for lengthy periods, and he had little doubt about his ability to do so again.
By this time the Portuguese caravan was probably nearing Shiraz. If he took horse next morning and followed post haste, he could be certain of catching up with it before it reached the Persian Gulf. But what then? How could he explain his wish to join de Pombal's party and return to Europe with it? He was by no means anxious to marry again; but if he did, who, other than Georgina, could make a more desirable wife than Lisala? Her personal attractions apart, she was of high birth and, as an only child, would inherit a great fortune. He could declare that his love for her was so great that he had sacrificed his career in order to rejoin her, and ask her hand in marriage.
But how would de Pombal react to that? Roger, as an apparent deserter, would make a far from favourable impression. It was quite probable too that, in any case, the Marquis would not consider him a sufficiently good match for his daughter. Still worse, if the Dutch Ambassador's theory was correct, that the reason for de Pombal’s recall was due to Portugal now being threatened by Napoleon, dc Pombal might possibly jump to the conclusion that Roger's courting of Lisala was being used only as a blind; and that, in fact, Gardane had sent him to travel with the Portuguese as a spy.
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