The Secret of Abdu El Yezdi (5 page)

Sister Raghavendra stifled a giggle. She'd often told Burton that she found Spoolwinder's exaggerated mournfulness highly comical, especially when he was overwrought. “Nobody and nowhere?” she asked.

Captain Lawless shrugged. “There's no point of origin, Sister. No source. We don't know who—or where—the messages are coming from.”

Spoolwinder added, “But it's always exactly the same gobbledegook. Have a gander at this.” He took a sheet of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and passed it to Burton. The explorer read:

THE BEAST . . . THE BEAST . . . THE BEAST . . . YOU SHALL BOW DOWN FOR . . . OL SONF VORSG . . . BORN FROM THE WRECK OF SS BRITANNIA AND . . . LONSH CALZ VONPHO SOBRA ZOL ROR I TA NAZPSAD . . . TO REND THE VEIL . . . FROM THE FALLEN EMPIRE . . . NOW . . . FARZM ZVRZA ADNA GONO IADPIL DS HOM TOH . . . FOR THE ROYAL CHARTER . . . WILL DELIVER HE . . . BALTOH IPAM VL IPAMIS . . .

“English mixed with random letters,” Burton murmured. “SS
Britannia
? Is there such a ship, Captain?”

“There was an RMS
Britannia
. An ocean liner. We sold her to the Prussians some ten years ago. They renamed her SMS
Barbarossa
. There's no Steamship
Britannia
. Never has been.”

“And you say this message has been repeated over and over?”

“Countless times and without variation,” Spoolwinder said. “It used up nearly all our paper supply, and the telegraph burned the rest.”

“May I keep this copy?”

Lawless said, “By all means,” and straightened as the boatswain's whistle suddenly sounded. He muttered, “Look out, here we go,” then yelled, “ship's company, attention!”

The crew fell silent, stood with stomachs in, shoulders back, and chins up, and all eyes turned to the second set of double doors at the far end of the chamber. They swung open and Doctor Quaint stepped in, moved aside, and bowed two men through. On the left, Lord Stanley, the secretary of state for foreign affairs—short, stocky, and with a permanently aggressive expression—and on the right, His Royal Highness Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, widower of the late Queen Victoria, overweight, his long sideburns ill-concealing his developing jowls and thickening neck, and appearing to bear the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

“He looks ill,” Sister Raghavendra whispered.

Burton gave a quiet grunt of agreement.

Quaint guided the new arrivals across the ballroom and introduced them to Captain Lawless.

“An incredible ship,
Kapitän
!” Prince Albert declared. He spoke with a heavy German accent. “
Mein Gott, gigantisch
, no? How many crew?”

“Thirty-five, Your Royal Highness. We were thirty-six but lost a man in Central Africa.”

“Ach! Unfortunate! I understand you haff quite the adventure. Most successful. You solve the mystery of the Nile.”

“Not I, sir. May I present the expedition's leader, Captain Richard Burton, and his medical officer, Sister Sadhvi Raghavendra?”

The prince smiled at Burton, who noticed lines of pain around the man's eyes. “Oh dear. Your reputation goes before you, Burton. I am afraid almost to meet you.”

Burton bowed. “I give you my solemn assurance, Your Royal Highness, that whatever calumnies you have heard about me are probably entirely true.”

“
Ja!
I expected no less! You are a warrior! A man who must cut his own path through life. We are similar, you and I.”

“Similar, sir?”

“It is so! For just as you haff chopped your way through the jungles of Africa, so I haff chopped through the jungles of German
Politik
. We are relentless, no?”

“Then I take it your endeavours have met with success?”

“It is correct. Just as yours. I tell you this, Burton: the union of Hanover, the Saxon Duchies,
unt
Bavaria—the new Central German Confederation—through the middle of Prussia it will slice, so we weaken our opponents, you see? Bismarck is now nothing but bluster
unt
hot air. He haff no power remaining
unt
can offer no opposition to the forthcoming British–German Alliance. We deny him his
Deutsches Reich
. It is
sehr gut
for our countries.
Sehr gut! Unt
now the question of Italian independence haff been settled with Austria, I am confident there will be no more wars in Europe.”

The prince turned to Sister Raghavendra. “But forgive me,
Fräulein
, this is disgraceful! I do not wish to bore you with such matters. Europe is a game of chess. One concentrates
unt
concentrates on the next move until one's good manners, they are forgotten completely. For far too long I haff been dealing with the devious men.”

He raised Raghavendra's hand to his lips and continued, “I am—what is the word,
Kapitän
Burton:
überwältigt
?”

“Overwhelmed, sir.”

“Ach! Indeed. Overwhelmed. Overwhelmed to meet such a courageous young lady. It is true,
ja
, that you accompanied the
Kapitän
around the great lake in the middle of Africa?”

Raghavendra smiled and curtseyed. “Yes, Your Highness, it's true, though the lake is not quite in the middle.”

“Remarkable! Remarkable!” Prince Albert released her hand and stepped a pace backward. He pulled at his cuffs, winced, and flinched, as if pain had lanced through him, then said, “Well, to get home you are both eager, no? As am I. Let us delay no longer.
Kapitän
Lawless, will you please haff the ship depart?
Unt
Doctor Quaint, if you would to my chamber now show me? I was up half the night watching the lights in the sky—Ach! Strange, no?—and am in need of sleep. We will meet again at the palace, Burton. I look forward to it.”

Burton opened his mouth to ask, “The palace?” but before he could utter the question, the prince turned away and said to Sister Raghavendra, “Excuse my rudeness, I beg of you. The life I chose after the death of my dear wife haff of me made a monster where the women are concerned. No manners, Sister Raghavendra! No manners at all!”

“Not a bit of it, sir,” she responded. “You have thoroughly charmed me.”

He smiled, flinched again, and followed Doctor Quaint from the room.

Everyone relaxed.

Burton turned to Lord Stanley, who regarded him with hooded eyes and a stony expression.

“Sir—” the explorer began.

Stanley interrupted, his voice clipped. “Captain. I daresay you are keen to be reunited with your fiancée.”

“Er—yes. I wasn't aware that—”

“That I knew of Miss Isabel Arundell? Oh, I'm aware of her, Captain. It's very difficult not to be when one's office is bombarded on a weekly basis by letters from her.”

Burton was suddenly lost for words.

“Apparently,” Stanley continued, “she considers you an ideal candidate for the consulship of Damascus, and is of the opinion that only an idiot would pass you up for the job.”

“She—she said that?”

“It was implied. Do I look like an idiot to you?”

“No, sir. Not at all.”

“Good. I'm relieved. I can trust my own judgement, then?”

“I'm sorry. I had no idea—”

Stanley's stern countenance softened somewhat. “No, of course not. You were in Africa. But it has to stop. I'll not be browbeaten by a woman.” The corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Excepting my own wife, of course; may God bless her and have mercy on my soul.”

“I'll have words with Miss Arundell.”

“See that you do.”

“On another matter, sir—”

“Yes?”

“I have a great deal of information for you regarding the disposition and resources of the Lake Regions.”

“Good man. In reports? Properly written up?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Have them delivered to my cabin. I'll pass them directly to the prime minister when we reach London. Africa is one of those matters about which he prefers to form his own opinions before consulting with me. Your intended, I'm sorry to say, isn't the only one who doubts my ability to make the right choices.”

Burton said, “Very well.”

“And enjoy the ceremony, Burton.”

“Ceremony?”

“At the palace. By George, don't you know?”

“Know what, sir?”

“On Monday, Burton. You're due at the palace. You are to receive a knighthood!”

At four-thirty that afternoon—it was Thursday the 1st of September, 1859—Captain Richard Burton, with his top hat in one hand and Oliphant's cane in the other, stood beside Nathaniel Lawless on the bridge of HMA
Orpheus
and watched through a side window as the vessel's rotors gouged a deep furrow through the top of a sickly yellow cloud. Ahead, four copper towers poked out of the pall, and beyond them, in the distance, the tips of factory chimneys and the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral were visible.

The sunlight, streaming from a clear blue sky, reflected glaringly from the four metal columns as the airship drew alongside them.

“Cut the engines, Mr. Wenham,” Lawless said to the helmsman. He turned to his chief engineer. “Out they go, Mr. Keen.”

“Aye, sir,” Keen replied. He lifted a speaking tube to his mouth and said, “All out!”

“Take us down, Mr. Wenham. As slow as you like.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Lawless said to Burton, “Just like they did in Africa, our riggers and engineers are now dangling at the end of chains outside the ship, and Mr. Wenham is venting gas from the dirigible, so we'll sink very gradually. This time, though, the men outside won't have to peg us down themselves—the station's ground crew will be on hand to assist with trolley-mounted windlasses. The chains will be attached and wound in, hauling us down until we're secured, and you'll then be able to set foot on British soil again.”

The bridge suddenly turned gloomy as the fog swallowed the
Orpheus
.

Ten minutes later, the airship settled in the Royal Navy Air Service Station beside Battersea Power Station, the latter being the well-guarded headquarters of the Department of Guided Science.

The pride of the British fleet was home.

Lawless accompanied Burton down to the main doors, where Sister Raghavendra and Doctor Quaint joined them. They stood and watched as crew unbolted the big hatches and slid them aside before lowering the ship's ramp. Fog rolled in. Lawless coughed.

Outside, two steam-horses—like miniature tall-funnelled versions of the famous Stephenson's
Rocket
—emerged from the murk, pulling a large armour-plated six-wheeled carriage behind them. They drew up to the base of the ramp.

Lawless nodded at Quaint, who turned on his heel and hurried away, only to return moments later with Prince Albert, Lord Stanley, and Lord Elgin.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” the prince said. Stanley and Elgin nodded their gratitude. The three descended the ramp and climbed into the vehicle. The steam-horses belched smoke from their funnels, jerked into motion, and dragged the carriage back into the cloud.

Burton squinted into the pea-souper.

“Well,” he said, pushing his top hat onto his head and leaning on the panther-headed cane. “It's nice to see London again.”

“I can't remember it ever being this bad,” Raghavendra remarked.

“And it stinks to high heaven,” Lawless observed. “I fear we must re-adjust ourselves after being spoilt by the beauty and purity of Africa.”

Burton snorted. “So says the man who enjoyed the luxurious facilities of his ship while Sadhvi, William, George, and I were struggling through methane-bubbling swamps with crocodiles trying to eat us and mosquitoes sucking our blood.”

“Point taken. Is that someone approaching?” Lawless jerked his chin toward a shadowy figure that, as they watched, detached itself from the fog and started up toward them.

“Ahoy there,
Orpheus
!” a voice called. “Welcome back to the civilised world!”

“Sir Roderick!” Burton exclaimed and strode forward to meet the man, clasping hands with him halfway along the ramp.

Sir Roderick Murchison, president of the Royal Geographical Society, was a tall and slender individual whose rigid demeanour belied the warmth of his personality. “Well done, Burton!” he effused. “Well done! You've placed a jewel in the crown of the RGS! The Nile is cracked at last!” He slapped Burton's shoulder. “We lost track of you last night—apparently that extraordinary aurora borealis has disabled telegraph systems the world over—but I knew the ship was due this afternoon, so braved the funk to meet you. The rest of our fellows are waiting at the Society. No doubt you're looking forward to the comforts of home, but you'll attend a little reception first, yes?”

“Of course, Sir Roderick, I'd be delighted.”

“Good show, old boy! I say, though, you look perfectly rotten. Are you ill?”

“A touch of fever. Nothing I can't cope with.”