Black Mischief (2 page)

Amurath
instituted other changes, less sensational than the railway, but nevertheless
noteworthy. He proclaimed the abolition of slavery and was warmly applauded in
the European Press; the law was posted up prominently in the capital in
English, French and Italian where every foreigner might read it; it was never
promulgated in the provinces nor translated into any of the native languages;
the ancient system continued unhampered but European intervention had been
anticipated. His Nestorian upbringing had strengthened his hand throughout in
his dealings with the white men. Now he declared Christianity the official
religion of the Empire, reserving complete freedom of conscience to his Mohammedan
and pagan subjects. He allowed and encouraged an influx of missionaries. There
were soon three Bishops in Debra Dowa — Anglican, Catholic and Nestorian — and
three substantial cathedrals. There were also Quaker, Moravian,
American-Baptist, Mormon and Swedish-Lutheran missions handsomely supported by
foreign subscribers. All this brought money into the new capital and enhanced
his reputation abroad. But his chief safeguard against European intrusion was
a force of ten thousand soldiers, maintained under arms. These he had trained
by Prussian officers. Their brass bands, goosestep and elaborate uniforms were
at first the object of mild amusement. Then there was an international
incident. A foreign commercial agent was knifed in a disorderly house on the
coast. Amurath hanged the culprits publicly in the square before the Anglican
Cathedral — and with them two or three witnesses whose evidence was held to
be unsatisfactory — but there was a talk of indemnities. A punitive force was
landed, composed half of European, half of mainland native troops. Amurath
marched out against them with his new army and drove them in hopeless rout to
the seashore where they were massacred under the guns of their own fleet. Six
European officers of field rank surrendered and were hanged on the battlefield.
On his triumphal return to the capital Amurath offered the White Fathers a
silver altar to Our Lady of Victories.

Throughout
the highlands his prestige became superhuman. ‘I swear by Amurath’ was a bond
of inviolable sanctity. Only the Arabs remained unimpressed. He ennobled them,
creating the heads of the chief families Earls, Viscounts and Marquesses, but
these grave, impoverished men whose genealogies extended to the time of the
Prophet preferred their original names. He married his daughter into the house
of the old Sultan — but the young man accepted the elevation and his compulsory
baptism into the National Church without enthusiasm. The marriage was
considered a great disgrace by the Arabs. Their fathers would not have ridden a
horse with so obscure a pedigree. Indians came in great numbers and slowly
absorbed ‘the business of the country. The large houses of Matodi were turned
into tenements, hotels or offices. Soon the maze of mean streets behind the
bazaar became designated as the ‘Arab quarter’.

Very
few of them migrated to the new capital, which was spreading out round the
palace in a haphazard jumble of shops, missions, barracks, legations, bungalows
and native huts. The palace itself, which occupied many acres enclosed by an
irregular fortified stockade, was far from orderly or harmonious. Its nucleus
was a large stucco villa of French design; all round this were scattered sheds
of various sizes which served as kitchens, servants’ quarters and stables;
there was a wooden guard-house and a great thatched barn which was used for
state banquets; a domed, octagonal chapel and the large rubble and timber
residence of the Princess and her consort. The ground between and about the
buildings was uneven and untidy; stacks of fuel, kitchen refuse, derelict
carriages, cannon and ammunition lay in prominent places; sometimes there would
be a flyblown carcase of a donkey or camel, and after the rains pools of
stagnant water; gangs of prisoners, chained neck to neck, could often be seen
shovelling as though some project were on hand of levelling or draining, but
except for the planting of a circle of eucalyptus trees, nothing was done in
the old Emperor’s time to dignify his surroundings.

Many of
Amurath’s soldiers settled round him in the new capital; in the first few years
they were reinforced by a trickle of detribalized natives, drawn from their
traditional grounds by the glamour of city life; the main population, however,
was always cosmopolitan, and as the country’s reputation as a land of
opportunity spread through the less successful classes of the outside world
Debra Dowa gradually lost all evidence of national character. Indians and
Armenians came first and continued to come in yearly increasing numbers. Goans,
Jews and Greeks followed, and later a race of partially respectable immigrants
from the greater powers, mining engineers, prospectors, planters and
contractors, on their world-wide pilgrimage in quest of cheap concessions. A
few were lucky and got out of the country with modest fortunes; most were,
disappointed and became permanent residents, hanging round the bars and
bemoaning over their cups the futility of expecting justice in a land run by a
pack of niggers.

When
Amurath died, and the courtiers at last could devise no further explanation of
his prolonged seclusion, his daughter reigned as Empress. The funeral was a
great occasion in East African history. A Nestorian patriarch came from Iraq to
say the Mass; delegates from the European powers rode in the procession and as
the bugles of the Imperial guard sounded the last post over the empty
sarcophagus, vast crowds of Wanda and Sakuyu burst into wailing and lamentation,
daubed their bodies with chalk and charcoal, stamped their feet, swayed and
clapped in frantic, personal grief at the loss of their master.

Now the
Empress was dead and Seth had returned from Europe to claim his Empire.

Noon in Matodi. The
harbour lay still as a photograph, empty save for a few fishing boats moored
motionless against the sea wall. No breeze stirred the royal standard that hung
over the old fort. No traffic moved on the water-front. The offices were locked
and shuttered. The tables had been cleared from the hotel terrace. In the shade
of a mango the two sentries lay curled asleep, their rifles in the dust beside
them.

‘From
Seth, Emperor of Azania, Chief of the Chiefs of Sakuyu, Lord of Wanda and
Tyrant of the Seas, Bachelor of the Arts of Oxford University, to His Majesty
of the King of England, Greeting. May this reach you. Peace be to your house…

He had
been dictating since dawn. Letters of greeting, Patents of Nobility, Pardons,
Decrees of Attainder, Army Ordinances, police regulations, orders to European
firms for motor-cars, uniforms, furniture, electric plant, invitations to the
Coronation, proclamations of a public holiday in honour of his victory, lay
neatly clipped together on the secretary’s table.

‘Still
no news from the hills. We should have heard of the victory by now.’ The
secretary recorded these words, considered them with his head cocked slightly
to one side and then drew a line through them. ‘We should have heard, shouldn’t
we, Ali?’

‘We
should have heard.’

‘What
has happened? Why don’t you answer me? Why have we heard nothing?’

‘Who am
I? I know nothing. I only hear what the ignorant people are saying in the
bazaar, since the public men evacuated the city. The ignorant people say that
your majesty’s army has not gained the victory you predict.’

‘Fools,
what do they know? What can they understand? I am Seth, grandson of Amurath.
Defeat is impossible. I have been to Europe. I know. We have the Tank. This is
not a war of Seth against Seyid but of Progress against Barbarism. And
Progress must prevail. I have seen the great tattoo of Aldershot, the Paris
Exhibition, the Oxford Union. I have read modern books — Shaw, Arlen,
Priestley. What do the gossips in the bazaars know of all this? The whole might
of Evolution rides behind him; at my stirrups run woman’s suffrage, vaccination
and vivisection. I am the New Age. I am the Future.’

‘I know
nothing of these things,’ said Ali. ‘But the ignorant men in the bazaars say
that your majesty’s guards have joined Prince Seyid. You will remember my pointing
out that they had received no wages for several months?’

‘They
shall be paid. I have said it. As soon as the war is over they shall be paid.
Besides I raised them in rank. Every man in the brigade is now a full corporal.
I issued the edict myself. Ungrateful curs. Old-fashioned fools. Soon we will
have no more soldiers. Tanks and aeroplanes. That is modern. I have seen it.
That reminds me. Have you sent off instructions for the medals?’

Ali
turned over the file of correspondence.

‘Your
majesty has ordered five hundred Grand Cross of Azania, first class; five
hundred second; and seven hundred third; also designs for the Star of Seth,
silver gilt and enamel with parti-coloured ribbon …‘

‘No, no.
I mean the Victory-Medal.’

‘I have
received no instructions concerning the Victory Medal.’

‘Then
take this down.’

‘The
invitation to the King of England?’

‘The
King of England can wait. Take down the instructions for the Victory Medal. Obverse,
the head of Seth — that is to be copied from the photograph taken in Oxford.
You understand — it is to be modern, European — top hat, spectacles, evening
dress collar and tie. Inscription SETH IMPERATOR IMMORTALIS. The whole to be
simple and in good taste. Many of my grandfather’s medals were florid. Reverse.
The figure of Progress. She holds in one hand an aeroplane, in the other some
small object symbolic of improved education. I will give you the detail of
that later. The idea will come to me … a telephone might do … I will see.
Meanwhile begin the letter:

‘From
Seth, Emperor of Azania, Chief of the Chiefs of Sakuyu, Lord of Wanda and
Tyrant of the Seas, Bachelor of the Arts of Oxford University, to Messrs Mappin
and Webb of London, Greeting. May this reach you. Peace be to your house
…

Evening and a small stir
of life. Muezzin in the minaret. Allah is great. There is no Allah but Allah
and Mohammed is his prophet. Angelus from the mission church.
Ecce ancilla Domini:
fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum.
Mr Youkoumian behind the bar of the Amurath
Café and Universal Stores mixed himself a sundowner of mastika and water.

‘What I
want to know is do I get paid for the petrol?’

‘You
know I am doing all I can for you, Mr Youkoumian. I’m your friend. You know
that. But the Emperor’s busy today. I’ve only just got off. Been on all day.
I’ll try and get your money for you.’

‘I’ve
done a lot for you, Ali.’

‘I know
you have, Mr Youkoumian, and I hope I am not ungrateful. If I could get you
your money just by asking for it you should have it this evening.’

‘But I
must have it this evening. I’m going.’

‘Going?’

‘I’ve
made my arrangements. Well, I don’t mind telling you, Ali, since you’re a
friend.’ Mr Youkoumian glanced furtively round the empty bar — they were
speaking in Sakuyu — ‘I’ve got a launch beached outside the harbour, behind the
trees near the old sugar mill in the bay. What’s more, there’s room in it for
another passenger. I wouldn’t tell this to anyone but you. Matodi’s not going
to be a healthy place for the next week or two. Seth’s beaten. We know that.
I’m going to my brother on the mainland. Only I want my money for the petrol
before I go.’

‘Yes,
Mr Youkoumian, I appreciate your offer. But you know it’s very difficult. You
can hardly expect the Emperor to pay for having his own motor-boat stolen.’

‘I
don’t know anything about that. All I know is that yesterday evening Mr Marx
came into my store and said he wanted the Emperor’s motor-boat filled up with
petrol. Eighty rupees’ worth. I’ve served Mr Marx with petrol before for the
Emperor. How was I to know he wanted to steal the Emperor’s motor-boat? Should
I have given it to him if I did?’

Mr
Youkoumian spread his hands in the traditional gesture of his race. ‘I am a
poor man. Is it right that I should suffer in this way? Is it fair? Now, Ali, I
know you. You’re a just man. I’ve done a lot for you in the past. Get me my
eighty rupees and I will take you to stay with my brother in Malindi. Then when
the troubles are over, we can come tack or stay or go somewhere else, just as
we like. You don’t want your throat cut by the Arabs. I’ll look after you.’

‘Well,
I appreciate your offer, Mr Youkoumian, and I’ll do what I can. I can’t say
more than that.’

‘I know
you, Ali. I trust you as I’d trust my own father. Not a word to anyone about
the launch, eh?’

‘Not a
word, Mr Youkoumian, and I’ll see you later this evening.’

‘That’s
a good fellow. Au revoir and remember, not a word to anyone about the launch.’

When
Ali had left the Amurath Café, Youkoumian’s wife emerged from the curtain
behind which she had been listening to the conversation.

‘What’s
all this you’ve been arranging? We can’t take that Indian to Malindi.’

‘I want
my eighty rupees. My dear, you must leave these business matters to me.’

‘But
there isn’t room for anyone else in the launch. We’re overloaded already. You
know that.’