Flashman on the March

release you. If you were not chained, how could you be released? [Laughs heartily and drains cup o/tej.]

F: How indeed!

T: I also chained them because I knew that must bring against me a British army, trained and disciplined, an army such as I have longed to see. [Sighs] I only hope God will spare me to see them before I die. [Drinks again.]

F: Will your majesty fight them?

T: If it is God’s will. My soldiers are nothing compared to your disciplined army, where thousands move in obedience to one. If they come in love and friendship I shall be so moved as to be unable to resist them, but if they come with other intentions I know they will not spare me, so I shall make a great bloodbath and afterwards die. [Emits the grandfather of all belches, closes eyes, and appears to fall asleep.]

Relief was flooding through me, and not only because he was behaving like an intoxicated Cheeryble and plying me with liquor; it would be another story in the morning when his majesty awoke with a head like a burst beehive and started playing Ivan the Terrible. But at least he wasn’t about to kill me, had spoken of my release, and as good as promised to give in without a fight if Napier came “in love and friendship”—which could be managed, surely. Then again, he’d so many screws loose that you couldn’t be certain of anything he said, especially when he was half-seas over. It was of academic interest, but I wondered if his claim that he’d imprisoned our people deliberately to provoke an invasion might not have some thing in it, unlikely though it seemed…

Theodore [waking with an almighty yell]: Damocles! By my death, I am Damocles, with a blade poised above my head, sus pended by a horsehair! [Stares up] Do you not see it, about to fall? Am I not Damocles?

Flashy [taken by surprise]: Wasn’t he the chap who was tied up so that he couldn’t get at his rations… or had to roll something up a hill… didn’t he? A vulture… ?

T: The British army is that blade, coming to pierce me, and I know not what to do! What will happen? I am like a pregnant woman; I do not know whether it will be a boy or a girl or an abor tion! [Starts to weep, drinks deeply]

F: Your majesty, may I make a suggestion? A moment ago you spoke of love and friendship between yourself and our Dedjaz Napier, and I can tell you he’d cry “Amen!” to that with three times three. Well, if you were to send me to him, I could settle things in no time—

T [suddenly fierce]: And tell him the disposition of my army, and where my great guns are sited, and my mortar Sevastopol! Ah, my friend, you do not deceive me! That is what you would settle!

[Swaying drunkenly, yelling with rage.] Was this a thing planned with Masteeat and the Gallas? Were you put into my hand so that you might spy out the nakedness of the land -?

F [horrified]: Good God, no!

T:—and shall I cut off your garments to the middle, even to your buttocks, as the Ammonites did to the servants of King David, thinking them spies? [Baring his teeth savagely] Shall I cut off more than your garments… and will you then confess?

He was absolutely screaming now, this frenzied drunkard who a moment since had been calling me his dearest friend, and babbling of Damocles and pregnant women, and I could only sit pet rified, unable even to scramble back because of my fetters, while he shook his fists and threw himself to and fro in his fury. He began to bay like a hound, beating his temples, and then buried his face in his hands as he’d done when he killed the soothsayer, wailing bitterly. I daren’t say a word, waiting and praying to God he’d come out of it into one of his sane moods. At last he raised his head, filled his tej cup, sank the contents at a gulp (Heaven knew how much he had on board, gallons I shouldn’t wonder)—and then, as God’s my witness, he noticed that my cup was empty and hastened to fill it, with mumbled apologies. His eyes were rolling in his head, and tej was dribbling down his chin and on to his naked chest, but he steadied after a moment, regarding me owlishly.

Theodore: Do you know there is an ancient prophecy that a European ruler will meet a ruler of Habesh, and whether they dispute in combat or not, afterwards a monarch will reign in this country who is greater than any before? That prophecy is about to be fulfilled, but will I be that greatest of kings? Is that to be my destiny?

F [with confidence]: Not the slightest doubt about it, in my opinion. Who but your majesty, I mean to say -?

T [doubtfully]: It may be this woman who sends her soldiers against me.

F: You don’t mean the Queen! Good gracious, your majesty, that shot ain’t even on the table! I can assure you, Sir Robert Napier is under strict orders to withdraw as soon as the captives have been released—

T: When did the British lion leave its kill untasted? You have eaten half the world, and shall Habesh be spared?

F: Of course it will, honour bright—

T [gloomy]: If they spare us it will be because we are not worth the conquest. England laughs at me and derides my poverty. [Pauses] Do they despise me because my skin is black?

F: Certainly not! We ain’t Yankees! Why, more than half the army that is coming against you is made up of nig ? Indian troops, what? Dam’ stout fellas, too—

T: But few in number! How lowly they value me, that they send a handful of the mighty British power… How many? Twelve thou sand came over the sea, but how many now stand above the Bechelo? Ten thousand? No. Five thousand?… Two thousand…?

The voice was slurred with drink, the thin lips hung slack in the sweating black face, but under half-lowered lids I caught the glint of a watchful eye… or thought I did.

F: Can’t say, your majesty. Enough, I guess.

T: If Miriam were to ask you, in ways too dreadful to speak of, would you tell her how many is “enough'? No matter. [Hiccoughs, sinks another quart or so o tej, lowers chin on chest, sighs. ] You are my dear friend. I will not permit a hair of your head to be harmed. Let me embrace you. [Lunges forward from sitting position, flings arms round F’s neck, groans and belches, falls asleep.] [43]

As before, there was nothing to be done but sit waiting; you don’t wake a mad drunkard even when he’s snoring in your ear; nor do you heave him off. I’d ha’ been there till morning, no doubt, but someone had been eavesdropping, and when the conversation ceased he decided to take a look, cautiously opening the door and popping his head in, a ferrety little cove with a bright eye and a clever smile. He put a finger to his lips, slipped inside, took a look at majesty comatose, nodded, and tapped him smartly on the shoulder. And damned if Theodore’s head didn’t come up like a jack-in-the-box, full and all as he was.

“It is time to retire, getow’ (* Geta means master, getow supreme master.) says the ferret. “You wish to be abroad at dawn, remember. And you will not wish,” he added, glancing at me, “to keep your guest from his rest.”

'Man abat (* 'Man abat lit. “Who’s your father?” seems to have been an Abyssinian catchphrase used as a facetious greeting, not unlike “What’s up?” or “What’s cooking?”) cries Theodore, startled. “Ah, it is you, Samuel! Did I call you?” He closed his eyes, blew out his cheeks, and gave me a huge beam. “Oh, my friend, we have talked long and drunk well, have we not? And indeed it is time to part, if not to sleep. Is my queen awake?”

Samuel hesitated. “The royal lady Tooroo-Wark is on Magdala, getow. With your son Alamayo. But Meshisha is here, and may be—”

“I asked for my queen—my new queen!” bawls Theodore, suddenly enraged. “Not my bastards! Summon her, my lady Tamagno, that I may present her to my friend… my guest, you say… Go!”

Samuel vanished, and Theodore calmed down enough to refill our cups. “Tamagno is to be my queen,” says he. “Alamayo, who is my true son and heir, you shall meet tomorrow. I wish to have him educated at a great English school, such as one I have heard of… Harrah?”

“Harrow? Certainly not, your majesty. Lair of bestial parvenus. Rugby’s the place for your lad… and Meshisha, did you say?”

“Meshisha is a by-blow, gotten in an evil hour,” says he. “A bastard, an idle great fool, but one must employ