resplendent in an array of medals, jewelled orders and a cloak of leopard skins
“Peace and the blessing of Allah be upon you, Sitt Bakhita al-Masur,” Ryder greeted her in Arabic, as he came to her side.
“And upon you in equal measure, Effendi.” She made a graceful gesture in reply, touching her lips, then her heart with her fingertips.
“You are a long way from your home,” he remarked. Her eyes slanted upwards at the outer corners, and her dark gaze was direct, unusual in an Egyptian lady even of the highest rank, yet also mysterious. Some men would find her irresistible, but she was not to Ryder’s taste.
“I came by the river. In my fine new steamer it was not such a long journey from the first cataract.” Her voice was soft and musical.
“You encountered no let or hindrance along the way, I hope? These are troubled times and the this is well known.”
“She is the this no longer but the Durkhan Sama, the Wisdom of the Skies. Her appearance is much altered. No one would recognize her for what she once was. My boat-builders at Aswan have lavished much attention on her. I paid my dues to the men of God in Omdurman when I passed that pestilential if holy city.”
“Where is she moored now?” Ryder demanded eagerly.
Bakhita looked at him quizzically. “She is at Roseires.” That was the small port at the uppermost limit of navigation on the Blue Nile. It was still within the Sudan, but less than fifty miles from the Abyssinian border.
Ryder was pleased. “Is Jock McCrump still the engineer?” he asked.
Bakhita smiled. “He is captain also. I think it would be difficult to dislodge him from his berth.”
Ryder was even better pleased. Jock would be a useful man to have aboard if they were to use the steamer in any rescue attempt. “You seem interested in your old steamer, Effendi. Do I imagine it, or is it indeed so?”
Immediately Ryder was wary. He knew little about this woman, except that she was wealthy and had influence in high places in many countries. He had heard it said that even though she was a Muslim she was favourably inclined towards British interests in the Orient, and opposed to those of France and Germany. It was even rumoured that she was an agent of Sir Evelyn Baring in Cairo. If this was true she would not support the Dervish jihad in Omdurman, but it was best not to trust her.
“Indeed, Sitt Bakhita, I did have some idea of chartering the steamer from you for a short period but I am not sure that you would be agreeable to the proposition,” he said.
She dropped her voice when she spoke next: “General Ras Mengetti speaks only Amharic. Nevertheless we should continue this conversation in private. I know the whereabouts of your compound. May I call upon you there? Say, tomorrow an hour before noon?”
“I will be at your disposal.”
“I will have matters of mutual interest to relate to you,” she promised. Ryder bowed and moved away.
Saffron was still with Alice, but the moment Ryder was free she came across to join him. “Who was the fat Arab lady?” she asked tartly. “She was making huge cow eyes at you.”
“She may be useful to us in uniting us with friends and family.”
Saffron considered this, then nodded. “In that case I forgive her.”
Ryder was uncertain as to how Bakhita had transgressed, but before he made the mistake of pursuing the subject, a flourish of trumpets announced the entrance of the Emperor and his wife.
Much later that evening when they returned to the compound, Saffron brought Ryder his slippers and poured him a nightcap. Then she unpinned the Star of Solomon from his lapel and examined it in the lamplight. “I am certain they are real diamonds,” she said.
“If you are correct then we are probably millionaires.” He chuckled, and noted that he had picked up the habit from her of using the plural pronoun. It seemed somehow to constitute a formal link between them. He wondered if that was wise, and concluded that perhaps it was not. In future I shall be more circumspect, he promised himself.
The following day Bakhita arrived at the compound in a closed coach drawn by four mules. Ryder recognized the coach and driver and knew that they had probably been put at her disposal by the Emperor. This was further proof, if any were needed, of Bakhita al-Masur’s influence and importance. Behind the coach half a dozen armed bodyguards followed closely. They waited in the courtyard while Ryder ushered Bakhita into the main room, where Saffron served coffee and little honey cakes.
When she stood up and excused herself, Bakhita held up her hand. “Please do not go, Sitt Benbrook. What I have to say concerns you above all others.” Saffron sank back on the sofa, and Bakhita went on, “I have come to Entoto for the main purpose of meeting you and Mr. Courtney. The three of us have affairs of great concern that are all linked in Omdurman. I have a friend to whom I owe complete loyalty, and close members of your family are held in captivity by the Dervish. I am certain that you are as anxious to procure their release as I am. To this end I wanted to pledge to you all the assistance and support of which I am capable.” Ryder and Saffron stared at her in silent astonishment. “Yes, I know that your elder sister and your twin are in the harem of the Emir Osman Atalan. My friend is the slave of the same man.”
“May we know the name of your friend?” Ryder asked cautiously.
Bakhita did not answer at once then said, “My English is not good, but I think we must use your language for very few people in Abyssinia understand it.”
“Your English is very good, Sitt Bakhita,” said Saffron. Her latent antagonism towards the other woman had undergone a sea-change.
“You are kind, but it is not so.” She smiled at Saffron, then turned back to Ryder. “I could refuse to answer your question, but I want us to be honest with each other. I am sure that my friend is well known to both of you. He is Captain Penrod Ballantyne of the 10th Hussars.”
“He is a valiant officer and a fine gentleman,” Saffron exclaimed. “We last met him at the Atbara gorge not more than five months ago.”
“Oh, please tell me how he was!” Bakhita exclaimed.
“He was well, although indistinguishable in dress and deportment from his captors,” said Saffron.
“I knew he had been captured by the Dervish, but I heard he had been terribly abused and tortured. Your assurances are of much comfort to me.”
While they discussed Penrod, Ryder was thinking swiftly. From Bacheet he had heard a rumour, which Nazeera had told him, that Penrod had an intimate Egyptian friend. From the depth of her concern for him there was little doubt that Bakhita must be the lady in question. Ryder was shocked. Penrod was a highly decorated officer in a firstrate regiment. A liaison of this nature, if it came to light, might easily cost him his commission and his reputation.
“From all that you have told us, Sitt Bakhita, it is clear that we must pool all our intelligence and resources,” he said. “Our first concern, which has been troubling me deeply, is how to get messages to and from our friends in Omdurman.”
“I believe I am able to offer a means of communication.” Bakhita stood up and went to the door that led into the courtyard. She clapped her hands, and one of her bodyguard appeared before her. “I think you know this man,” said Bakhita, as he removed his head cloth and made a deep salaam towards Ryder.
“May God always protect you, Effendi.”
“Yakub!” Ryder was truly astonished. “I heard bad things about you. I heard that you had betrayed your master, Abadan Riji.”
“Effendi, sooner would I betray my father and mother, and may Allah hear my words and strike me down into hell if I lie,” said Yakub. “The only remaining purpose in my life is to bring my master safely out of the clutches of the Dervish into which my uncle so treacherously led him. I will do anything…” Yakub hesitated, then qualified his statement: “I will do anything except have any truck with the despicable Bacheet to save my master from the Dervish. If there is no other way, I may even abide with, for some brief time, the company of the nefarious Bacheet. However, I shall probably kill him afterwards.”
“On the matter of killing,” Ryder told him grimly, “Abadan Riji believes that you were as much the traitor as your uncle. He slew your uncle, and he means to do the same to you.”
“Then I must go to him and place my life and loyalty in his hands.”
“While you are about it,” said Ryder, drily, ‘you may as well take your master a message and return to us with his reply.”
