in a hundred years the abundant fertility of its black alluvial soils had failed. The production of wheat and dhurra had fallen short of the needs of the civilian population, let alone those of a great expeditionary army.
“We are short of at least five thousand tons of the flour needed for the primary stage of the campaign,” the quartermaster general told the sirdar. “After the first three months, we will require an additional fifteen hundred tons per month for the duration of hostilities.”
Kitchener frowned. Bread, the staple of any modern army made from wholesome clean grain, and not too much hard biscuit ensured the health of the troops. Now they were telling him that he did not have it.
“Come back tomorrow,” he told his quartermaster.
He went immediately to see Sir Evelyn Baring at the British Agency it would have been political suicide for anybody to call it Government House, but that was what it was. Baring had championed Kitchener’s appointment to commander-in-chief above the claims of better qualified men. Although they were not friends, they thought alike. Baring listened, then said, “I think I know the man who can get your bread for you. He provisioned Gordon in Khartoum during the siege. Most fortuitously, he is in Cairo at this very moment.”
Within two hours a mystified Ryder Courtney found himself under Kitchener’s reptilian stare.
“Can you do it?” Kitchener asked.
Ryder’s business instincts clicked into place. “Yes, I can. However, I will need four per cent commission for myself, General.”
“That is known as profiteering, Mr. Courtney. I can offer you two and a half.”
“That is known as highway robbery, General,” Ryder replied.
Kitchener blinked. He was unaccustomed to being addressed in that fashion.
Ryder went on smoothly, “However, in the name of patriotism I will accept your offer. On the condition that the army provides a suitable home in Cairo for me and my family, in addition to a stipend of two hundred pounds a month to cover my immediate expenses.”
Ryder rode back to Penrod’s riverside home where he and Saffron had been guests since their arrival in Cairo. He was in jubilant mood. Saffron had been agitating: rather than return to Abyssinia, she wanted to remain in this civilized, salubrious city, where she could be close to Amber. When Saffron agitated it was much like living on the slopes of an active volcano. Now her power to persuade was even more formidable than usual as she was pregnant again. Ryder had seen no good commercial sense in setting up business in Egypt, but Herbert Kitchener had just changed that.
Ryder left his horse with the groom in the stables and went down to the lawns above the riverbank. Jane Ballantyne, Amber and Saffron were taking tea in the summer-house. They were rereading and animatedly discussing the letter from Sebastian Hardy, which had arrived on the mail ship from England and had been delivered to Amber’s suite at Shepheard’s Hotel that morning.
Mr. Hardy took great pleasure in informing Miss Amber Benbrook of the recent resuscitation of public interest in her book Slaves of the Mahdi, owing to the prospect of war against the evil Dervish Empire in Omdurman. The amounts paid by Macmillan Publishers in respect of royalties earned over the past three months amounted to 56,483 10s. 6d. In addition, Mr. Hardy begged to inform her and the other beneficiaries that the investments he had made on behalf of the Benbrook family trust had been most favourably affected by the same considerations as the book. He had placed large sums in the common stock of the Vickers Company, which had purchased Mr. Maxim’s patent in his machine-gun. This investment had almost doubled in value. The value of assets of the trust now amounted to a little over three hundred thousand pounds. In addition Macmillan were eager to publish Amber’s new manuscript, provisionally entitled African Dreams and Nightmares.
Ryder strode down the lawns, but the twins were so excited by Mr. Hardy’s good tidings that they were oblivious to his presence until his shadow fell over the tea-table. They looked up. “What is all this laughter and high jinks?” he demanded. “You know I cannot bear to see anybody having so much fun.”
Saffron jumped to her feet, a little ungainly under her maternal burden, and stood on tiptoe to embrace him. “You will never guess what,” she whispered in his ear. “You are married to a rich woman.”
“Indeed, I am married to a rich woman who resides permanently in Cairo, in a house paid for by General Kitchener and the Egyptian army.”
She leant back, holding him at arm’s length, and stared at him in astonishment and delight. “If this is another of your atrocious jokes, Ryder Courtney, I will…” She searched for a suitable threat. “I will throw you into the Nile.”
He grinned complacently. “Too early for a swim. Besides, you and I cannot waste precious time. We have to go hunting for our new home.”
He would tell her later that he must leave within days for the United States and Canada to negotiate for the purchase of twenty thousand tons of wheat. It was not the ideal time to break such news to a pregnant wife. At least she will have enough to keep her fully occupied in my absence. He had learnt by hard experience that when she was bored Saffron was more difficult to handle than the entire Dervish army.
The ground shook to the thunder of hoofs. Eight horsemen raced each other down the long green field. The spectators shrieked and roared. The atmosphere was feverish and electric. Once again the Nile Cup and the honour of the Army polo team were at stake.
The white ball rolled over the uneven turf. Colonel Adams overhauled it swiftly, and leant low out of the saddle, mallet poised. His bay mare was as adept as her rider. She turned in neatly behind the bouncing ball, placing him in the perfect position to make the crossing shot. Mallet and ball met with a crisp thwack, and the ball sailed in a high arc over the heads of the opposing team, dropping directly in the path of Penrod’s charging grey gelding. Penrod picked it up on the first bounce after it struck earth. He tapped it ahead, and his nimble pony chased after it, like a whippet behind a rabbit. Tap and tap again the ball skipped towards the goalposts at the far end of the field. The other riders pursued the grey, their heels hammering into the ribs of their mounts, shouting and pumping the reins for greater speed, but they were unable to catch Penrod. He ran the ball between the posts, and the umpires waved their flags to signal a goal and the end of the match. Once again, the army had retained the Nile Cup against all comers.
Penrod rode back to the pony lines. Under her parasol, Amber was waiting for him. She watched him with pride and devotion. He was marvellously handsome and tanned, although there were crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes from squinting into the desert glare. His body was lean and hard, tempered by years of hard riding and still harder fighting. He was no longer a youth, but a man approaching his prime. He swung one booted leg over the pony’s withers and dropped to the ground, landing like a cat. The grey trotted on to meet his grooms: he could smell the bucket of water and the bag of dhurra meal they had ready for him.
Amber ran to Penrod, and threw herself against his chest. “I am so proud of you.”
“Then let’s get married,” Penrod said, and kissed her.
She made the kiss endure, but when at last she must relinquish his lips, she laughed at him. “We are getting married, you silly old thing, or have you forgotten?”
“I mean now. Immediately. At once. Not next year. We’ve waited far too long.”
She stared at him. “You jest!” she accused him.
“Never been more serious in my life. In ten days I am away again into the desert. We have a spot of business to take care of in Omdurman. Let us be married before I go.”
They were swept up in the feverish madness of war when custom and convention no longer counted. Amber did not hesitate. “Yes!” she said, and kissed him again. She had Saffron and Jane to help her with the arrangements. “Yes! Oh, yes, please!”
Every pew in the cathedral was filled. They held the reception at the Gheziera Club. Sir Evelyn Baring placed the Agency houseboat at their disposal for the honeymoon.
They cruised upriver as far as Giza. In the evening they drank champagne and danced on the deck, while before them rose the silhouette of the pyramids backlit by the sunset. Later, in the great stern cabin on the wide bed with green silk covers, Penrod led her gently along enchanted pathways to a mountain peak of whose existence she had only dreamed. He was a wonderful guide, patient and skilled, and experienced, oh, so very experienced.
Penrod left Amber in the care of Saffron and Jane, and took the steamer south to Aswan and Wadi Haifa to rejoin his regiment. He found Yakub waiting for him at the river landing, wearing his new khaki uniform with panache. He stamped his feet as he saluted, his grin was infectious, and one eye rolled sideways. Yakub, the outcast, had a home at last. He wore the chevrons of a sergeant on the sleeve of the uniform of the Camel Corps of
