When he was led to David Benbrook’s office, the consul was reading by lamplight. He looked annoyed by the intrusion, as he removed the reading glasses from his nose and stood up. He was dressed in a velvet smoking jacket and had been poring over a sheaf of documents. “What is it?” he snapped.
“Good evening, Consul.” Penrod saluted him. “I’m sorry to trouble you at this time of night, but I’ve just arrived from Cairo with messages from Sir Evelyn Baring.”
“God bless my soul!” David stared at Penrod in amazement. “You’re English!”
“I am, sir. I have had the pleasure of your previous acquaintance. I am Captain Ballantyne of the 10th Hussars.”
“Ballantyne! I remember you well. As a matter of fact we were speaking about you just the other day. How do you do, my dear fellow?” After they had shaken hands David held his handkerchief to his nose. “First thing is to get you a bath and some fresh clothes.” He rang for the servants. “I am not sure that there will be hot water at this time of night,” he apologized, ‘but it should not take long to get the boiler going.”
Not only was the bathwater scalding, David Benbrook even produced half a cake of perfumed soap from Paris and lent Penrod a razor. While he shaved David sat on the lid of the commode across the tiled bathroom. He seemed oblivious to Penrod’s nudity, and scribbled notes in a little red leather bound book, as Penrod repeated Baring’s long and involved message. Then he questioned Penrod avidly about General Stewart’s preparations for the rescue expedition. “Hasn’t even left Wadi Haifa yet?” he exclaimed, with alarm. “By Gad, I hope we’ll be able to hold out until he gets here.”
David was of almost the same build as Penrod. Even a pair of his boots fitted as though they were made for the younger man. Penrod had considerably less girth, but he belted in the trousers and tucked in a freshly ironed white shirt. When he was dressed David led him back to his study. “I cannot even offer you brandy to wash it down,” he said, as a servant placed a beautiful Sevres plate before Penrod. On it sat a small portion of dhurra cake and a lump of goat’s milk cheese no larger than the first joint of his thumb. “Hard commons, I’m afraid.”
“Very nourishing, sir.” Penrod nibbled the dhurra.
“Damned pleased to have your despatches, Ballantyne. We’ve been completely in the dark here for months. How long did it take you from Cairo?”
“I left there on the nineteenth of last month, sir.”
“Damn me, but that was good going.” David nodded. “Now, tell me what the London newspapers are saying.” He was eager for every scrap of news that Penrod could tell him.
“They are quite openly reporting the bad blood between General Gordon and Mr. Gladstone, sir, and public opinion is strongly on General Gordon’s side. They want Khartoum relieved, the General rescued, and the savages taught to mind their manners.”
“What is your opinion, Captain?”
“As a serving officer I do not allow myself an opinion on such matters, sir.”
“Very wise.” David smiled. “But as a member of the public, do you think that the Prime Minister has shown lack of resolve?”
Penrod hesitated. “May I speak frankly, sir?”
“That is what I am inviting you to do. Whatever you say will remain between us. You have my word on it.”
“I think that Mr. Gladstone has shown neither cowardice nor indecision in refusing to send an army upriver to save the life of General Gordon, as most of the British public believes. The general had only to embark on one of his steamers and come home. I believe that the Prime Minister did not feel justified in involving the nation in costly and risky operations here in the heart of Sudan merely to vindicate the personal honour of one man.”
David drew a deep breath. “My goodness me! I asked for your frank opinion and I got it. But tell me, Ballantyne, don’t you think that there is not some personal resentment in Whitehall for an officer whose rash and intractable actions have brought so much odium upon them?”
“It would be remarkable if that was not the case. It is clearly demonstrated in the despatches from Sir Evelyn that I deli verd to you.”
David considered Penrod seriously. He was not just a pretty fellow, he thought, he had a thinking head on his shoulders. “So you would oppose the despatch of Wolseley’s force to our relief?”
“Oh, never!” Penrod laughed. “I’m a soldier, and soldiers thrive on war. I hope to be in the thick of it, even if it doesn’t make good sense, which is apparent, and if matters turn nasty, which is highly likely.”
David laughed with him. “War seldom makes good sense,” he agreed. “It is refreshing to hear a military man say it. But why has Gladstone changed his mind, and agreed to send an army?”
“The expressed desire of the nation is a force to which Mr. Gladstone has always acceded. I understand from Sir Evelyn Baring that the Prime Minister was advised that only a single brigade would be needed for the expedition. Only after he had reluctantly taken the decision, and announced it to the nation, did the war ministry ask for a much larger force. It was too late then to reverse the decision so the relieving army has become not a single brigade but ten thousand men.”
The hours sped away as they talked until the grandfather clock in the corner chimed again. David stared at it in astonishment. “Two o’clock, upon my soul! We’ll have to give you a few hours’ sleep before you meet Gordon. I imagine you’re in for a torrid time with him.”
The servants were waiting up for him but David dismissed them and personally showed Penrod to one of the guest suites. The night was so sultry and he was so tired that he could not bother himself to don the thick flannel nightshirt that David provided. Instead he stripped naked and before he crawled beneath the single sheet he placed his dagger under the pillow. Then he went out like a candle in a high wind.
He awoke without a change in his breathing, and was immediately aware that someone was in the bedroom with him. While he feigned sleep, he tried to remember where he was. Through his eyelashes he saw that the curtains were drawn and the light in the room was muted. It was still early in the morning. He moved his hand infinitesimally slowly under the pillow until his fingers curled around the hilt of his dagger. He waited like a coiled adder for the strike.
There was a light footstep beside his bed, and someone coughed softly, nervously. The small sound gave him direction and he launched himself off the bed. He bore the intruder to the floor, held him by the throat with one hand, and with the other touched him with the point of the dagger. “If you move I will kill you,” he whispered ferociously in Arabic. “Who are you?”
Then he became aware that his captive smelt of rosebuds and the throat he held was silken smooth and warm. The body under him was clad in taffeta bodice and skirts and there were marvelous protuberances and hollows under the fine cloth. He released his hold and sprang to his feet. He stared down in astonishment and consternation as his captive sat up. It took him some seconds to grasp that he had assaulted and threatened a young woman with shining blonde hair. And that sitting on the floor, with her skirts in disarray around her, her eyes were at the same level as his naked groin, her gaze was fixed upon an object that happened to be a part of his anatomy seldom exposed to public scrutiny.
Still gripping the dagger, he spun round to grab the sheet from the bed. Before he could wrap it round himself he realized that he was offering the reverse view to the young woman. Haste made him clumsy, and he fumbled until at last, modestly covered, he faced her again.
“I am mortified, Miss Benbrook. I had no idea it was you. You startled me.”
Her pale cheeks were slowly suffused with a rosy blush, but she was still panting for breath, as though she had run a distance. The effect this had on what lay beneath her bodice was riveting. “If I startled you, sir, then you have no idea how you have alarmed me. Who are you and what are you doing Her hand flew to her mouth as she recognized him, despite his unflattering new haircut. “Captain Ballantyne!”
“Your servant, madam.” His bow was spoilt by the need to retain a grip on both the dagger and his sheet. She scrambled to her feet, stared at him a moment longer with wide eyes, then fled from the room. He stared after her. He had forgotten how pleasing she was to the eye, a condition not at all spoilt by her confusion and dismay. Then he grinned. “That alone was worth the journey,” he said to himself.
He whistled as he shaved and dressed, then winked at himself in the mirror and said aloud, “Perhaps next time she will recognize me more readily, now that she has more to remember me by.” Then he went down the stairs.
David was already seated at the breakfast table, but apart from the white’ robed servants he was alone. “Have some of this.” He placed a spoonful of an amorphous pale green substance on Penrod’s plate. “The taste is
