“Surely it is not possible to save the mighty British Empire twenty-four hours of every day. Even Hercules had to rest from his labours.” Le Blanc was head of the Belgian delegation sent by King Leopold to initiate diplomatic contact with the Mahdi. So far his efforts had not been crowned by success and he had ended up a captive in the city like the rest of them. The Englishmen at the table looked upon him pityingly. However, as he was a foreigner and knew no better, he was excused the solecism.
“The General refused to attend a banquet while the populace was starving.” Rebecca rose to Gordon’s defence. “I think that was very noble-minded of him.” Then she hurried on modestly, “Not that I claim my humble offering as a great banquet.”
Following her example David initiated a eulogy to the General’s inflexible character and his marvelous achievements.
Ryder Courtney was still smarting from Gordon’s last demonstration of his adamantine character and did not join in the chorus of praise.
“He wields an almost messianic power over his men,” David told them earnestly. “They will follow him anywhere, and if they don’t he will drag them by their pigtails, as he did with his Ever Victorious Army in China, or kick their backsides black and blue as he does to the Egyptian riffraff with which he is forced to defend the city at the moment.”
“Your language, Daddy,” Rebecca chided him primly.
“I am sorry, my darling, but it is true. He is completely fearless. Alone, mounted on a camel and in full dress uniform, he rode into that murderous rogue Suleiman’s encamped army of rebels and harangued them. Instead of murdering him out of hand Suleiman abandoned the rebellion and went home.”
“He did the same with the Zulus in South Africa. When he walked alone among their warlike imp is and turned his extraordinary eyes upon them, they worshipped him as a god. At that, he thrashed their induna for blasphemy.”
Another spoke up: “Kings and potentates of many nations have competed to secure his services the Emperor of China, King Leopold of the Belgians, the Khedive of Egypt and the premier of the Cape Colony.”
“He is a man of God before he is a warrior. He scorns the clamour of men, and before he makes any fateful decision he enquires in solitary prayer what his God requires of him.”
I wonder that God required him to steal my dhurra, Ryder thought bitterly. He did not voice the sentiment but changed the direction of the conversation dramatically: “Is it not remarkable that in many ways the man who faces him now across the Nile shares many characteristics with our gallant general?” A silence followed this remark, which was almost as bad as Le Blanc’s gaucherie, not at all worthy of a man of the calibre of Ryder Courtney.
Even Rebecca was aghast at the idea of comparing the saint with the monster. Yet she noticed that when Ryder spoke other men listened. Even though he was the youngest man at the table, the others deferred to him for his fortune and reputation were formidable. He had travelled indefatigably where few men before him had ventured. He had reached the Mountains of the Moon and sailed on all of the great lakes of the African interior. He was a friend and confidant of John, the Emperor of Abyssinia. The Mutesa of Buganda and the Kamrasi of Bunyoro were his familiars and had granted him exclusive trading rights in their kingdoms.
His Arabic was so fluent that he could debate the Koran with the mullahs in the mosque. He spoke a dozen other more primitive tongues and could bargain with the naked Dinka and the Shilluk. He had hunted and captured every known species of the wild beasts and birds of Equatoria, and sold them to the menageries of the kings, emperors and zoological gardens of Europe.
“That is an extraordinary notion, Ryder,” David ventured cautiously. “It strikes me that the Mad Mahdi and General Charles Gordon stand at opposite poles. But perhaps you can point out some characteristics they have in common.”
“First, David, they are both ascetics who practise self-denial and abstain from worldly comforts,” Ryder replied easily. “And both are men of God.”
“Different Gods,” David challenged.
“No, sir! One and the same God: the God of the Jews, Muslims, Christians and all other monotheists is the same God. It is simply that they worship Him in different ways.”
David smiled. “Perhaps we can debate that later. But for now tell us what else they have in common.”
“They both believe that God speaks directly to them and that therefore they are infallible. Once their minds are set they are unwavering and deaf to argument. Then again, like many great men and beautiful women, they are both betrayed by their belief in the cult of personality. They believe that they are able to carry all before them by the blue of their eyes or by the gap between their front teeth and their eloquence,” Ryder said.
“We know who possesses the blue and compelling eye,” David chuckled, ‘but to whom belongs the gap- toothed grin?”
“To Muhammad Ahmed, the Mahdi, the Divinely Guided One,” said Ryder. “The wedge shaped gap is called the falja and his Ansar consider it a mark of the divine.”
“You speak as though you are familiar with him,” said Le Blanc. “Have you met the man?”
“I have,” Ryder confirmed, and they all stared at him as though he had admitted to supping with Satan himself.
Rebecca was the first to rouse herself. “Do tell us, Mr. Courtney, where and when? What is he truly like?”
“I knew him first when he lived in a hole in the bank of Abbas Island, forty miles up the Blue Nile from where we now sit. Often when I passed the island I would go ashore to sit with him and speak of God and the affairs of men. I could not claim that we were friends, nor would I ever wish to do so. But there was something about him that I found fascinating. I sensed that he was different, and I was always impressed by his piety, his quiet strength and unruffled smile. He is a true patriot, as is General Gordon another trait they have in common.”
“Enough of General Gordon. We all know of his virtues,” Rebecca interjected. “Tell us rather of this terrible Mahdi. How can you say he has in him a grain of the same nobility?”
“We all know that the domination of the Sudan by the Khedive in Egypt has been iniquitous and brutal. Behind the magnificent facade of imperial dominion has flourished unspeakable corruption and cruelty. The native population has been subject to greedy and heartless pashas, and an army of occupation forty thousand strong, which was used to collect the extortionate taxes the pashas imposed. Only half went to the Khedive in Cairo and the rest into the personal coffers of the pashas. The land was ruled by bayonet and kurbash, the vicious hippo-hide whip. The effete pashas sitting here in Khartoum delighted in devising the most savage tortures and executions. Villages were razed and their inhabitants slaughtered. Arab and black man alike cowered under the shadow of the hated “Turk’, but no man dared protest.
“The Egyptians, while aspiring to civilization, fostered and encouraged the trade in slaves, for that was how the taxes were paid. I have seen such horrors with my own eyes, and I was amazed by the forbearance of the population. I discussed all this with the hermit in his hole in the riverbank. We were both young men, although I was by some years the younger. We attempted between us to discover why this situation persisted, for the Arab is a proud man and has not lacked provocation. We decided that two essential elements of revolution were missing, and the first of these was the knowledge of better things. General Charles Gordon, as the governor of the Sudan, provided this. The other missing element was a uniting catalyst among the oppressed. In the fullness of time Muhammad Ahmed provided this. It was how the new Mahdist nation was born.”
They were silent, until Rebecca spoke again, and hers was a woman’s question. The political, religious and military facets of the Mahdi’s history interested her very little. “But what is he really like, Mr. Courtney? What of his appearance and his demeanour? How does his voice sound? And tell us more of this strange gap between his teeth.”
“He possesses the same vast charisma as Charles Gordon, another trait they have in common. He is of medium height and slim in stature. He has always dressed in robes of spotless white, even when he lived in the hole in the ground. On his right cheek is a birthmark in the shape of a bird or an angel. This is seen by his disciples and adherents as a touch of the divine. The gap between his teeth rivets your attention when he speaks. He is a compelling orator. His voice is soft and sibilant, until his ire is aroused. Then he speaks with the thunder of one of the biblical prophets, but even in anger he smiles.” Ryder drew out his gold pocket-watch. “It lacks only an hour of midnight. I have kept you late. We should all get a good night’s rest, for as you have been told it is my duty, allotted to me by General Gordon, to make certain that none of you here tonight will ever be forced to listen to the voice of Muhammad Ahmed. Remember, please, that you are to be aboard my steamer at the Old City wharf before
