Fräulein von Ramsberg has a request to make, said the attaché.
I wish to make a journey, and I wondered if you would give me a firman.
A firman was a kind of permit.
Where are you going?
I want to go west out of Cairo and then drop down to the top of the Old Salt Road.
Thats quite a journey!
She laughed.
Thats the kind of journey that I like.
Her English was very good.
Well, rather you than me.
You wouldnt like to come with me?
No, thanks!
A pity. Just the firman, then.
Actually, you dont need a permit to go there.
Nevertheless, a letter of some kind from you would, I am sure, be of great help.
If you wish. But I dont think it will help much down there.
Does not the word of the Mamur Zapt strike terror into mens hearts in even the most remote parts of Egypt?
I very much doubt it. When are you setting out?
At the end of the week.
Well, Ill get it to you before then. And perhaps in return you would like to accompany me on one of my sorts of expedition?
I very much would, said Miss von Ramsberg.
You great dope! said his friend, Paul.
Dope? Why?
Agreeing to give her a letter of recommendation.
Its just a letter!
It will have your name on it, wont it?
Yes, but its not even a firman!
Thats something we ought to think about introducing, said Paul. A firman for people like her.
People like her?
What do you think she wants to travel in Egypt for?
She likes travelling. Shes just crossed the Sinai peninsula
Yes, I know. Another of these great camel-riders. Pain in the ass, all of them. They upset the local tribes, get killed or kidnapped, and then youve got to spend a lot of time and money! looking for them.
She seems to have managed it all right without any of those things happening.
Oh, sure! Competent, too. Well, if shes so competent, how come she lost her way?
Lost her way? I didnt know that.
The Sinai is one of those areas which, being a border region, does require a firman. When she applied for hers she had to specify a route. Which she then did not follow.
Well, hell, all kinds of things
She didnt make any attempt to follow it. She didnt go anywhere near it. Instead she followed the route that Saladin took against the Crusaders.
Yes, but
Which is likely to be the route if anyone else was invading Egypt.
Invading!
It would take the Turks a matter of days to get to the border.
Shes not a Turk, shes
A German. Yes, I know. And the Germans are building the railways which are going to help them get to the border.
Paul, you dont mean ?
Yes, I do.
The Mamur Zapts remit was confined to Egypt and he did not follow very closely what was happening beyond its borders. He thought, however, that Paul was making too much of this. It was unlike him to be so alarmist; but perhaps now that he was working so closely with Kitchener, as his Oriental Secretary, some of Kitcheners own alarmism with respect to anything beyond his borders was rubbing off on him.
We cant be sure, of course, Paul said now, softening slightly, but just in case she is, we oughtnt to go out of our way to encourage her!
Its just a letter!
Can you write it in such a way as to lead to information coming back as to where exactly she is?
Ill try.
Shes in Cairo for the best part of a week. It would be interesting to know what shes up to while shes here.
Well, as a matter of fact
He had given her a choice of two places: the Semiramis, which had a dining room with a romantic view over the river, and the Mirabelle, which was a French restaurant in the noisy Arab Mouski. She chose the Semiramis; Owen would have chosen the Mirabelle.
But then I am romantic, she protested.
Is that what brought you out to these parts?
Yes. But not in the way that you think. There are two sides to being a romantic the side that gets you bowled over by the moon on the water, and the rebellious side. It was that other side that led to me coming out here.
Who or what were you rebelling against?
My family. The life they were charting for me the life of a rich woman in Germany. My family are she grimaced respectable. We have an estate. The men for generations have been soldiers, the women, soldiers wives. Which means you spend your whole life in boring garrison towns. And then you retire to your boring estate. And it is all so predictable.
My brothers knew from the start that they would be soldiers. For a long time I thought I would be a soldier, too, and joined them in their horse-riding. But then they went off and it suddenly became apparent that all there was for me was marriage to some absolutely dreadful man.
I bought time. I said I wanted to travel. Some relations took me out with them to the Bosphorus. And then I looked around.
And took up camel-riding instead of horse-riding?
She laughed.
It looks like that, she admitted. And maybe theres some truth in it. I sometimes think I took it up only in order to outdo my brothers. They are both great riders, horse-riders. I wanted to be not only a better rider, I wanted to be a different one.
At any rate, to ride to a different tune.
That is so. That is exactly so.
It is hard, though, especially out here, he said, thinking of Zeinab, to be a woman and to be independent.
Less hard than you think, if youre a foreigner. There are no people from home to order me around and the locals dont know what to make of me.
But on your travels
She shrugged.
I carry a gun. In fact, though, the Bedu have never bothered me. Its only in the towns that there has ever been any trouble. And then its usually been only from interfering officials. In the desert, at least you can get away from all that. Theres space, theres freedom. You can choose your own route.
As you evidently did in the Sinai.
She gave him a sharp look.
You do do your homework, she said. You have been making inquiries?
No. I just heard.
Well, it is not important. Is it important to you?
Not to me. To the authorities, perhaps.
The authorities! she said contemptuously.
They went out on to the verandah and stood looking down at the river. While they had been dining, the moon had risen. The leaves of the palm trees along the bank had turned silver and immediately below them the water was full of silver sparkles, too, where some men had waded out into the river to fill their water-bags. As they watched, the wind stirred the palm leaves and a long silver ripple ran out from the shore right across the river.
Let us go for a walk along the bank, she said. And, later:
Let us go for a walk along the bank, she said. And, later:
It is a pity you are not coming with me, she said.
3
Effendi, said the warehouse foreman, almost weeping, on my oath, I did not know. Am I a genie, to see what lies hidden inside the bales?
Did not they seem heavy? Heavier than usual?
If they did, Effendi, the camels did not tell me.
The porters, then; did not they remark on it?
The foreman looked at the warehouse porters, great, bull-necked men, who would think nothing of carrying a piano single-handed.
They remark on much, Effendi. Too much. But they did not remark on this.
Owen thought it likely that they wouldnt even have noticed.
Where did the bales come from?
Sennar, Effendi.
Sennar? That is a long way.
It is. But, Effendi, on their way they pass through Assuan, and there they are sorted into different lots. Most go on to the cotton markets, but some are rejected, and it is those which come to us.
So the guns could have been put in either at Sennar or at Assuan?
They could, Effendi. They would not have been put in during the march, for the camel men would not have it. But
Yes?
Effendi, why were they put in? And why, he said, distressed, were they sent to us?
That is what has to be looked into.
Owen asked for the names of the firms agents at Assuan. The foreman gave them to him.
But, Effendi, they may know nothing about it. Do you know the great traders market at Assuan? It is by the river. The caravans come in and camp and unload their goods. The bales would have stood as unloaded, waiting for another caravan, one of ours, to pick them up and carry them on. There are many people in the camp, Effendi, hundreds, if not thousands, and they walk around freely. Anyone might have come to the bales in the night.
Owen nodded.
The bales were brought here, then, from Assuan. How long would they have stayed in your warehouse before they were opened?
They would not have been opened. We would have auctioned them as they stood.
But surely buyers wish to examine the goods before bidding?
The goods are taken up to our place near the Market of the Afternoon on the day before the auction. Then anyone can come in and see them.
Would they open the bales?
Not usually. They come and feel the cotton, Effendi, that is all they need.
So that if someone knew that the goods were arriving, they would break in either to your warehouse or to your place near the Market of the Afternoon and take the guns?
They could, Effendi. But our warehouse is safe. We have an interest in making it so. And at our place near the Market of the Afternoon we have a watchman.
Owen had his own theories about the efficacy of watchmen; especially near the Market of the Afternoon.
But, have you thought, Effendi, said the foreman, there is no need to break into either; provided you are prepared to pay the highest price at the auction.
I really dont think began Owen.
I think you should, said Paul.
Appointment of a librarian? Look, Ive got important things to do
Not as important as this, said Paul.
Paul, now, as Kitcheners right-hand man, was in a position to insist, so, grumbling, Owen went.
When he entered the room he was staggered by the status of the people present. There was Paul, of course, and his opposite numbers from the principal Consulates. There was the Turkish representative, Ismet Bey. And there was one of the Khedives senior cabinet ministers. That was, possibly, explicable since the appointment was to the Khedives Library. Even so, they were only appointing a librarian, which was hardly the stuff of international disputes.
Except that it appeared to be.
But I am a scholar! said the German representative, beaming.
A very distinguished one, said Ismet Bey.
One who, moreover, enjoys the full confidence of the Khedive, declared the cabinet minister.
No, youre not; youre Number Two at the German Consulate, said Paul.
In Germany, that does not preclude scholarship, said the German representative easily.
Stung, Paul retorted:
No, but it ought to preclude taking up a sensitive senior post in His Highnesss service!
Sensitive? murmured Ismet Bey.
Senior? said a representative of one of the other Consulates doubtfully.
A key post, declared Paul, and one that has hitherto been occupied only by distinguished scholars of independent standing.
A tradition I hope to maintain, murmured the German representative.
But you are not independent. You are
German? suggested Ismet Bey. The post has always been occupied by a German.
On scholarly grounds, put in the German representative.
There is, of course, an argument for appointing an Egyptian began the cabinet minister.
at some time in the future, said Ismet Bey, though at the moment
On scholarly grounds, murmured the German representative.
Britain accepts that in the past the post of Khedives Librarian has always been reserved to German nationals. However,
However, thought Owen, that was all right when the incumbent was someone as unworldly as old Holmweg, the man who had just retired. He was beginning to pick up the hidden agenda now. For some reason Paul, and, presumably, the British government, were set against having someone as politically astute as Pauls opposite number in the post. But why? It was, after all, only a librarian.
my government could not accept the appointment to the post of someone who would give it a different character.
He turned to the German representative.
Not, of course, that we wish to cast any reflection upon Dr Beckmann. Nor upon his scholarship. It is just that we feel that his qualities, great though they are, are not ones entirely suited to the post, at least for the immediate future. No, gentlemen, I am sorry: I am afraid we will have to cast our net wider.
He gathered up his papers.
Cheeky bastards! he fumed, as he and Owen walked away together. Do they think were daft, trying something like that on?
But, Paul, does it really matter?
Paul stared at him.
Matter? Of course it matters. It means that hed be able to carry on even if the Consulate went!
The whole community turned out to watch the funeral procession. Both sides of the street were lined with people and that was so all the way from the Nahhasin to the Italian church. They bowed their heads and beat upon their chests. Many were openly crying. Used as he was to the extravagance of Arab protestations of grief, Owen could not help being moved. For this was not one of their own that they were mourning but a foreigner.
Since the funeral was that of a foreigner, there was a hearse. With Arab funerals there was no hearse; the body was carried upon a bier. Usually there was a kind of horn at one end, on which the turban was hung. The whole was often covered with a rich cashmere shawl. The bier was borne by the dead mans friends, often, it seemed to Owen, precariously, for the feeling was intense and grief-stricken mourners would pluck at the bier, threatening to overturn it. Even today at times they pressed in on the hearse, touching the sides as if it was only through touch that they could communicate the strength of their feelings. Communicate or demonstrate? To Westerners there often seemed something histrionic in the affectation of grief. Owen knew, however, that there was nothing false about this. They were mourning someone dear to them.