It was not actually forbidden for a member of the Administration to marry an Egyptian, but there was a kind of invisible wash of discouragement. It manifested itself in all kinds of ways: questions about whether it would be possible for a person holding a post like Owens to be seen to be impartial if he were married to an Egyptian (no one else in Egypt thought the British were impartial, anyway); sudden shyings away in the Club; the frown of the Great (which was one of the things Owen had against Kitchener).
On Zeinabs side, too, there were all kinds of cuttings-off: political separation from her artist friends, many of whom would see her as having gone over to the enemy; social repudiation by many of the circles in which Nuri moved and which she had grown up in; and, perhaps above all, an alienation from Egypt itself and a mass of Egyptians actually unknown to her but from whom she was reluctant to distance herself.
And yet, in the end, it was the walls inside themselves, not the obstacles outside, that were the problem. Or so they were coming, tentatively, to think. But those, argued Owen, were things they could do something about. They could try to work themselves through them. And somehow, by what chain of reasoning they were not entirely clear, this had led to their decision to move into a new apartment together.
Zeinab, Owen knew, remained far from convinced about it; but then she had a lot more to lose. Owen himself, aware of the extent to which she felt herself vulnerable and exposed, was beginning to think they ought not to leave things like that for too long. Whatever their doubts about themselves, they ought to resolve things one way or the other.
And, besides, he was coming to think, might not this be their chance? Surely, with Kitchener out of the way and everyones minds on the war, a private exercise of discretion well, yes, you could call it that might go unremarked; or if not quite unremarked, at least without having the same degree of significance attached to it as in more normal times.
Still unhappy about the issue of service rifles to ghaffirs, he rang up the Ministry and asked if he could see a copy of the inspectors report.
By all means, said the Egyptian civil servant he spoke to. Its rather a good one, actually.
And when it came round, Owen could see why people were impressed. It was immensely thorough. The inspector had visited lots of districts Owen recognized the references to Minya and gone into great detail. Certainly, from what he said about Minya, he appeared to have a good grasp of the nature of the ghaffirs work and the sorts of local problems that he faced. The analysis was respectable, the arguments well set out, and the conclusions appeared to follow from the arguments. The only thing was that they were daft.
He rang up the Ministry again and got the same obliging Egyptian as before.
About the Report, he said. Do you think I could have a word with your inspector?
Fricker Effendi? Certainly.
He hesitated, however.
Is there some problem? My interest is of a departmental nature. I have already spoken to McKitterick Effendi about it.
No, no Its just that, well, Fricker Effendi is no longer available.
No?
No. The official hesitated again. As a matter of fact, I understand that you are holding him.
I am holding him?
Yes. He has been taken into internment.
3
A little to Owens surprise, for he had not expected it so soon indeed, he had not really expected it at all he found next day on his desk the copy he had asked for of the mamurs report on the German womans death. When he looked at it, however, he was less surprised. It was perfunctory in the extreme, merely reporting the death of a foreign national, female, and the discovery of her body in one of the graves of a local excavation.
The report had been sent, as was customary, to the Parquet, which was responsible, in Egypt, for investigating all deaths in suspicious circumstances, and a Parquet official had scrawled Noted on the copy and initialled it before sending it on to Owen.
Owen wrote back asking to be kept informed of further action in the case.
He was out of the office for the next two days taking more wretched people into internment and when he returned he found a further communication from the Parquet. All it consisted of, however, was his own letter returned to him with, at the bottom of the page, in the same negligent handwriting as that on the mamurs report, the words Referred to the Department of Antiquities.
Owen picked up the phone.
Why the Department of Antiquities? he demanded.
There was a little pause.
Wasnt it something to do with an archaeological site? said the voice on the other end indifferently.
It was to do with a body. Found on one.
The Department of Antiquities handles anything to do with desecration of sites
And the Parquet handles anything to do with bodies.
Not old ones, not archaeological ones.
This is a new one. Not archaeological.
Are you sure? It was found
If you look at the report you will see that the mamur refers to the body of a German national. Were there German nationals in Egypt in Pharaohs time?
There was another pause.
Perhaps it had better be looked into, said the man unwillingly.
Perhaps it had. And the Consulate notified.
The German Consulate has been closed, said the man triumphantly.
But another Consulate will have taken on the job of looking after the interests of German nationals remaining in the country.
There was an audible sigh.
Please continue to keep me informed, said Owen.
In the shops at least there were signs that there was a war on. The prices of all imported goods rose sharply. The rise in the price of petrol didnt affect many people since there were still very few cars in Egypt and only the rich had them. But the rise in the price of paraffin was a different matter. The poor used paraffin for both heating and cooking (wood had been scarce in Egypt for years) and were hard hit.
The rise in the prices of imported goods Owen could understand, but those werent the only prices that rose. The cost of flour and sugar went up too and they were things that were produced locally. He had only just seen sugar cane growing in huge quantities down by Minya. He couldnt understand it and nor could the ordinary Egyptian. The newspapers were full of complaints and charges of profiteering.
They were talking about this one evening in the Officers Mess at the Abbassiya Barracks. The regiment was leaving for Europe the following day and Owen had been invited for a farewell drink.
Itll mean problems for you, said his friend, John, one of the Sirdars ADCs and someone who had been a useful contact at Army Headquarters.
Why him? asked one of the other officers.
Because the man in the street will become restive, and hes the one who will have to keep order when weve gone.
Thank you for pointing that out, said Owen. However, in one way things should become easier: therell be fewer drunken soldiers around.
Ah, yes, said someone, laughing, but the Australians will be here instead. Or so the rumour goes. You might do better to come with us.
Thank you for pointing that out, said Owen. However, in one way things should become easier: therell be fewer drunken soldiers around.
Ah, yes, said someone, laughing, but the Australians will be here instead. Or so the rumour goes. You might do better to come with us.
There was a general laugh.
Where do you stand, actually, Gareth? asked John curiously. Youre on secondment, arent you?
Owen had served with the British Army in India before coming to Egypt.
It started as secondment, said Owen, but then I applied for a transfer. And after that it became permanent.
So, strictly speaking, youre a civilian now?
Thats right.
Yes, but with your experience said John.
You were up on the North West Frontier, werent you? asked one of the other officers.
For a while, yes.
Just the sort of man we need.
The thought had occurred to Owen, too.
The Parquet official had obviously taken heed of Owens observation perhaps it was the mention of the Consulate that had done it for in the mail the next morning was a copy of the letter he had sent to the mamur at Minya. It asked him to supply further details of the incident in the cat cemetery. In particular, it asked for details of any damage to the site a thrust at Owen, this? but also the cause of death.
McPhees mind, too, seemed to have been on the cat cemetery that morning possibly because he and Owen were on their way to intern some other unfortunates for, as they were passing the House of the Kadi, just after noon, he glanced at his watch and said:
Shall we go in? And have a look at the cats?
Cats? said Owen.
Yes. They bring the offal just about now.
They went through an ancient ornamental gateway into a beautiful old enclosed courtyard. Sure enough, a servant was just emerging from the Chief Justices house carrying a large bowl. He threw the contents on the ground and at once dozens of cats emerged from all corners of the courtyard and began to tuck in.
It used to be a garden, said McPhee. The Sultan Baybars set it aside specifically for the use of cats. Over the centuries the garden was built on, but the custom of feeding the cats has survived. Only now, its the Kadi that does it.
The Kadi feeds the cats?
Thats right. I think the Prophet was fond of cats, or perhaps he said he was, once.
They turned back and through the gateway.
I know this is Muslim, said McPhee, but am I fanciful, do you think, to see a continuity from that cemetery in Minya? That was Pharaonic, of course, but often later practice has its roots in some earlier custom, and it would not be surprising. What do you think?
Owen had absolutely no opinion on this at all and they continued on their way up the Darb el Asfar.
They had almost reached the Bab-el-Foutouh when McPhee said:
You know, Owen, about that business at Minya: there are a lot of things that trouble me. That poor woman, of course, and how she landed up there. Horrible! Just think of how her husband must feel! And then those brigands. You really would have thought that the local police would have eliminated them by now. And then those shots! Surely, arming the local ghaffirs is not a sensible way of dealing with such problems. I really do feel you should speak to someone.
I have.
He told McPhee about his conversation with McKitterick.
McPhee listened intently.
Have I understood you correctly, Owen? The ghaffirs are being issued with new service rifles, brought together and trained to operate as some kind of independent force?
An independent army, I called it.
But under whose command?
The Ministrys, apparently.
Owen, I find this rather disquieting. Does the Sirdar know? What does he, as Commander-in-Chief of the Army in Egypt, think of another army operating independently in the country?
Well, its not quite like
And under foreign command, too?
Well, hardly foreign. Its the Ministry
But, Owen, you know as well as I do what the political situation is like here. Sadly, not everyone is on our side. There are some here politicians McPhee spoke the word with disdain, who question the relevance of the war from an Egyptian point of view. Is the Minister among them?
Well, I really dont know
But, Owen, it is important to know. Where does he stand? Could he be playing his own game?
Look, hes got McKitterick right by his side
Every Minister had an English adviser alongside him. It was one of the ways in which the British made sure that the Government was going in the right direction.
But, Owen, he could be pulling the wool over McKittericks eyes!
McKittericks not daft.
Although, come to think of it, this new policy with respect to the ghaffirs was not very bright.
McPhee tut-tutted impatiently.
Owen, where did the idea come from? The Minister?
Well, I think it came from one of the inspectors, actually. He went into it and wrote a report
An Egyptian? Close to the Minister?
A German, actually.
A German!
Yes. McKitterick thinks very highly of him.
German! But, Owen, we are at war! Are you seriously telling me that we are allowing an independent army, fifty thousand strong, to roam the countryside under the command of a German?!
Despite Owens attempts to straighten him out, over the next few days McPhee kept returning to the matter.
Yes, I know, Owen. I realize that, strictly speaking, he was not in charge. But, surely, it is very likely that, having written the report, and it having been received in such glowing terms, he would be given responsibility for implementing it. And if he was responsible for implementing it, then
Yes, I realize that even if he was given responsibility for implementing it, he wouldnt be able to do anything now because he is in an internment camp. But there may be others in the Ministry the Minister himself
No, I am not bonkers! Look, the report was accepted, wasnt it? And implemented. That means there must be support for it inside the Ministry. I really do feel
Then one morning he stuck his head triumphantly in at the door.
Owen, I have been looking at the Departmental Handbook, and do you know how many Germans there are in senior posts in the Ministry of the Interior?
No.
Six!
McPhee came right into the room.
Doesnt that say something about the Ministers sympathies? Six! How do you explain that?
It was, in fact, a little on the high side for a single Ministry. There were plenty of foreigners scattered around the Ministries, but not usually such a concentration of one nationality.
Owen, I really do feel
McKitterick came into the bar, ordered a beer, collected a newspaper from the rack and then went and sat down by himself. Owen gave it a moment or two and then went across.
I read that report, he said. The one your man did on the ghaffirs. Youre right. It was a good piece of work.
It was, wasnt it? McKitterick nodded him into the chair opposite. Went into everything. We were able to implement it pretty much as it stood.