by Wilbur Smith
He moved the lens to the plump figure who rode at Ryder’s left side. Bacheet, the fat rogue!
Then he turned his lens to the third person, a stripling dressed in baggy crimson trousers, a bright green coat with long skirts and a wide-brimmed yellow hat that seemed to have been designed in anger or in a state of mental confusion. The boy was laughing at something Courtney had said. But the laughter had a decidedly feminine lilt, and Penrod started, then controlled himself. Saffron! Saffron Benbrook! It seemed impossible. He had believed she must have perished with her father in Khartoum. The thought had been too painful to contemplate squarely, and he had pushed it to the back of his mind. Now here she was, as lively as a grasshopper and pretty as a butterfly despite her outlandish garb.
“They are on their way down to Gondar from either Aksum or Addis Ababa.” Al-Noor gave his opinion morosely, still mourning the fortune in camels and nubile wenches that he was being forced to pass by.
“They are going into camp,” said Penrod, as the head of the long column turned aside from the route and drew up on a clear, level stretch of ground above the bank of the Atbara. He looked at the height of the sun. There would be at least another two hours of light by which to travel, but Ryder was setting up his camp. While the herders cut fodder from the riverbank and carried it back in bundles to feed the mules, the servants erected a large dining and sitting tent and two smaller sleeping tents. They set out a pair of folding chairs in front of the fire. Ryder Courtney travelled in comfort and style.
Just as the sun set and the light began to fade Penrod saw Ryder, accompanied by Saffron, who had divested herself of the yellow hat,
making his rounds of the camp and posting his sentries. Penrod made a careful note of the position of each guard. He had seen that they were armed with muzzle-loaders, and he could be certain these were filled with a mixture of pot-legs, rusted nails and assorted musket balls, all of which would be unpleasant missiles to receive in the belly at close range.
Penrod and al-Noor kept watch on Ryder’s camp until darkness obscured it, except for the area in front of the main tent, which was dimly lit by an oil lamp. Penrod observed that Saffron retired early to her small tent. Ryder remained by the fire smoking a cheroot, for which Penrod envied him. At last he threw the stub in to the embers, and went to his own bed. Penrod waited until the lamplight had been extinguished in both tents, then led al-Noor back to their own camp beside the stream. They built no fire and ate cold as ida and roast mutton. Firelight and the smell of smoke might warn unfriendly strangers of their presence.
Al-Noor had been quiet since they left the ridge, but now he spoke through a mouthful of cold food. “I have devised a plan,” he announced. “A plan that will make all of us rich.”
“Your wisdom will be received as cool rain by the desert. I wait in awe for you to impart it to me,” Penrod replied, with elaborate courtesy.
“There are twenty-two Abyssinians with the caravan. I have counted them, but they are fat traders and merchants. We are six, but we are the fiercest warriors in all of Sudan. We will go down in the night and kill them all. We will allow none to escape. Then we will bury their bodies and drive their mules back to Gallabat, and the Abyssinians will believe that they were devoured by the djinni of the mountains. We will hand all the treasure to our exalted lord Atalan, and from him we will win great preferment and riches.” Penrod was silent, until al-Noor insisted, “What think you of my plan?”
“I can see no vice in it. I think that you are a great and noble shufta,” Penrod replied.
Al-Noor was surprised but pleased to be called a bandit. To an aggagier of the Beja, the epithet was a compliment. “Then this very night in the time when all of them are asleep, we will go down to the camp and do this business. Are we agreed, Abadan Riji?”
“Once we have been given permission by the Emir Osman Atalan, may Allah love him for ever, we will murder these fat merchants and steal their wares.” Penrod nodded, and another long silence ensued.
Then al-Noor spoke again: “The mighty Emir Atalan, may Allah look upon him with the utmost favour, is in Gallabat two hundred leagues to the north. How will it be possible to solicit his permission?”
“That is indeed a difficulty.” Penrod agreed. “When you have found an answer to that question, we shall discuss your plan further. In the meantime, Mooman Digna will take the first watch. I shall take the midnight shift. You, Noor, will take the dawn watch. Perhaps then you will have time to consider a solution to our dilemma.” Al-Noor moved away in dignified silence, rolled himself in his sheepskin and, within a short while, emitted his first snore.
Penrod slept fitfully and was fully awake at Mooman Digna’s first touch on his shoulder, and his whisper, “It is time.”
Penrod allowed almost an hour for the aggagiers to settle again. He knew from experience that once they were cocooned in their sheepskins, they could not be easily roused to face the bitter mountain cold. He rose from his seat on the rock that overlooked the camp and, barefooted, moved silently up over the lip of the ridge. He approached Ryder’s camp with great caution. By this time there was a slice of crescent moon above the horizon, and the stars were bright enough for him to pick out the sentries. He avoided them without difficulty. As al-Noor had pointed out, they were not warriors. He crept up behind the rear wall of Ryder’s tent, and squatted beside it. He could hear Ryder breathing heavily on the other side of the canvas, only inches from his ear. He scratched on the canvas with his fingernails, and the sound of breathing was cut off immediately.
“Ryder,” Penrod whispered, “Ryder Courtney!”
He heard him stir, and ask in a sleepy whisper, “Who is that?”
“Ballantyne - Penrod Ballantyne.”
“Good God, man! What on earth are you doing here?” A wax vesta flared, then lamplight glowed and cast a shadow on the canvas. “Come inside!” Ryder urged him.
When Penrod stooped through the doorway, he was astounded. “Is it really you, Ballantyne?” You look like a wild tribesman. How did you get here?”
“I don’t have long to talk to you. I am a prisoner of the Dervish and under restraint. I would appreciate it if you waste no more time on famous questions.”
“I stand corrected.” Ryder’s friendly smile faded. “I shall listen to what you have to tell me.”
“I was captured after the fall of Khartoum. I had returned there in an attempt to discover the fate of those who had been unable to escape, especially David Benbrook and his family.”
“I can reassure you that Saffron is with me. We managed to get out of Khartoum on my steamer at the last minute. I have been trying to contact her family in England, to send her back to them, but these things take a great deal of time.”
“I know she is with you. I have been keeping watch on your camp. I saw her this evening.”
“I have been waiting to receive a message from you,” Ryder said. “Bacheet met your man, Yakub, in Omdurman. He told Yakub that Ras Hailu could carry messages between us.”
‘I have not seen Yakub since the day I was captured in Omdurman. He did not tell me anything about a meeting with Bacheet, or about this man Ras Hailu,” Penrod said grimly, “Yakub has disappeared. I think that he and his uncle, a rogue named Wad Hagma, betrayed me to the Dervish. I was able to deal with his uncle, and Yakub is next on my list of unfinished business.”
“You cannot trust any of these people,” Ryder agreed, ‘no matter how long you have known them and how well you have treated them.”
“So you know, then, that David Benbrook was killed in the sack of Khartoum, and that Rebecca and Amber were captured by the Dervish and handed over to the Mahdi:”
“Yes. Bacheet heard all this terrible news from Nazeera when he was looking for you in Omdurman. It is hard to imagine those two lovely young Englishwomen in the clutches of that dissipated maniac. I hope and pray that Amber is young enough to have been spared the worst, but Rebecca! The good Lord alone knows what she has suffered.”
&
nbsp; “The Mahdi is dead. He died of cholera or some other disease. Nobody can be certain what carried him off.”
“I had not heard. I don’t suppose that will change anything. But what has become of Rebecca now?” Ryder’s concern was apparent. He made little effort to hide his feelings for Rebecca.
So Courtney has also had the benefit of Rebecca Benbrook’s liberal nature, Penrod thought cynically. She has had so much experience now that when she returns to London she can turn professional and ply her trade in Charing Cross Road. Although his pride was stung, it did not detract from the responsibility he felt for her safety, or for that of her little sister. Aloud he said, “When the Mahdi died the two sisters, Rebecca and Amber, were taken into the harem of the new Khalif Osman Atalan.” As he said it, there was a gasp behind him, and he turned quickly with his hand on the hilt of his dagger.
Saffron stood in the tent doorway. She was dressed in a man’s shirt, which was many times too large for her and hung well below her knees. She must been awakened by their voices, and had come from her own tent just in time to overhear his last words. The thin cloth of the shirt was artlessly revealing, so that Penrod could not help but notice her figure under it. She had changed a great deal from when he had last seen her. Her hips and bosom were swelling and her face had lost its childish roundness. She was already too mature to be sharing a camp in the remote African wilderness with a man.
“My sisters!” Her eyes were huge with sleep and shock. “First my father, and now my sisters. Ryder, you never told me that they were in the harem. You said they were safe. Is there never to be an end to this nightmare?”
“But, Saffron, they are safe. They have not been harmed.”
“How do you know that?” she demanded. “How can they be safe in the den of the pagan and the barbarian?”
“I spoke to Amber not two weeks ago,” Penrod intervened, to comfort her. “She and Rebecca are brave and are making the best of the hard blows that Fate has dealt them. It may seem impossible, but they are being treated … if not kindly then gently enough. The Dervish see them as valuable chattels, and they will want to preserve their worth.”
“But for how long? We have to do something. Especially for Amber. She is so sweet and sensitive. She is not strong like Rebecca and me. We have to rescue her.”
“That is why I am here,” Penrod told her. “It is the most incredible good fortune that I stumbled across your path. It must be one chance in a million. But now that we have met we can plan the rescue of your sisters.”
“Is that possible? Abyssinia, where we are now, is primitive and backward, but at least the people are Christians. The Sudan is hell on earth, ruled by demons. No white man or woman can remain there long with any chance of survival.”
“I will be going back,” said Penrod. “I can stay with you only a few minutes more, and then I am going to do what I can for your sisters. But if I am to get them out of the Sudan, I will need all your help.” Penrod turned back to Ryder. “Can I count on you?”
“I feel insulted that you need to ask,” said Ryder, stiffly.
It was amazing how quickly the two of them could give and take offence, Saffron thought angrily. In these dreadful circumstances why did they have to bicker and posture? Why were men always so pigheaded and arrogant? “Captain Ballantyne, we will help you,” she promised, ‘in every way within our power.”
Penrod noticed that she used the plural ‘we’ with the proprietary air of a wife. Penrod wondered if she had good reason to do so. The idea was repugnant: despite appearances Saffron was still a child. And a man like Ryder Courtney would never molest her.
“I can waste no more time,” he said. “I must return to my keepers, if my delicate position of trust with the Dervish is not to be compromised. We have much to plan. First, we must be able to contact each other and exchange news and plans. Tell me about Ras Hailu.”
“He was my friend and trading partner,” Ryder explained. “He used to travel to Omdurman in his dhow two or three times a year to trade with the Dervish. Tragically he fell foul of the Mahdi, who accused him of spying for Emperor John. He was executed in Omdurman. I have no other agents in the Sudan.”
“Well, we shall have to set up some new line of communication. Do not to try to contact me directly, for I am carefully watched at all times. You must try to get any message to Nazeera. She is allowed much freedom of movement. I shall try to arrange for a messenger of my own. There are other European captives in Omdurman. One of them is Rudolf Slatin, who was the Egyptian governor of Dongola. He is a resourceful fellow, and I suspect that he has ways of communicating with the outside world. If I am successful in finding a messenger, where will he be able to contact you?”
Quickly Ryder gave Penrod a list of his trading posts closest to the Sudanese border, and the names of his trusted agents there. “Any message they receive will be passed on to me but, as you can see, I am forced to travel great distances in pursuit of my business affairs. It may take an inordinate length of time to reach me.”
“Nothing happens swiftly in Africa,” Penrod agreed. “What I will ask from you, when the time comes, is that you make the travel arrangements to get us to the Abyssinian border as swiftly as possible. As soon as we leave Omdurman the entire Dervish army will be alerted, and will pursue us relentlessly.”
“The safety of Saffron’s sisters takes priority over everything else,” Ryder assured him.
“Where is the Intrepid this?” Penrod asked. “A steamer would be the fastest and surest method of getting us to the border. I should not like to attempt a flight on camels across the desert. The distances are enormous and the going is killing hard on the women.”
“Unfortunately I was obliged to sell the little steamer. Now that the upper reaches of both Niles have been closed to me by the Dervish, I have been forced to restrict my business activities to Abyssinia and Equatoria. The this was of no further use to me.”
“That is a great pity, but I shall devise another route.” Penrod stood up. “I can spend no more time with you. Before I go, there is one other important matter. The reason I am here is that Abdullahi is planning to attack Abyssinia, and seize all the disputed territories from Gondar to Mount Horca. He is going through all the diplomatic motions of lulling Emperor John with overtures of friendship and peace. But he will attack, probably after the big rains of next year. Osman Atalan will command the Dervish army of about thirty thousand. His first and main objective will be the passes here at Atbara gorge and Minkti. His purpose will be to prevent the Emperor coming down from the plateau with his main forces to intervene. I have been sent here by Atalan, may he rot in hell, to scout the terrain over which he will attack.”
“My God!” Ryder looked aghast. “The Emperor has no inkling of this.”
“Do you have access to him?” Penrod demanded.
“I do, yes. I know him well. I shall be seeing him immediately on my return to Entoto in three or four months’ time.”
“Then give him this warning.”
“I will depend on it. He will be grateful. I am sure he will offer his assistance in the rescue of Rebecca and Amber,” Ryder assured him. “But tell me, Ballantyne, why do you offer him this warning? What is it to you if the Dervish invade this country?”
“Need you ask? Your enemy is my enemy. The evil that is abroad can only be appreciated by those who have witnessed the sack of a city by the Dervish. You were at Khartoum?” Ryder nodded. “Emperor John is a Christian monarch. Abdullahi and his bloodthirsty maniacs must be stopped. Perhaps he will be able to put an end to these horrors.” Penrod turned to Saffron. “What message can I take back to Omdurman for your sisters?” he asked.
Her eyes glistened with tears in the lamplight as she struggled with her reply. “Tell them that I love them both with all my heart, and always shall. Tell them to be brave. We will help them. We shall all be together again soon. But whatever happens I still love them.”
“I will give them that message,” Penrod promised. �
��I am certain it will be of great comfort to them.” He turned back to Ryder, and held out his hand. “I think we would be wise to forget our personal differences and work together towards our common goal.”
“I agree with all my heart,” said Ryder, and shook the proffered hand.
Penrod stooped over the lamp and blew out the flame, then disappeared out into the night.
It was almost Christmas before Ryder Courtney returned to Entoto, the capital of Abyssinia and the city where he had his main trading compound.
“This must be the bleakest place in the world,” said Saffron, as they rode in through the city gates at the head of the caravan of mules, ‘even worse than Khartoum. Why can’t we live in Gondar, Ryder?”
“Because, Miss Saffron Benbrook, in the near future you will be living in the village of Bishop’s Sutton in Hampshire with your uncle Thomas and aunt Jane.”
“You are being tiresome again, Ryder,” she warned him. “I don’t want to live in England. I want to stay here with you.”
“I am flattered.” He touched the brim of his hat. “But, most unfortunately for all concerned, you cannot spend the rest of your life traipsing through the African bush like a gypsy. You have to go back to civilization and learn to be a lady. Besides, people are beginning to talk. You are a child no longer indeed, you are a big girl now.”
Ah, so you have noticed! Saffron thought complacently. I was beginning to think you, Ryder Courtney, were blind. Then, aloud, she reiterated the promise that was usually enough to satisfy him: “I will go back to England without any fuss when Rebecca and Amber have been rescued,” she spoke with a straight face and total insincerity, ‘and when my uncle Thomas promises to take care of us. He has not replied to your letters yet, and it’s over a year since you first wrote,” she reminded him smugly. “Now, let us speak of more interesting matters. How long will we stay in Entoto, and where will we travel to next?”
