The Prince and his entourage disembarked to a salvo of champagne corks and the elderly courtiers crowed with delight. Quite by chance, Gareth had struck upon the Ethiopians" love of feasting and strong sense of hospitality.
Little that he could have done would have endeared him more to his guests.
"I say, this is very decent of you, my dear Swales" said the Prince. With his innate sense of courtesy, he had not used Gareth's nickname since the first greeting. Gareth was grateful and when the glasses were filled he called for the first toast.
"His Majesty, Negusa Nagast, King of Kings, Emperor Baile Selassie, Lion of Judah." And they drained their glasses, which seemed to be the correct form, so Gareth and Jake imitated them, and then they fell upon the food, giving Gareth a chance to whisper to Jake, "Think up some more toasts we've got to get them filled up." But he needn't have worried for the Prince came in with: "His Britannic Majesty, George V, King of England and Emperor of India." And no sooner were the glasses filled again than he bowed to Jake and lifted his glass.
"The President of the United States of America, Mr. Franklin D.
Roosevelt." Not to be outdone, each of the courtiers shouted an unintelligible toast in Amharic, presumably to the Prince and his father and mother and aunts, uncles and nieces, and the glasses were upended. The waiters rushed back and forth to the steady report of champagne corks.
"The Governor of the British Colony of Tanganyika." Gareth lifted his glass, slurring slightly.
"And the Governor's daughter," Jake murmured sardonically.
This provoked another round of toasts from the robed guests, and then it dawned on Jake and Gareth simultaneously that it was folly to try drinking level with men who had been bred and reared on the fiery tej of Ethiopia.
"How are you feeling?" muttered Gareth anxiously, squinting slightly to focus.
Beautiful, "Jake grinned at him beatifically.
"By God, these fellows know how to pack it away."
"Keep pounding them, Forty. You've got them on the run." With his empty glass he indicated the smiling but sober group of courtiers.
"I'd be grateful if you could refrain from using that name, old chap.
Distasteful, what? Not in the best of style." Gareth slapped his shoulder with bonhomie and almost missed. A look of concern crossed his face. "How do I sound?"
"You sound like I feel. We'd better get out of here before they drink us flat on our backs."
"Oh God, there he goes again," Gareth muttered with alarm as the Prince raised his brimming glass and looked about him expectantly. "Wine with you, my dear Swales," he called as he caught Gareth's eyes.
"Enchanted, I'm sure." Gareth had no choice but to acknowledge and toss off the contents of his glass before hurrying forward to intercept the waiter who darted in to recharge the Prince's empty glass.
"Toffee, old sport, I do want you to see this little surprise I have for you." He grabbed the Prince's drinking arm and prised the glass from his grip. "Come along, everybody. This way, chaps." Among the grey-bearded courtiers there was a decided reluctance to leave the marquee, and Jake had to assist Gareth. Both-of them spreading their arms and making shooing noises, they finally got them moving down the track through the forest which emerged a hundred yards farther on into an open glade the size of a polo field.
A stunned silence fell upon the party as they saw the row of four iron ladies, gleaming in their new coats of grey, with the heavily jacketed water-cooled barrels of the Vickers machine guns protruding from the ports and the rakish turrets emblazoned with the tricolour horizontal bars of the Ethiopian national colours green, yellow and red.
Like sleep-walkers, they allowed themselves to be led to the row of chairs under the umbrellas, and without removing their gaze from the war machines they sank into their seats.
Gareth stood in front of them like a schoolmaster, but swaying slightly.
"Gentlemen, we have here one of the most versatile armoured vehicles ever brought into service by any major military power And while he paused for the Prince to translate, he grinned triumphantly at Jake.
"Start them up, old son." As the first engine burst into life, the elderly courtiers came to their feet and applauded like the crowd at a prize fight.
"Fifteen hundred quid each," whispered Gareth, his eyes sparkling, "they'll go fifteen hundred!" ij Mikhael had invited them to dine in his suite aboard the Dunnottar Castle, and over Jake's Protests a short-order tailor had run up a passable dinner jacket to fit Jake's tall rangy frame.
"I look like I'm in fancy dress, "he objected.
"You look like a duke," Gareth contradicted. "It gives you a bit of style. Style, Jake me lad, always remember. Style! If you look like a tramp, people will treat you as one." Lij Mikhael Sagud wore a magnificently embroidered cloak in gold and scarlet and black, clasped at the throat with a dark red ruby the size of a ripe acorn, tieht-fitting velvet breeches and slippers embroidered with twenty-four carat gold wire. The dinner had been excellent and the Prince seemed in a mellow mood.
"Now, my dear Swales. The prices for the machine guns and the other armaments were decided months ago but the armoured cars were never mentioned. Would you like to suggest a reasonable figure?"
"Your Excellency, I had in mind a fair figure before I realized it was you I was dealing with-" Gareth drew deeply on one of the Prince's Havana cigars, steeling himself for the wild flying chance he was going to take. "Now, of course, I am prepared merely to cover my costs and leave only a modest profit for my partner and myself to share." The Prince showed his appreciation with a gracious gesture.
"Two thousand pounds each," said Gareth quickly, running the words together to make it sound less shocking, but still Jake almost choked on a mouthful of whisky soda.
The Prince nodded thoughtfully. "I see," he said. "That is probably five times the actual value." Gareth looked shocked. "Your Excellency-" But the Prince silenced him with a raised hand.
"During the last six months, I have spent a great deal of time inspecting and pricing various items of military equipment. My dear Swales, please don't insult us both by protesting." There was a long silence and the atmosphere in the cabin was taut as guitar strings then the Prince sighed.
"I could price those weapons but I could not buy. The great powers of the world have denied me that right the right to defend my country against the predator." There was an age of weariness in the dark eyes and smooth brow furrowed with thought. "My country is landlocked, as you know, gentlemen. We do not have access to the sea.
All imports must come through the territories of French and British Somaliland or Italian Eritrea. Italy the predator or the French and the British who have placed us under embargo." Lij Mikhael sipped at the drink in his hand, and then frowned into the depths of the glass, as though it were a crystal ball and he could read the future there.
"The great powers are prepared to deliver us to the Fascist tyrant, with our sword hand empty and trussed behind our back." He sighed again heavily and then looked up at Gareth. His expression changed.
"Major Swales, you have offered me a collection of worn and obsolete vehicles and weapons at many times their actual value. I am a desperate man. I must accept your offer and the price you demand."