‘Money, dear boy, money. Funds have to be raised, and if they are, they have to be kept track of.’
‘Ye-es. But, Idris, if they have to rely on people like you to keep track, is this the position of strength that we all hope for?’
There were camels everywhere on the midan, and yet new lines of camels kept drifting in. The newcomers found it even more difficult to get a space and there were endless disputes. The camels bit and fought. Big ones shouldered smaller ones aside, butted and snarled. The drivers waded in with whips to restore order. Eventually it was restored, and the camels were hobbled and settled down. This didn’t usually happen until they had been watered and forage brought. The forage, usually green clover, was spread on the ground in front of them. Then they set to at once. As they chewed, a green dribble ran out of the sides of their mouths and soon the whole midan was covered with a green mess. It was like one continuous green cowpat.
Mahmoud picked his steps fastidiously. It was probably wise to do that anyway. You needed to give camels a wide berth. When they were standing they would sometimes lash out with a foot which had enough force to break your leg. They were unruly, surly, savage beasts; not at all like cows.
Gradually he began to make sense of the melee in the square. Incoming loads were deposited on the station side. The sacks of gum arabic were piled alongside the railway line, ready for loading. Further back, waiting their turn, were the sacks of trocchee shells. Sometimes the sacks were torn and you would see the shells spilling out. They had a strong fishy smell.
Further back still, because they were of less importance, were bags of goods for the bazaars of the south, on their way to the shops of the Sudan. And here and there were little piles of private belongings, to be picked up when everything else was out of the way.
Everywhere, too, were the Levantine assistants of the traders, conspicuous among the galabeyas in their white shirts and European-style trousers, running from pile to pile, papers in hand, counting this pile, ticking off that.
The midan now surged with people and camels. Despite himself, Mahmoud was impressed. He had never anticipated a gathering of this scale in such an obscure part of the desert. Everywhere was hubbub and bustle.
As he threaded his way through the mass, he was surprised to see the Pasha’s lady’s son, Karim. He had never expected to see him so far from home.
He was wandering around with a dazed expression on his face, As Mahmoud watched him, he ran into someone he knew.
‘Ya Hassan!’
‘Ya Karim! Are you well?’
‘Well, thanks be to God! And you?’
‘Well also.’
‘Are you coming to see me?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘I am hoping that you would be bringing something for me.’
Hassan smiled. ‘Well, I was hoping you might be bringing something for me!’
‘It’s on the way. Tamuz is bringing it.’
‘More than one box, I hope?’
‘All those you left. Six donkeys.’
‘Six?’
‘Two boxes on each donkey and one over.’
‘Those boxes are heavy. It is a lot for a donkey to carry.’
‘You should have sent camels.’
Hassan shrugged. ‘They couldn’t be spared. However, as long as the boxes are here to go with the others …’
‘They will be here tomorrow, Tamuz says.’
‘God be praised!’
‘And is there anything for me?’
Hassan smiled and patted him familiarly on the shoulder. ‘There is a fine new gun. And I know it’s fine because I have seen it fired. It brought down a hawk. At two hundred paces!’
‘That was a good shot!’
‘It was I who fired it. But, yes, it was. And the gun is a good one. It is like some of those in the boxes. It has new sights on it. You won’t have seen them before, but they are astonishing. You will find a difference at once.’
‘Can I have it?’ asked Karim excitedly.
‘When the boxes get in.’
‘Not until then?’ said Karim, disappointed.
‘Not until then. But then at once. You will have the new gun with you when you go with Tamuz. I promise you!’
Hassan moved away. Karim looked around uncertainly for a moment and then moved off too. Mahmoud waited for him to go and then went in search of Owen.
Owen walked back to the carpenter’s shop.
‘Can I borrow Selim?’
‘Of course!’
‘It will be for a day or two.’
‘That’s all right. We’re not busy.’
Owen went over to Selim, who was working quietly in the back of the shop. ‘Selim, I need your help.’
‘Anything I can do, Effendi …’
‘It is not an ordinary thing I am asking you for.’
Selim looked at him quickly. ‘Is it to do with Soraya?’
‘Indirectly, yes.’
‘Then I will help.’
‘Let us go to the temple.’
They clambered their way through the sunken nitre tanks and went into the temple. They stood for a moment in its cold gloom. The slightly musty air met him again. They waited for their eyes to get used to the darkness and then went through to the room Selim had shown him before. Nothing seemed to have changed in it.
‘It will,’ said Owen. ‘I think they plan to use it.’
‘To store …?’
‘As they have done before. When they come, I want you to be here but not seen.’
‘I will not be seen.’
‘I will come to you from time to time. But I must not be seen either. I will bring you food and water.’
‘Food and water?’
‘You will need them. You may be here for a day or two. Not longer, I think. But I need to know when the men come. Then come to me.’
‘You will seize them?’
‘Not yet. I think they will be bringing guns. And I need to know when the guns leave.’
‘I will tell you, Effendi.’
‘Take no risk.’
Selim thought for a moment. ‘Effendi, is not the greater risk that you yourself will be seen when you come?’
‘I shall take care.’
‘Effendi, when you come, come as the English usually do, to look at the temple. Stand in front of the marks as if perusing them. I shall whistle like this.’ He imitated the mew of a hawk. ‘When you hear that, come into the temple. I shall be waiting behind the pillars.’
The clerk was not yet back at the station. His brother, however, was still standing in for him. He greeted Owen warmly.
‘Your duties grow,’ said Owen.
‘I should be paid more,’ said the clerk’s brother.
‘But so does the need for silence.’
‘I can be silent.’
‘It is important that no one hears of this. If they do, expect the Khedive’s wrath.’
‘The Khedive need have no fears.’
‘I am expecting some boxes to come to the station. Heavy boxes. They will not be easy to lift. There will be men with them. They will put them on the train. When that happens, I need to know.’
‘You will know, Effendi.’
Mahmoud wandered through the goods piled along the railway line.
‘What is it, Effendi, that you look for?’
‘I see only gum arabic.’
‘That is what we deal in.’
‘I am told there would be trocchee shells.’
‘Ah, yes. Those we have, too. But first we have to load the gum arabic. When we get that out of the way, we can load the trocchee shells.’
‘Will that not take time?’
‘It will.’
‘The trocchee shells will have to wait for another train, perhaps?’
‘Perhaps. There is a lot of gum arabic to shift.’
‘The shells may even have to wait for another day?’
‘They may. With the shells, it does not matter.’
‘I am also expecting some boxes. Heavy boxes, which will require much lifting. When will they be put on the train?’
‘It depends when they come.’
‘Some are already here. But others arrive, I think, tomorrow.’
‘Who brings them?’