Assegai

Four evenings later Leon brought the princess back to camp after a day of pursuing warthogs. She was in a black, furious mood. He had orchestrated four drives for her, and none had succeeded. Each time, the quarry had flushed from cover unexpectedly and caught them unprepared. The princess had not fired a single shot all day at her favoured quarry. On the homeward ride she had worked off some of her ire on a troop of baboons, shooting five out of the treetops before the survivors escaped in shrieking panic.

Approaching the outskirts of the camp Leon was surprised to see two Ford motor-cars, painted in drab military brown, parked beside the skinning shed. As they rode past, a handful of askari in the uniforms of the KAR fell smartly into line, sloped their rifles and saluted. Leon recognized the sergeant and his troopers. They were members of the regimental headquarters guard. His spirits soared as he acknowledged them. ‘At ease, Sergeant Miomani.’

The NCO grinned with delight that Leon remembered him and snapped his arm down smartly. He shouted at his men, ‘Order arms! Stand at ease! Fall out. One, two, three!’

They rode on into the camp.

‘Who are those people, and what are they doing here, Courtney?’ the princess demanded.

‘They are British soldiers, Your Royal Highness, that much I can tell you. But as to why they are here I have no idea,’ he lied smoothly. ‘I expect we shall be enlightened soon enough.’ But he held the thought that Loikot and Manyoro must have run like gazelle and Penrod Ballantyne driven like a fury to get here a day earlier than he had anticipated.

Leon and the princess dismounted outside the mess tent and Leon shouted to the kitchen for Ishmael to bring coffee – ‘and make sure it’s hot!’ Then he ushered the princess into the cool gloom of the tent.

Penrod rose from one of the camp chairs and quickly forestalled any remark that Leon could make. ‘I expect you are surprised to see me.’ He seized Leon’s right hand and shook it, then turned to the princess. ‘Would you be so kind as to present me to Her Royal Highness?’

‘Your Royal Highness, may I present Colonel Penrod Ballantyne?’ he said, then noticed the crown and the trio of stars on Penrod’s epaulettes. His uncle’s promotion must have come through since their last meeting, and he corrected himself quickly: ‘I beg your pardon, Princess. I should have said Brigadier General Penrod Ballantyne, the officer commanding His Britannic Majesty’s forces in British East Africa.’ Penrod saluted, then took three smart paces forward and offered her his right hand.

The princess ignored it and studied his face coldly, ‘Ah, so!’ she said, walked past him and seated herself in her usual chair at the table. ‘Courtney, tell your cook to hurry with my coffee. I am thirsty.’ She had spoken in German. Then she looked at Penrod again. ‘What do you want here? This is a private safari. You are disturbing my pleasure.’ Her English was flawless.

Penrod went to the chair facing hers across the table. As he lowered himself into it he said, ‘Your Royal Highness, I apologize for my intrusion but I am here on behalf of His Excellency the Governor of British East Africa.’

‘I did not invite you to be seated,’ the princess told him, and Penrod stood up abruptly.

His face turned puce but his voice remained level. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am.’

‘They have no manners, these English.’ She spoke to the air above his head. ‘Ja, so? What does this governor of yours want from me?’

‘He has sent me to inform you that a severe epidemic of Rift Valley rabies has broken out and is sweeping through the territory. Already more than a thousand local people have succumbed to the disease, and more are dying each day. The latest reported deaths are from villages not far from here. Your Royal Highness, you are in mortal danger.’ The princess’s lofty expression changed dramatically. She stared at Penrod in horror. ‘What is this Rift Valley rabies?’

‘I believe the German translation is Tollwut, ma’am.’

‘Tollwut? Mein Gott!’

‘Indeed, Your Royal Highness. And this is a particularly virulent and infectious form. It inflicts a horribly cruel and inevitable death, with the victim writhing in convulsions, screaming for water and finally drowning in his own foaming saliva.’

‘Mein Gott!’ she repeated softly.

‘The governor feels strongly that he should not allow you to remain in danger of contracting the disease, but before making any decision he cabled Berlin. The secretary to His Imperial Majesty has relayed the Kaiser’s instructions ordering you to terminate your stay here and return at once to Germany. Accordingly, His Excellency has reserved a stateroom on board the Italian liner Roma for you. It sails from Kilindini lagoon on the fifteenth of the month for the port of Genoa. From there you will be able to take the overnight express to Berlin. I have come to accompany you to the Roma, which will dock at Kilindini in five days’ time. We must hurry to make the sailing.’

‘When do you wish to depart?’ the princess asked, and stood up.

‘Can you be ready within the hour, ma’am?’

‘Jawohl!’ She fled, screaming for her maids ‘Heidi! Brunhilde! Pack my travelling bags! Do not bother with the cabin trunks. We leave within the hour!’ As soon as she had gone Penrod and Leon grinned at each other like schoolboys who had just pulled off a spectacular bit of mischief.

‘Rift Valley rabies, indeed! How did you dream up that one, Perfidious Albion?’

‘Absolutely deadly disease!’ Penrod winked almost imperceptibly. ‘Just so happens that this is the first outbreak in medical history.’

‘How do you like Her Royal Highness?’

‘Charming,’ he replied. ‘Bloody charming! I wanted to turn her over my knee and give her six of the very best.’

‘If you had, she would probably have fallen deeply in love with you.’

‘Like that, is it?’ Penrod stopped smiling. ‘You must have interesting tales to tell.’

‘Tales that will set your hair on fire, believe me. You ain’t heard nothing like them. But not here, not now.’

Penrod nodded. ‘You’re learning the game fast. As soon as I’ve packed the lovely princess into the boat at Kilindini, I will be back to listen to your stories and to stand you lunch at the Muthaiga Club.’

‘With a bottle of the ’79 Margaux to go with it?’ Leon suggested.

‘Two, if you’re man enough!’ Penrod promised.

‘You’re an absolute brick, Uncle.’

‘Think nothing of it, dear boy.’