he could no longer be seen to do business with a man of Grey’s reputation.
Grey seethed as he watched Osman gossiping with one of the guards at the gate. The press of people, the clamour of their pleading voices and the smell of their unwashed bodies combined to form an unbearable assault on his senses. Grey had long lived in the tropics and affected Arab dress as well as religion, for long flowing robes were more comfortable by far than the heavy coats of thick wool that most Englishmen insisted on wearing, as if entirely indifferent to their geographical and climatic circumstances. Nonetheless, he was perspiring like a pig on a spit and his temperature rose still higher when he saw a leather-peddler he knew, Ahmed by name, given the sign to enter the palace. Ahmed was carrying a large box, similar to the ones ladies used to convey their headgear. Grey paid it no mind.
A few minutes later, another of the palace functionaries appeared at the gate and had a word with one of the guards. At once three men were despatched into the crowd, beating men and women out of the way with long wooden staffs as they forced their way through the mob. With a start Grey realized that they were heading directly for him. He panicked and tried to get away but the sheer press of bodies was so heavy that he could not force his way through and suddenly he was not only sweating like a pig but squealing like one too as he was grabbed by the arms and half-dragged, half-carried up to the gates and then through them before being deposited unceremoniously on the ornately tiled floor.
Grey rose to his feet to find the same official who had summoned Ahmed standing close by. ‘If you will come this way, effendi, His Excellency, in his great wisdom and mercy, wishes to speak to you.’
As he followed the official along a cool, shaded cloister, through which he could see the waters of a fountain glittering in the noonday sun, Grey realized that the three guards who had been sent to fetch him were following close behind. They no longer carried their staffs, but each bore a wickedly curved scimitar tucked into his scarlet waistband.
It struck Consul Grey that the invitation to an audience with the maharajah might not turn out to be quite the blessing he’d been hoping for.
Before the question could be answered there was a knocking on the door. Jahan called out, ‘Enter!’ and who should step into the room, looking like a huge jellied pudding, trembling with fear, but His Majesty’s Consul in Zanzibar himself. The Buzzard waited while his fellow Briton bowed and scraped to the maharajah and then rasped, ‘Good morning, Mr Grey. Hadn’t expected to clap an eye on you again.’
The Buzzard was becoming used to the successive expressions of shock, disgust and barely suppressed nausea (or even expressed nausea in some extreme cases) that his appearance provoked. But Grey’s discomfiture was even more absolute than most. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly as he searched in vain for something remotely appropriate to say before he finally gasped, ‘But … But … You’re supposed to be dead.’
The Buzzard stretched the remains of his lips into something approximating a smile. ‘Evidently I am not. Apparently the Almighty still has plans for me in this world, rather than the next.’
‘Truly, Allah is all-knowing and merciful,’ said Grey, darting a glance at Jahan to see whether his piety had been appreciated.
It was the maharajah who spoke next. ‘Now that you two gentlemen have become reacquainted, let me explain the purpose of this audience. I shall start by saying this: I hold the pair of you personally responsible for the insufferable loss of life and the damage and loss of property caused to our people’s shipping by that filthy infidel Henry Courtney. It is my fervent desire, and that of my brother the Grand Mogul himself, to seek vengeance in the fullest measure against Courtney and his men. We find ourselves, however, in a quandary.
‘My brother is currently concluding an agreement with the East India Company, concerning trade between our lands in India and the kingdom of England. He believes that such an agreement will deliver enormous rewards and he naturally does not wish to endanger the prospect of great riches by conducting a public campaign against one of His Majesty the King of England’s subjects, particularly one who comes from an eminent family.’
‘The Courtneys, eminent?’ the Buzzard thought to himself. ‘That’ll come as a shock tae all the lords and ladies who’ve never even heard of ’em!’
‘As a result, we must seek retribution with discretion and subtlety, using proxies who can act as figureheads for our vengeance. And who could be better suited to that role than two men such as yourselves? You both have very good reason to hate Captain Courtney. You know something of this man and how he thinks and you must, I am sure, be keen to atone for your own recent failings, for which many a ruler less merciful than myself might very well have you both executed.’
‘Does your royal highness wish us to kill Captain Courtney ourselves?’ Grey asked, in tones of barely disguised alarm.
‘Well, perhaps not with your own blades, no,’ Jahan reassured him. ‘I fear you would prove no match for him, Consul, and as for the earl here, he was unable to best Courtney with two hands, so I hardly give him much chance with one. But I feel certain that you can devise a way to bring him down. You can find him and trap him, even if others must come in for the kill. And you can then take responsibility for his execution, for who would not agree that you had reason to take his life after the deception with which he tricked you, Consul Grey, or the hideous djinn into which he transformed you, my poor Earl of Cumbrae.’
‘And if we do not agree tae pursue him for you?’ the Buzzard asked.
Jahan laughed. ‘Come now, of course you will agree! In the first place I am offering you all the resources of men and equipment you need for the vengeance you desire above all else. And in the second, both you and Consul Grey will die here, in this building, on this day if you do not agree to my terms. I am a merciful man. But I will not be wronged a second time and let that insult go unpunished.’
Grey threw himself to the floor and abased himself in a grovelling salaam. ‘Your highness is too kind, too merciful for a wretch like me. I am honoured and grateful beyond all telling for the chance to serve you in this way.’
‘Yes, yes, Consul, thank you, but please, stand on your own two feet like a man,’ Jahan replied. Then he looked at the Buzzard. ‘And you?’
‘Aye, I’ll do it. I’ll even tell you where the conniving sod’s bound for too, because there’ll only be one place he’ll want to go.’
‘All in due course,’ Jahan said. ‘First however, it has struck me, Cumbrae, watching you in recent weeks, that your skin must now be especially sensitive. You will not, I believe, be able to survive exposure either to our burning sun, or the winds and spray that will buffet you should you ever step aboard a ship. I have therefore commissioned a form of headgear that will protect you.’
He clapped his hands and at once Ahmed the leather merchant opened his box and pulled out what looked to the Buzzard like some kind of leather cap, or hood. There was a design upon it, too, but the way that Ahmed was holding it made it impossible for him to work out exactly what it was.
Ahmed now approached the Buzzard, his eyes cast down at the floor as he walked, as if he were too terrified even to glance at
