Black Mischief Read Free

grief at the loss of their master.
    Now the
Empress was dead and Seth had returned from Europe to claim his Empire.
     
     
    Noon in Matodi. The
harbour lay still as a photograph, empty save for a few fishing boats moored
motionless against the sea wall. No breeze stirred the royal standard that hung
over the old fort. No traffic moved on the water-front. The offices were locked
and shuttered. The tables had been cleared from the hotel terrace. In the shade
of a mango the two sentries lay curled asleep, their rifles in the dust beside
them.
    ‘From
Seth, Emperor of Azania, Chief of the Chiefs of Sakuyu, Lord of Wanda and
Tyrant of the Seas, Bachelor of the Arts of Oxford University, to His Majesty
of the King of England, Greeting. May this reach you. Peace be to your house…
    He had
been dictating since dawn. Letters of greeting, Patents of Nobility, Pardons,
Decrees of Attainder, Army Ordinances, police regulations, orders to European
firms for motor-cars, uniforms, furniture, electric plant, invitations to the
Coronation, proclamations of a public holiday in honour of his victory, lay
neatly clipped together on the secretary’s table.
    ‘Still
no news from the hills. We should have heard of the victory by now.’ The
secretary recorded these words, considered them with his head cocked slightly
to one side and then drew a line through them. ‘We should have heard, shouldn’t
we, Ali?’
    ‘We
should have heard.’
    ‘What
has happened? Why don’t you answer me? Why have we heard nothing?’
    ‘Who am
I? I know nothing. I only hear what the ignorant people are saying in the
bazaar, since the public men evacuated the city. The ignorant people say that
your majesty’s army has not gained the victory you predict.’
    ‘Fools,
what do they know? What can they understand? I am Seth, grandson of Amurath.
Defeat is impossible. I have been to Europe. I know. We have the Tank. This is
not a war of Seth against Seyid but of Progress against Barbarism. And
Progress must prevail. I have seen the great tattoo of Aldershot, the Paris
Exhibition, the Oxford Union. I have read modern books — Shaw, Arlen,
Priestley. What do the gossips in the bazaars know of all this? The whole might
of Evolution rides behind him; at my stirrups run woman’s suffrage, vaccination
and vivisection. I am the New Age. I am the Future.’
    ‘I know
nothing of these things,’ said Ali. ‘But the ignorant men in the bazaars say
that your majesty’s guards have joined Prince Seyid. You will remember my pointing
out that they had received no wages for several months?’
    ‘They
shall be paid. I have said it. As soon as the war is over they shall be paid.
Besides I raised them in rank. Every man in the brigade is now a full corporal.
I issued the edict myself. Ungrateful curs. Old-fashioned fools. Soon we will
have no more soldiers. Tanks and aeroplanes. That is modern. I have seen it.
That reminds me. Have you sent off instructions for the medals?’
    Ali
turned over the file of correspondence.
    ‘Your
majesty has ordered five hundred Grand Cross of Azania, first class; five
hundred second; and seven hundred third; also designs for the Star of Seth,
silver gilt and enamel with parti-coloured ribbon …‘
    ‘No, no.
I mean the Victory-Medal.’
    ‘I have
received no instructions concerning the Victory Medal.’
    ‘Then
take this down.’
    ‘The
invitation to the King of England?’
    ‘The
King of England can wait. Take down the instructions for the Victory Medal. Obverse,
the head of Seth — that is to be copied from the photograph taken in Oxford.
You understand — it is to be modern, European — top hat, spectacles, evening
dress collar and tie. Inscription SETH IMPERATOR IMMORTALIS. The whole to be
simple and in good taste. Many of my grandfather’s medals were florid. Reverse.
The figure of Progress. She holds in one hand an aeroplane, in the other some
small object symbolic of improved education. I will give you the detail of
that