Free The Mingrelian Conspiracy by Michael Pearce

intervened swiftly and sent Mr. Karamajoric back to his place.
    ‘Before I close the meeting,’ he shouted, ‘let us agree on what is to be done next. I propose a committee to—’
    ‘A committee?’ shouted a voice over on the right. ‘What do we need a committee for?’
    ‘There are too many of us. If a few of us could work something out—’
    ‘What is there to work out? We know what to do, don’t we?’
    ‘A petition—’
    But his words were drowned.
    ‘Death to the Grand Duke!’ came the cry.
     
    ‘A good meeting, wasn’t it?’ said Sorgos, embracing Owen warmly.
    ‘If someone had died it wouldn’t have been a good meeting!’
    Sorgos’s face clouded over momentarily.
    ‘No one was hurt, were they? The crowd did seem to get a bit out of hand. But that’s good, isn’t it? You want people to have a bit of life in them. You don’t want them to be dull under oppression. You want them to rise up, to rise up—’
    ‘It’s all very well rising up over in the Caucasus but this is someone else’s country and you can’t expect them to let you rise up here.’
    ‘You rise up against oppression,’ said Sorgos, ‘whether it’s there or here. And you rise up against the Russians anywhere you get the chance.’
    ‘The Khedive would see you as a guest. He has very generously allowed you to live here and when he invites other guests he expects you to treat them with the same generosity.’
    ‘You wouldn’t treat the Russians with generosity,’ said Sorgos; ‘not if they’d been to your village in Wales!’
    ‘Those battles are for the Caucasus. We’ve got enough trouble of our own here without your adding to it.’
    ‘Trouble? What kind of trouble? I have lived here for thirty years and I have not seen any trouble. Not as it is in the Caucasus, anyway. That’s
real
trouble! Egypt is a peaceful country. Except when your soldiers go out and wreck a café. Just exuberance, of course,’ he added conciliatorily.
    ‘Trouble between Muslim and Christian,’ said Owen sternly. ‘That’s what I’m worried about.’
    ‘No problem,’ Sorgos assured him. ‘This is strictly between Christian and Christian.’
    ‘Yes. But it wouldn’t stay that way. Not in Cairo.’
    ‘They would take our side? Well, that is understandable. They are men of spirit. Fine men! I know them. We fought side by side against the Russians.’
    ‘Wait a minute; where is this?’
    ‘Back home in the Caucasus. The Muslims were our allies. Against the Russians. I won’t pretend we always saw eye to eye. There were differences between us. I mean, we had been fighting each other for several centuries. The Muslims were our natural enemy, you might say. But then the Russians came along and they were even more our natural enemy, so we sank our differences and fought side by side. Fine men! And women, too. To tell you the truth’—Sorgos drew Owen to him and whispered in his ear—‘I think Katarina has got a bit of Muslim blood in her. It was always claimed that her grandmother’s father had taken a girl from one of the tribes. A raid, you know. There were plenty in those days. And I think it was sometimes done for the sake of the women—’ Owen piloted him gently out of the square. The old man was still buoyant with excitement and Owen knew that his words were getting nowhere. He would have to talk with him again tomorrow. And with the others. The old man was in many respects the key, however. He seemed to have a bit of a following and they couldn’t all be Mingrelians, either, if what Katarina had said was true, that there were only sixty families left. Perhaps the fact that he was an elder was something to do with it. He was looked to generally for leadership. Or, perhaps, of course, he was being used.
    A man came running out of the square after them. He came up to them and threw his arms around Sorgos.
    ‘I wanted to catch you before you left,’ he said. ‘A wonderful speech! The fire! That’s what was missing