Free The Bride Box by Michael Pearce Page A

‘They will be here,’ he said.
    â€˜In the yard. I want them in the yard.’
    â€˜In the yard,’ repeated the man.
    He did not offer to take Mahmoud into the house and Mahmoud was annoyed about this, too. It was rank discourtesy.
    After some time a man came and took his donkey. Mahmoud followed him round the side of the house into a large yard where there was a drinking trough. The donkey bent to it greedily.
    Another servant, an older man, came out of the house bringing a jug of lemonade.
    â€˜It is a hot day, Effendi,’ he said. ‘Take some refreshment.’
    â€˜Thank you,’ said Mahmoud. ‘I had begun to think that manners had been forgotten in the south.’
    â€˜Don’t bother about him,’ the man said, jerking his head after his departed superior. ‘He’s always like that. Is it true you wish to speak to the men?’
    Mahmoud nodded.
    â€˜They won’t be sorry if it means that they can finish earlier. What was it that you wished to see them about?’
    Mahmoud considered; then, thinking there was nothing to be lost, said: ‘It concerns a bride box.’
    â€˜A bride box!’
    â€˜One that was put on the train.’
    â€˜Effendi, I think you must be mistaken. There are no bride boxes here. Nor are there likely to be.’ He stopped short, as if he had been about to say something he shouldn’t. ‘There are no young girls here of the right age,’ he said. But that was not, Mahmoud was sure, what he had been going to say. ‘Why a bride box, Effendi?’ he asked.
    â€˜One that was put on the train. And sent to the Pasha.’
    â€˜Ah. Now I understand. But, Effendi, you are still mistaken. No bride box has been sent from here. I would have known if there had been.’
    â€˜The men who put it on the train said they were from here.’
    The servant shook his head. ‘Effendi, I still find that hard to understand. Men do not come and go from here just as they wish. It means a day out of the fields and Ismail would not let that happen.’
    â€˜Ismail is the man in charge?’
    â€˜You have seen what he is like.’
    â€˜Nevertheless, that is what the men said. They even gave the Pasha’s name, Ali Maher.’
    â€˜Ali Maher is certainly the Pasha here. But why, Effendi, would he be sending a box to himself? In Cairo?’
    â€˜That is what I am trying to find out.’
    â€˜Perhaps he intends to get married again? And his eye has alighted on some girl? But if that is so, I do not know of it. And surely I would …’
    â€˜There are questions to be asked,’ said Mahmoud.
    â€˜Evidently,’ said the servant, still shaking his head.
    Men began to assemble in the yard. Mahmoud went for a walk around the outhouses. There were quite a few of them. The estate was obviously a large one.
    In one of the buildings stood some carts, used for bringing in the durra. One had a half-awning which covered most of the cart. It would do.
    He went back round the house to where he had left the clerk. He found him sitting in the shade beneath a bush.
    â€˜Come with me,’ he said and then, choosing his moment when there was no one to see, led him round to the cart with the half-awning and told him to get inside. Part of the awning was rolled back and the clerk could hide under it.
    Mahmoud went back into the yard. ‘Are the men all here?’ he asked.
    Ismail nodded sourly.
    â€˜Right, I will speak to them.’
    He looked at the men. There were about twenty of them, all in short galabeyas, showing their arms and legs burnt black by the sun. ‘I need something to stand on.’
    He beckoned to two of the men and then went into the outhouse. ‘This one will do,’ he said.
    The men took the cart with the half-awning and the clerk round into the yard.
    Mahmoud climbed up on to the cart. ‘Which of you has been to the station at Denderah in the past