Peace with Honour

by Sydney C. Grier

“That would be dreadfully dull for me,” said Lady Haigh. “What should I do when you were busy?”

“Far worse for me,” cried Georgia. “I protest against such treatment, Sir Dugald! Do you mean to condemn me to perpetual silence? I have no relations of any kind here.”

“Ah, Eastern society makes no provision for the New Woman,” observed Sir Dugald.

Georgia groaned.

“I am so dreadfully tired of that name,” she said. “But I believe, Sir Dugald, that Eastern etiquette would oblige Lady Haigh and me to ride humbly behind with the servants while you gentlemen were cantering gaily in front—wouldn’t it? Is that to be the order of our going?”

“No, I think we must make up our minds to disregard Ethiopian opinion in that respect,” said Sir Dugald. “Don’t be afraid, Miss Keeling, you shall lay aside your veils in the tents and when we get to our own quarters at Kubbet-ul-Haj. It is only in the streets and on the march that you need wear them.”

“And really they are not so very bad,” said Lady Haigh, shaking out a heap of white drapery. “When I knew we must make up our minds to such garments I determined that they should be as little trouble as possible, so I got these burkas made. I remembered seeing the women wearing them in the Panjab long ago. You see, the burka is simply put on over everything, and covers you from head to foot without an opening—merely that embroidered lattice-work for the eyes. It gives you no trouble; whereas the isar, which the Baghdadi women wear, and which poor Cecil Egerton was obliged to adopt when she was governess at the Palace, is nothing but a sheet pure and simple. You have to hold it together in front with one hand and over your face with the other. No matter how bad the weather may be, you can never spare a hand to hold up your dress or your sheet drops; you must just trail through the mud. I could not stand that.”

Georgia acknowledged thankfully the wisdom of Lady Haigh’s remarks, and when the day arrived on which the actual journey to Kubbet-ul-Haj was to begin, she put on the burka without a murmur. The start was an imposing sight, for most of the officers in the fort accompanied the Mission as far as the Ethiopian frontier, and the rest of the garrison lined the walls and sped the parting guests with a rousing cheer. The servants and baggage had started earlier in the day, and when they had been caught up a halt was made for lunch, after which the travellers delivered themselves into the hands of the body of Ethiopian troops who had been sent to meet them on the frontier and escort them to the capital, and the British officers returned to Fort Rahmat-Ullah. Dick North came riding up just in time to fall into his place in the cavalcade, and the long array of riders and baggage-animals took their way across the frontier.

The cavalry escort, of which one portion headed the procession, while the remainder brought up the rear, was not calculated, so far as its outward aspect was concerned, to allay any apprehensions that might have been fluttering the breasts of the timid. Its members were wild, reckless-looking fellows, evidently ready to go anywhere and do anything, but apparently quite as well qualified to rob their convoy as to protect it. Uniformity of dress or accoutrements among them there was none; but they resembled one another in that they were all fierce of face, all unbridled of speech, all extremely dirty, and all armed to the teeth with a wonderfully miscellaneous collection of weapons. It seemed almost madness to take ladies into the heart of a country which, until very lately, had been actively hostile, under the guardianship of such men as these, and the younger members of the Mission felt their hearts sink suddenly with an unwonted feeling of apprehension as they took their last look at the fort—that isolated outpost of Britain and civilisation on the borders of barbarism. But Sir Dugald’s impassive face betrayed no emotion whatever as he halted beside the track to allow the caravan to file past him, and the younger men took comfort as they remembered that their leader was one who, although he had not hitherto had the opportunity of distinguishing himself in a wide field, was reputed never to have made a mistake in the many minor but still important duties with which he had been intrusted.

Nor had Sir Dugald himself started for Kubbet-ul-Haj with a heart so light as to induce him to neglect any precaution that lay in his power. When it had once been ascertained that the passage of an escort of British, or even of Indian, troops through Ethiopian territory was out of the question, Sir Dugald agreed at once to intrust the safety of the Mission to the King’s own soldiers. But he bestowed special care on the selection of the servants who were to accompany the expedition, down to the very camel-men, choosing, so far as was possible, old soldiers, and these from the frontier, where there was always a hearty feeling of dislike simmering against the Ethiopians. These men might be relied upon to hold together in the strange country, and to show a bold front in case of necessity; and they also despised the Ethiopians far too much to associate with them, which lessened the likelihood both of quarrels and plots. With the exception of the wives of a few of these men, there were only two women among the servants—Lady Haigh’s elderly Syrian attendant Marta, and Georgia’s maid. This was a Khemistani girl named Rahah, a waif from the frontier who had found her way in some mysterious manner to Bab-us-Sahel, and after being handed over to the missionary ladies to be taken care of, had been trained by Miss Guest—who suffered much in the process—as a lady’s-maid. Her name was supposed by the learned to mean “rest,” but her character was not in accordance with it, for there was no rest for any human being that had anything to do with Rahah. Her chief recommendations for the post she now held were her undeniable cleverness with her fingers and some knowledge of the Ethiopian language, which might prove useful to her mistress in communicating with female patients, while she had already learnt, during the past few weeks, to render considerable assistance to Georgia as anæsthetist and dresser.