Michael Pearce - The Mamur Zapt and the return of the Carpet

The Khedive’s pavilion stood far down in the open space below the Citadel. From there the ground sloped upwards, first to the Market of the Afternoon and then to the Meidan Rumelah. After that it rose steeply and became the giant rock of the Citadel itself. At the top of the rock were the massive towers and ramparts of Saladin’s castle; and at the utmost top of the castle was the Mosque of Mehemet Ali, with its obelisk and soaring dome. From that great dome, built only a century before, a host of smaller minarets and domes descended in a sweep like the curve of a scimitar to the two other great mosques which stood left and right where the chief thoroughfare of the city, the Sharia Mohammed Ali, came out into Citadel Square.

In the early morning sunshine the Mameluke domes took on the colour of pearl and rose. Pageants were early in Egypt to avoid the fierceness of the noonday sun, and the people had been gathering since before six. Many of them had brought seats, not so much to sit on-the ground would do for that-as to stand on when the procession went past. They were kept well back from the Khedive’s pavilion by a fence of soldiers. Whenever they encroached beyond the fence they were turned back by mounted policemen on white horses.

The soldiers, too, had arrived early. First, the foot soldiers of the Egyptian Army, in their sky-blue, with white spats and scarlet tarbooshes. Then the artillery with their horse-drawn guns to fire the salute. The guns were ranged in line, the horses detached, and the crews set to preparing the pieces. Last came the cavalry, again in light blue, the staff conspicuous in white and gold.

Notables and foreigners arrived some time after. A space had been roped off for their carriages not far from the Khedivial Pavilion. Lesser notables stood in front of the pavilion, and there was a sort of tribune for those members of the diplomatic corps who had not been able to find an excuse for leaving Cairo that weekend. The pavilion itself was filled with chairs for the dignitaries, and soon they began arriving. The pashas had gold bands around their turbans, and among them, in robes of sacred green, was the Sheikh el Bekri, the Descendant of the Prophet. There were ministers and politicians and a number of officials in court dress. Among them, too, was the British Agent, in morning dress, and the Sirdar, resplendent in full dress uniform.

The Khedive himself did not arrive until the last moment-indeed, after the last moment, for the ceremony was due to start at nine and he did not arrive until nine-fifteen. The band played the Egyptian anthem, the guns thundered out, and the Army stood at salute. A car dashed up to the pavilion and the Khedive got out to be greeted by the Prime Minister, dressed in a green sash, and countless other officials, all in vivid sashes of one kind or another.

Immediately afterwards a burst of Oriental kettle-drums and hautboys from the entrance of the square announced that the procession was approaching.

At the head of the procession, nodding gravely on its camel, was the Mahmal, a square tent twelve feet high, of crimson and cloth-of-gold, with gold balls and green tassels. Because of the nature of a camel’s gait it was very seldom upright, but jogged jauntily along, surrounded by religious banners gorgeous with Arabic texts. It was followed by a standard-bearer and five drum-beaters mounted on fine camels with splendid trappings, the same band probably that had played into Cairo every important pilgrim who had lately returned from Mecca. The camels were led by men in picturesque dresses, who did not at all look as if they had been to Mecca. They did not even look respectable. They looked as if they were men who did odd jobs about the bazaars, hired for the occasion. Their business, it was clear, was to lead the band camels, not to have been to Mecca. There was also a jester, but he was a holy man and had been to Mecca.

Behind it was the escort, burned black by the sun of the Arabian desert, incongruous in its Britishness and with its modern artillery, marching with precision, competent, necessary.

When the Mahmal came abreast of the Khedivial Pavilion it went through various evolutions while it performed the required seven circles. Then it advanced right up to the pavilion steps.

The Khedive came down the steps to receive it.

Owen could almost hear the officers’ intake of breath as a mass of people in brightly coloured dress swarmed around the plump figure. But Owen was not watching them; his eyes were on the motley about the camels.

His men did as they should and formed an inconspicuous, informal screen between the enthusiastic crowd and the officials, and after a few moments the Khedive turned back up the steps and returned to his chair.

The procession resumed. The Mahmal nodded away, appearing to toss on the sea of supporters which closed in uncontrollably now on every side. With a final blaze of hautboys the camels disappeared.

The Khedive was already getting into his car. The escort took up position. At the last moment Owen had been persuaded to include a detachment of the Camel Corps, on the grounds that with their tall cocks’ plumes, they were especially picturesque and the Khedive would love them. He had wondered whether to station them in front of the Khedive’s car so as to force the Khedive to slow down and keep within the wall of his escort. That would be dangerous, however, should the Khedive need to make a quick getaway, and he had settled for the rear. He was determined to have the more mobile horses guarding the sides.

As soon as the Khedive’s party had moved off there was a general rush for carriages. Owen saw Paul and the Agent waiting quietly until the first burst had subsided and then making their way in the opposite direction to where an open tourer had drawn up unobtrusively. They stepped in and were gone.

Officers barked orders and the soldiers began to form. Owen could not see the Sirdar at first but then picked him out. He was already mounted and talking to a group of officers, similarly mounted.

The soldiers were ready to move off. The Sirdar took up his position at the head of the column. There was a trumpet call, a pause and then another trumpet call. The column moved off and turned up the Mohammed Ali.

The sharia was broad and its lower end lined with trees. Bunting was draped between the trees, and many of the small shops were festooned with brightly coloured flags. The crowd here was less tumultuous than the one which had threatened to overwhelm the Mahmal and at first the applause was dutiful rather than enthusiastic. Few Cairenes, however, could resist a spectacle and before long the crowded pavements were a-buzz with delight at the tall soldiers.

Some of them were indeed very tall. Following the triumphant conclusion of the Sirdar’s campaign, many Sudanese had been recruited into the Army. You could tell them by their darker skin. They were much taller and fitter than the average fellahin. In their splendid tarbooshes they looked gigantic.

Police lined the route throughout, keeping the onlookers well back from the marchers. McPhee had had to raid the forces outside Cairo. For some of the country police it was their first visit to Cairo and they were both impressed and bewildered. The police were spaced more widely than McPhee would have liked. It was easy to break through the cordon-small boys were forever doing so-though when anyone did they were soon chivvied back by mounted police with rhinoceros-hide whips.

Owen began to move up the column, keeping his horse well out to one side, unobtrusively close to the long line of policemen.

He had chosen to ride because of the extra mobility but it also gave him a better view. From where he sat he could see over the heads of the policemen into the crowd. Occasionally he saw faces he recognized: journalists, minor civil servants with their families, even middling notables who had been at the Khedive’s Pavilion, picked out by their sashes, ostensibly on their way home but reluctant to miss any of the fun. He even thought he saw Guzman, but that was almost certainly a mistake.