Alaa al-Aswany - The Automobile Club of Egypt

Alku drew up a plan to make good on his promise to Wright. He could always read the king’s mood. With one glance, he knew whether His Majesty was angry or cheerful or sullen. And so Alku bided his time until the moment was right. The king had just finished bathing and had sat down to enjoy a hearty breakfast. Alku approached, placing the French newspapers on the table, then sighed and knitted his brow.

“Your Majesty, I feel so bad for Mr. Wright.”

“What does he want from us?” the king asked disapprovingly.

“Since the unfortunate incident in the Automobile Club, he has been calling me every day to express his regret.”

“And what good does that do us?”

Alku looked at the ground and shook his head.

“Your Majesty is right to be angry about what happened, but as a servant of Your Majesty, I have never seen an Englishman so devoted to the throne as Mr. Wright.”

The very words pleased the king no end. Contradictory emotions seemed to cross the king’s face as he nibbled on a sausage.

“Whatever Wright might say,” the king said, wiping his mouth with his napkin, “what happened is treason. I have been photographed, and my privacy has been breached.”

“If I find out who did this,” Alku muttered, grimacing, “I’ll wring his neck with my bare hands.”

“Don’t worry. State security will arrest the culprit soon enough,” the king replied with apparent disdain. Then he leaned forward and took a big slurp of his favorite compote. Making the most of the king’s gustatory satisfaction, which was apparent on His Majesty’s face, Alku added, “Mr. Wright has certainly made an error. He himself does not deny that. However, Your Majesty, haven’t state security officers and the royal guard also failed in their duty? Is it not their job to assure Your Majesty’s security at all times…”

“They have all been lax.”

“Mr. Wright has admitted to his own shortcomings, but he has also pointed out that state security and the royal guard are security professionals, whereas, at the end of the day, he is only a civilian manager who has nothing to do with security and surveillance procedures.”

The king seemed to be thinking the matter over as he took another spoonful of compote.

“Your Majesty,” Alku continued in a whisper, “the ubiquitous distribution of this vile photograph indicates the existence of a greater plot against the throne. We must be sure that the saboteurs have not installed cameras in the royal palace. I hope that state security will do their duty before they start blaming the general manager of the Automobile Club.”

The king nodded in agreement. Having made it this far, Alku changed the subject and did not raise it again until a few days later, when the king was sitting alone in his bedroom. Alku bowed, and in the voice of one imparting a secret, he said, “My duty to the throne dictates that I must tell Your Majesty of an incident that happened yesterday.”

The king looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and astonishment. Alku said nothing for a moment and then continued, “Your Majesty, it pains me to have to speak of a prince of the family of Muhammad Ali when I am but a servant of them all.”

The king looked concerned and asked, “What’s happened?”

Alku mumbled as if unwilling to go on.

“His Highness Prince Shamel, Your Majesty.”

“What of him? Speak!”

“I should like to apologize in advance for what I have to say, but I have promised Your Majesty to speak truthfully. His Highness Prince Shamel has embarked on a campaign of lies which are detrimental to the throne.”

“What has he said?”

“Your Majesty, I really do not like to repeat the scurrilous things he has said, but God is our judge. Yesterday Prince Shamel was dining at the Automobile Club, and he told his companions that he considers the Wafd Party the sole legal representative of the Egyptian nation.”

Overcome with emotion, Alku fell silent and then forced himself to continue, “His Highness Prince Shamel went so far as to tell his guests that Nahas Pasha, the leader of the Wafd Party, is more popular than Your Majesty the king of Egypt and the Sudan.”

The king looked at him in disbelief.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Mr. Wright called me personally this morning and briefed me on this. He is furious.”

“How did Wright know?”

“His Highness Prince Shamel had had a bit to drink and spoke loudly enough for the servants to hear, and they reported it to Mr. Wright.”

The king’s face turned ashen, and he said nothing.

“How can His Highness Prince Shamel,” Alku continued, “talk like this in the Automobile Club of which Your Majesty is the patron?”

The king furrowed his brow and then made a gesture with his hand.

“I’m not interested in Shamel’s prattling. Everyone knows that he is a Communist and quite mad.”

“Your Majesty is perfectly correct. The throne has to be above all this tittle-tattle. Mr. Wright, as the general manager of the Club, is so furious that he is requesting Your Majesty’s permission to take the necessary steps against Prince Shamel.”

“What does he want to do?”

“As lèse majesté is a crime under Egyptian law, Mr. Wright will not allow Prince Shamel to do it again. If His Highness says another word against the throne, Mr. Wright will issue him with a warning and will then terminate his membership of the Club.”

The king’s expression turned from one of concern to satisfaction.

“Tell James Wright,” he said, “that it is within his remit to take whatever steps he deems appropriate to assure the smooth running of the Club.”

There were a few moments of silence, and then Alku cleared his throat, adding sotto voce, “Would Your Majesty allow his obedient servant to give his opinion?”

“Speak.”

“His Highness Prince Shamel’s enmity toward the throne is well known, but he was only able to be so bold in the Automobile Club because Your Majesty does not go and spend time there anymore. If Your Majesty were to start going there again, Prince Shamel would not dare to turn up.”

Alku said no more, letting the thought percolate slowly in the king’s head. One afternoon a week later, the king was sitting on a balcony in the palace eating ice cream as Alku bowed and said softly, “Your Majesty, may I address a request to you?”

The king gave him an inquiring look.

“Mr. James Wright asks whether Your Majesty might deign to grant him a short interview. He is just asking for ten minutes of Your Majesty’s time.”

The king agreed to see Wright, and Alku dashed off to deliver the news. Wright seemed relieved and muttered, “Thank you.”

It was highly unusual for Wright to thank the head chamberlain openly.

“At your service,” Alku bowed.

At exactly four o’clock in the afternoon the following day, Wright presented himself to His Majesty, who smiled and said in English, “Good afternoon, Mr. Wright. How are you?”

The king gestured to Wright, who took a seat and launched directly into the matter at hand. “I hope Your Majesty will give due consideration to what I am about to say.”

The king nodded and looked at him.

“Your Majesty, I would ask Your Majesty to forgive us and to honor us with your presence at the Automobile Club.”

“I will not go to that place. It is riddled with Communists.”

“I can give Your Majesty my word that what happened will never happen again.”

The king said nothing while he appeared to mull it over. Wright plucked up the courage to continue, “Your Majesty, I don’t want the saboteurs to feel that their crime has brought about the result they hoped for. Your Majesty is too great a personage to have his life changed by those riffraff.”