Chapter 2: Land of the Pharaohs

Golden Horn steamed into the mouth of the Damietta branch of the mighty River Nile and made her way upstream, smoke from the funnel wreathing away on a stiff easterly breeze.
The buildings I had spotted from out at sea were the fort and gun batteries protecting the mouth of the river, and Damietta itself was several miles further up river. The land was green with growing crops, and in fact some fields were in process of being harvested. I supposed the soil would be extremely fertile due to the silt carried down the Nile during the time of flood.

Captain Pendragharz confirmed my supposition. He indicated the many drainage channels criss-crossing the low-lying land. “Muhammad Ali Pasha, or Mehmet Ali Pasha, to give him his Turkish name, ordered extra irrigation channels constructed to allow crops to be cultivated throughout the year. Production has trebled since the innovation. Depending on the crop involved the Egyptians can get two or three harvests a year as the soil is so fertile and needs little fertiliser added. Cotton, maize and wheat are now exported to Europe. The man might be a monster but he has brought stability and prosperity to Egypt, or as much as can be considered in this part of the world.”
“A monster, Captain?”
Pendragharz spat over the lee side of the vessel. “Aye, a monster, like all Ottoman Turks, although he is an Albanian, which makes him even more of a monster. He was sent to Egypt to deal with Napoleon but hung back and allowed the Mamluks, and then the British, to do his work for him. When the French were defeated and the British had left he set about the remnants of the Mamluks. After several years of fighting he proposed a truce, and invited the leaders of the Mamluks to attend a banquet at his palace in Cairo. The Mamluks signed a peace treaty, but when they left the palace his men ambushed them and slaughtered the lot.”

The captain abruptly leaned forward and spoke into the speaking tube in front of him on the bridge. “Reduce engines to quarter speed ahead if you please, Mister Mac Robert.” He then turned to the helmsman behind him. “Keep to the centre of the channel when rounding the many bends of the river. “ He raised his voice so those on deck could hear him. “All hands watch out for feluccas cutting across our bows.”
With the vessel slowed, and lookouts closely watching the river craft, Pendragharz continued talking to me. “You will do well to remember, Colonel, that all Christians are considered infidels by Moslems. They will lie to you without batting an eyelid. Even those former Christians who have converted to Islam -- which is what Moslems call their religion -- are viewed with suspicion. Do not trust any of them, and remember what befell the Mamluks.”

“Welcome to my humble abode, Colonel Elijah John Greenaway of His Majesty’s Sixty-Ninth Regiment of Foot.”
Sayeed bin Ghandou Pasha had a huge grin on his face, as well he might. His ‘humble abode was a palatial home fit for a monarch.
It was almost ten years since our meeting in Greece, and the skinny sixteen-year-old boy had developed into a well-built young man. He had filled out, but had not grown more than a few inches taller. He sported a neat, well- trimmed, beard, and his twinkling dark brown eyes beamed out of a much more rounded face than ten years earlier. In fact he had the beginning of double chin.
Sayeed exuded the air of irrepressible good humour that I noted when first meeting him, but I sensed beneath the veneer was a steelier, authoritarian, and more unforgiving man than the youth I had met ten years ago.

We were in the entrance hall of the building, where Sayeed stood flanked by a pair of scimitar-armed men I recognised as Nubians, the same type of guards employed by Eloise de La Zouche in Naples.
“Please introduce me to your wives, Colonel Elijah Greenaway. I thought only Moslems were allowed more than one, but I see you have three very attractive females in your entourage, besides an overweight manservant, and a young man I take is your body guard.”
I suppressed a snort of laughter to hear Crudwright described as ‘an overweight manservant’, and made the introductions.
“May I present Professor Valentine Crudwright, Chief Archaeologist of the expedition, his wife Missus Chastity Crudwright, and their daughter Georgina.”
Crudwright inclined his head, while Chastity performed a curtsy that would not have been out of place in the throne room of St James Palace. Georgina, who had winced in anger when introduced as ‘their daughter ‘ gave a slight bob, lowered her head and then gazed up at Sayeed through fluttering lashes.
His eyes fastened on her like the jaws of a bulldog on a marrow-filled bone.
I next indicated Rollo. “This gentleman is Captain Rowland Guest of His Britannic Majesty’s Corps of Engineers.”
Rollo removed his hat and bowed.
“And my wife, Lady Mimi Greenaway.” Mimi gave him a sweet smile and a curtsy.

Sayeed composed himself after visibly being smitten by Georgina. “I know you English only take one wife at a time, Colonel Elijah. I was making the prank, which I understand is a common practice in your country – to play the prank on one’s friends? “
“It is, Your Excellency, and you played a good prank on me.”
He came closer and took my arm and spoke quietly. “We are friends, Colonel Elijah, and you may address me as Sayeed. You are the man who saved my life; my house is your house, my servants are your servants, and my harem is your harem.”
He clapped his hands, and a bevy of servants scurried into the hall. Sayeed rapped out a series of orders in Egyptian, and we were escorted upstairs to opulent rooms, where it became obvious Sayeed knew exactly who was who in my party. Mimi and I had one suite of rooms, and Professor Crudwright and his wife another. Rollo was quartered in a small room next to our suite, and Georgina ‘s room was opposite that of her father and step mother.

Dinner that evening was a strange affair as only males were seated at the dinner table. I say ‘seated’ but we all sat cross-legged on cushions around a low table. It is not the practice in Egyptian society for males and females to eat together, especially if those females are not related to the males.
Before we went down to dinner Sayeed sent one of his servants who spoke some English to explain the situation.
Mimi, Chastity, and Georgina were conveyed to the harem, a suite of rooms on the third floor of the palace. There they would eat with the women of the harem, which consisted of Sayeed’s three wives and a half dozen or so concubines. The latter were gifted from other Pashas, the daughters of influential Egyptians, or non-Moslem females seized by raiders on land or at sea. Female slaves – kitchen staff and house maids – also sleep in the harem, where males, other than the owner of the harem, and eunuchs, are forbidden to enter.
Rollo, Crudwright, and I joined Sayeed and two other Egyptians on the cushions set around a low table, and were waited on by slave girls.
One of the men at the table was Sayeed’s father, Ghandou bin Makram el Fayyad, the other fellow being Mustapha ibn Kamal, who was a few years older than Sayeed, and commanded the Provincial Guard.

Little was said at the ‘table’ during the meal. Fortunately, Luther Pendragharz had instructed us Europeans as to the etiquette at meal times in the Moslem world. It is considered polite to belch after a meal, as it shows appreciation of what you have eaten. However, one must never, ever, use the left hand to eat with. All food from communal dishes has to be taken with the right hand.
‘The left hand is reserved for a bowel movement related, intimate, hygienic, usage,’ Luther had said, “and is thus unclean. Using your left hand to pluck food from the communal pot will not only greatly offend your fellow guests at table but will also result in a public flogging.”
‘How do left handed people manage?’ Crudwright had asked.
‘There are none, Professor; any child born left handed is forced to use their right hand by having the left immobilised from an early age. As it happens I am left handed, and always take a fork to meals,” Pendragharz said. “I place the fork in my left hand but reach into the pot with my right. If I momentarily forget and use the left hand the fork is considered ‘clean’, even if the hand holding it is not. A fork has saved me a lot of whippings!’

The dishes served at Sayeed’s palace were similar to those we had experienced aboard Golden Horn, being mainly vegetables, most unknown to me, although I did recognise some pulses and legumes. The meat in the pot generally was rabbit or chicken, flavoured with herbs and spices, and extremely appetising. Egyptians use bread to scoop up food from the communal pots, including those containing sauces and dips, thus keeping their hands from becoming greasy.
I hoped the ladies were having a similar meal as the males because there was garlic in the pot, and although Mimi and I adore garlic the smell and taste is readily discernible, and romantically off-putting, to anyone who has not partaken of that particular vegetable.

After the meal we reclined on our cushions, and Sayeed ordered maps to be brought in and spread on the table.
“Show me the area you intend to explore, Professor,” he said.
Crudwright pointed to the east of the Nile delta. “There is a Lake Timsah near the...”
“But that is nowhere near where other expeditions have been excavating. The Nile valley is where the many monuments and burial places of the Ancient Ones are situated.” Sayeed said, obviously astonished by Crudwright’s choice of search area.
“We are aware of that, Your Excellency, but we are not tomb robbers seeking treasure but seekers of truth,” Crudwright said, and I must say he made the point rather well, and not too far from the credo of those savants who had accompanied Napoleon to Egypt.
“Excavating in sandy soil is quite a specialised occupation, Professor,” Sayeed said. “It is from the inhabitants of the Nile valley villages and towns that expeditions recruit their teams of diggers. There will be no expertise in Timsah, and your workforce will need to be obtained from Cairo. How many men will you require?”
Crudwright thought a few moments. “I estimate no more than fifty, possibly only forty if they are experienced and have efficient overseers.”
“You will also need servants; cooks and kitchen maids, washerwomen, water carriers, draught animals – and their drivers, and guards of course.” Sayeed enumerated our needs on his fingers. “For the latter I will detach men from the Provincial Guard – Mustapha will see to that – but the rest of the workers need to be hired, and paid, by you. How much are you prepared to pay?”
“Whatever the going rate is, Your Excellency,” I said. “I am in command of the expedition and control the purse strings.”
I was wearing the money belt given me by Rossiter Player containing three hundred gold sovereigns, and it was damned heavy and uncomfortable.