‘That gracious lady and I exchanged barely a dozen words on the entire journey to the coast. I rely on you to bring me up to date. That’s why I came to fetch you. Out here we can talk without fear of eavesdroppers.’ He waved a hand at the surrounding forest and the rolling green hills. ‘Not many big ears and eyes out here. So now, Leon, tell your indulgent uncle everything.’
‘You had better fasten the chin-strap of your helmet, sir, or it will likely be blown sky-high by my revelations.’
‘Start at the beginning, and leave nothing out.’ The leisurely ride to the Muthaiga Country Club took almost an hour and a half, just long enough for Leon to make his report. Penrod did not interrupt except to confirm a name or to ask him to enlarge on some detail. More than once he drew a sharp breath, his features registering extreme disapproval. They were riding up the driveway to the club before Leon was able to say, ‘That’s about it, Uncle.’
‘Enough and more than enough,’ Penrod replied grimly. ‘Coming from anybody but you I would have had reservations. Some of it is so bizarre as to be almost beyond the grasp of a rational mind. You have accomplished more than I could possibly have hoped for.’
‘Do you want me to write all this down, sir?’
‘No. If you had done so previously she would have tumbled to you when she searched your tent. I’ll remember it, probably never forget it for the rest of my days.’ Penrod was silent until they reached the end of the driveway and pulled up their horses in front of the clubhouse. Then he said quietly, ‘A remarkable lady, this princess of yours, Leon.’
‘Not mine, sir, I assure you. As far as I’m concerned the hyenas can have her.’
‘Come, let’s go to lunch. Chefie has marrow bones and cornedbeef hot-pot on the menu today. I hope your grisly tales haven’t spoiled my appetite.’
‘Nothing could do that, sir.’
‘Careful, my lad. Show some respect for my grey hairs and the stars on my shoulders.’
‘Forgive me, General. I meant no offence. I was simply implying that you are a connoisseur of impeccable taste.’
Once Penrod had greeted most of the other diners in the room, stopping for a moment at each table, they finally reached the terrace and settled into their chairs under the bougainvillaeas. Malonzi opened and poured the wine, then served the hors d’oeuvre of marrow bones on toast and withdrew discreetly.
‘Let me bring you up to date with everything that has been happening in the wider world while you’ve been cavorting with royalty and warthogs in the wilderness.’ Penrod scooped a large greasy lump of marrow out of the bone on to his toast, as he began a short résumé of events in Europe. ‘The most startling item of gossip is that in the recent elections the Social Democratic Party has, for the first time in history, become the largest party in the German Reichstag. It has more than doubled its seat total from the 1907 election. Big trouble brewing there. The German military ruling élite will have to do something spectacular to reassert themselves. Anyone for a nice little war?’ He popped the marrow toast into his mouth and chewed with gusto. ‘And Serbia will surely want to wade into Austria. How about another little war? Talking of which, the one in Turkey rumbles on. The Turks have thrown the Bulgarians back from the gates of Constantinople, but it cost them twenty thousand casualties . . .’ He devoured the rest of the marrow and washed it down with a glass of Margaux.
While he waited for Malonzi to serve the hot-pot he went on, ‘Now, closer to home you have a large accumulation of mail, which includes a dozen or more enquiries for your services as a hunter. I picked them up from the post office and read them to save you the trouble.’
‘I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again. Uncle, you’re a brick!’
Penrod acknowledged the compliment with a gracious wave of his fork.
‘Most of these communications were from nobodies – I discarded those. However, three show great promise, all from our favourite country, Deutschland. One is from a conservative minister of government, the second from a Count Bauer, an adviser to the Imperial Chancellor, Theobald von Bethmann-Hollweg, and the third from a captain of industry who is the largest single contractor to the military. Naturally we wish to cultivate all three. However, the most attractive from our point of view is the industrialist. His name is Graf Otto Kurt Thomas von Meerbach. He is the head of the Meerbach Motor Works.’
‘I know of them.’ Leon was impressed. ‘They developed the Meerbach rotary engine for aeroplanes. They’re in competition with Count Zeppelin working on dirigible airships. Hell’s bells and buckets of blood! I’d love to meet the fellow. I’m fascinated by the idea of taking to the skies, but to date I’ve never even laid eyes on one of the incredible new flying machines, let alone had a chance to go up in one.’
