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That evening when she summoned him to her tent he was able to assure the princess that ‘I have despatched both my trackers to make the arrangements for us to hunt long pigs. They know of an Arab whose dhows ply the length and breadth of Lake Victoria. His main business is in ivory and hides, but clandestinely he deals in other goods.’

‘That is exciting. I knew I could rely on you, Courtney.’ The princess fidgeted, crossing and recrossing her long legs, wriggling her bottom on the canvas seat of her chair as though she was scratching an itch. ‘The very thought excites me. When do you think your people will return?’

‘I would expect them here in five or six days, leaving plenty of time for you to introduce me to this new sport before you leave.’

‘Until then we must amuse ourselves as best we can.’ She lay back in the chair and lifted the skirts of her riding habit to her knees. ‘I am sure you can find something to entertain me.’

Four evenings later Leon brought the princess back to camp after a day of pursuing warthogs. She was in a black, furious mood. He had orchestrated four drives for her, and none had succeeded. Each time, the quarry had flushed from cover unexpectedly and caught them unprepared. The princess had not fired a single shot all day at her favoured quarry. On the homeward ride she had worked off some of her ire on a troop of baboons, shooting five out of the treetops before the survivors escaped in shrieking panic.

Approaching the outskirts of the camp Leon was surprised to see two Ford motor-cars, painted in drab military brown, parked beside the skinning shed. As they rode past, a handful of askari in the uniforms of the KAR fell smartly into line, sloped their rifles and saluted. Leon recognized the sergeant and his troopers. They were members of the regimental headquarters guard. His spirits soared as he acknowledged them. ‘At ease, Sergeant Miomani.’

The NCO grinned with delight that Leon remembered him and snapped his arm down smartly. He shouted at his men, ‘Order arms! Stand at ease! Fall out. One, two, three!’

They rode on into the camp.

‘Who are those people, and what are they doing here, Courtney?’ the princess demanded.

‘They are British soldiers, Your Royal Highness, that much I can tell you. But as to why they are here I have no idea,’ he lied smoothly. ‘I expect we shall be enlightened soon enough.’ But he held the thought that Loikot and Manyoro must have run like gazelle and Penrod Ballantyne driven like a fury to get here a day earlier than he had anticipated.

Leon and the princess dismounted outside the mess tent and Leon shouted to the kitchen for Ishmael to bring coffee – ‘and make sure it’s hot!’ Then he ushered the princess into the cool gloom of the tent.

Penrod rose from one of the camp chairs and quickly forestalled any remark that Leon could make. ‘I expect you are surprised to see me.’ He seized Leon’s right hand and shook it, then turned to the princess. ‘Would you be so kind as to present me to Her Royal Highness?’

‘Your Royal Highness, may I present Colonel Penrod Ballantyne?’ he said, then noticed the crown and the trio of stars on Penrod’s epaulettes. His uncle’s promotion must have come through since their last meeting, and he corrected himself quickly: ‘I beg your pardon, Princess. I should have said Brigadier General Penrod Ballantyne, the officer commanding His Britannic Majesty’s forces in British East Africa.’ Penrod saluted, then took three smart paces forward and offered her his right hand.

The princess ignored it and studied his face coldly, ‘Ah, so!’ she said, walked past him and seated herself in her usual chair at the table. ‘Courtney, tell your cook to hurry with my coffee. I am thirsty.’ She had spoken in German. Then she looked at Penrod again. ‘What do you want here? This is a private safari. You are disturbing my pleasure.’ Her English was flawless.

Penrod went to the chair facing hers across the table. As he lowered himself into it he said, ‘Your Royal Highness, I apologize for my intrusion but I am here on behalf of His Excellency the Governor of British East Africa.’

‘I did not invite you to be seated,’ the princess told him, and Penrod stood up abruptly.

His face turned puce but his voice remained level. ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am.’

‘They have no manners, these English.’ She spoke to the air above his head. ‘Ja, so? What does this governor of yours want from me?’

‘He has sent me to inform you that a severe epidemic of Rift Valley rabies has broken out and is sweeping through the territory. Already more than a thousand local people have succumbed to the disease, and more are dying each day. The latest reported deaths are from villages not far from here. Your Royal Highness, you are in mortal danger.’ The princess’s lofty expression changed dramatically. She stared at Penrod in horror. ‘What is this Rift Valley rabies?’

‘I believe the German translation is Tollwut, ma’am.’

‘Tollwut? Mein Gott!’