Death
of a
King

His Majesty would be pleased to see Cooke Pasha and the officers of the Divisional Staff in his Summer Palace at nine tomorrow morning, before His Majesty went to Friday Prayers at the El Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem; so ran the unexpected summons, delivered to the Headquarters late in the evening. Much bustle it caused. Plans for picnics, and shopping expeditions to the Bazaar by the British Officers and their wives were postponed, Friday being a usual holiday for non-Moslems. Batmen were sent for and belt snd shoe polishing and uniform pressing continued until far into the night. The honour of such a personal audience was unusual as well as unexpected and turn-out must be impeccable.
Promptly at half past eight next morning the GOC and the four British Staff Officers, accompanied by an Arab Staff Officer as interpreter, reached the Summer Palace just north of Jerusalem. They were not the only persons to be so honoured at this time. Already in the courtyard were a chattering, gesticulating crowd of officials, Mayors, Village headmen, petitioners of every kind, some by appointment, some merely in hope. The sun has been well up for hours, and it was already hot, with all the glare of a Palestinian June. It was long after nine before the summons came and the GSOI, seeking the shade of an alcove, passed the time by chatting with a cultivated Arab gentleman, in a London-tailored light grey suit and white silk head-dress, who talked with almost too perfect an "Oxford" accent. He was interested in cricket and discussed the current Test matches from an informed and critical viewpoint. The GSOI was not so interested but thought it would be letting his country down to admit this.
The Arab gentleman was hanged a couple of months later for his complicity in the vent which at that time, of all the talkative crowd in the courtyard, he alone could foresee.
At last, just as their uniforms, laundered and pressed into crackling creases and smooth surfaces,

were beginning to dissolve lumpishly in sweat, the summons came, and in they went. King Abdulla, sitting on a large sofa in the cooler shadows, rose courteously to his feet to greet the General and his staff. After they had made their bows he called forward a boy of about sixteen, who had been standing modestly behind the King, and introduced him to the General as "my dear grandson, Hussein who one day a long time hence, will reign in my place and my son's place!" The Prince had the face of the Harrow schoolboy he then was, but a dignity also which carried off the ornate uniform, medals, aiguillettes, without too much incongruity.
Coffee was brought; conversations with Kings tend to be somewhat formal and one-sided, and particularly when conducted through an interpreter. But indeed, apart from the great respect and warm admiration of the British Officers for the Arab ruler they then served. King Abdulla's conversation was notably a delight to listen to, in any language, on any subject.
The King spoke charmingly of his acknowledgement of the great assistance, as he said, his army received from its seconded British Officers. Sadly of the position of "occupied Palestine" and the many Arab refugees, most of them dependant on his own small and poor country of Jordan, and foreign charity. "Always" said his Majesty" I have been friends of the British and I have told my grandson here that when, under the will of Allah, he becomes King after his father, he too must keep the friendship of the British."
In half an hour the King rose, making the excuse, unnecessary for Royalty but typical of his courtesy, that he had many to see before he went to the Mosque in an hour's time. So the GOC and his officers backed out and went home to their homes in Ramallah.
The GSOl's wife was waiting, with some impatience, to be taken shopping in the Jerusalem Bazaar. A usual Friday morning occupation for the British, but a novelty to her, since she had just arrived from the U.K. After a quick shower and a welcome change into cool civilian clothes the GSOI was ready. Car and Arab chauffeur were called and the few miles drive to Jerusalem began. A couple of miles from the Old City they saw a Land-Rover in a ditch and around it four or five unhurt but very excited Bedouin soldiers. Their almost hysterical condition was plainly not attributable to a minor road accident, such incidents being taken as routine by most Arabs. So the GSOI, Curwin, told his driver to stop, and inquire. The Driver returned to the car, grey faced. "These men