"But if he was skulking up in the hills, as he usually does,
waiting for the attack to succeed before he shows himself," she spat
expressively over the side of the hull, "then his men would not dare
begin the execution, until he was there to watch and enjoy the work of
his milch cows. I have heard they can take the skin off a living body
working carefully with their little knives, every inch of skin from
head to toes, and the body still lives for many hours." And Jake
shuddered with horror.
fire "If you're ready, old boy. I think we could move on now!"
said Gareth, and with an effort Jake roused himself and dropped back
into the driver's hatch.
There seemed to be a suggestion of the false dawn lightening the narrow
strip of sky high above the mountains when Gregorius Maryam scrambled
back into the front line treches.
There was activity already amongst the shadowy figures that crowded the
narrow dugouts, and one of the Ras's bodyguard carrying a smoky
paraffin lantern greeted him with, "The Ras asks for you. "Gregorius
followed him down the trench, stepping carefully amongst the hundreds
of figures that slept uncaring on the muddy floor.
The Ras sat huddled in a grey blanket, in one of the larger dugouts off
the main trench. The open pit had been roofed in with the remnants of
one of the leather tents, and a small fire burned smokily in the
centre. The Ras was surrounded by a dozen of the officers of his
bodyguard, and he looked up as Gregorius knelt quietly before him.
"The white men have gone?" the Ras asked concluding with a a hacking
old man's cough that shook his whole frail body.
"They will return in the dawn, before the enemy attack." Gregorius
defended them quickly, and went on to explain the reasons and the
change of plans.
The Ras nodded, staring into the flickering fire, and when
Gregorius paused, he spoke again in that rasping, querulous tone.
"It is a sign and I would have it no other way. Too long I have
listened to the council of the Englishman, too long I have quenched the
fire in my belly, too long I have slunk like a dog from the enemy." He
coughed again, painfully.
"We have run far enough. The time has come to fight," and his officers
growled angrily in the gloom around him, and swayed closer to listen to
his words. "Go you to your men, rouse them, fill their bellies with
fire and their hands with steel. Tell them that the signal will be as
it was a hundred years ago, a thousand years ago.
Tell them to listen for my war drums," a suppressed roar of exultation
came from their throats, "the drums will beat up the dawn, and when
they cease, that will be the moment. "The Ras had struggled to his
feet,
and he stood naked above them; the blanket 2 fallen away, and his
skinny old chest heaved with the passion of his anger. "In that
moment, I, Ras Golam, will go down to drive the enemy back across the
desert and into the sea from which they came.
Every man who calls himself a warrior and an Harari will go down with
me-" and his voice was lost in the shrill loolooing of his officers,
and the Ras laughed, with the high ringing laugh close to madness.
One of his officers handed him a mug of the fiery tei and the Ras
poured it down his throat in a single draught, then hurled the mug upon
the fire.
Gregorius leapt to his feet and laid a restraining hand upon the skinny
old arm.
"Grandfather." The Ras swung to him, the bloodshot rheumy eyes burning
with a fierce new light.
"If you have woman's words to say to me, then swallow them and let them
choke the breath in your lungs, and turn to poison in your belly. "The
Ras glared at his grandson, and suddenly Gregorius understood.
He understood what the Ras was about to do. He was a man old and wise
enough to know that his world was passing, that the enemy was too
strong, that God had turned his back upon Ethiopia, that no matter how
brave the heart and how fierce the battle in the end there was defeat
and dishonour and slavery.
The Ras was choosing the other way the only other way.
The flash of understanding passed between the youth and the ancient,
and the Ras's eyes softened and he leaned towards Gregorius.
"But if the fire is in your belly also, if you will charge beside me
when the drums fall silent then kneel for my blessing." Suddenly
Gregorius felt all care and restraint fall away, and his heart soared
up like an eagle, borne aloft by the ancient atavistic joy of the
warrior.
He fell on one knee before the Ras.
"Give me your blessing, grandfather," he cried, and the Ras placed both
hands upon his bowed head and mumbled the biblical words.
A warm soft drop fell upon Gregorius's neck, and he looked up
startled.
The tears were running down the dark wrinkled cheeks, and dripping
unashamedly from the Ras's chin. Vicky Camberwell lay face down upon
the filthy earthen floor of one of the deserted tukuk on the outskirts
of the burning town. The floor swarmed with legions of lice, and they
crawled softly over her skin, and their bites set up a burning
irritation.
Her hands were bound behind her back with strips of rawhide rope,
