Luigi Castelani seized the chance. As the bugle sang its brassy
command, the Italian infantry rose from the trenches, and the formation
of tanks rumbled forward.
The corpse of the ancient Harari warrior lay directly in the track of
the command tank, and the rumbling steel treads pressed it into the
rocky ground as it passed over, squashing it like the carcass of a
rabbit on a highway, as it bore Colonel Count Aldo Belli triumphantly
up the gorge to Sardi and the Dessie road.
At the wall of rock built right across the throat of the gorge, the
armoured column ground to a halt, blocked at the very lip of the
valley, and when the Italian infantry, who had moved under cover of the
black steel hulls, swarmed out to tear the wall down, they met another
wave of Ethiopian defenders who rose from where they had been lying
behind the wall, and immediately attackers and defenders had become so
entwined in a single struggling mass that the artillery and machine
guns could not fire for fear of gunning down their own.
Three times during the morning the infantry had been thrown back from
the wall, and the heavy artillery barrage that they had directed
against it made no impression on the granite boulders. When the tanks
came clanking and squealing like great black beetles hunting for a
breach, there was none, and the trace had clawed sparks from the rock
but been unable to lift the great weight of steel at the acute angle
necessary to climb the wall.
Now there was a lull that had lasted almost half an hour, and
Gareth and Jake sat shoulder to shoulder, leaning against one of the
massive granite blocks. Both of them were staring upwards at the
sky,
and it was Jake who broke the silence.
"There is the blue." They saw it through the last eddying banks of
cloud that still clung like the white arms of a lover to the shoulder
of the mountain, but were slowly smeared away by the fresh dry breeze
off the desert.
A ray of brilliant sunlight burst into the valley, and threw a rainbow
of vivid colour in a mighty arc from mountain to mountain.
"That's beautiful," murmured Gareth Softly, staring upwards.
Jake drew the watch from his pocket, and glanced at the dial.
"Seven minutes past eleven." He read the hands. "Just about right now
they'll radio them that the clouds are open.
They'll be sitting in the cockpits, eager as fighting cocks." He
patted the watch back into his pocket. "In just thirty-five minutes
they'll be here." Gareth straightened up and pushed the lank blond
hair off his forehead.
"I know one gentleman who won't be here when they come.
"Make that two, "Jake agreed.
"That's it, old son. We've done our bit. Old Lij Mikhael can't grouse
about a couple of minutes. It will be as close to noon as pleasure is
to sin."
"What about these poor devils?" Jake indicated the few hundreds of
Harari who crouched with them behind the wall of rock all that remained
of Ras Golam's army.
"As soon as we hear the bombers coming, they can beat it. Off into the
mountains like a pack of long dogs-" after a bitch, "Jake finished for
him, and grinned.
"Precisely."
"Someone will have to explain it to them."
"I'll go and fetch young Sara to tell them," and he crawled away, using
the wall as cover from the Italian snipers who had taken up position in
the cliffs above them.
Priscilla the Pig was parked five hundred yards back in a grassy
wrinkle of ground, under a screen of cedar trees, beside the road.
Gareth saw immediately that Vicky had recovered from the state of
collapse in which they had found her, although she was haggard and
pale, and the torn rags of her clothing were filthy, stained with dried
blood from the long flesh wound between her breasts. She was helping
Sara with the boy who lay on the floorboards of the cabin, and she
looked up with an expression which told of regained strength and
determination.
"How is he doing? "Gareth asked, leaning forward through the open rear
doors. The boy had been hit twice and been carried back from the
killing-ground of the gorge by two of his loyal tribes men.
"He will be all right, I think," said Vicky, and Gregorius opened his
eyes and whispered, "Yes, I'll be all right."
"Well, that's more than you deserve," grunted Gareth. "I left you in
charge not leading the charge."
"Major Swales." Sara looked up fiercely, protective as a mother. "It
was the bravest-"
"Spare me from brave and honest men,"
Gareth drawled.
"Cause of all the trouble in the world." And before Sara could flash
at him again he went on, "Come along with me, my dear. Need you to do
a bit of translating." Reluctantly she left Gregorius and climbed down
out of the car. Vicky followed her, and stood close to Gareth beside
the side of the hull.
"Are you all right? "she asked.
"Never better," he assured her, but now she noticed for the first time
the flush of unnatural colour in his cheeks and the feverish glitter in
his eyes.
Quickly she reached out and before he could prevent it she took the
hand of his injured arm. It was swollen like a balloon, and it had
turned a sickly greenish purple. She leaned forward to sniff the
