squeezed it, the girl winced slightly and Vicky seeing the crimson
linen of her blouse dampened in a wet dark patch at the nipple realized
that the girl's breast was heavy with milk.
Vicky's artificial sense of well-being was fast fading now, sinking
once again under the weight of her weariness, and lulled by the food in
her belly, the thick smoky atmosphere and the hypnotic cadence of the
Amharic language. She was on the point of excusing herself from the
Lij and leaving when there was a disturbance outside the room, and the
shrill angry cries of a voice creaking with age and indi nation The
room was immediately electric with a charged feeling of expectation,
and Ras Kullah looked up and called out querulously.
A youth of perhaps nineteen years of age was dragged into the room and
held by two armed guards in the centre of the hastily cleared space
before Ras Kullah. His arms were bound with rawhide that cut deeply
into the flesh of his wrists, and his face was wet and shiny with the
sweat of fear, while his eyes rolled wildly in their sockets.
He was followed by a shrieking crone, a wizened baboon like figure,
swathed in a voluminous black sham mastiff with filth and greenish with
age. Repeatedly she attempted to attack the captive youth, clawing at
his face with bony hooked fingers, her toothless old mouth opened in a
dark pink-lined pit as she leaped and cavorted before the terrified
youth, trying again and again to reach him, while the two guys pushed
her away with c ee gu aw and playful blows, never relinquishing their
grip on their prisoner.
The Ras leaned forward to watch this play with awakening interest, his
dark dull eyes taking on a sparkle of anticipation as he asked a
question, and the crone flew to him and flung herself full-length
before him.
She began to bleat out a long high-pitched plea, attempting at the same
time to grasp and kiss the Ras's feet. The Ras giggled with
anticipation, kicking away the old woman's hands and occasionally
asking a question that was answered either by the guards or the
grovelling crone.
"Miss Camberwell whispered the Prince. "I suggest that you leave now.
This will not be pleasant to watch."
"What is it?" Vicky demanded, her professional instincts roused. "What
are they doing?" "The woman accuses the youth of murdering her son.
The guards are her witnesses and the Ras is trying the case.
He will give judgement in a moment, and the sentence will be carried
out immediately."
Here? "Vicky looked startled.
"Yes, Miss Camberwell. I urge you to leave. The punishment will be
biblical, from the Old Testament which is the centre of the Coptic
faith. It will be a tooth for a tooth." Vicky hesitated to take the
Prince's advice, all human experience was her field no matter how
bizarre, and suddenly it was too late.
Laughingly, the Ras thrust the old woman away again with a kick to the
chest that sent her sprawling across the beaten earth floor and he
called a peremptory command to the guards who held the accused youth.
Flapping like a maimed black crow upon the floor, the crone set up a
wailing shriek of triumph as she heard the verdict, and she tried to
regain her feet. The guards guffawed again and began to strip away the
condemned man's clothing, tearing it from his body until he stood
completely naked except for his bonds.
The crowded room now buzzed with excitement at the coming
entertainment, and the doorway and windows were packed with those who
had come in from the encampment amongst the cosa flora trees. Even the
two impassive madonnas who flanked the Ras had become animated, leaning
forward to chatter softly to each other, smiling secretly as their
dark-moon eyes shone and the full swollen breasts swung heavily under
the thin material of their blouses.
The doomed youth was whimpering softly, his head turning back and
forth, as though seeking escape, his naked body slim and finely muscled
with dark amber skin that, glowed in the lamplight, and his arms bound
tightly behind his back. His legs were long and the muscles looked
hard and beautifully sculptured, and the dark bush of curls in his
groin was dense and crisp-looking. His thick circumcised penis hung
limply, seeming to epitomize the man's despair.
Vicky tried to tear her eyes away, ashamed to look upon a human being
stripped thus of all dignity, but the spectacle was mesmeric.
The old woman hopped and flapped in front of the captive, her wrinkled
brown features contorted in an expression of utter malice and she
opened her toothless mouth and spat into his face. The spittle ran
down his cheek and dripped on to his chest.
"Please leave now," Lij Mikhael urged Vicky, and she tried to rise, but
it seemed that her legs would not respond.
One of the Galla warriors sitting opposite Vicky drew the narrow-bladed
dagger from the tooled leather sheath on his hip. The handle was
carved from the horn of a kudu bull and bound with copper wire, the
blade was slightly curved and viciously pointed, twice the span of a
man's hand in length. He shouted to attract the woman's attention,
