When the wheels spun viciously in the loose red earth, blowing out a storm of grit and pebbles, Jake and Gregorius were ready to throw their weight against it and this was just sufficient to keep the vehicle moving. Slowly it ground its way up the almost vertical climb, the rear end kicking and yawing under the thrust of the spinning wheels, until at last it burst out over the top, and Gareth shut down the power and jumped out laughing.
"Right, now we can tow the other cars up the bank," and he produced a celebratory cheroot.
"What was that piece of dog Latin you recited just then Jake asked, as he accepted the cheroot.
"Old family war cry," Gareth explained. "Shouted by the fighting Swales at Hastings, gin court and in the knocking shops of the world."
aW hat does it mean?"
"Nob Xegidmi carborundum?" Gareth grinned again as he lit the cheroots. "It means, "Don't let the bastards grind you down"." One at a time, they brought the other three cars down into the ravine, and hitched them up to the vehicle on the far bank. Then with Vicky driving, Gareth towing, and Jake and Gregorius shoving, they hauled them up on to the level, sunbaked soil of Ethiopia. It was late afternoon when at last they fell panting in the long shadow thrown by Miss Wobbly's chassis, to rest and smoke and drink steaming mugs of hastily brewed tea. Gregorius told them: "No more obstacles ahead of us now. It's open ground all the way to the Wells," and then he smiled at the three of them with white teeth in a smooth honey-coloured face.
"Welcome to Ethiopia!"
"Quite frankly, old -chap, I'd much prefer to be sitting at Harry's Bar in the rue Daunou," said Gareth soberly which is exactly what I will be doing not long after Toffee Sagud presses a purse of gold into my milk-white hand." Jake stood up suddenly and peered out into the dancing heat waves that still poured from the hot earth like swirling liquid. Then he ran quickly across to his own car and leapt up into the turret, emerging seconds later with his binoculars.
The others stood up uneasily and watched him focus the glasses.
"Rider," said Jake.
"How many? "Gareth demanded.
"Just the one. Coming this way fast. "Gareth moved across to fetch the Lee-Enfield and work a cartridge into the breech.
They saw him now, galloping through the dizzy heat mirage, so that at one moment horse and rider seemed to float free of the earth, and then sink back and swell miraculously, growing to elephantine proportions in the heat-tortured air. Dust drifted behind the running horse and it was only at close range that the rider came into crisp focus.
Gregorius let out a bellow like a rutting stag and raced out into the sunshine to meet the newcomer. In a brilliant display of horsemanship the rider reined in the big white stallion so abruptly that he plunged and reared, cutting at the air with his fore hooves With white robes billowing, he flung himself from the horse, and into Gregorius's widespread arms.
The two figures joined together rapturously, the stranger suddenly seeming small and delicate in Gregorius's arms, and the cries of laughter and greeting high and birdlike.
Then hand in hand, looking into each other's faces, they came back to the group that waited by the cars.
"My God, it's another girl," said Gareth with amazement, setting the loaded rifle aside, and they all stared at the slim, dark-eyed child in her late teens with a skin like dusky silk and immense dark eyes fringed with long curling lashes.
"May I introduce Sara Sagud?" asked Gregorius. "She is my cousin, my uncle's youngest daughter, and she is also without doubt the prettiest lady in Ethiopia."
"I see what you mean," said Gareth. "Very decorative indeed." As Gregorius, introduced each of them to her by name, the girl smiled at them, and the long aristocratic face with the serenity of an Egyptian princess, the delicate features and chiselled nose of a Nefertiti, changed instantly to a sparkling childlike mischievousness.
"I knew you must cross the Awash here, it is the only place and I came to meet you."
"She speaks English also," Gregorius pointed out proudly.
"My grandfather insists that all his children and his grand.children learn to speak English. He is a great lover of the English."
"You speak it well," Vicky congratulated Sara, although in fact her English was heavily accented, and the girl turned to her, smiling anew.
"The sisters at the convent of the Sacred Heart in Berbera taught me," she explained, and she examined Vicky with frank and unabashed admiration. "You are very beautiful, Miss Camberwell, your hair is the colour of the winter grass in the highlands," and Vicky's usual composure was rocked.
She blushed faintly and laughed, but Sara's attention had flicked away to the armoured cars.
"Ah, they also are beautiful nobody has spoken of anything else, since they heard these were coming." She hoisted the skirts of her robe up over her tight-fitting embroidered breeches, and hopped agilely up on to the steel body of Miss Wobbly. "With these we shall throw the Italians back into the sea. Nothing can stand before the courage of our warriors and these fine war machines." She flung her arms wide in a dramatic gesture and then turned. to Jake and Gareth. "I am honoured to be the first of all my people to thank you."
"Don't mention it, my dear girl," Gareth murmured, "our pleasure, I assure you." He refrained from asking if her father had remembered to bring the cash with him, but asked instead, "aAre your people waiting for us at the Wells?"
"my grandfather has come with my father and all my uncles. His personal guard is with him, and many hundreds of others of the Harari, together with their women and animals."
"My God," growled Jake "It sounds like a helluva reception committee."
They camped that last night of the journey on the bank of the Awash under the spreading umbrella branches of a camel thorn tree, sitting late and talking in the ruddy flickering glow of the fire, secure within the square fort formed by the four hulking steel vehicles. At last the talk died away into a weary but friendly silence, and Vicky stood up.
"A short walk for me, and then bed." Sara stood with her. "I'll come with you." Her fascination with and admiration for Vicky was increasingly apparent, and she followed her out of the laager like a faithful puppy.
Away from the camp, they squatted side by side in companionable fashion under a night sky splendid with star shot, and Sara told Vicky seriously, "They both desire you greatly Jake and Gareth." Vicky laughed awkwardly again, once more discomposed by the girl's direct manner.
"Oh, come now."
"Oh yes, when you come near them, they are like two dogs, all stiff and walking around each other as though they will sniff each other up the tail." Sara giggled, and Vicky had to smile with her.
"Which one will you choose, Miss Camberwell?" Sara demanded.
"Lardy, do I have to? "Vicky was still smiling.
"Oh no," Sara reassured her. "You can make love with both of them. I would do so."
"You would? "Vicky asked.
"Yes, I would. What other way can you tell which one you like best?"
"That's true." Vicky was becoming breathless with suppressed laughter, but fascinated by this bit of logic. The idea had a certain appeal, she admitted to herself.
"I will make love with twenty men before I marry Gregorius. That way I will be sure I have missed nothing, and I will not regret it when I am old," declared the girl.
"Why twenty, Sara?" Vicky tried to keep her voice as serious as the girl's. "Why not twenty-three or twenty-six?" Oh no," said Sara primly. "I would not want people to think me a loose woman," and Vicky could hold her laughter no longer.