air of authority that he seemed taller. His shoulders were broad and his
body square and chunky, with the beginning of a dignified spread around
the waist. He wore a short curly beard which contained a few strands of
grey, and his features were refined and handsome. His skin tones were
amber and copper. His dark eyes were intelligent, his gaze quick and
restless.
"My men tell me that you speak Arabic," he said to -Nicholas.
"Better than you do, Mek Nimmur,'Nicholas told him.
"So now you are the leader of a bunch of bandits and kidnappers? I
always told you that you would never get to heaven, you old reprobate."
Mek Nimmur stared at him in astonishment, and then began to smile.
"Nicholas! I did not recognize you. You are older. Look at the grey on
your head!'
He opened his arms wide and folded Nicholas into a bear hug.
"Nicholas! Nicholas!" He kissed him once on each cheek. Then he held him
at arm's length and looked at the two women, who were standing amazed.
"He saved my life," he explained to them.
"You make me blush, Mek." Mek kissed him again' "He saved my life
twice."
"Once," Nicholas contradicted him. "The second time was a mistake. I
should have let them shoot you."
Mek laughed delightedly. "How long ago was it, Nicholas?"
"It doesn't bear thinking about."
"Fifteen years ago at least,'.Mek said. "Are you still in the British
army? What is your rank? You must be a general by now!'
"Reserves only," Nicholas shook his head. "I have been back in civvy
street a long time now."
Still hugging Nicholas, Mek Nimmur looked at the women with interest.
"Nicholas taught me most of what I know about soldiering," he told them.
His eyes flicked from Royan to Tessay, and then stayed on the Ethiopian
girl's dark and lovely face.
"I know you," he said. "I saw you in Addis, years ago.
You were a young girl then. Your father was Alto Zemen, a great and good
man. He was murdered by the tyrant Mengistu."
"I know you also, Alto Mek. My father held you in high esteem. There are
many of us who believe that you should be the president of this Ethiopia
of ours, in place of that other one." She dropped him a graceful little
curtsey, hanging her head in a shy but appealing gesture of respect.
"I am flattered by your opinion of me." He took her hand and lifted her
to her full height. Then he turned back to Nicholas, "I am sorry for the
rough welcome, Some of my men are over-enthusiastic. I knew that there
were ferengi asking questions at the monastery. But enough, you are with
friends here. I bid you welcome."
Mek Nimmur led them to his shelter, where one of his men brought a
soot-blackened kettle from the fire and poured viscous black coffee into
mugs for them.
He and Nicholas plunged into reminiscences of the days prior to the
Falklands war when they had fought side by side, Nicholas as a covert
military adviser, and Mek as a young freedom fighter opposing the
tyranny of Mengistu.
"But the war is over now, Mek, Nicholas remonstrated at last. "The
battle is won. Why are you still out in the bush with your men? Why
aren't you getting rich and fat in Addis, like all the others?"
"In the interim government in Addis there are enemies Of mine, men like
Mengistu. When we have got rid of them, then I will come out of the
bush."
He and Nicholas embarked into a spirited discussion of African politics,
so deep and complicated that Royan knew very few of the personalities
whom they were discussing. Nor could she follow the nuances and the
subtlety of religious and tribal prejudices and intolerance that had
persisted for a thousand years. She was, however, impressed by
Nicholas's knowledge and understanding of the situation, and the way in
which a man like Mek Nimmur asked his opinion and listened to his
advice.
In the end Nicholas asked him, "So now you have carried the war beyond
the borders of Ethiopia itself? You are operating in Sudan, as well?"
"The war in the Sudan has been raging for twenty years," Mek confirmed.
"The Christians in the south fighting against the persecution of the
Moslem nor the-"
"I am well aware of that, Mek. But that is not Ethiopia.
It's not your war."
"They are Christians, and they suffer injustice. I am a soldier and a
Christian. Of course it is my war." Tessay had ty to every word that Mek
spoke, and been listening avid now she nodded her head in agreement, her
eyes dark and solemn with hero worship.
"Alto Mek is a crusader for Christ and the rights of the common
man,'Tessa told Nicholas in awed tones.
"And he dearly loves a good fight," Nicholas laughed, punching his
shoulder affectionately. It was a familiar gesture which could easily
have given offence, but Mek accepted it readily and laughed back at him.
"What are you doing here yourself, Nicholas, if you are no longer a
soldier? There was a time when you also loved a good fight."
"I am completely reformed. No more fighting. I have come to the Abbay
gorge to hunt dik-dik."
"Dik-dik?l Mek Nimmur stared at him with disbelief, and then he roared
with laughter. "I don't believe it. Not you. Not dik-dik. You are up to
something."
"It is the truth."
"You are lying, Nicholas. You never could lie to me. I know you too
well. You are up to something. You will tell me about it when you need
my help."
"And you will still give me your help?"
"Of course. You saved my life twice."
"Once,'said Nicholas.
"Even once is enough," said Mek Nimmur.
while they talked, the sun slanted down the sky.
"You are my guests for tonight," Mek Nimmur told them formally. "In the
morning I will escort you back to your camp at the monastery of St..
Frumentius.
That is also my destination. My men and I are going to the monastery to
celebrate the festival of Timkat- The abbot, Jali Hora, is a friend and
an ally."
"And the monastery is probably your deep cover base.
You use it and the monks for resupply and intelligence.
Am I right?"
"You know me too well, Nicholas."Mek Nimmur shook his head ruefully.
"You taught me much of what I know, so why should you not be able to
guess my strategy? The monastery makes a perfect base of operations.
It's close enough to the border-' he broke off, smiling. "But there is
no need to explain it to you, of all people."
Mek had his men build a night shelter for Nicholas and Royan, and cut a
mattress of grass to cushion their sleep. They lay close together under
the flimsy roof. The night was sultry, and they did not miss their
blankets.
Nicholas had a tube of insect repellent in his pack to keep the
mosquitoes at bay After they had settled down on the grass mattress,
their heads were close enough together to allow them to converse in
quiet tones. When he turned his head Nicholas could see the dark
silhouettes of Mek Nimmur and Tessay still sitting close together by the
fire.
"Ethiopian girls are different from the Arabs, and from most other
African women." Royan too was watching the other couple. "No Arab girl
would dare be alone with a man like that. Especially if she were a
married woman."
"Any way you cut it, they make a damned fine pair," he gave his opinion.
"Good luck to them. Tessay hasn't had much of that lately - she is
overdue."
He turned his head and looked into her face, "What about you, Royan,
what are you? Are you a decorous, submissive Arab, or an independent,
assertive Western girl?"
"It's both a little early and much too late for intimate questions of