they found no sign of either of them. The slope above them was
devastated: raw ravaged earth, great rocks shattered, bushes and trees
uprooted and smashed to kindling.
Royan climbed as high as her injured leg enabled her, then cupped her
hands around her mbuth and shouted, "Tamre I Tamre! Tamre!" The echoes
took her cry and flung it from' all to valley wall.
"I think he is done for. The poor little devil has been buried,'
Nicholas called up to her. "We have been at it an hour now. We cannot
afford more time, if we are to get out ourselves. We will have to leave
him."
She ignored him and worked her way along the rockslide, loose scree
rolling under her feet, and he could see that the knee was giving her
pain.
"Tamre! Answer me," she called in Arabic. "Tamre!
Where are you?"
"Royan! That's enough. You are going to damage that knee even more. You
are putting both of us at risk now.
Give it up!'
At that moment they both heard a soft groan from higher up the slope.
Royan scrambled up towards the sound, slipping and sliding back almost
as far as she climbed, but at last she gave a cry of horror. Nicholas
dumped his pack and went up after her. When he reached her side, he too
dropped to his knees.
Tam-re was pinned down in the rubble. His face was barely recognizable.
It was torn and lacerated, with half the skin ripped off. Royan had
lifted his head into her lap, and was using her sleeve to wipe the filth
out of his nostrils to allow him to breathe more freely. Blood was
oozing from the corner of his mouth, and when he groaned again it welled
up in a fresh flood. Royan dabbed at it, smearing it across his chin.
His lower body was buried, and Nicholas tried to clear the broken rock;
but almost immediately he realized the futility of it. A lump of raw
rock the size of a billiard table lay across him. It weighed many tons,
and must certainly have crushed his spine and pelvis. No single man
would be able to move that massive weight unaided. Even if it were
ossible, the grinding action of any movement would inevitably aggravate
the terrible injuries that Tamre had already sustained.
"Do something, icky," Royan whispered. "We have to do something for
him."
Nicholas looked at her and shook his head. Royan's eyes flooded with
tears, and they broke over her lower lids and scattered like raindrops
into Tamre's upturned face, diluting the blood to the pink of ros6 wine.
"We can't just sit here and let him die," she Protested, and at the
sound of her voice Tamre opened his eyes and looked into her face.
He smiled through the blood, and that smile lit his dusty, broken face.
"Ummee!" he whispered. "You are my mother. You are so kind. I love you,
my mother."
The words were bitten off and a spasm stiffened his body. His face
contorted with agony and he gave a soft, strangled cry, and then
slumped. The rigidity went out of his shoulders and his head rolled to
one side.
Royan sat for long time holding his head and weeping softly, but
bitterly, until Nicholas touched her hand and said EentIv. "He is dead,
Royan."
She nodded. "I know. He held on just long enough to say goodbye to me."
He let her mourn a little longer, and then he told her softly, "We must
go, my dear."
"You are right. But it is so hard to leave him here. He never had
anybody. He was so alone. He called me mother.
I think he truly loved me."
"I know he did," Nicholas assured her, lifting the boy's dead head from
her lap and helping her to her feet. "Go wait for me. I will cover him
the best I can." down an Nicholas crossed Tamre's hands upon his chest,
and folded his fingers around the silver crucifix that hung around his
neck. Then he piled loose rock carefully over him, covering his head so
that the crows and vultures could not reach him.
He slid down to where she waited in the water, and slung his pack over
one shoulder.
"We must go on," he told Royan.
She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand and nodded. "I am
ready now."
They waded upstream, pushing hard against the current. The rock-slide
had blocked half the river bed and the waters squeezed through the gap
that was left. When at last they reached the point on the bank above the
avalanche, they climbed out of the river and picked their way up the
steep bank until at last they could crawl out on to the intact section
of the pathway.
They took a moment to recover and looked back. The river below the
rock-slide was running red-brown with mud. Even if the monks at the
monastery downstream had not heard the explosions, they would be alarmed
by that flood of discoloured water and would come to investigate.
They would find the bodies and take them down for decent burial. That
thought comforted Royan a little as they struck out along the trail,
with two days' hard travel still ahead of them.
Royan was limping heavily now, but each time Nichoto help her she
brushed his hand away. "I am all right. It's just a bit stiff." She
would not allow him to inspect the knee, but kept on stubbornly along
the trail ahead of him.
They marched mostly in silence for the rest of that day. Nicholas
respected her grief and was grateful for her reticence. This ability to
be quiet and yet not give out a sense of alienation and withdrawal to
those around her was one of the qualities he admired in her. They spoke
briefly late that afternoon while they paused to rest beside the path.
"The only consolation is that now Pegasus will believe that we are
safely buried under the rock-slide and they won't bother to come looking
for us again. We can push on without wasting time scouting the trail
ahead," Nicholas told her.
They camped that night below the escarpment, just before the path began
the climb up the vertical wall.
Nicholas led her well off the path, into a heavily wooded gully, and
built a small screened fire that could not be seen from the trail.
Here at last she relented and allowed him to examine her knee. It was
bruised and swollen, and hot to the touch.
"You shouldn't be walking on this," he told her.
"Do I have any option?" she asked, and he had no reply. He wetted his
bandana from the water bottle and bound up her leg As tightly as he
dared without cutting Off the circulation. Then he found a phial of
Brufen in his burn-bag and made her take two of these anti,
inflaminatories.
"It feels better already," she told him.
They shared the last bar of survival -rations from his pack, sitting
hunched up over the fire and talking quietly, still subdued and shaken
by their experiences.
"What will happen when we reach the top?" Royan asked. "Will the trucks
still be parked where we left them?
Will the men that Boris left to guard them still be there?
What will happen if we run into the men from Pegasus again?"
"I can't give you any answers. We will just have to face each problem as
it comes up."
"One thing I am looking forward to when we reach Addis Ababa - reporting
the massacre of Tamre and the others to the Ethiopian police. I want
Helm and his gang to pay for what they have done."
He was quiet for a while before he replied. "I don't know if that is the
wisest thing to do," he ventured at last.
"What do you mean? We. were witnesses to murder.
We cannot let them get away with it."
"Just remember that we want to return to Ethiopia. If we make a huge
fuss now, we will have the entire valley swarming with troops and