There was a lantern still burning within, and it threw magnified shadows
on the canvas walls. He saw that Boris had his wife "by the hair and was
dragging her across the floor, roaring at her in Russian.
"Boris!" Nicholas had to shout his name three times to get his
attention, and then they saw the shadow play on the canvas as he dropped
Tessay and flung open the tent flap.
He was dressed only in a pair of underpants. His torso was lean and
muscular, the chest flat and hard-looking, covered with coppery curls.
On the floor behind him Tessay lay face down, sobbing into her cupped
hands. She was naked, and the planes of her body were sleek as those of
a panther.
"What the hell is going on here?" Nicholas demanded, his anger only just
beginning to stir as he witnessed the gracious, gentle woman's distress
and humiliation.
"I am giving this black whore a lesson in good manners," Boris gloated,
his face still swollen and flushed with drink and passion. "It's none of
your business, English, unless you want to pay some money and have a bit
of pork for yourself." He laughed, an ugly sound.
"Are you all right, Woizero Tessay?" Nicholas looked directly into
Boris's face, sparing the woman the further humiliation of another man's
eyes on her nudity.
Tessay sat up, lifted her knees against her chest, and hugged them with
both arms to cover her body.
"It's all right, Alto Nicholas. Please go away before there is real
trouble." Blood was trickling from one nostril into her mouth, and
dyeing her teeth pink.
"You heard'my wife, English bastard. Go away! Mind your own business. Go
away, before I give you a little lesson in good manners also."
Boris staggered forward and thrust his open hand against Nicholas's
chest. Nicholas moved as smoothly and as effortlessly as a matador
avoiding the first wild charge of the bull. He swayed to one side, and
used Boris's own momentum to send him on in the direction in which he
was already committed. Completely off balance, the Russian reeled across
the open ground in front of the tent until he collided with one of the
camp chairs and went down in a sprawling heap.
"Royan, take Tessay to your tent!" he ordered softly.
Royan ran into the tent and pulled a sheet from the nearest cot. She
spread it over Tessay's shoulders and lifted her to her feet.
"Please, don't do this," Tessay sobbed. "You don't know him when he gets
like this. He will hurt somebody."
Royan dragged her, still protesting and weeping, out of the tent, but by
now Boris was on his feet again. He bellowed with rage and picked up the
camp chair that had tripped him. With a single jerk he tore off one of
the legs and hefted it in his bunched fist.
"You want to play games, English? All right, we play!" He rushed at
Nicholas, swinging the chair leg like a Ninja baton, so that it hissed
with the force with which he aimed it at his head. As Nicholas ducked
under it Boris reversed the swing, going for the side of his chest,
under his upraised arm. It would have staved in his ribs if it had
landed, but again Nicholas twisted away.
They circled each other warily, and then Boris charged again. If it had
not been for the effect of the vodka on the Russian's reflexes Nicholas
would never have taken a chance with an adversary of this calibre, but
Boris was just loose enough in his control to allow him to duck in under
the swinging chair leg. He straightened, with all his weight rolling
into the punch, and his fist slogged into the pit Of Boris's belly just
under the sternum. The Russian's breath was driven out of him in a great
gusty belch.
The chair leg flew from his grip, and he doubled over and collapsed.
Clasping his middle, and heaving and wheezing for breath, Boris lay
curled in the dust. Nicholas stooped over him and told him softly in
English, "This sort of behaviour simply isn't good enough, old chap. We
don't bully-girls. Please don't let it happen again."
He straightened up and spoke to Royan, "Get her to your tent and keep
her there." He combed his hair back from his face with his fingers. "And
now, if you have no serious objections, may we get a little sleep?"
It rained again during the early hours. The heavy drops drummed down on
the canvas and the lightning lit the interior of the tents with an eerie
brilliance. However, by the time that Nicholas went through to the
dining tent for breakfast the next morning, the clouds had cleared and
the sunshine was bright and cheering. The sweet mountain air smelt of
wet earth and mushrooms.
Boris greeted Nicholas with hearty good fellowship.
"Good morning, English. We had some fun last night. I still laugh to
remember it. Very good jokes. One day soon we will have some more vodka,
then we will makesome more good jokes." And he bellowed through to the
kitchen tent, "Hey! Lady Sun, bring your new boyfriend something to eat.
He is hungry from all the sport last night."
Tessay was quiet and withdrawn as she supervised the' servants handing
round breakfast. One eye was swollen almost closed, and her lip was cut.
She did not look at Nicholas once during the meal.
"We will go on ahead," Boris explained jovially as they drank coffee.
"My servants will break camp, and follow us in my big truck. With luck,
we will be able to camp tonight on the rim above the gorge, and tomorrow
we will begin the descent."
As they were climbing into the truck, Tessay was able to speak to him
softly for a moment, without danger of Boris overhearing her. "Thank
you, Alto Nicholas. But it was not wise. You don't know him. You must be
careful now. He does not forget, not does he forgive."
From the village of Debra Maryarn Boris took a branch road that ran
alongside the Dandera river directly south, wards. The road they had
followed the previous day from Lake Tana was shown on the map as a major
highway. It had been bad enough. But this track that they were now on
was marked as a secondary road "not passable in all weather'. To
compound matters, it seemed that most of the heavy traffic that had torn
up the main road had followed this same track. They came to a place
where some huge vehicle had become bogged down in the rain-saturated
earth, and the efforts to free it had left areas of ploughed land and an
excavation like a bomb crater that resembled an old photograph of the
battlefields of First World War Flanders.
Twice during the day the Toyota too became stuck in this foul ground.
Each time this happened, the big truck that was following them came up
and all the servants swarmed down from the cargo body to push and heave
the Toyota through. Even Nicholas stripped to the waist to work with
them in the mud to free it.
"If you had only listened to my advice," Boris grumbled, "we would not
be here. There is no game where you want to go, and there are no roads
worth the name either."
In the early afternoon they stopped beside the river for an alfresco
lunch. Nicholas went down to the pool beside the road to wash off the
mud and filth of the morning's labours. He had been in the forefront of
the efforts to keep the truck moving. Royan followed him down the slope