commander of the southern Goiam region."
"How do you do?" Nicholas greeted him, but the colonel ignored the
pleasantry.
"I want to see your passport, and your firearms licence, he ordered
arrogantly, while Jake Helm chewed complacently on the evil-smelling
butt of an extinguished cigar.
"Yes, of course," Nicholas agreed, and went to his own tent to fetch his
briefcase. He opened it on the dining table, and smiled at the officer.
"I am sure you will also want to see my letter of introduction from the
British Foreign Secretary in London, and this one from the British
Ambassador in Addis Ababa. Here is another from the Ethiopian Ambassador
to the Court of St. James, and this is from your own Minister of
Defence, General Abraha."
The colonel stared in consternation at this fruit salad of ornate
official letterheads and scarlet beribboned seals.
Behind the gold-rimmed glasses his eyes were bemused and confused.
"Sir!" He jumped to his feet and saluted. "You are a friend of General
Abraha? I did not know. Nobody informed me. I beg your pardon for this
intrusion."
He saluted again, and his embarrassment made him awkward and ungainly.
"I came to warn you only that the Pegasus Company is conducting drilling
and blasting operations. There may be some danger. Please be alert. Also
there are many bandits and outlaws, shufta, operating in this area."
Colonel Nogo was flustered and barely coherent.
He stopped and drew a deep breath to steady himself. "You see, I have
been ordered to provide an escort for the employees of the Pegasus
Company. If you yourself experience any trouble while you are here, or
if you need assistance for any reason you have only to call on me, sir."
"That is extremely civil of you, colonel."
"I will detain you no longer, sir." He saluted a third time and backed
off towards the Pegasus truck, taking the Texan foreman along with him.
Jake Helm'had not uttered a word since their arrival, and now he left
without a farewell.
Colonel Nogo gave Nicholas his fourth and final salute through the cab
window as the truck pulled away.
Deuce!" Nicholas told Royan, as he acknowledged the salute with a
nonchalant wave. "I think that point was definitely ours. Now at least
we know that, for whatever reason, Mr Pegasus definitely does not want
us in his hair. I think we can expect his next service fairly promptly.,
They walked back to where Boris sat in the dining tent and Nicholas told
him, "All we need now are your mules."
"I have sent three of my men to the village to find them. They should
have been here yesterday." The mules arrived early the next morning, six
big sturdy animals, each accompanied by a driver dressed in the
ubiquitous-jodhpurs and shawl. By midmorning they were loaded and ready
to begin the descent into the gorge.
Boris paused at the head of the pathway, and looked out over that
valley. For once even he -seemed to be subdued and awed by the immensity
of the drop and the rugged splendour of the gorge.
"You will be Passing into another land in another age," he warned them
in an uncharacteristically philosophical mood. "They say that this trail
is two thousand years old, as old as Christ." He spread his hands in a
deprecating gesture.
"The old black priest in the church at Debra Maryam will tell you that
the Virgin Mary passed this way when she fled from Israel after the
crucifixion." He shook his head. "But then these people will believe
anything." And he "stepped out on to the pathway.
It clung to the cliff, descending at such an angle that each pace was
down a rock step so deep that it stretched the-tendons and the sinews in
their groins and knees, and jarred their spines. They were forced to use
their hands to scramble the rougher and steeper sections, where it was
almost as though they were descending a ladder.
It seemed impossible that the mules under their heavy packs could follow
them down. The plucky beasts lunged down each of the rock steps, landing
heavily on their forelegs, then gathered themselves for the next drop.
The trail was so narrow that the bulky packs scraped against the rock
wall on one hand, while on the other hand the drop sucked at them
giddily.
When the path dog-legged and changed direction, the mules could not make
the turn in one attempt. They were forced to back and fill, edging their
way round the narrow trail, sweating with terror and their eyes rolling
until the whites flashed. The drivers urged them on with wild cries and
busy whips.
At places the pathway entered the body of the mountain, passing behind
butts and needles of rock that time and erosion had prised away from the
cliff face. These rocky gateways were so narrow that the mules had to be
unloaded and the packs carried through by the drivers, and then the
mules were reloaded on the far side.
Look!" Royan cried in astonishment and pointed out into the void. A
black vulture rose up out of the depths on widespread pinions and
floated past them almost within arm's length, turning its gruesome naked
head of pink lappeted skin to stare at them with inscrutable black eyes
before sailing away.
"He is using the thermals of heated air from the valley for lift,'
Nicholas explained to her. He pointed out along the cliff to an
overhanging buttress on the same level as themselves. "There is one of
their nests." It was a shaggy mound of sticks piled on an inaccessible
ledge. The excrement of the birds that had inhabited it over the ages
had painted the cliff face below with streaks of brilliant white, and
even at this distance they could catch whiffs of rotting offal and
decaying flesh.
All that day they clung to the precipitous track as they eased their way
down that terrible wall. It was late afternoon, and they were only
halfway down, when the trail turned back upon itself once more and they
heard the rumble of the falls ahead. The sound grew louder and became a
thunderous roar as they moved around the corner of another buttress and
came in full sight of the falls.
The wind created by the torrent tugged at them and forced them to clutch
for handholds. The spray blew around them and wetted their upturned
faces, but the i: Ethiopian guide led them straight on until it seemed
that they must be washed away into the valley still hundreds of feet
below.
Then, miraculously, the waters parted and they stepped behind the great
translucent curtain into a deep recess of moss-covered and gleaming wet
rock, carved from the cliff by the force of water over the aeons. The
only light in this gloomy place was filtered through the waterfall,
green and mysterious like some undersea cavern.
"This is where we sleep tonight," Boris announced, obviously enjoying
their astonishment. He pointed to bundles of firewood piled at the rear
of the cave, and the smoke-blackened wall above the stone hearth. The
muleteers carrying food and supplies down to the priests in the
monastery have used this place for centuries."
As they moved deeper into the cavern, the sound of falling water became
muted to a dull background rumble and the rock underfoot was dry. Once