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Военное дело
The Seventh Scroll - Smith Wilbur - Страница 113
"The theory of progressive disclosure. Never tell everything all at
once, feed it to them a little at a time. He knows what we are looking
for, and that we are going to dam a river."
hat about men to work on the dam?"
monks at St. Frumentius will do whatever he tells them. He is a great
hero."
"What have you promised him in return?"
"We haven't got round to that yet. I told him that we have no idea what
we are going to find, and he laughed and said he would trust me."
"Silly boy, isn't he?"
"Not exactly how I would describe Mek Nimmur," he murmured. "I think
when the time is ripe he will let us know what the price of his
cooperation is." He looked up at that moment. "We were just talking
about you, Mek."
Mek strode up to them, and then squatted on his haunches beside
Nicholas.
"What were you saying about me
"Royan says you are a hard bastard, pushing er on a forced march all
night."
"Nicholas is spoiling you. I have been watching him fussing over you,'
he chuckled. "What I say is, treat them rough. Women love it." Then he
grew serious. "I am sorry, Royan. The border is always a bad place. You
will find me less of a monster now we are on home ground."
"We are very grateful for all you are doing." He inclined his head
gravely, "Nicholas is an old friend, and I hope that you are a new
friend."
"I have been terribly distressed. Tessay told me last night that there
had been trouble at the monastery."
Mek scowled and tugged at his short beard, pulling a tuft of hair from
his own chin with the force of his anger.
"Nogo and his killers. This is just a sample of what we are fighting
against. We have been rescued from the tyranny of Mengistu, only to be
plunged into fresh horror."
"What happened, MA?"
Speaking tersely but vividly, he described the massacre and the plunder
of the monastery's treasures. "There was no doubt it was Nogo. Every one
of the monks that escaped knows him well."
His anger was too fierce for him to contain, and he stood up abruptly.
"The monastery means much to all the people of the Gojam. I was
christened there, by Jali Hora himself. The murder of the abbot and the
desecration of the church is a terrible outrage." He jammed his cap
down, on his head. "And now we must get on. The road ahead is steep and
difficult.
Now that they were clear of the border, it was safe to move in daylight.
The second day's march carried them into the depths of the orge. There
were no foothills: it was like entering through the keep of a vast
castle. The walls of the great central massif rose up almost four
thousand feet on either hand, and the river snaked along in the depths,
its entire length churned by rapids and breaking white water. At noon
Mek broke the march to rest in a grove of trees beside the river.
There was a beach below them, sheltered by massive boulders which must
have rolled down from the cliffs that hung like a rampart above them.
The five of them sat a little apart from each other.
Sapper was still smarting from his altercation over the theodolite with
Mek, and keeping himself aloof. He placed the heavy instrument in a
conspicuous position and sat ostentatiously close to it. Mek and Tessay
seemed strangely quiet and withdrawn, until suddenly Tessay reached out
and grasped Mek's hand..
I want to tell them, she blurted out impulsively.
Mek looked away at the river for a moment before he nodded. "Why not?"
he shrugged at last.
"I want them to know," Tessay insisted. "They knew Boris. They will
understand."
"Do you.,want me to tell them?" Mek asked softly, and he was still
holding her hand.
"Yes," she nodded, "it is best that it comes from you." Mek was silent
for a while, gathering his words, and then he started in that low
rumbling voice, not looking at them, but watching Tessay's face. "The
very first moment I looked upon this woman, I knew that she was the one
that God had sent my way."
Tessay moved closer to him.
"Tessay and I said our vows together on the night of Timkat and asked
for God's forgiveness, and then I took man."
her away as my wo She laid her head upon his great muscular shoulder.
"The Russian followed us. He found us here, on this very spot. He tried
to kill us both."
Tessay looked down at the beach upon which she and Mek had so nearly
died, and she shuddered at the memory.
"We fought," he said simply, "and when he was dead, I sent his body
floating away down the river."
"We knew he was dead," Royan told them. "We heard from the people at the
embassy that the police found his body downstream, near the border. We
didn't know how it had happened."
They were all quiet for a while, and then Nicholas broke the silence, "I
wish I had been there to watch. It must have been one hell of a fight.
He shook his head in awe.
"The Russian was good. I am glad I don't have to fight him again," Mek
admitted, and stood up. "We can reach the monastery before dark, if we
start now."
ai Metemma, the newly elected abbot of St. Frumentius, met them on the
terrace of the monastery overlooking the river. He was only a little
younger than Jah Hora had been, tall and with a dignified silver head,
and today he was wearing the blue crown in honour of such a
distinguished guest as Mek
After the visitors had bathed and rested for an hour in the cells that
had been set aside for them, the monks came to lead them to the welcome
feast that had been prepared.
When the tej flasks had been refilled for the third time, and the mood
of the abbot and of his monks had mellowed, Mek began to whisper into
the old man's ear.
"You recall the history of St. Frumentius - how God cast him up on our
shore from the storm-tossed sea, so that he might bring the true faith
to us?"
The abbot's eyes filled with tears. "His holy body was entombed here, in
our nwqdas. The barbarians came and stole the relic away from us. We are
children without a father. The reason for the building of this church
and monastery has been taken away," he lamented. "No longer will the
pilgrims come from every corner of Ethiopia to i pray at his shrine. We
will be forgotten by the Church. We are undone. Our monastery will
perish and our monks will be blown away like dead leaves on the wind."
"When St. Frumentius came to Ethiopia he was not alone. Another
Christian came with him from the High Church in Byzantium," Mek reminded
him in a soft, soothing rumble.
"St. Antonia." The abbot reached for his tei flask to allay the
intensity of his sorrow.
Mek agreed. "He died before St. Frumen "St. Antonia tius, but he was no
less holy than his brother."
"St. Antonia was also a great and holy man, deserving of our love and
veneration." The abbot took a long swallow from the flask.
"The ways of God are mysterious, are they not?" Mek shook his head at
the wonder of the workings of the universe.
"His ways are deep and not for us to question or understand., "And yet
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