reflection of the massive power of the Coptic Church over this land and
its people. There was very little encouragement given to the
missionaries of any other faith, but this did not prevent the local
inhabitants from taking advantage of the medical facilities offered by
the mission.
Almost fifty patients squatted along the length of the veranda that ran
the full length of the clinic, and they looked up with minimal interest
as Vicky parked the armoured car below them.
The doctor was a heavily built man, with short bowed legs and a thick
neck. His hair was cropped close to the round skull and was silvery
white, and his eyes were a pale blue. He spoke no English, and he
acknowledged Vicky with a glance and a grunt, transferring all his
attention to Sara. When two of his assistants rolled her carefully on
to a stretcher and carried her up on to the veranda, Vicky would have
followed but the Lij restrained her.
'She is in the best hands and we have work to do.' The telegraph
office at the railway station was closed and locked, but in answer to
the Prince's shouts the station master came hurrying anxiously down the
track. He recognized Mikhael immediately.
The process of tapping out Vicky's despatch on the telegraph was a
long, laborious business, almost beyond the ability of the station
master whose previous transmissions had seldom exceeded a dozen words
at a time. He frowned and muttered to himself as he worked, and Vicky
wondered in what mangled state her masterpiece of the journalistic art
would reach her editor's desk in New York. The Prince had left her and
gone off with his escort to the official government residence on the
outskirts of the village, and it was after nine o'clock before the
station master had sent the last of Vicky's despatch a total of almost
five thousand words and Vicky found that her legs were unsteady and her
brain woolly with fatigue when she went out into the utter darkness of
the mountain night. There were no stars, for the night mists had
filled the basin and swirled in the headlights as Vicky groped her way
through the village and at last found the government residence.
It was a large sprawling complex of buildings with wide verandas,
whitewashed and iron-roofed, standing in a grove of dark-foliaged cosa
flora trees from which the bats screeched and fluttered to dive upon
the insects that swarmed in the light from the windows of the main
building.
Vicky halted the car in front of the largest building and found herself
surrounded by silent but watchful throngs of dark men, all of them
heavily armed like the Harari she knew, but these were a different
people. She did not know why, but she was sure of it.
There were many others camped in the grove. She could see their fires
and hear the stamp and snort of their tethered horses, the voices of
the women and the laughter of the men.
The throng opened for her and she crossed the veranda and entered the
large room which was crowded with many men, and lit by the smoky
paraffin lamps that hung from the ceiling. The room stank of male
sweat, tobacco and the hot spicy aroma of food and tej.
