Tenastelin. For a moment longer Jake stood over Vicky, and then he
shrugged with resignation.
Just remember,' he threatened her mildly, 'I don't give up, and he
followed Gregorius.
An hour later they had stripped the gearbox and spread its component
parts on a sheet of clean canvas. Jake rocked back on his heels.
'Well, grand pappy has cooked his goose,' he said, and Gregorius
apologized solemnly.
'He is a very impetuous gentleman, my grandfather.'
'It's getting on towards noon.' Jake stood up. 'Let's go down and
hear what next he has in store for us, that impetuous gentleman.' The
Ras's encampment was set a little apart from the main body of his army,
and housed only his personal entourage. There were at least two acres
of hastily erected tukuLs, made of sapling frames covered with a range
of material from thatch to flattened paraffin cans. Through this
encampment wandered the naked snotty-nosed children and the Ras's
multitudinous female retainers, together with goats, mangy dogs,
donkeys, and camels.
The Ras's tent was set up in the centre of this community. It was a
large marquee, patched so often that little of the original canvas was
visible. His bodyguard was grouped protectively at the entrance.
Beyond the Ras's tent was a large area of open sandy ground,
almost completely covered by rank upon rank of patiently squatting
warriors.
'My God,' exclaimed Jake. 'Everyone gets to the war council.'
'It's the custom,' explained Gregorius. 'All may attend, but only the
commanders may speak.' To one side, separated from the Harari troops
by a small space of beaten earth and centuries of rankling hostility,
were the Galla contingent, and Vicky pointed them out to Jake.
'Pretty bunch,' he murmured. 'With allies like that, who needs
enemies?' Gregorius led them directly to the Ras's tent, and the
guards stood aside for them to enter. The interior was dark and hot,
redolent with the smell of the rank native tobacco and spiced food. At
the far end of the tent, a knot of silent men squatted in a tense
circle about two figures the Ras, swathed in dark woollen robes, and
Gareth Swales in a light silk shirt and white flannels.
For a moment Jake thought that the two central figures were deeply
immersed in planning the strategy and defence of the Sardi Gorge then
he saw the neat piles of paste, board spread out on the golden
Afghanistan rug between them.
'My God,' said Jake. 'He took me at my word.' Gareth looked up from
the fan of cards he held in his right hand.
'Thank God.' His face showed obvious relief. 'I only wish it had been
an hour earlier.'
'What's the trouble.'
'This old bastard is cheating,' said Gareth, with barely suppressed
outrage quivering in his voice. 'He has caught me for almost two
hundred quid this morning.
I'm utterly appalled, I must say. They obviously have no scruples,
