the heat-tortured air. Dust drifted behind the running horse and it
was only at close range that the rider came into crisp focus.
Gregorius let out a bellow like a rutting stag and raced out into the
sunshine to meet the newcomer. In a brilliant display of horsemanship
the rider reined in the big white stallion so abruptly that he plunged
and reared, cutting at the air with his fore hooves
With white robes billowing, he flung himself from the horse, and into
Gregorius's widespread arms.
The two figures joined together rapturously, the stranger suddenly
seeming small and delicate in Gregorius's arms, and the cries of
laughter and greeting high and birdlike.
Then hand in hand, looking into each other's faces, they came back to
the group that waited by the cars.
'My God, it's another girl,' said Gareth with amazement, setting the
loaded rifle aside, and they all stared at the slim, dark-eyed child in
her late teens with a skin like dusky silk and immense dark eyes
fringed with long curling lashes.
'May I introduce Sara Sagud?' asked Gregorius. 'She is my cousin, my
uncle's youngest daughter, and she is also without doubt the prettiest
lady in Ethiopia.'
'I see what you mean,' said Gareth. 'Very decorative indeed.' As
Gregorius, introduced each of them to her by name, the girl smiled at
them, and the long aristocratic face with the serenity of an Egyptian
princess, the delicate features and chiselled nose of a Nefertiti,
changed instantly to a sparkling childlike mischievousness.
'I knew you must cross the Awash here, it is the only place and
I came to meet you.'
'She speaks English also,' Gregorius pointed out proudly.
'My grandfather insists that all his children and his grand.
children learn to speak English. He is a great lover of the
English.'
'You speak it well,' Vicky congratulated Sara, although in fact her
English was heavily accented, and the girl turned to her,
smiling anew.
'The sisters at the convent of the Sacred Heart in Berbera taught me,'
she explained, and she examined Vicky with frank and unabashed
admiration. 'You are very beautiful, Miss Camberwell, your hair is the
colour of the winter grass in the highlands,' and Vicky's usual
composure was rocked.
She blushed faintly and laughed, but Sara's attention had flicked away
to the armoured cars.
'Ah, they also are beautiful nobody has spoken of anything else,
since they heard these were coming.' She hoisted the skirts of her
robe up over her tight-fitting embroidered breeches, and hopped agilely
up on to the steel body of Miss Wobbly. 'With these we shall throw
the
Italians back into the sea. Nothing can stand before the courage of
our warriors and these fine war machines.' She flung her arms wide in
a dramatic gesture and then turned.
to Jake and Gareth. 'I am honoured to be the first of all my people to
