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seemed strangely quiet and withdrawn, until suddenly Tessay reached out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
