Cry Wolf - Smith Wilbur - Страница 58
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animal. His people are animals they have been our enemies since the
time of Solomon, and it shames me now that we must have them to fight
beside us." Then she changed the subject in her usual mercurial
fashion.
"Will you go down the pass again today?"
"Yes," Vicky said, and Sara sighed.
"The doctor says that I cannot go with you not for many days still."
"I will fetch you, as soon as you are ready."
"No. No," she protested. "It is shorter and easier on horseback. I
will come immediately but until then carry My love to Gregorius. Tell
him my heart beats with great fury for him, and he walks through my
thoughts eternally."
"I will tell him," agreed Vicky, delighted at the sentiment and the
choice of words. At that moment a tall young man in a white jacket,
with the face of a brown pharaoh and huge dark eyes, came to record
Sara's temperature, stooping solicitously over her and murmuring softly
in Amharic as he felt for her pulse with delicate finely shaped
hands.
Sara was transformed instantly into a languid wanton, with smouldering
eyes and pouting lips, but when the orderly left, she was instantly
herself again, giggling delightedly as she drew Vicky's head down to
whisper in her ear.
"Is he not as beautiful as the dawn? He studies to be a doctor, and
goes soon to the University at Berlin. He has fallen in love with me
since last night and as soon as my leg is less painful I shall take him
as a lover." And when she saw Vicky's startled glance, she went on
hurriedly, "But just for a short time, of course. Only until I am well
enough to ride back to Gregorius." When Lij Mikhael came, riding with
his wild horsemen.
They waited outside in the sun while the Prince came into the ward to
take farewell of his daughter. His sombre mood lightened momentarily
as he embraced Sara, and he saw how well she was recovered. Then he
told the two women, "Yesterday at noon, the Italian army under General
De Bono crossed the Mareb River in force and has begun to march on A
owa and Ambo Aradam. The wolf is into the sheepfold. There has
already been fighting and the Italian aeroplanes are bombing our towns.
We are now at war."
"It is no surprise," said Sara. "The only surprise is that.
they took so long."
"Miss Camberwell, you must return as swiftly as you can to my father at
the foot of the gorge, and warn him that he must be ready to meet an
enemy attack." He drew out a gold pocket watch and glanced at it.
"Within the next few minutes, an aircraft will be landing here to take
me to the Emperor. I would be obliged, Miss Camberwell, if you would
accompany me to the-landing field." Vicky nodded, and the Lij went on.
"Ras Kullah's men are assembled there. He has agreed to send fifteen
hundred horsemen to join my father, and they will follow you-" He got
no further, for Sara intervened hotly.
"Miss Camberwell must not be left alone with those hyenas of Kullah's.
They would eat their own mothers." The Lij smiled and held up a hand.
"My own bodyguard will ride with Miss Camberwell, under my strict
charge to protect her at all times."
"I do not like it," pouted Sara, and groped for Vicky's hand.
"I will be all right, Sara." She stooped and kissed the girl, who
clung to her for an instant.
will come soon," whispered Sara, "Do nothing until I am with you.
Perhaps it should be Gareth after all," and Vicky chuckled.
"You're getting me confused."
"Yes," agreed Sara. "That's why I
should be there to advise you." Mikhael and Vicky stood side by side
on the hull of Miss Wobbly and shaded the sun from their eyes as they
watched the aircraft come in between the peaks.
As a pilot Vicky could appreciate the difficulty of the approach,
down into the bowl of Sardi, where treacherous down-draughts fell along
the cliffs, creating whirlpools of turbulence. The sun had already
dispelled the chill of the night making the high mountain air even
thinner and more treacherous.
Vicky recognized the aircraft type immediately, for she had trained for
her own pilot's licence on a similar model.
It was a Puss Moth, a small sky-blue high-winged monoplane,
powered by the versatile De Havilland four-cylinder aero engine. It
would carry a pilot and two passengers in a tricycle arrangement of
seating, the pilot up front in an enclosed cabin under the broad sweep
of the wings. Seeing the familiar aircraft reminded her, with a
fleeting but bitter pang, of those golden untroubled days before
October 1929, before that black Friday of evil reputation. Those
idyllic days when she had been the only daughter of a rich man, spoilt
and pampered, plied with such toys as motor cars and speed boats and
aircraft.
All that had been swept away in a single day. Everything had gone,
even that adoring godlike figure that had been her father dead by his
own hand. She felt the chill of it still, the sense of terrible loss,
and she turned her thoughts aside and concentrated on the approaching
aircraft.
The pilot came in down the western pass under the cliffs, then turned
steeply and side-slipped in towards the only piece of open ground in
the valley that was free of rocks and oles- It was used as a stockyard,
gymkhana ground or polo field as the need arose and at the moment the
ankle-deep grass was providing grazing for fifty goats.
Ras Kullah's horsemen drove the goats from the field at a gallop,
and then as the Puss Moth touched down, they wheeled and tore down the
field at its wing-tips, firing their rifles into the air and vying with
each other to perform feats of horsemanship.
The pilot taxied to where the car stood and opened the side window. He
was a burly young white man, with a suntanned face and curly hair. He
shouted above the engine rumble in an indeterminate colonial accent
Australian, New Zealand or South African, "Are you
Lij Mikhael?" The Prince shook hands briefly with Vicky before jumping
down. With his sham ma fluttering wildly in the slipstream from the
propeller, he hurried to the aircraft and climbed into the tiny
cabin.
The pilot was watching Vicky with a lively interest through the side
window and when she caught his eye he pursed his lips and made a circle
with thumb and forefinger in the universal sign of approval.
His grin was so frank and boyishly open that Vicky had to grin back.
"Room for one more!" he shouted, and she laughed and shouted back,
"Next time, perhaps."
"it will be a pleasure, lady," and he gunned the motor and swung away
lining up on the short rough-surfaced runway.
Vicky watched the Puss Moth climb laboriously up towards the mountain
crests. As the busy buzzing of its engine faded, a feeling of terrible
aloneness fell over her and she glanced around apprehensively at the
hordes of swarthy horsemen who surrounded the armoured car. Suddenly
she realized that not one of all these men could speak her language,
and that now there was a small cold cramp of fear at the base of her
belly to go with the aloneness.
Almost desperately, she longed for some contact with the world which
she knew, rather than these savage horsemen in this land of wild
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