The women of the royal kitchen had, as before, been the first to select a centrical and advantageous spot on which to pursue their important avocations; but some arbitrary change having been directed by His Majesty, who occupied his usual elevated position, the camp was thrown into confusion. Quarrels and scuffles might now be witnessed in every quarter. Those who had taken possession of a luxuriant pasture or the vicinage of water, stoutly defended the treasure against invading comrades, and recourse being had to weapons, sword cuts and broken heads were quite in fashion. Although now in an enemy’s country, neither picket, vidette, nor sentry was mounted, and not the slightest precaution against nocturnal surprise was adopted towards the security of the camp.
But no advantage was taken of the Amhára neglect, and another and similar forced march over a country equally devoid of interest with the tract already crossed, led to the long narrow valley of Karábarek, at the foot of the Garra Gorphoo mountains. The bright spear-blades glittered through the cloud of stifling dust that marked the course of myriads over ploughed land. Green fields and smiling meadows quickly lost their bloom under the tramp of the steed; for no cultivation was now spared, and ruin and desolation were the order of the day. Straggling parties of the Sertie Galla had been seen crowning the heights that skirted the line of march, and near the peaked hill of Wyfun they were assembled in numbers; but none ventured within half a mile of a host, twenty thousand in number, all thirsting alike for the blood of their enemies. Far and wide the country was laid waste, and every vestige of human habitation destroyed under the torch, the flames racing among the riper barley with the speed of a galloping horse; but the wretched inhabitants, aware of the approach of the spoiler, had abandoned their dwellings before the storm burst over them, and one aged man only had yet fallen into the merciless clutches of the invaders.
This prize had stained the hand of a follower of Ayto Gádel, governor of Chercha, a functionary far from being notorious for courageous bearing. On the occasion of Medóko’s last advance, his was the mansion first beleaguered by the insurgents, but he fled in dismay, leaving his fair partner to defend the premises. Joining after the first day’s march, he had put the most diverting questions relative to the English, with whose appearance he was greatly perplexed.
“Are these people pagans?” inquired the hero with owlish features, but too strongly indicative of his vacant mind.
“No.”
“Are they Islams?”
“No.”
“Then what are they?”
“Christians.”
“Christians! Impossible. They observe no fast, and wear no máteb as a badge of their religion Is there any grass in their country?”