[b]The Egyptian Desert[/b]

Leyla could feel the desperation of her party growing with every day. It was high summer now, and the heat was brutal. They were sweating away their water supply as quick as they could drink to replace it. Their survival depended on getting out of this dreaded country and back to their own kind, but that meant miles more to go.

The heat was effecting their cars as well. Radiators drank up water just as quickly as the people, and the cruel sand storms of the red desert had a way of gunking up their engines. That was the way it was with sand. It got into everything; their clothes, their hair, their food, and every crevice of their bodies. And no matter how much desert they crossed, there always seemed to be more to go. 

They were having some luck, however. They were leaving the chaos around Cairo, and that meant less danger. Most of the violence of the post-Ottoman chaos was contained in the north. There was a Turkish governor, Eyup Pasha, who was trying to hold on to the country with his last remaining funds from a tentative seat in Alexandria. The rest of the country was being gobbled up by Islamic warlords.

But Leyla was choosing to be cautious. She only sent people to the Coptic Christian villages. She was afraid, after all, that the Islamists would be hunting the Ethiopians after their raid. They only brought back water, and only as much as could be easily carried, as they had taken all the food they would need in their raid up the river.

"I read a book once that said the Ancient Egyptians were black." Heruy told her on the sixth day after the incident. Somehow, when she pistol-whipped the rapist-priest Junedin, she gained a friend in Heruy. 

"I thought [i]they[/i] agreed on that?"

He shook his head. "Europeans still want to say the Egyptians were Jews or some nonsense like that. But you see, what I read is different. The Egyptians used to call these deserts 'Red Land' because the people here are red. Guess what they called the river valley?"

"Black land?" Leyla guessed.

Heroy nodded. "It is that simple."

That night, they slept in an abandoned limestone quarry. It was a beautiful place after dark. The moonlight reflected from the pale stone and gave it a ghostly glow that seemed to make the desert a little brighter. The quarry, they reasoned, had the effect of hiding them from the outside world, while making it difficult for anybody who meant them harm to sneak up on them. Sound in the quarry was amplified by the natural acoustics of the limestone, and the pale stone made everything on its surface stick out. 

But the acoustic effect had another effect that Leyla did not like. Junedin was a prisoner now, his wrists and ankles bound so that he could not escape. He cussed at them when he had the chance, so Barentu stuffed a used bandage in his mouth before he went on guard. But that left the priest's muffled grunts to echo in the still night, like the groans of one of the desert's many ghosts. When he finally went silent, Leyla became aware of the quiet and woke up. She expected to see the prisoner fast asleep. Instead, he was staring right at her with feverish eyes as wide and white as two full moons. He wanted to kill her, or to use her as he had used the woman in the village. Or perhaps he wanted both. He was tied tight and completely unable to move, but she struggled to sleep any more that night none the same.

What had snapped in Junedin's mind? Was he just one of those sorts of soldiers who could not contain the emotional extremes of his work, or had he always been a bad person? She supposed what he done had been normal once - the rape in 'rape and pillage' was there for a reason after all - but was that any excuse? She wondered if his mind had only went after they arrested him. Ever since the raid, they kept him tied in the back of a sweltering Landrover. He could not move, or feel the desert breeze, and he only got water when somebody else thought about it. Though the other men hated him just as much as she did, she was not sure if it was because of what he did, or just that he was the only convenient thing to hate right now, or at least the only hate they had the power to act on. If the situation had been different and there was no urgency, would they have seen the rape of that innocent Egyptian woman any differently?

No. She could not think that. If she began to doubt her people without cause, her ability to command them would unravel. 

In the morning, the sun rose brilliantly over the limestone ridgeline. The entire sky went from purple to red. When it became a pale orange, they packed up and left. 

"We should travel at night." Barentu suggested. The tall man held a rifle in his hand as if they were still in on the battlefield. 

"No." Leyla replied. "I considered that early on. If this were home, things would be different, but... we do not know this land. The Arabs move at night. I don't want to fall into any traps because it is too dark."

Barentu nodded. That was the end of that.

They did not just stay in the desert. Their route paralleled the Nile, and they always tried to keep the river in their sight during the day. When they saw a village with churches rather than mosques, Azima would send one of her quickest soldiers to check it out.

The worst times were when they were forced to stop and repair one of the Landrovers. That not only meant more delays, but it also meant standing still in the heat. Leyla was no mechanic, and she left the others to work out what needed to be done. All she could do is stare out at the glittering river, and at the paradise of green that surrounded it. There were trees for shade down there, and orchards that produced ripe and juicy oranges. And most importantly, there was water. She hadn't been near to the river since the incident with Junedin. She sent scouts instead to do their business, and they only went out one at a time. 

"We need more water." Heruy informed her. He was solemn again, with the countenance of a gravedigger. 

"How much did we use?"

"Eskander's flask." he motioned to one of the men. Leyla flinched.

"We need to find a church." she looked out toward the Nile. "I'd rather not risk a Muslim village."

"We might have to no matter what you want." Heruy said bluntly. 

Leyla bristled. "Not if we can avoid it. We should be close to Luxor by now, and that means we are getting closer to the dam. We aren't safe just because we made it this far south."

Heruy nodded. "I will go ahead then. If that is what you want me to do."

Leyla nodded and Heruy sprinted away. She looked back at the glimmer of the Nile and dreamed about water. When she heard the Landrovers sputter back to life, she felt relief. They could move again.

The desert had a way of becoming as storied as the civilizations of the Nile when one spent so much time in it. The hills looked like collapsed pyramids, covered in sharp blocks of stone, exiled from their brothers in the north and nestled among jagged ridges and stunted peaks. The tallest of them sometimes blocked the morning sun and gave them precious lengths of shaded road. There were other times where they seemed to hide something sinister. Nature shook loose small rocks and sent them tumbling down cliff faces, and the sound they made always caused Leyla to pause. The broken-monument cliffs could hide any number of enemies. She was certain that, at the very least, the jackals were watching from the heights, but she never saw one. 

"We should leave Junedin out here." Barentu spoke up. This was not the first time he had suggested doing something with Junedin, but it was the first time that his suggestion wasn't a direct execution.

"He would die. I don't have the authority to kill people."

"You are in command." he said. "You can do it if you have to."

"There are rules." Leyla retorted, jamming her finger into the dashboard. "If we start breaking the rules, we stop being what we are. We are still soldiers, Barentu. We have to maintain discipline, that is the only way we can survive."

"You are in charge." Barentu said respectfully. "But if we lose the cars, what happens? You won't let him go will you?"

"No. He doesn't go free. That would be worse than killing him."

That wasn't how she felt. She hated the priest now, and not just because of the evil he had done. If he had followed orders, the predicament of what to do with him would never have had occurred. She was not used to command, but that is what she had now. Their survival depended on her ability to keep them under control.

Barentu did not push the issue, and Leyla was glad of that because she did not have any more answers for him.

The sun was falling in the western sky. Its fleeing light reflected in brilliant yellow across the river. Leyla was worried about Heruy now. She had sent him out hours earlier to find a friendly village, but she had always meant for him to return before dark and he knew that. He wouldn't be held up unless he had no other choice.

"Look." Barentu boomed. He pointed out the drivers-side window at the rocky slopes leaning out above them. "There is a jackal." Leyla leaned in and searched the landscape. For the first few seconds, all she could see was brown, but then it popped out at her amongst the rocks and dirt. It was watching them with alert intensity.

"It isn't afraid." Barentu said. "We could shoot it, but it doesn't know that."

"It is afraid. It just doesn't show it." Leyla replied. It bothered her. It reminded her how wild this place was. 

"How far have we traveled today?" Leyla asked. Heruy's absence was making her nervous, and she watched the valley below with suspicion.

"Maybe twenty miles." Barentu guessed. "We wouldn't go so slow if we didn't have to stop all the time.

Leyla winced. It would be quicker if they walked, though that would make it difficult to carry supplies. The Battle for the Suez had taken place over a month before. She knew that the War for Ethiopia was already under way, but there had been no news. For all she knew they were heading in the direction of the newest jewel in the Spanish crown.

The stars were starting to appear in the fading blue-grey sky when Heruy finally appeared. They had been going slower by then, creeping cautiously along the road with their headlights dimmed, and Heruy's familiar shadow had no trouble catching up with them.

"There is a Coptic village down the road two miles." he explained. He was winded, and he stopped to catch his breath. Now that they were not moving, Leyla could feel the first hints of the nighttime chill settling over the desert.

"They wouldn't let me go." Heruy puffed. "Before they knew everything. They had a lot of questions."

Anxiety started to creep into Leyla's chest. "Are they dangerous?" she asked.

"No. They are friendly. But they would not give me supplies. They want us all to come down. The mayor has invited us to dinner."

That seemed suspicious. "Why would they want a foreign army in their village at all? Don't they know about the raid?"

"That is exactly what they want." Heruy said. "They want an army."

--

In the end, Leyla consented to go. It was getting dark, and there was no guarantee that they would find a village before Luxor. If they ran out of water before then, they would be dead. 

They descended from the desert in the quiet of the night and passed by miles of lush green fields and copses of palm trees. The air was cooler by the river. She watched inky canal water shimmer under inert shadufs, and for the first time since the morning, she was reminded of how absolutely filthy she was. She had shed her thick coat long ago, leaving the simple black Walinzi uniform underneath. It was brown with dust now. Her hair was filled with sand, and there was a thin layer of dust covering most of her skin. The rest of the men were just as unclean, if not worse, that she was.

The first thing she could make out from the distant village was the pure-white dome of its church. It was not so different from a Mosque, but its lack of minarets and the golden cross that sprouted from the apex of the dome proved that it was Christian. It as surrounded by small, simple mudbrick homes scattered along the banks of the great river. They passed a ramshackle lean-to that was only big enough for the one man standing inside it. His face glowed from the light of a flickering cigarette, and he watched them go by with an empty-faced camaraderie that she knew well from her short experience in war. She saw the shadow of a rifle in his arms.

The Ethiopian convoy came to a stop in front of the church, where they were greeted by three men. The first of them was an older, clean-shaven man in a pale tunic. Surrounding him were two thin young men with bony faces and wispy facial hair.

"Brothers!" he announced. When he caught sight of Leyla, she saw uncertainty suddenly take hold in his eyes. But he did not stop.

"The road is hard. That is what this young man Heruy told us. I cannot let our brethren suffer if I can help it. No, I cannot abide that. Come in, try our food and we can talk."

They followed, leaving Junedin in the car. Leyla could only hope that they would not notice him, and that they wouldn't become defensive if they found out he was a priest. 

They were led into a plaster-house near to the church. The unmistakable scents of cooking food were coming from the house. It smelled like baking bread and grilled meat, and it made a day's worth of hunger hit her all at once. She hadn't considered how little she was eating until then. They went inside. The Ethiopians moved slowly. They did not want to offend their hosts in anyway, not while they were so helpless.

The room was lit by a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling by a wire, and its light poured onto blue plaster walls and piles of colorful pillows and rugs. There was a family in here waiting - a handful on young boys in linen robes, and four women - two young girls, two grown women - serving a feast on a wicker table at the edge of the room. And it was a feast. There were fava beans and chick-peas, a stack of fluffy flatbread, stuffed grape-leaves, and shredded chicken drenched in spices. It was more than these people could have ever been expected to provide for strangers, and Leyla felt uncertain how to react.

"Please, please." he said. "Be my guest. Eat! We want you to rest after the time that you have had."

Leyla nodded her approval, and the other Ethiopians took their place at the table. There were not room for all of them, so the others sat around the house and waited patiently for their food.

Leyla plucked a stuffed grape leaf and popped it in her mouth. It was excessively sweet and sour all at once, with a vinegary flavor that made her instantly happy. 

And so they ate for a while while the two young girls ran back and forth with a pitcher of water to keep their cups filled. Everything was quiet. The Coptic family watched them with faces that spoke partly of excitement and partly of fascination. While they ate, Leyla examined their surrounding. The house was modest enough, though the inside was painted egg-shell blue and there was a golden cross on the wall. The women dressed in colorful tunics, and unlike the Muslims they wore nothing to cover their hair. Some of the furniture looked like it could possibly be of European manufacture. 

"Are you satisfied?" the elder man spoke up and broke the silence. "If you are not satisfied, just say the word and I will take care of you."

"Everything is good." Leyla said, smiling. "We did not expect a friendly reception in your country."

The elder replied with an exaggerated nod. "We understand, Egypt is in poor condition now. Our people suffer. You have seen it!"

"We have not seen much." Leyla answered. "We have stayed close to the hills. It is safer up there for us."

"That is what I mean! When travelers have to stay in the desert because they fear the people, then there is suffering in that country! I have seen it first hand. There is an Imam in Luxor who demands that our village pay the Jizya. How can we pay, I say? We are a poor people, we have nothing to pay. But that is not enough. He threatens us, Abyssinians! He threatens to take the tax by force if we do not pay."

"That is awful." Leyla replied. She saw where this conversation might go. "The world is so much crueler anymore. Our home is being invaded now, and our people face trials. We can understand."

"It is a terrible world for good people." 

There was a brief pause, and all that could be heard in that cramped room was a humming lightbulb and the hungry chewing of the Ethiopians. The Egyptians did not stop attended to their guests. For them in this moment, the Ethiopian contingent was everything.

Leyla considered the Imam in Luxor. How strong was he? The Copts still seemed to have electricity, which was interesting. As far as she knew, the power in Egypt all came from the dam in Aswan. Or did they have control of the dam at all?

"Who holds Aswan?" she asked.

The elder looked at her thoughtfully. "I do not know." he said. An ornery chuckle followed, and it caught Leyla off guard. "To be honest with you, there is a rumor that Abyssinia holds the dam."

She stopped chewing. Was it true? Leyla and her band had been lost in the desert since the last week of May. The war must have progressed since then - that was only logical - but she hadn't considered an occupation of Aswan as a possibility. She could see, out of the corner of her eye, that the news wasn't lost on her comrades. They had all stopped eating, and they were exchanging looks of bewilderment and hope. 

"If this is true, we did not know." Leyla said.

"Oh." the old man seemed crestfallen, but his cordial excitement bubbled back up. "But I suppose you have been away. I do not know much else about your country."

"We hope to find out soon." Leyla said.

There was something that the old man had left unsaid. She knew he had expectations, and when it seemed the conversation was slipping away from him, he rushed to quickly force the conversation his direction. 

"I want to ask you to remember us." he blurted. "We are in danger, our people. I know that you must go home, and that you cannot stay in our village to protect us. We would not have the ammunition for you if you did stay. But I do want you to tell your people that we are here. Christ's children suffer in Egypt. I do not see a bright future if we do not get help. Please, Abyssinians, when you get back to your country, tell your people that their Christian brethren need them."

"I will make sure your message reaches our home. If I can tell the Emperor, I will. But... we are at war right now."

"May God protect you." the Copt said somberly. "Because your survival is our survival."