------------------------------------------------------ [u][b]Early September: Begmeder Province[/b][/u] ------------------------------------------------------ Beneath the small provincial church was another chapel, an older one, accessed by an exposed window, buried in the ground and used like a cellar. It smelled of dust and musk, overpoweringly so. Ergete found it hard to breath when it was hot. Sometimes he'd crawl out like a wolf leaving its den, tasting the fresh air on his tongue. He'd see his body, covered in earth, all the same uniform beige. This is what they'd made him into. A wild dog. A feral freedom fighter. When the sun came up in the east, a ray of light filtered through, and he could see all but the corners of his hiding place. At other times, he might use candles, if the priest was willing to lend them. He didn't ask for them often. Somehow there was more dignity in pawing his way to the surface than in begging for scraps. Most of the time, his den was as dark as death. But when there was light, what he saw was ancient rough-hewn brick, the bottom half blackened with soot. The priest told him it was the work of Yodit, the bandit-queen of ancient times who'd brought down holy Aksum. Of course, people loved to make claims to the country's storied history. Perhaps a shepherd's stone pen was laid by Lalibela, or a groove in the wall of a well is where Sahle Selassie sat while drawing water for his horses. One day they would remember this place as the burrow that hid [i]Fitawrari[/i] Ergete, the warrior for liberty. They would forget about Yodit. He would forge his own legend. He kept this faith in himself, even after the defeat of his [i]shifta[/i] army on the Tekeze River two months earlier. Not defeat. Obliteration. He was a hunted man now. His whole movement was hunted. The [i]Neftanya[/i] and their mercenary militias were on the warpath, hanging suspected revolutionaries. On the night of the first of September, the priest brought him cold chicken. A treat, better than dry bread and dusty water. It was not safe for him to go out and get his own provisions. The church was on a hill overlooking a nearby rivulet, along which a small village of stone and driftwood huts stood. It was a quiet place. But even here, the [i]Neftanya[/i] hunted. They had not participated in the final battle. The [i]Neftanya[/i] were settlers put on feudal tracts forfeited by the old nobility when they rebelled against the Emperor. Now they were the over-proud new nobility of Ethiopia's old country, pretending they had quashed the rebellion on their own, or that they could do such a thing. The Imperial army had won that battle. The [i]Neftanya[/i] only followed, squeezing rents from the defeated people. He'd heard from the priest how the [i]Neftanyna[/i] now collected their rents at gun point. The old nobility, the [i]Makwanent[/i] of Ethiopia's feudal past, hadn't possessed the same cruelty. They had been warriors, knights in a sense, driven by the reputation of honor. It was different with the [i]Neftanya[/i]. They were not warriors. They wore rich clothes, collected western luxuries, and fussed over every coin or ounce of wheat. Their greed bled the north. It would all be avenged. Ergete knew it. He ate his chicken, spiced with dust. He would rise up again. The entire province would. The [i]Neftanya[/i] couldn't put out the fire when it raged. They wouldn't be able to snuff the embers. He would bring democracy to this place, and fair dealing. The nights were cold. He couldn't light a fire; the smoke would draw the wrong kind of attention. He wrapped himself in old clothes. His hair grew thick and bushy. They'd done this to him. And the days went on. There were a few who knew who he was. They were friends of both him and the priest, as well as a couple of his trusted lieutenants. They brought him news. Houses burned. Men hanged. But good news too. Villages were banding together and driving out [i]Neftanya[/i] militias. The government was silent. So was the [i]Mesfin[/i] in Gondar. It was a civilian war, fought by the people, ignored by the state. It was not a surprise then, when he heard horse hoofs beating up the road to the church. He didn't consider it might be the enemy. What would that mean? They would find him, hang him. But it was not his destiny to be a martyr. What good was that? So it would be his own people. And, that early September morning, he found his faith vindicated. He recognized the young man, but not his name. When Ergete came out of his hole, his visitor grimaced. The young man was dressed in white robes and had an Italian rifle slung over his back, and a shawl slung around his shoulders. Though his hair was bushy, he couldn't grow more than a few patches of facial hair, clinging to his cheeks like dying desert shrubs. Ergete, by comparison, was caked in filth, his hair the same color as his skin and clothes. And what did he smell like? He didn't know, having lived with the smell for so long, but he was sure it wasn't pleasant. "[i]Fitawrari[/i]" the man said questioningly. "Yes, my brother." Ergete put his hand on the warrior's shoulder. He left a dusty hand-print. The visitor took a minute, as if considering. The elderly priest tottered beneath the eave of the old church. The former's expression straightened up. "I was sent by [i]Shaleqa[/i] Kaleyesus. He has scouted a [i]Neftanya[/i] home, and wants your opinion. He says he thinks it is safe you come out." "Kaleyesus. Good man!" Ergete smiled. Then he laughed, looking up at the sky, professing his joy to the maker. "He has work! Yes my brother!" "Good. There are five of us..." "That is enough! But I need to be ready. Go! Get me a horse! Fetch my rifle, it is hidden in the church!" "A horse?" "I will be fine with a draft horse. Meet me that way" he pointed, "Up stream, where the water bends around the ridge. You can find this place?" "Yes." The young man responded. He had the air of military discipline, though he was no soldier. Like many of his age, he put on an act learned from watching the Provincial militia. They drilled in Gondar, which gave the young man away as a townsman. They parted. Ergete walked over the ridge. He relished the feel of the sun and the wind. Alive! In the world again! His joints were stiff, and his feet ached as if he'd never used them before. These were good feelings. The feeling of life returning to his blood. He came to the pool in the river, beneath the hill, two miles from the sight of the village. He stripped naked and walked into the water. Layers of filth came off of him, the water tickling his skin. He saw the dirt float away. It was as if he'd shed a layer of skin. He dipped his head in, running his hands through the great bush of hair surrounding his head like a mane. When he was done with this, while he was still in the water, he dragged his clothes in and gave them a similar treatment, before hanging them on a branch. It was as if freedom was won, and he'd entered the paradise of his own make. When he was done, he sat in the sand along the shore and let the sun dry every inch of him. He could not get caught. That was not his place in history now. When the young [i]shifta[/i] came back, bringing the second horse and his rifle, Ergete stood up and got dressed. They rode together over the hills. The feeling of the horse beneath him was like coming home. -- They met beneath a pillar of red rock, in the shadow of its lean. There were half a dozen of them, varied in age. Four of them, including Ergete, were on horseback. He knew [i]Shaleqa[/i] Kaleyesus; a man with volcanic brown-grey skin and a beard that pointed down across his chest like a dagger. "This is your party, my friend?" Ergete leaned over the pommel of his saddle and smiled. "It is hard to find men." Kaleyesus replied, stony faced. Ergete waved. "This is enough. Do not worry." he looked out over the undulating countryside. Renewed rain brought up grass in bright green tufts across the scrubby land. "The homestead is there, behind the second ridge. Look, where trees follow that spine of rock." Kaleyesus said, pointing south. "Is it guarded?" "There is a man and his son. I know them. They collect rents in my village, riding together, carrying rifles." "They are armed." Ergete spat. "A good house can be a fortress for two men." "I am not sure we have enough to move on it without wasting men." "We have enough! A fortress is pregnable. But it means we must bring all our skills with us. Men, were you with me at Tekeze River?" "Aye!" four men called out. "Well then, we have skills. You." he pointed at the man who'd stayed quiet, "Follow these men. They will show you how to fight." he looked at them all, "We will come in from the ridge, and see what we can see. What happens next we will decide from there. Ready?" The others said nothing, but they rode. They moved swift enough, the horses adapted to this kind of country, moving sure-footed over the faint trails cut into the sedimentary rock. Ergete paid attention to the countryside. He saw water to slake his horses, and outcroppings where a shooter would have an advantage. He noticed the slope of the land, how the hills rose to the east and diminished to the west. The flat lands in the thin river valleys hosted the towns, and the plump land for wealthy estates. Where the hills rose in the east, there would be the small villages and lonely crags. Hiding places. Civilization grows like the grass: thick and inescapable by the rivers where the streams meet, but thin and blind in the rocky places and the highlands of the world. Two miles on, they came across a knoll that overlooked a farm. The house was in the spindly Italian style, a quaint African colonial cottage as might be envisioned in the European mind. Two stories. A veranda. It had its own well, stables, and a set of out-buildings. A field of green wheat stretched toward the west. The [i]shiftas[/i] leaned into the rocks. "Look" Kaleyesus pointed, "There is one horse. They own three." "Two are out?" Ergete asked. "The owner and his son. That would leave their women." the man said, "His wife, and their daughter." "Let's take them then." Ergete left his hiding place and dashed down the hill, rifle in hand, jamming the bolt forward and loading five polished bullets. The men followed, kicking rocks down the hillside. As they closed on the bottom of the valley, the [i]Neftanyna's[/i] horse whinnied. A dog started to bark from inside a shed. Kaleyesus and his men went for cover. Ergete walked patiently toward the house. Nervous, a young [i]shifta[/i] followed him. A shot was fired from a second story window. It whizzed past Ergete's arm and struck a stone fence post near the stable. Ergete and his follower dove for cover. A second shot rang out. It struck the second man in the back of the neck and came out his jaw, spraying gore into the dust. The dying man couldn't speak, but made a wet babbling sound as dark blood spread out beneath him. Ergete put the bead of his sights on that darkened window and fired a shot. "Give up! We have you outnumbered!" he yelled. Another shot rang out from the window. Kaleyesus fired back. "It was the same window." he said, looking at Ergete. "Put hell in that window. I will go in." Four guns fixed on window. Ergete replaced the bullet he'd spent. All at once, the four of them opened fire, pouring what was in their guns as Kaleyesus dashed for the door. He kicked it in. There was screaming. Ergete reloaded as fast as he could, but his hands were shaky, his reflexes weak from his time in hiding. Two shots were heard in the house. "Come." Kaleyesus yelled from the window. They went in, leaving the youngest [i]shifta[/i] at the door. They passed rooms furnished with imported items. The stairs creaked under the armed men's weight. Upstairs, a woman wailed so mournfully it made Ergete's skin crawl. A young woman in green silk was crouched over a dead man. The man was young, his face clean-shaven and boyish, his expression in death one of wide-eyed surprise. He'd been stabbed in the chest, and the wide wound poured blood, soaking into woman's shawl. "Get out of here. Run for the bushes! We will burn this place!" Ergete told the girl. She did not seem to hear him. "We don't want to burn you!" he said, pulling her by the shawl. She held onto the boy until her fingers, slick with blood, lost grasp of him. Her cry was like an elephant, but she said no words. Downstairs his men had already began looting. "That was the son." Kaleyesus said, looking down at the dead man. "I am not worried about it." Ergete replied, "Would they have ammunition? Weapons? That is the most important thing." "This boy rode with his father when he collected rents. I saw the father strike my friend with the butt of his rifle." "Is this the first time you've killed a man?" "I don't know." "This boy has killed too. Come. We have to work." Ergete rifled through a chest, finding only clothes. He didn't pay attention to Kaleyesus, but instead tore through the room like an angry baboon, turning things over, looking everywhere he could. When he found money, he took it. He found a map and took that too. The rough wood floor complained beneath his feet. He stepped in the young man's blood. It stuck to his boot, and he heard its wet slap as he went into the next room. He found ammunition for the boy's gun, but the rounds did not work for his. Kaleyesus had the weapon, so Ergete gave him the ammo. Two of the others had found the pantry, and were throwing the food into a burlap grain sack. A gunshot rang out, striking the door. The [i]shifta[/i] on guard duty scurried in. "I saw four!" he said, looking spooked. The [i]shiftas[/i] dodged for cover by the windows. "We should tell them we have his children." the lookout whispered. "We let the girl go, and she knows the boy is dead." "Her brother." Kaleyesus said. His voice was calm, matter of fact. "Come out of my house, murderers!" A man screamed from outside. Two shots range out in quick order. Ergete heard one slam against the wall, cracking the plaster. Ergete poked an eye out to see if he could get a sight on their besiegers. "It is no good here. Kaleyesus, you guard the door with this man. The two of you, follow me." He lead them upstairs, and directed them to take the second room facing to the front. He took the room with the corpse. There was movement behind the back wall of the stable. Human? He couldn't tell. But the walls were thin, made from poor wood, so Ergete took the shot. The enemy replied with three, and he ducked. All three came through the window. Two burst into the back wall, the third striking the open chest. The [i]shiftas[/i] in the next window returned fire. The short outburst over, it went quiet again. Ergete went to the back room. The window looked out to the rising hills, and the shadows of the [i]Semien[/i] mountains beyond. He squinted, trying to see something human amidst the red rocks and green shrubs. Surely they would cover it. But... "Hold them." he shouted into the two in the next room. He flew down the stairs and went to the back door. Kaleyesus could see him from the front room. They exchanged looks: Kaleyesus inquiring, Ergete fired by determination. "What are you doing?" Kaleyesus mouthed. Ergete said nothing. He kicked open the back door and pushed himself flat against the wall. Two shots range out from the back hills. One went through the door and struck the back wall. Ergete shut the door. Now he knew. He went back up the stairs and took up his position in the room with the corpse. The siege rolled on. As far as battles went, it was boring, but both sides seemed to hold each other in check. Ergete ordered his men to spare their ammunition for when they were certain. Outside, the [i]Neftanyna's[/i] taunted them. "We will hang you in the stable! You will die smelling horse dung!" "Come out, [i]shifta[/i] murderers. We will send you to hell!" There had to be a way out of course, this couldn't be his fate. It couldn't be the fate of the revolution. Ergete racked his brain trying to figure it out. No fleeing out the back. Could they get to their horses? Jump out a side window? There were plenty of crags to hide them once they got to the hill, but there was a good sixty yards of open terrain there. "Fire!" That was Kaleyesus's voice, from downstairs. No gunshots followed. "Fire! This house is on fire!" Kaleyesus was shouting up the stairwell this time. They were being smoked out! Ergete scrambled out of his perch. Rifles cracked outside. He was rushing down the stairs, behind two of the others. Smoke filled the bottom room. Much of the building was wood. It would go up quick. "We need to go out! Get the ammo! Out to the barn!" Ergete barked. "The Barn?" one [i]shifta[/i] questioned. Ergete ignored him. "Once you get out, shoot in the direction you know them to be. Ready?" He didn't wait for an answer. The smoke was growing thicker when he burst through the front door, a grey cloud billowing after them. Gunfire burst from all around. He dashed, firing his carbine without aiming, frantic, bullets whizzing. A man screamed behind him. He didn't look back. The barn door was chained, but he shot it, and rushed in. A man in blue robe stood inside, holding a pistol, startled by the new arrivals. Ergete smashed his face in with the butt of his gun, and the man went down, his nose a bloody ruin. "We lost two men." Kaleyesus informed him. They were down to the three of them now. The man who'd came to retrieve Ergete in his church hide out was one of the slain. There was nowhere to shoot from. Ergete pulled a curved knife from his belt and slit the throat of the enemy on the ground. They were trapped. "Can we rush out into the hills from the back?" Ergete asked. "That is the horse pen." Kaleyesus replied. There was blood on his clothes, and on his face. Splattered. Not his. "That is open ground..." the third man said. "We have to do something." "We have them!" he heard a shout from outside. "They will burn this place soon." There was movement. Ergete fired wildly at the wall, screaming like a lion. He saw the flames start in the corner. "This cannot be it!" Ergete yelled, "It cannot end here!" The fire rose rapidly like hell had opened a gate across the wall. Smoke filled their lungs. The grey air glowed a sickly orange. Not able to think of anything else, Ergete lead them to the back. To his horror, that door was also burning. He could hear the wood crackling, sounding like gunfire. They could no longer talk. He wanted to scream, but he could hardly breath. His eyes burned, and watered. His throat felt like sandpaper. Something huge burst through the door, roaring at them, flames jumping all around. At first, Ergete's tortured eyes thought it was an elephant. Men came out and grabbed them. This was it, they would be lynched. The elephant was an armored car, rough looking, old enough that the wheels had spokes like a wagon. They were brought outside. The fresh air filled his lungs, and tasted pure on his tongue. He couldn't see but a blue blur through his watering eyes. "You are with the revolutionary [i]shiftas[/i]?" Ergete wheezed. His reply didn't sound like anything. "You are wanted in Gondar. The [i]Mesfin[/i] would like to speak to you." As his eyes cleared, he saw the blood in the dust, and the fire engulfing the two buildings. A number of uniformed men were standing about, guarding well dressed prisoners. "They are criminals! [i]Shiftas[/i]!" and old man in green robes roared. The soldiers ignored him, walking right past as if he didn't exist.