CHAPTER 25

“DO YOU WANT TO come and listen to the emperor’s speech?” Ceseli asked Marco on the telephone. “I’m sure there’d be no objection.”

“I’d like that.”

“Come on in,” Ceseli greeted him the next afternoon as she led him to Warren Rutherford’s office.

“Welcome, young man. Nice to see you,” Rutherford said while shaking his hand. “Sit over here,” he said, motioning to the couch. “It’s almost time.”

Rutherford turned on the radio and they sat in silence waiting for it to crackle into life. It was September 11, 1935 and according to the agricultural based Ethiopian calendar, the New Year was about to begin.

The emperor was addressing the world: “At this time, when according to the Ethiopian calendar, the year 1935/36 begins, we wish that this New Year may bring the peace which is essential, and which our people and the world desire with a warm heart. It appears to us right to recall the principal events which have occurred in the past year.

“This WalWal clash, which we demanded be settled by arbitration, was finally adjudicated on the 3rd of September. The five arbitrators reached the unanimous verdict that neither Ethiopia, nor Italy, was responsible for the attack. As Italy has made WalWal the pretext to wage war upon Ethiopia, Italy is now somewhat short of reasons to make war.”

Ceseli looked across at Marco who was having trouble understanding the emperor’s English accent.

“History will judge Italy’s behavior. While Italy claims to be the very essence of civilization, she is making unjust war upon a people that is peaceful, that has been prevented from obtaining military equipment, and which lives still trusting a treaty which Italy publicly signed in August, 1928, so that peace and friendship would persist.

“The Ethiopian people emphatically seek peace and, moreover, loves its country dearly. It will resist by defending itself against the enemy and protecting its chest in which there is a proud heart burning with love of country.

“Our peasants, who live tilling their land in peace, whose arm is strong and who are jealous of their freedom, will rise up with their spades and lances to wield them quickly, overturning their ploughs to stop the enemy from invading their land.

“We do not like war. But we shall not let our enemy pass without defending ourselves fiercely. As Ethiopia’s faith reposes in God, she knows that God’s judgment will prevail over that of man. New weapons and guns which man has devised to destroy his kind, are not a measure of civilization.

“Finally, Ethiopia desires and hopes that with the assistance of the League of Nations, the quarrel which has broken out between Ethiopia and Italy may be resolved by law and proper judgment in consonance with the Covenant of the League of Nations.”

As the radio crackling faded into silence, Minister Rutherford tapped the ashes from his pipe into a nearby ashtray. He looked at each one of them. “So?”

“I hope the American people were listening,” Standish said. “If not the President.”

“Does the emperor know that war is here?” Ceseli asked.

“He still has faith in the League,” Standish replied. “It’s hard to understand why.”

“Because he signed a treaty to avoid war. He committed his name and that of his country,” she answered, looking at him.

“Of course,” Rutherford said, interrupting. “But Standish is right. He’s been given no reason to think the members of the League will defend him.”

“Isn’t that what the Covenant says?” Ceseli asked.

“Yes,” Rutherford added. “President Roosevelt refuses to get involved. Unfortunately, this is the war staring us in the face.”

“Africa is very far from America. Not only in distance,” Standish added.

“I’m afraid there is one point which is very clear,” Rutherford remarked. “The majority of the American people agree that Mussolini is a dreadful fellow and they would be happy if someone were to stop him. But it should be someone else.”

Marco looked at the others knowing that he, at least, was already committed.

“Thank you for letting me share this with you,” he said. “I’d better get back to the hospital.”

“It will be hard on you,” Rutherford said. “If there’s anything we can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As they walked hand-in-hand to the entrance, Marco drew her to the side. “Ceseli, you need to leave.”

“Maybe.”

“No maybes about it. You need to go.”

“You know, Marco, I’m really happy here. For the first time since Daddy’s death, I feel that I am doing something I want to do. And I’m getting a lot accomplished. This is wonderful material for my thesis.”

“That isn’t the issue and you know it! It’s time to go. You know that.”

“You too,” she said defiantly.

“I’m a doctor. I can treat the wounded.”

“Not as well as you, but so could I.”

“Get on that train, Ceseli. Please.”

“I can’t,” she said. Marco took her hand and held it tightly. She looked up at him moving into his embrace. Not wanting him to leave her and not wanting to leave him, they stood there, together, her cheek on his chin for a long time. Then he broke away and was gone.

Later that evening, she sat on her bed and looked around her. The room had changed since she first moved in. It was more personal. Her own photos were on the walls and she had a small table in the bathroom to hold her developing equipment.

Was he right? Should she get out now? She felt like a child again, sitting in her bedroom at her grandmother’s apartment in New York when she needed to make big decisions. None of them had been very big, but at the time they seemed so. She knew it was very important to her not to leave Marco. To be where he was. She looked over at the smiling photo of her father. She had become more confident about her own decisions.