CHAPTER 49

“AND SUCH A WASTE of lives. I wonder if the League will even believe us. We don’t have any real proof.”

Ceseli was quiet for several moments weighing what she would say. “Yifru. We do have proof.”

“What proof?”

She drew in her breath and began in a just audible voice. “After the planes left, I waited for them to return and they didn’t. I realized then that my cameras were up on the plateau. I needed to get them. So I walked quickly back up to where they were. Just in front of the tent. When I got there I looked around. I was scared, distraught, heartbroken, but when I looked around me what I saw drove me to a feeling of incredible anger. It was right then that I decided to avenge Marco. And Ethiopia. But I said to myself just that. I need proof. So I took first one camera and then the other and I photographed everything on the plateau. The charred canvas of the tent. The twisted poles and the big tarpaulin Red Cross markers, the dead. All of them and several of them singly.” She stopped. “Marco as well.”

“Ceseli, I’m so sorry. He was such a courageous young man.”

“But let’s transform the waste into something positive. If my photos can prove what Italy has done, let’s use them.”

“What can I do?”

“Help me get the film back to Addis where I hope I have enough developer.”

He paused obviously considering different options. “I see two possibilities. You stay with the emperor and his entourage. It’ll take longer, but you are safer in the end. Or I can have Yohannes take you to Dessie and have Standish meet you there. Faster. Riskier from here to Dessie, but safe once the Americans can get to you. You can sleep on it, if you want.”

“I don’t need that. I’ll go to Dessie.”

“We will move only at night,” Yohannes said as they stopped for a moment of rest. “It will take longer, but we can’t risk the planes.”

Several days later was the Coptic Easter Saturday, and Ceseli and Yohannes had reached a small mountain town a few miles north of Mugia. They met with the village chief and joined him in his small and humble tukul, eating the traditional raw meat and drinking tej to celebrate the Resurrection. Although Ceseli had never eaten raw meat excepting beef tartare, she devoured it realizing how hungry she was.

On Easter Day, Yohannes made an extraordinary decision. Though he was sure the Italians must be traveling south with all possible speed, he decided to stop at the holy city of Lalibela where they could find safety. Traveling all of the night, they reached the holy church, Medhane Alam, the Savior of the World. It was the largest and noblest of the churches hewn from the mountain, and probably copied from the Church of St. Mary of Zion at Axum.

Inside they were safe to rest and to sleep. The next morning, the light glanced on the graceful lines of the many columns and arches sending strange patterns of light through the arched doors and interstices of the pierced stonework. The church was safe. The priests and monks would protect them. It was somewhere where Ceseli could rest. “Sweet dreams, Yohannes.”

“And you too, Ceselí.” Before he slept, Yohannes’s thoughts turned to his uncle. He was devoted to him as would be any young man whose father Yifru had replaced from an early age. His uncle had never married, and not for lack of possibilities. When he had asked him, he had said he had only one heart to break. But that was a long time ago and now he wondered whether Yifru was in love with Ceseli. Or whether he knew he was in love with her. What would happen if he weren’t able to get her to safety?

The next morning, Ceseli and Yohannes climbed through the narrow alleys to reach the St. Giorgi Church. Excavated in the form of a Greek cross, it was the last of the rock-hewn churches and was dug twelve meters down into the red rock.

It was difficult descending and Yohannes gave her his hand. Once inside, he walked to the altar to pray while Ceseli looked around her. As her eyes adjusted, she studied the dark ceiling and damp walls. It was quite by accident that she saw the cross high up on the wall. It was a Templar cross. She knew that she must live to tell Yifru that yes, there was a Templar cross in this most famous of the Lalibela churches.