CHAPTER 54
SHE KNOCKED BEFORE OPENING the door. “Warren, can I talk with you?”
“Of course, my dear, come in,” he said as he knocked the ash from his pipe into a small green ceramic bowl.
She looked around the room where she had spent so much time. “Warren, I’d like to go to Djibouti on the imperial train tomorrow.”
“That’s an excellent idea. I’ll send Standish to arrange it.”
“Warren, if you don’t mind, I’d like to do this myself.”
Warren studied the determined look in her eyes before nodding. “Of course, my dear. I’ll give you the money to get to Geneva and what we call a laissez-passer. It testifies that you are part of my family and that you are not subject to searches.”
“Will that mean I can go to Italy through Naples? I’d like to find out if I can still take my fellowship from the American Academy.”
“I can’t see any problems with that.”
“And you, Warren?”
“My orders are to close down the mission, ship out papers we might need, burn the rest. Then I will go to Washington, and Standish to Geneva. At the end of the month.”
“Warren, I’d like to ask you something. I’ve sat here in front of that painting,” and she pointed to the one with the purple mountains, “I know your paintings have a theme. What is this one?”
“If you excuse my tone deafness, I’ll sing it.
‘O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!’
Ceseli joined him in an equally tone deaf, but loud refrain.
America! America!
“Would you like it? I’m flattered. Take it as a birthday present.”
“I’d love it. Thank you. But for me, these are the purple mountains of Ethiopia.”
“I’m pleased you like it. Now go see Yifru.”
That evening, Ceseli walked up the familiar staircase. Everything was in flux. There were no pet lions on the landing, nor any attentive barefoot guards. All day long the packing of important documents and personal belongings continued. Now instead of moving out of the city westward, the trucks carried their cargo to the railway station. Ceseli knocked softy on Yifru’s door. Even here the packing continued.
“Ah, Ceseli,” he said as she peeked inside.
“I’ve come to pack my papers and photos.”
“Of course.”
“I wish there were something I could do, or say. What about Yohannes?”
“He will go with the freedom fighters to Gore. He’s leaving now.”
“Yifru. I’ve come to ask you a favor,” Ceseli said, awkwardly. “I would like to go to Djibouti on the imperial train. I don’t need any special treatment. All my papers are in order. From Djibouti, I can go to Europe.”
“The train may be bombed,” Yifru said. “I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“Warren doesn’t believe that Mussolini will bomb the train. He has too much to lose. And it doesn’t matter where the emperor is as long as he’s not in Ethiopia.”
“Does he know you want to do this?”
“Warren? Yes. He thinks it’s a good idea. There’s nothing more I can do from here.”
“How are you doing, Ceseli?”
“As well as can be expected I guess. I’m keeping busy. I feel just like I did when Daddy died. But life went on.”
“Warren and Standish are staying?
“Yes. They have orders to close the mission. Warren will go to Washington. Standish to Geneva. You will tell me where you are?”
“We will go to Jerusalem. Their majesties want to pray at our church there. Then we go to London. We’ve been offered asylum. And of course, Geneva.”
“I will catch up with you.” Ceseli hugged him and then turned, closed the door, and left the little Ghibbi.