Volume Two—Chapter Twenty Two.

The Enemy’s Country.

Rome is said to have subdued the world under the direction of a hen and chickens, but the legions of Shoa and Efát are aroused to victory by the shrill crowing of a cock, which is invariably carried with the army, in one of the wicker baskets forming the pedestal of the banqueting table. One hundred and fifty-six choristers, termed asmároch, are entertained at the expense of the crown, upon extensive grants of land, to chant psalms and hymns each livelong night of the entire year. Twelve are brought on duty every month, and their vigils, which are invariably kept standing, are observed with more than usual strictness during the continuance of a military expedition. Throughout the hours of darkness their loud chorus arose from the pavilion without a moment’s intermission, and their vocal labours around the holy ark ceased only with the approach of dawn.

Many detachments being still in the rear, a halt was proclaimed with a view to admit of their joining the head quarters, and the king, escorted by two thousand cavalry, made an excursion to a knoll at some distance from the encampment, whence on a range stretching to the south-eastward, the hill of Dalófa was conspicuous. Hereon His Majesty has recently erected a palace, which he rarely visits except for the purpose of controlling by his presence the disaffected and turbulent Galla, whose continual outbreaks render it a far from agreeable place of residence. Gazing for hours over the extensive tract of rich meadow land which lay stretched like a map at his feet, the mind of the contemplative monarch, occasionally occupied by the administration of justice, appeared to be chiefly engrossed with the coming chapter of events, and to be abstractedly scanning the direction in which to pounce upon the surrounding foe.

The favourite dancing girl meanwhile attuning her shrill throat to song laudatory of her own vocal powers, and of her happy state of independence, in wild though far from pleasing notes carolled ever and anon as the spirit of the nightingale entered into her soul.

    “Care have I none, no flock to keep,
    Nor corn to grind, nor field to reap;
    ’Tis mine alone through the livelong day
    To charm the king with my roundelay.

    “Task have I none, no toil to share,
    Nor wood to fetch, nor load to bear;
    ’Tis mine alone but to dance and sing,
    And drink to the health of my lord the king.”

“Pity is it,” remarked one of our party, “since the damsel has so little to do, that she does not that little better.”

“What fault have you to find with her performance?” growled the chief smith from beneath the ample folds of his lion skin cloak, enveloped in which he had composed himself to rest under the shadow of an adjacent bush;—“what fault have you to find with the king’s asmári? She sings according to the fashion of her own country, and that is surely sufficient.”

Early the ensuing morning the royal drums beat to saddle, and in half an hour the army, which had swelled meanwhile to about fifteen thousand fighting men, was in motion over a country especially favourable to its advance. Some military precautions were now observed. Large brigades of horse served as flanking parties, and the heights to the right and left were severally occupied, as the state umbrellas advanced over the level green sward, at the rate of three miles an hour. The king, with a few favourite chiefs, preceded by Ayto Berri, the quarter-master-general, and by the corps of guides escorting the holy ark and Book of the law, led the host, which, extending for miles and miles to the rear, came pouring over the hills, and down the valleys, like a swollen river bursting its banks, and overflowing the entire country.

The military system of Shoa being entirely feudal, each governor in the realm is required to furnish his contingent of militia in proportion to his landed tenure—the peasantry being at all times ready for the foray, and expected to purvey horse, arms, and provisions, without payment from the state. Four hundred fusiliers, bondsmen of the king, alone receive pay—eight pieces of salt, value twenty pence sterling, being disbursed annually to each, in addition to the food and raiment granted to every royal slave. Little discipline exists in the army thus composed, but considerable tact is evinced in its organisation and distribution—small confidence being reposed in that portion which is not drawn from ancient possessions.

Of three grand divisions, the centre, commanded by His Majesty in person, consisted of the Luguamioch, under Ayto Melkoo, Master of the Horse; the Gásha Shákri, or shield-bearers, and the detachment of the collector of newly-levied tribute. Immediately on the left flank were the fusiliers of Ayto Kátama, commander-in-chief of the bodyguard, behind whom came the Wotzbietoch, or females of the royal kitchen;—then the legion of Ayto Guebroo, governor of Mentshar; and, lastly, the detachments of Shoa-Meda, of Morát, and Morab?etie.

The van, consisting of skirmishers, is invariably led by the great governor of the subjugated Galla, under the title of Worári. With Abogáz Maretch, who now filled this important post, were the tried governors of Bulga, Kembibít, Góla, and Ootuba, whose respective detachments are Christians, and who are all drawn from the neighbourhood, where intercourse with the Galla is most frequent. The third division, or rear-guard, is commanded by the general styled Wobo, who is arbitrarily chosen from the seats of seven governments in the north, viz. Giddem, Géshe, Antzochia, Mans, Káa, Gabriel, and Efrata—the same individual being never selected on two consecutive expeditions. By the continual exercise of his staff, the Master of the Horse, assisted by the shield-bearers, contrived to preserve the proper distance between the van of the army and the royal person, but confusion reigned elsewhere. Warriors were huddled together without order or arrangement, and every trooper selecting his own position in the detachment to which he belonged, diverted himself by devising the death of the numerous hares that scampered through the army, and, strange to say, often threaded the maze of hoofs in safety.

During the early part of the march, herds of cattle grazing quietly in the pastures around various hamlets, proclaimed a subjugated tribe; and clans of tributary Galla, each led by its respective chief in some fantastic costume formerly received at the royal hands, met His Majesty at intervals, in order to present tribute either in horses or kine—the whole greasy band dismounting at a respectful distance on the flank, hurrying before the despot’s path, and with bosoms bared, prostrating themselves simultaneously upon the earth. Little respect, however, was paid to the standing crops—afield after field of ripening corn being trampled level with the ground, in spite of the remonstrance of the disconsolate husbandmen, who, with heavy stones upon their heads, threw themselves at the feet of the king with loud and reiterated appeals.

The course was generally south-west, and conjecture was on the rack as to the scene of active operations and the ultimate destination of the army. But the secret still remaining with its royal leader, any new speculation on the subject did but elicit the old remark, “The belly of the master is not known.” Choristers continued to beguile the tedious march with their rambling stanzas, and to pour out shrill strains of melody like the notes of the wild bird. The rough riders galloped before the van of the host to exhibit the paces of steeds received in tribute; and His Majesty, alighting ever and anon from his mule, reposed for a few minutes upon the cushioned alga which was carried in his train.

Nothing could be more tame and monotonous than the country passed over. Wide grassy undulations, interspersed with extensive cultivation, rose unrelieved by a single tree or other redeeming feature, save the many European flowers that wantoned beneath the joyous sunshine on the far-stretching prairie. The Karinza, the Fincha, the Chatti, and the Rufa rivers, all tributary to the Nile, were crossed in succession. Deep, narrow, muddy channels intersecting verdant meadows, these presented the general character of all Galla streams, cutting silently through the rich dark soil, and leaving swampy quagmires on the waving downs. At long intervals the Negoos, dismounting to change mules, proceeded some distance on foot—an example followed by all. On the first of these occasions His Majesty went through the comedy of thrusting his feet into slippers, selected from a bag carried by a slave, which contained numerous pairs manufactured of various coloured morocco. Many were tried in succession, but the royal heels being invariably chafed and blistered, the experiment was finally abandoned in despair; and sacrificing dignity to comfort, the despot, like his liege subjects, advanced unshod.

For several hours not a horned head had been visible around the deserted hamlets; and late in the afternoon, when the van of the flagging army arrived in the extensive plain of Abai Deggar, completely environed by hills, the order was given to encamp, destroy, and plunder. Instantly ensued a rush from all quarters at full gallop. Flourishing fields of wheat, barley, and beans, the produce of the toil of a rebellious tribe, were ravaged and overrun by the locust hordes; and in the course of half an hour, the soil being stripped of every acre of cultivation, there commenced a general scramble for the rafters and ribs of houses, of which the skeletons were presently consigned to the flames.

The women of the royal kitchen had, as before, been the first to select a centrical and advantageous spot on which to pursue their important avocations; but some arbitrary change having been directed by His Majesty, who occupied his usual elevated position, the camp was thrown into confusion. Quarrels and scuffles might now be witnessed in every quarter. Those who had taken possession of a luxuriant pasture or the vicinage of water, stoutly defended the treasure against invading comrades, and recourse being had to weapons, sword cuts and broken heads were quite in fashion. Although now in an enemy’s country, neither picket, vidette, nor sentry was mounted, and not the slightest precaution against nocturnal surprise was adopted towards the security of the camp.

But no advantage was taken of the Amhára neglect, and another and similar forced march over a country equally devoid of interest with the tract already crossed, led to the long narrow valley of Karábarek, at the foot of the Garra Gorphoo mountains. The bright spear-blades glittered through the cloud of stifling dust that marked the course of myriads over ploughed land. Green fields and smiling meadows quickly lost their bloom under the tramp of the steed; for no cultivation was now spared, and ruin and desolation were the order of the day. Straggling parties of the Sertie Galla had been seen crowning the heights that skirted the line of march, and near the peaked hill of Wyfun they were assembled in numbers; but none ventured within half a mile of a host, twenty thousand in number, all thirsting alike for the blood of their enemies. Far and wide the country was laid waste, and every vestige of human habitation destroyed under the torch, the flames racing among the riper barley with the speed of a galloping horse; but the wretched inhabitants, aware of the approach of the spoiler, had abandoned their dwellings before the storm burst over them, and one aged man only had yet fallen into the merciless clutches of the invaders.

This prize had stained the hand of a follower of Ayto Gádel, governor of Chercha, a functionary far from being notorious for courageous bearing. On the occasion of Medóko’s last advance, his was the mansion first beleaguered by the insurgents, but he fled in dismay, leaving his fair partner to defend the premises. Joining after the first day’s march, he had put the most diverting questions relative to the English, with whose appearance he was greatly perplexed.

“Are these people pagans?” inquired the hero with owlish features, but too strongly indicative of his vacant mind.

“No.”

“Are they Islams?”

“No.”

“Then what are they?”

“Christians.”

“Christians! Impossible. They observe no fast, and wear no máteb as a badge of their religion Is there any grass in their country?”

(Máteb, i.e. Mark or token. The blue silk cord worn around the neck by the Christians of Shoa.)

“Why not?”

“How did I know? Have they cattle?”

“Abundance.”

“And sheep and goats?”

“Certainly.”

“And their Negoos, does he carry debaboch (Umbrellas of state), and make great zumachas (Military expeditions) with warriors like these?”—turning his oyster eyes, lighted with something like martial fire, towards the countless rabble in the rear. But the party thus interrogated could keep his temper no longer; and as the little hunch-backed father confessor rode jauntily up with a dirty page perched on the crupper of his mule, to volunteer a lesson in the noble art of equitation, he galloped off, exclaiming with a sneer—

“Like these, forsooth! One of Her Britannic Majesty’s regiments would in a single hour sweep from off the face of the earth the whole undisciplined mob that swells the train of the boasted descendant of King Solomon.”