The Seventh Scroll (22 page)

For an hour he led them away from the Dandera rier and up over the high ground above the valley, into an area of thick scrub and up-thrust ridges of weathered limestone.

The thorny branches of the bush were densely intertwined, and grew so close to the ground that there seemed to be no way through them. However, Tamre led them on to a narrow twisting path, just wide enough for them to avoid the red-tipped hook thorns on each side of them. Then abruptly he stopped and pulled Royan to a halt beside him.

He pointed down, almost at his own toes.

"The riverPhe announced importantly. Nicholas came up beside them and whistled softly with surprise. Tamre had led them around in a wide circle to the west, and then brought them back to the Dandera river at a point where it still ran in the bed of the deep ravine.

Now they stood on the very edge of the chasm. He saw at once that, although the top of the rocky ravine was less than a hundred feet wide, the chasm opened out below the rim. From the surface of the water far below, the rock wall belled out in the shape of one of the pottery tej flasks.

It narrowed again as it neared the top where they stood.

saw the holy thing over there."Tamre pointed to the far side of the chasm where a small feeder spring meandered out of the thorny bush. Streamers of bright green moss, nourished by the spring, hung from the lip of the concave rock wall, and the water trickled down them and dripped from the tips into the river two hundred feet below.

"If you saw it there, why did you bring us to this side of the river?"Nicholas demanded.

Tamre looked as though he were on the point of tears.

This side is easier. There is no path through the bush on the other side. The thorns would hurt Woizero Royan."

"Don't be a bully," Royan told him, and put her arm around the boy's shoulder.

Nicholas shrugged, "It looks like the two of you are ganging up on me. Well, seeing that we are here, we might as well sit a while and see if great-grandpa's dik-dik puts in an appearance."

He picked out a spot in the shade of one of the stunted trees that hung on the lip of the chasm, and with his hat swept the ground clear of fallen thorns until there was a place for them to sit. He placed his back against the trunk of the thorn tree and laid the Rigby rifle across his lap. By this time it was past noon, and the heat was stifling.

He passed the water bottle to Royan and, while she drank, glanced at Tamre and suggested to her in English, "This might be a good time to find out what, if anything, the lad knows about the Taita ceramic in the crown. He is besotted with you. He will tell you anything you want to know. Question him."

She began gently, chatting softly to the boy. Occasionally she stroked his head and petted him as though he were a puppy-She spoke to him of the previous night's banquet, the beauty of the underground church, and the antiquity of the murals and the tapestries, and then at last mentioned the abbot's crown.

"Yes. Yes. That is the stone of the saint," he agreed readily. "The blue stone of St. Frumentius."

"Where did it come from?" she asked. "Do you know?" The boy looked embarrassed, "I do not know. It is very old, perhaps as old as Christ the Saviour. That is what the priests say."

"You do not know where it was found?"

He shook his head, but then, eager to please her, he suggested, "Perhaps it fell from heaven."

"Perhaps." Royan glanced at Nicholas, who rolled his eyes upwards and then pushed his hat forward to cover his face.

"Perhaps St.. Frumentius gave it to the first abbot when he died." Tamre warmed to the subject. "Or perhaps it was in his coffin with him when he was placed in his tomb."

"All these things are possible, Tamre,' Royan agreed.

"Have you seen the tomb of St. Frumentius?"

He looked around him guiltily. "Only the ordained priests are allowed into the tnaqdas, the Holy of Holies," he hung his head and whispered.

"You have seen it, Tamre," she accused him gently, stroking his head. She was intrigued by the boy's guilt. "You can tell me. I will not tell the priests."

"Only once," he admitted. "The other boys. They sent me to touch the tabot stone. They would have beaten me if I had not. All the new acolytes are made to do this." He began to babble with the horror of the memory of his initiation ordeal. "I was alone. I was very afraid. It was after midnight when the priests were asleep. Dark. The maqdas is haunted by the ghost of the saint. They told me that if I was unworthy the saint would strike me down with lightning."

Nicholas removed the hat from his face and straightened up slowly. "My word, the child is telling the truth," he said softly. "He has been into the Holy of Holies-'Then he looked across at Royan, "Keep questioning him. He may just give us something useful. Ask him about the tomb of St. Frumentius."

"Did you see the tomb of the saint?" she asked, and the boy nodded vigorously. "Did you go into the tomb?" This time he shook his head.

"No. There are bars across the entrance. Only the abbot is allowed into the tomb, on the birthday of the saint."

"Did you look through the bars?"

"Yes, but it is very dark. I saw the coffin of the saint. It is wood and there is painting on it, the face of the saint."

"Is he a black man?"

"No - a white man with a red beard. The painting is very old. The picture is faded, and the wood of the coffin is rotting and crumbling."

"Is it lying on the floor of the tomb?" Tamre screwed up his face in thought, then after careful consideration shook his head. "No, it is on a shelf of stone in the wall."

"Is there anything else you remember about the tomb of the saint?" Royan tried to prod his memory, but Tamre shook his head.

"It was very dark, and the opening in the bars is small, he apologized.

"It does not matter. Is the tomb in the back wall of the rrtmdu?"

."Yes, it is behind the altar and the tabot stone."

"What is the altar made of - stone?"

"No. It is wood, cedarwood. There are candies, and a big cross, and the many crowns of the abbot, and the chalice and staff."

"Is it painted?"

"No, it is carved with pictures. But they are different from the pictures inside the tomb of the saint."

"What is different? Tell me, Tamre."

"I don't know. The faces are funny. They wear different clothes. There are horses." He looked puzzled. "They are different." Royan tried for a while to get a clearer description from him, but he became more and more confused and contradictorywhen she pushed him, so she changed tack.

"Tell me about the tabot," she suggested, but Nicholas forestalled her.

"No, you tell me about the tabot," he demanded of her.

"Is it similar to the Jewish Tabernacle?"

"Yes, at least in the Egypti She turned to him, an Church it is. It is usually kept in a jewelled box and wrapped in an embroidered cloth of gold. The only difference is that the Jewish Tabernacle is carved with the ten commandments, but in our Church it is carved with the words of dedication of the particular church that houses it.

It is the living heart of the Church."

"What is the tabot stone?" Nicholas frowned with concentration.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Our Church does not have a tabot stone."

"Ask him!

"Tell me about the tabot stone, Tamre."

"It is so high, and so square." He indicated a height of a little above his own shoulder, and the width of his spread hands.

"And the tabot stands on top of this stone?" Royan guessed. Tamre nodded.

"Why did they send you to touch the stone and not the tabot itself?" Nicholas demanded, but Royan shook her head to silence him.

"Let me do the talking. You are too harsh with him. She turned back to the boy. "Why the stone, rather than the Ark of the tabot that stands on top of it?"

Tamre shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. They just did."

"What does the stone look like? Are there paintings on it also?"

"I don't know." He looked distraught at not being able to satisfy her. He wanted desperately to please her. don't know. The stone is wrapped with cloth."

Nicholas and Royan exchanged startled glances, and then Royan turned back to the boy.

"Covered?" Royan leaned closer to him. "The stone is covered?, "They say that it is only uncovered by the abbot on the birthday of St.. Frumentius."

Again Nicholas and Royan stared at each other, and then he smiled thoughtfully. "I would rather like to have a look at the tomb of the saint, and the tabot stone - in its uncovered state."

"You' have to wait for the saint's birthday," she said, she broke and have yourself ordained. Only the priests off and stared at him again. "You aren't thinking of - no, you wouldn't, would you?"

"Who, me?" he grinned. "Perish the thought."

"If they caught you in the maqdas, they would tear you to little pieces."

"The answer, then, would be not to let them catch me."

"If you go, I am going with you. How are we going to manage it?"

"Throttle back, dear girl. The thought only occurred to me ten seconds ago. Even on my good days, I need at least ten minutes to come up wit a brilliant plan of action."

They both stared out across the chasm in silence, until Royan whispered softly, "The covered stone. Taita's stone testament?"

"Don't say it aloud," he pleaded, and made the sign against the evil eye.

"Don't even think it aloud. The Devil is listening." They were silent again, both of them thinking furiously. Then Royan started, "Nicky, what if-' she broke off. "No, that won't. work." She relapsed into frowning silence again.

Tamre broke the quiet with a sudden squeak of excitement, "There it is. Look!'

They were both startled by the interruption. "What is it?" Royan turned to him.

Tamre seized her arm and shook it. He was trembling with emotion.

"There it is. I told you." With his other hand he was pointing out across the river, "There at the edge of the thorn bushes. Can't you see it?"

"What is it? What can you see?"

"The animal of John the Baptist. The holy marked creature." Following the direction of his outflung arm, she picked out a soft, brownish blur of movement at the edge of the thicket on the far bank. "I don't know. It is too far-'

Nicholas scrabbled in his pack and brought out his binoculars. He lifted and focused them, and then he began to chuckle.

"Hallelujah! Great-grandpa's reputation is safe at last." He passed the binoculars to Royan. She focused them and found the little creature in the field. It was three hundred yards away, but through the ten-power lens she could make it out in detail.

It was almost half as large again as the common dikdik that they had seen the previous day, and instead of drab grey its coat was a rich red brown. Its most striking feature, however, was the distinct dark bars of chocolate colour across its shoulders and back - five evenly spaced markings that did indeed look like the imprint of fingers and thumb.

"Madoqua harperii, no less," Nicholas whispered to her.

"Sorry, great-grandfather, for doubting you."

The dik-dik stood half in shadow, wriggling its nose as it snuffled the air. Its head was held high, suspicious and alert. The soft breeze was quartering between them and the animal, but every so often a wayward eddy gave it the faint whiff of humanity that had alarmed it. Royan heard the snick of the rifle action as Nicholas worked the bolt and chambered a round. Hurriedly she lowered the glasses, and glanced at him. "You aren't going to shoot it?" she demanded.

"No, not at that range. Over three hundred yards, and a small target. I'll wait for it to get closer."

"How can you bring yourself to do it?"

"How can I not? That's what I came here to do, amongst other things."

"But it's so beautiful."

"I take it, then, that it would be perfectly all right to whack it if it were ugly?" She said nothing, but raised the binoculars again. The eddy of the wind must have changed, for the dik-dik lowered its head to nibble at a tuft of coarse brown grass.

Then lifted its head again and came on down the clearing in the Thorn scrub, stepping daintily, pausing every few paces to feed again.

"Go back. She tried to will it into safety, but it kept on coming, meandering towards the edge of the chasm.

Nicholas rolled on to his stomach and settled himself behind the trunk of the tree. He screwed up his hat into a soft pad on which to rest the rifle.

"Two hundred yards," he muttered to himself "That's a fair shot. No further." Resting the cushioned rifle on the twisted root, he aimed through the telescopic sight. Then he lifted his head, waiting to let it come within certain range.

Abruptly the dik-dik lifted its head again and came to a halt, quivering with tension.

"Something he doesn't like. Dammit all, wind must have changed again,'

Nicholas growled. At that moment the little antelope bolted. It streaked across the clearing, back the way it had come, and disappeared into the thorn scrub.

"Go, dik-dik, go!" said Royan smugly, and Nicholas sat up and grunted with disgust.

"I can't make out what frightened him." Then his expression changed and he cocked his head. There was an alien sound on the air growing each second - a harsh, rising clatter and a shrill, whining whistle.

"Chopper! What the hell!" Nicholas recognized the sound immediately. He took the binoculars from Royan's hand and turned them to the sky, sweeping the cloudless blue emptiness above the tops of the escarpment.

"There it is," he said grimly, adding, "Bell Jet Ranger," as he recognized the profile. "Coming this way, by the looks of it. No point in drawing attention to ourselves. Let's get under cover."

He shepherded Royan and the boy under the spread branches of the thorn tree. "Sit tight," he told her. "No chance they will spot us under here." He watched the. approaching helicopter through the binoculars. "Probably Ethiopian air force," he said softly.

"Anti-shufta patrol, most likely. Both Boris and Colonel Nogo warned us that there are a lot of rebels and bandits operating down here in the gorge' he broke off abruptly.