The Seventh Scroll tes-2

by Wilbur Smith

  "I am flattered by your opinion of me." He took her hand and lifted her

  to her full height. Then he turned back to Nicholas, "I am sorry for the

  rough welcome, Some of my men are over-enthusiastic. I knew that there

  were ferengi asking questions at the monastery. But enough, you are with

  friends here. I bid you welcome."

  Mek Nimmur led them to his shelter, where one of his men brought a

  soot-blackened kettle from the fire and poured viscous black coffee into

  mugs for them.

  He and Nicholas plunged into reminiscences of the days prior to the

  Falklands war when they had fought side by side, Nicholas as a covert

  military adviser, and Mek as a young freedom fighter opposing the

  tyranny of Mengistu.

  "But the war is over now, Mek, Nicholas remonstrated at last. "The

  battle is won. Why are you still out in the bush with your men? Why

  aren't you getting rich and fat in Addis, like all the others?"

  "In the interim government in Addis there are enemies Of mine, men like

  Mengistu. When we have got rid of them, then I will come out of the

  bush."

  He and Nicholas embarked into a spirited discussion of African politics,

  so deep and complicated that Royan knew very few of the personalities

  whom they were discussing. Nor could she follow the nuances and the

  subtlety of religious and tribal prejudices and intolerance that had

  persisted for a thousand years. She was, however, impressed by

  Nicholas's knowledge and understanding of the situation, and the way in

  which a man like Mek Nimmur asked his opinion and listened to his

  advice.

  In the end Nicholas asked him, "So now you have carried the war beyond

  the borders of Ethiopia itself? You are operating in Sudan, as well?"

  "The war in the Sudan has been raging for twenty years," Mek confirmed.

  "The Christians in the south fighting against the persecution of the

  Moslem nor the-"

  "I am well aware of that, Mek. But that is not Ethiopia.

  It's not your war."

  "They are Christians, and they suffer injustice. I am a soldier and a

  Christian. Of course it is my war." Tessay had ty to every word that Mek

  spoke, and been listening avid now she nodded her head in agreement, her

  eyes dark and solemn with hero worship.

  "Alto Mek is a crusader for Christ and the rights of the common

  man,'Tessa told Nicholas in awed tones.

  "And he dearly loves a good fight," Nicholas laughed, punching his

  shoulder affectionately. It was a familiar gesture which could easily

  have given offence, but Mek accepted it readily and laughed back at him.

  "What are you doing here yourself, Nicholas, if you are no longer a

  soldier? There was a time when you also loved a good fight."

  "I am completely reformed. No more fighting. I have come to the Abbay

  gorge to hunt dik-dik."

  "Dik-dik?l Mek Nimmur stared at him with disbelief, and then he roared

  with laughter. "I don't believe it. Not you. Not dik-dik. You are up to

  something."

  "It is the truth."

  "You are lying, Nicholas. You never could lie to me. I know you too

  well. You are up to something. You will tell me about it when you need

  my help."

  "And you will still give me your help?"

  "Of course. You saved my life twice."

  "Once,'said Nicholas.

  "Even once is enough," said Mek Nimmur.

  while they talked, the sun slanted down the sky.

  "You are my guests for tonight," Mek Nimmur told them formally. "In the

  morning I will escort you back to your camp at the monastery of St..

  Frumentius.

  That is also my destination. My men and I are going to the monastery to

  celebrate the festival of Timkat- The abbot, Jali Hora, is a friend and

  an ally."

  "And the monastery is probably your deep cover base.

  You use it and the monks for resupply and intelligence.

  Am I right?"

  "You know me too well, Nicholas."Mek Nimmur shook his head ruefully.

  "You taught me much of what I know, so why should you not be able to

  guess my strategy? The monastery makes a perfect base of operations.

  It's close enough to the border-' he broke off, smiling. "But there is

  no need to explain it to you, of all people."

  Mek had his men build a night shelter for Nicholas and Royan, and cut a

  mattress of grass to cushion their sleep. They lay close together under

  the flimsy roof. The night was sultry, and they did not miss their

  blankets.

  Nicholas had a tube of insect repellent in his pack to keep the

  mosquitoes at bay After they had settled down on the grass mattress,

  their heads were close enough together to allow them to converse in

  quiet tones. When he turned his head Nicholas could see the dark

  silhouettes of Mek Nimmur and Tessay still sitting close together by the

  fire.

  "Ethiopian girls are different from the Arabs, and from most other

  African women." Royan too was watching the other couple. "No Arab girl

  would dare be alone with a man like that. Especially if she were a

  married woman."

  "Any way you cut it, they make a damned fine pair," he gave his opinion.

  "Good luck to them. Tessay hasn't had much of that lately - she is

  overdue."

  He turned his head and looked into her face, "What about you, Royan,

  what are you? Are you a decorous, submissive Arab, or an independent,

  assertive Western girl?"

  "It's both a little early and much too late for intimate questions of

  that nature," she told him, and turned over, presenting him with her

  back.

  "Ah, we are standing on ceremony this evening!

  Goodnight, Woizero Royan."

  "Goodnight, Alto Nicholas," she replied, keeping her face turned away

  from him so that he could not see her smile.

  The gorilla column moved out before dawn the next morning. They marched

  in full battle order, with scouts moving ahead and flankers covering

  each side of the path.

  "The army come down here into the gorge very seldom, but we are always

  ready for them when they do come," Mek Nimmur explained. "We try to give

  them a hearty welcome."

  Tessay was watching Mek Nimmur as he spoke; indeed, she had seldom taken

  her eyes off him that morning. Now she murmured to Royan, "He is a truly

  great man, a man who could unite our land, perhaps for the first time in

  a thousand years. I feel humble in his presence, and yet I also feel

  like a young girl again, filled with joy and hope."

  The march back to the monastery took the entire morning. When they came

  in sight of the Dandera. river, Mek Nimmur drew his men back off the

  path into thick bush, while sending only one scout forward. After an

  hour's wait, a party of acolytes came up from the monastery, each

  carrying a large bundle balanced upon his head.

  They greeted Mek with deep reverence, and handed over their bundles to

  his men before returning down the pathway into the gorge of the Abbay.

  The bundles contained priestly shammas, headcloths and sandals. Mek's

  men changed out of their camouflage fatigues into these garments, all of

  which were well worn and unwash
ed for the sake of authenticity. They

  wore only their sidearms under the robes. All their other weapons and

  equipment they cached in one of the caves in the limestone Cliffs, and

  left a detachment to guard them.

  Now as a party of monks they covered the last few miles to the

  monastery, to be welcomed joyously by the community there. Here Nicholas

  and the women left Mek, and climbed the steep path up into the grove of

  wild fig trees. Boris was waiting for them, pacing about the camp, angry

  and frustrated.

  "Where the hell have you been, woman?" he snarled at Tessay. "Been

  whoring around all night, have you?"

  "We lost our way yesterday evening." Nicholas fed him the cover story

  that they had agreed with Mek Nimmur, to maintain his security. Boris

  was hardly the man to trust.

  "And we were picked up by a party of monks from the monastery this

  morning. They brought us back."

  "You are the big hunter and tracker, are you?" Boris sneered at him.

  "You didn't need me to guide you, hey? You got yourself lost, did you,

  English? I see now why you want only to shoot dik-dik." He guffawed

  without humour, and looked at Tessay with those pale dead eyes. "I will

  talk to you later, woman. Go and see to the food."

  Despite the heat, both Nicholas and Royan were hungry. In short order,

  Tessay was able to serve a tasty cold lunch under the shady branches of

  the fig trees. Nicholas refused the wine that Boris offered him.

  want to go out hunting again this afternoon. I have lost almost a whole

  day."

  "You want me to hold your hand this time, English?

  Make sure you don't lose yourself again?"

  "Thanks, old chap, but I think I can manage without you."

  While they ate Nicholas nudged Royan and told her, "Your admirer has

  arrived."

  He jerked his head at the lanky, ungainly figure of Tamre, who had

  sneaked up quietly and was now sitting near the kitchen hut, As soon as

  Royan looked at him his face split into a doting idiotic grin, and he

  bobbed his head and squirmed with ecstatic shyness.

  "I will not come with you this afternoon," Royan told Nicholas quietly,

  when Boris was not listening. "I think there is going to be trouble

  between him and Tessay. I want to stay here with her. Take Tamre with

  you."

  "My word, what an attractive alternative. All my life I have waited for

  this moment." But when he had picked up his rifle and pack, he beckoned

  the boy to follow him.

  Tamre looked around eagerly for Royan, but she was in her hut. At last,

  dragging his feet, he followed Nicholas up the valley.

  "Take me to the other side of the river," he told the boy. "Show me how

  to reach the side where the holy creature lives." Tamre perked up at the

  prospect, and broke into a shambling trot as he led Nicholas over the

  suspension bridge below the pink cliffs.

  For an hour they followed the path, but gradually it petered out until

  it ended in bad and broken ground amongst the erosion'carved hills.

  Undeterred, Tamre plunged into the thorny scrub, and for another two

  hours they scrambled over rocky ridges and through thorn-choked valleys.

  "I can see why you didn't want to bring Royan this way here. You will

  not move. You will not speak. You will even breathe very, very quietly,

  until I come back to fetch you.

  If you utter even one little prayer before I return, I will personally

  start you on your journey to meet St.. Peter at the gates of heaven. Do

  you understand me?"

  He went forward alone, but the little antelope was thoroughly alarmed by

  now Nicholas saw it twice more, but he only had fleeting glimpses of

  ruddy brown movement almost entirely screened by bush. He stood

  directing bitter imprecations towards the boy monk and listening to the

  tick of small hooves on dry earth as it raced away, deeper into the

  thickets. In the end he was forced to give up the hunt for that day.

  It was after dark when he and Tamre got back to camp.

  As soon as Nicholas stepped into the circle of firelight, Royan came to

  meet him.

  "What happened?" she asked. "Did you see the dik-dik again?"

  "Don't ask me. Ask your accomplice. He scared it off.

  It is probably still running."

  "Tamre,'you are a fine young man, and I am very proud of you," she told

  him. The boy wriggled like a puppy, giggling and hugging himself with

  the joy of her approval as he scurried away down the path to the

  monastery.

  Royan was so pleased with the outcome of the hunt that she poured

  Nicholas a whisky with her own hand and brought it to him as he sagged

  wearily by the fire.

  He tasted it and shuddered, "Never let a teetotaller pour for you. With

  a heavy hand like that you should take UP tossing the caber or

  blacksmithing." Despite the complaint, he took another tentative sip.

  She sat close to him, fidgeting with excitement, but it was a while

  before he became aware of her agitation.

  "What is it? Something is eating you alive."

  She threw a cautionary glance in the direction of where Boris sat on the

  opposite side of the fire, and then dropped her voice, leaned close to

  him and spoke in Arabic.

  "Tessay and I went down to the monastery this afternoon to see Mek

  Nimmur. Tessay asked me to go with her, just in case Boris - well, you

  know what I mean."

  "I have a vague idea. You were playing chaperone." Nicholas took another

  sip of the whisky and gasped. He exhaled sharply and his voice was

  husky. "Go on," he invited her.

  "At one stage, before I left them alone together, we were discussing the

  festival of Timkat. On the fifth day the abbot takes the tabot down to

  the Abbay. Mek tells us there is a path down the cLiff to the water's

  edge."

  "Yes, we know that."

  "This is the interesting part - this you didn't know.

  Everybody joins the procession down to the river. Everybody. The abbot,

  all the priests, the acolytes, every true believer, even Mek and all his

  men, they all go down to the river and stay there overnight. For one

  whole day and night the monastery is deserted. Empty. Nobody there at

  all."

  He stared at her over the rim of his glass, and then slowly he began to

  smile, "Now that is very interesting indeed," he admitted.

  "Don't forget, I am coming with you," she told him severely. "Don't you

  dare to even think of leaving me behind."

  Nicholas went to her hut again that evening after dinner. This was the

  only place in camp where they could be sure of privacy, and where they

  were safe from eavesdropping. However, this time he did not make the

  mistake of sitting on her bed.

  While she perched on the end of it, he took the stool opposite her.

  "Before we start planning this thing, let me ask you one question. Have

  you considered the possible consequences?"

  "You mean, what happens if the monks catch us at it?" Royan asked.

  "At the very least we can expect them to run us out of the valley. The

  abbot has a tremendous amount of power.

  At the worst we can be physically attack
ed," Nicholas told her. "This is

  one of the most sacred sites in their religion, and don't underestimate

  that fact. There is a great deal of danger involved. It could go as far

  as a knife between the ribs, or something nasty in our food."

  "We would also alienate Tessay. She is a deeply religious woman,'Royan

  added.

  "Even more importantly, we would probably outrage Mek Nimmur as well."

  Nicholas looked distressed at the thought. "I don't know what he would

  do, but I don't think our friendship would stand the test."

  They were both quiet for a while, considering the cost that they might

  have to pay. Nicholas broke the silence.

  "Then again, have you considered your own position?

  After all, it is your own Church that we will be desecrating.

  You are a committed Christian. Can you justify this to yourself?"

  "I have thought about it, she admitted. "And I am not altogether happy

  about it, but it isn't really my Church. It's a different branch of the

  Coptic Church."

  "Splitting hairs, aren't we?"

  "The Egyptian Church does not deny anyone access to even the most sacred

  precincts of its church building. I do not feel myself bound by the

  abbot's prohibition. I feel that as a believing Christian I have the

  right to enter any part of the cathedral that I wish."

  He whistled softly, "And you are the one who once said that I should

  have been a lawyer."

  "Please don't, Nicky. It's not something you should joke about. All I

  know is that, no matter what, I have to go in there. Even if I die to do

  it."

  "You could let me do it for you," he suggested. "After all, I am an old

  heathen. It would not spoil my chances of salvation. I don't have any."

  "No." She shook her head firmly. "If there is an inscription or

  something of that nature, I need to see it.

  You read hieroglyphics quite well, but not as well as I do, and you

  don't know the hieratic script. I am the expert you are just a gifted

  amateur. You need me. I am going in there with you."

  "All right. That is settled, then," he said with finality.

  "Let's start planning. We had better draw up a list of equipment that we

  may need. Flashlight, knife, Polaroid camera, spare film-'

  "Art paper and soft pencils to lift an impression of any inscriptions,'

  she added to the list.

  "Hell!" He snapped his fingers with chagrin. "I didn't think to bring

  any."

  "See what I mean? Amateur. I did."