Gann nodded. “Quite right.”
Vivian let Gann know, “They fired a machine gun at us. Frank was very brave. I was petrified.”
Mercado admitted, “I was a bit anxious myself.”
Gann thought about this, then asked, “Did you see any other aircraft?”
Purcell replied, “No.”
Gann said, “They’re probably looking for you on the way to the French territory.”
“We thought about heading there, instead of here. Or Sudan.”
“Well, good that you didn’t.” He informed them, “You wouldn’t have made it.” He let them know, “The Ethies don’t have many jets—just a few Mirages—but they are getting Russian helicopter gunships with Russian pilots, and you would probably have met them on your way to Somalia or Sudan.”
Purcell nodded, then said, “Sorry, though, if we’ve put you in a difficult situation.”
It was Miriam who said, “We are already in a difficult situation. You are most welcome here.”
“Thank you.”
Vivian assured her, “We won’t be here long.”
Miriam looked at Vivian and said, “You are welcome to stay, and you are welcome to leave for French Somaliland, and we can help you with that journey.” She continued, “But I would prefer if you did not go to the place where you wish to go.”
Vivian replied, “We have come a long way to find this place.” She assured Miriam, “We mean no harm to these monks, or to their religious objects.”
“I understand that from Edmund. I understand, too, that you think you have been chosen to find this place. And I respect your beliefs. But I can offer you no assistance with your search.”
Purcell asked, “Why not?”
She looked at him and replied, “We here in Shoan have a sacred covenant with the monks of the black monastery.”
Purcell reminded her, “You’re Jewish. They’re Copts.”
“That does not matter. We are of the same tradition for two thousand years.”
“Right. Well, all we’re asking then is a good night’s sleep and food to take on our journey.”
“I will gladly give you that, but I wish you would reconsider that journey.”
“Can’t do that.”
Miriam didn’t reply.
Purcell said, “And we may have to return here at some point.”
“You are welcome to do that, but we may not be here when you return.”
Purcell looked at Gann and reminded him, “You let us know you were here.” He asked, “Why?”
Gann hesitated, then replied, “I would like to go with you.” He explained, “I’ve spoken to Miriam, and she understands that we believe that the object you are looking for is in danger, and it must be taken to a safe place, though she believes the monks themselves could do that.”
“Maybe they can.” He asked, “But if we took it, where would we take it?”
Gann glanced at Mercado, then said, “It’s not my decision to make.” He let them know, “We need to discuss this.”
Purcell pointed out, “We don’t have it yet, and to be honest with you, we probably never will. So maybe this is moot.”
Vivian said, “When we find it, we will know what to do.”
Purcell thought that Henry had undoubtedly promised the Grail to the Vatican, and Gann may have promised it to the British Museum, to take the place of the Ethiopian royal crown the British had snatched and given back. But in either case, the Grail, if it existed, and if they found it, was to be held in custody until Ethiopia was free again. At least that was the promise.
Mercado asked Gann, “What is the situation in the countryside?”
“A bit unsettled.” He explained about the counterrevolutionaries, and the Royalist partisans, both of whom he was in touch with. He also said, “The Gallas have mostly gone east where the Eritreans are fighting for independence from Ethiopia. But there are some left to see if the fighting here resumes.”
Purcell told him, “We saw some Gallas from the air.” He said to Gann, “I meant to ask you—what do they do with all those balls?”
“They eat them, old boy.” He further explained, “Not the Christian or Muslim Gallas, of course. But the pagan Gallas.” He added, “Gives them courage.”
“Right. You’d need a lot of courage to do that.”
“Never thought of that.” Gann further addressed Mercado’s concerns and told them, “The Israelis have smuggled in some firearms for the Falashas, to be sure the exodus goes off without a problem.” He reached into an empty urn and retrieved an Uzi submachine gun. “Nice piece of goods.” He handed it to Purcell and told them, “We’ll take that with us.”
Purcell looked at the compact weapon with a magazine longer than the barrel. “This should scare the hell out of those monks.”
Gann smiled. “I was thinking more of the Gallas—or anyone else who we may meet in the jungle.” He also informed them, “Getachu has sent some units down this way, but they’ve gotten a bad reception from the Royalist partisans and the anti-Marxist counterrevolutionaries.”
“Good.” Purcell asked, “Do you have three more Uzis?”
“I’m afraid not.” He let them know, “The few men left here need them.”
Purcell passed the Uzi to Mercado, who said, “Reminds me of the old British Sten gun,” and gave it to Vivian.
Gann said to his guests, “It’s a simple weapon, and I’ll show you how to use it in the event… I’m not with you.”
Miriam looked at her lover, but said nothing.
Mercado asked Gann, “Is Shoan safe?”
“It is to the extent that the Provisional government has agreed to let the Jews leave, unhindered.” He added, “So far the exodus has gone well all over the country, though there have been a few incidents, and thus the Uzis.”
Purcell asked Gann, “How do you communicate with the Royalists here, and in Addis?”
“I have a shortwave radio. I keep it outside the village, so as not to compromise the people here.”
“Can you show it to us?”
“Of course. But my batteries have died, and I’m waiting for replacements.” He added, “My Kipling poem to you was my last transmission.”
“We would have brought batteries if they’d been left for us at the hotel.”
“If you’re found with a shortwave battery, you are shot. After being tortured.”
“Right.” Maps and photographs were maybe explainable. Shortwave radio batteries were as hard to explain as a gun. He’d rather have the gun, which could explain itself.
Gann took the gun from Vivian and said, “We should push off tomorrow.” He asked them, “Do you have any idea where you would like to look?”
Purcell replied, “I hoped you—or Miriam—could suggest something.”
“I’m afraid I can’t, old boy.” He said, “I thought perhaps you’d seen something from the air.”
“We did. But we don’t want to see all those places on the ground.”
“Well, we may have to do that.” Gann stayed silent for a moment, then glanced at Miriam and said to his guests, “As I mentioned to you in Rome, the people of Shoan have some contact with the monastery. However, those who had this contact are gone.”
Purcell looked at Miriam. She told them, “The secret is with the elders who have left, and they took their secret with them.”
Gann looked at his guests. “A relationship… a friendship, that has lasted four hundred years, since the monastery was built, is now severed.” He told them, “The last meeting took place two weeks ago, and the monks have been told.”
Purcell again had the feeling he’d slipped into an alternate universe. He asked Miriam, “When the people who went to this meeting place left, how long were they gone?”
She looked at him but did not reply.
He asked, “Which way did they go?”
She replied, “They went in a different direction each time, and they were never gone for the same number of days.”
“Well, that narrows it down.”
Vivian said to him, “Frank, you are being rude.”
“Sorry.” He explained his rudeness. “I just want to find this place and get out of here.”
Miriam said to him, and to her other guests, “Let me think about what you have asked.”
“Thank you.”
Miriam said softly, “This is a difficult time for everyone. This civilization—Christian and Jewish—has come to an end. But we look to the future, which will be better. We must all leave here, but when we return, we must return as we were, with our customs and traditions, and our covenants unbroken.”
Purcell nodded. “I understand.”
Vivian said to Miriam, “We are here to do what you are doing. To take with us what cannot be left here. To keep things safe until this nightmare is over.”
Miriam replied, “You should let the monks do that.” She stood. “I must see to your comforts. I will return shortly.”
The gentlemen stood, and the princess left.
Gann said to his guests, “Miriam and I have had this conversation, as you can well imagine, and I assure you, she knows nothing more than she has told you.”
Mercado said, “I’m sure she’d have told you if she knew more.”
Purcell wondered if Henry really believed that women told their men everything. If he did, he’d be cuckolded every year.
Vivian told Gann, “Tomorrow, we’d like to go to the spa.” She explained that this was not a nostalgia trip, but a bone hunting expedition.
Gann replied, “Rather odd custom, don’t you think?”
Mercado, former atheist, now a believer working for the Vatican newspaper, explained, “This is very important to the Church of Rome when a person is proposed for sainthood.” He further explained, “A mortal remain is considered a first-class relic. A piece of a garment is second-class, other objects—”
“Yes, well, we can stop at the spa and look about for a bone or two.” He added, “Short walk. Half a day at most.”
Vivian continued, “And we’d like to see the fortress where Father Armano was imprisoned for forty years.”
Mercado told Gann, “We spotted incognita from the air and it was, indeed, Prince Theodore’s fortress.”
“Good recon.” He asked Vivian, “Is this part of the sainthood thing?”
She replied, “It is part of Father Armano’s story. It is something I need to see.”
“I see… Well, I’m sure it’s on the way to something.”
Mercado said, “Most of the suspected locations of the black monastery are a day or two walk from the fortress.”
Vivian added, “There may be a clue there.”
Gann nodded. “We’ll take a look.”
They had more fermented fruit juice as they discussed a few items on everyone’s agenda. They agreed they’d be gone a week—or less if they found what they were looking for. If not, they would return to Shoan, and as Colonel Gann said, “Regroup, refit, and strike out again.”
Vivian asked Gann, “Will anyone be here when we return?”
He didn’t reply for a moment, then said, “Everyone will be gone.” He told them, “Miriam and I will meet in Jerusalem.”
Vivian smiled. “That’s very nice.”
Mercado, who was again thinking about exit strategy, asked Purcell, “Could you get that aircraft out of here?”
“We could carry it out.”
“Why can’t you fly it out?”
“It has to take off first, Henry. That’s the hard part.”
“If you land, you can take off.”
“I may have blown the tires. I’ll look at it later.” He asked, “Where would you like to go?”
“French Somaliland.”
Gann interjected, “I think we will need to walk out of here.” He assured them, “A number of Royalist partisans have been to Somalia and back. I have a few chaps who will come along.”
Miriam returned and announced that dinner would be served in an hour, and she offered to show everyone to their rooms.
They all stood and Miriam led them to an arched loggia, along which were wooden doors. She indicated a door and said, “For Mr. Mercado.” Miriam thought she knew the sleeping arrangements and indicated another door. “For Mr. Purcell, and Miss Smith.” She added, “I hope we have gotten your luggage correctly placed.”
Gann pointed to the end of the loggia and said, “Bath down there.” He suggested, “Let’s say cocktails in one hour, on the patio.”
Purcell, Vivian, and Mercado thanked their hosts, and entered their rooms.
Purcell looked around the small, whitewashed room with a beamed ceiling. There were no windows, but narrow wooden louvers sat high in the wall to let in air and light, and to keep out wildlife and uninvited guests.
There were two gray steel beds against one wall that looked like they’d come from an institution. Against the opposite wall was a wooden table, on which sat their luggage and an oil lamp. In one corner was a chair, and in another was a washstand with a bowl and pitcher. He said, “Looks like a monk’s cell.”
“This will look good after a week in the jungle.”
“It will look like a palace.”
She asked him, “Are you all right with this?”
He didn’t reply.
“I can ask for a separate room.”
“Let me do that.”
“Frank. Look at me.”
He looked at her.
“I am sorry, and I love you.”
“We’ll discuss this in Gondar.”
“We are not going to Gondar.”
“Right.”
She changed the subject and said, “I didn’t think Sir Edmund had so much romance in his soul.”
Purcell admitted, “I was a bit surprised.”
“Love conquers all.”
“Any good news?”
“I’m going to find the bath.” She left.
He stood there awhile, then decided he needed a bath.
He found the door at the end of the loggia and went inside a roofless enclosure in which was a sunken pool against the far wall. The face of a black stone lion was embedded in the wall, and a stream of water poured from the lion’s mouth. Vivian’s clothes lay on a stone bench, and Vivian herself was floating full frontal nude in the pool.
He took off his clothes and slipped into the water, which was unheated but warm.
She said to him, “No one would believe a village of Jews in the middle of the Ethiopian jungle.” She added, “Or a Roman spa. Or a monastery of Coptic monks.”
“Don’t forget the Jewish princess.”
“Maybe this is a dream.”
With a bit of nightmare, for sure, he thought.
She stayed silent awhile, floating with her eyes closed. She said, “We’re very close.”
“Closer than I thought we’d get.”
“Do you think Miriam will help us?”
“She’s thinking about it.”
Neither of them spoke for a while, then Vivian said, “Thank you for staying with this.”
He didn’t reply.
“You could have left, and I wouldn’t have blamed you.”
“It’s a good story.”
The door opened, and Mercado said, “Oh… sorry…” He asked, “Mind if I join you?” He explained, “I’m a bit rushed for time.”
Vivian did not reply, but Purcell said, “You don’t need to ask. We’re all friends.”
Chapter 45
Purcell, Vivian, and Mercado, all fresh from their communal bath, joined the princess and the colonel for cocktails on the patio. Vivian wore her best khaki pants and green T-shirt, and the two gentlemen wore khakis, top and bottom.
The sun was setting and the night had grown pleasantly cool. The purple African sky above the date palms was magnificent, Purcell thought, and if it wasn’t for Colonel Gann’s Uzi on the table, he could imagine he was someplace else.
Colonel Sir Edmund Gann had gone unnative, and he wore his pa
ramilitary khakis to cocktails, though he’d kept his afternoon sandals.
Princess Miriam wore a purple evening shamma, trimmed with lion’s mane, the sign of royalty in old Ethiopia.
Cocktails were limited to Boodles gin, a half bottle of which Colonel Gann had been saving for a special occasion, and this was it—which pleased Henry. The gin could be had with or without fruit juice.
The cocktail chatter had mostly to do with the Falasha exodus and the local security situation. Gann explained, “Getachu and his army control the Gondar area and the surrounding Simien Mountains. Here, to the south, which is nearly unpopulated, there are counterrevolutionaries operating in the jungle valleys, as I’ve said, as well as the remnants of the Royalist forces.” He further explained, “These two groups have far different agendas—an elected government on the one hand, and a return to an absolute monarchy on the other.” He told them, “I’m trying to get them to pull together to get rid of the Marxists. I explained to both sides how we in Britain have a monarch and an elected parliament. But they’re not understanding the concept.”
Purcell admitted, “Neither do I.”
Cocktails were brief, and they were escorted into the palace, where dinner was served in a room that held a long table which would seat about twenty; suitable for large family meals, except that everyone was gone. The floor, Purcell noticed, was laid with black stone.
The teak table was set simply, though the silverware was real, Purcell noticed, and each piece was decorated with the Lion of Judah. The dishes, too, had the heraldic lion hand-painted on them. The dinner theme, Purcell saw, was lions.
Fading sunlight came through the high louvers, and oil lamps flickered on the table.
On the menu was grilled goat, some sort of root vegetable, and flatbread, with bowls of dates scattered around the table. Fermented fruit juice was poured into bronze goblets that looked like the ones Prince Joshua once owned, and the one that he, Purcell, had overpaid for in Rome.
Two ladies in middle age served the simple meal and kept the fizzy fruit juice flowing. Miriam promised fresh coffee at the end of the meal.
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