The Trespass

by Scott Hunter

  “It’s a bit spooky, but I like it mostly. I miss Mummy.”

  Sara looked at Ruth, then Jassim. Their faces were inscrutable. Had Jassim heard of their altercation?

  They walked on towards the east passages where Ruth had her quarters. Sara decided to tackle the problem head-on. “Ruth, we must talk.” One arm wrapped protectively around Natasha, she touched Ruth’s shoulder. To her surprise, Ruth’s face softened. She took Sara’s offered hand and clasped it.

  “Yes. We can go to my chamber. Jassim?”

  “I will take the girl.” Jassim turned to Natasha. “Come, little one. We shall do some exploring.”

  Natasha looked at Sara for affirmation. She pursed her lips and nodded. “It’s all right. I’ll see you later.”

  The sisters watched Jassim lead Natasha away along the passage. The girl looked back once and gave a small wave. Sara’s heart went out to her. She took a deep breath and smiled at Ruth. “Come.”

  “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s been – so hard.” Ruth sat, contrite, hands in her lap. Passive.

  “I understand.” Sara sipped her drink, a warm concoction of herbs and fruit. “Believe me, I do.”

  “Did you love him so much?” Ruth asked. “The girl’s father?”

  Sara stared into her cup, steam rising from the heady mixture. She felt uneasy, wondering at her sister’s shift in mood. Ruth had always been constant in temper, pouring calm on her troubled waters. Sara wasn’t sure if she knew this person any more. She nodded slowly. “Yes, yes I did – I do.”

  “But you came back.”

  “I had no choice. You know that.”

  Ruth came and sat next to Sara. “You came for the child, not him. Not for the Korumak. Kadesh knows that, but –” she smiled, a faraway look in her eye, “he will not hurt you.” She took Sara’s hand and squeezed it. “If you stay. He cares for you too much. But the girl, I don’t know –”

  “Surely he wouldn’t harm her.”

  Ruth shook her head. “He has changed. He is obsessed with revenge. Since his father died he has taken the anger to himself. Remember it was a Dracup who stole our treasure all those years ago. And now another Dracup has killed his brother, Tarshish. In Kadesh’s mind, an eye for an eye is the only retribution that will satisfy.”

  Sara swallowed hard. “She is a child. A little girl.”

  “He doesn’t see it like that. He sees only the crime.”

  Sara held her head in her hands. “Can’t you persuade him? You have looked after Natasha well –”

  “He is playing with me. One minute he says he will spare her, the next –” Ruth raised her hands in a gesture of hopelessness.

  “He should have left his bitterness behind,” Sara whispered. “What is done is done. Why cause further pain? The girl will be our undoing – God will judge him for taking her.”

  “No. Kadesh wants what God himself wants.” Ruth said the words slowly, as if their weight would make them true.

  Sara changed tack. Natasha’s fate seemed to strike a note of urgency in her sister. She had to exploit that while she could. “I have to get her out.” Sara watched Ruth carefully. She remembered the wild-eyed Ruth, the stinging slap to the face.

  “Yes, yes. I know.” Ruth bowed her head. “I know. I can’t keep her. Not when her life is at risk.”

  Sara hugged her sister. “I love you, Ruth. I’ll help in any way I can. But we have to think. We may not have much time.”

  “He’ll come after you.”

  “We have to give Natasha a chance.”

  “If he finds you he will kill you.”

  “He may kill me anyway. I failed, as Ibrahim failed.”

  “But you have returned as he commanded.”

  “The copies Simon made... it was my responsibility. Kadesh knew – and then poor Ibrahim. Oh Ruth, I’m so scared.”

  Ruth began to hum, a low, smooth sound like the wind soughing through the upper caves. She opened her arms. “Hold me.”

  Sara looked at her sister and saw the dark rings beneath her eyes, the lines of disappointment at the corners of her mouth. She frowned and touched Ruth’s cheek. Ruth responded by running her fingers through Sara’s hair, a gentle, soothing motion and then began to sing softly, a song their mother had taught them. She combed and brushed, combed and brushed, and for a moment they were children again; the burden of their future lay ahead, not behind them. Sara joined the chorus and as their voices blended she felt a hard pain in her throat, the prelude to tears. “We were happy once, weren’t we?”

  “Yes,” Ruth said. “Yes, my sister.” Her voice was soft and unhurried.

  Sara turned and inhibited the comb’s progress with a light pressure. “Come with me. We will leave together. We can go anywhere.”

  Ruth hung her head. The comb fell to the ground with a clatter. “Don’t you think I’ve thought of that? Every day I think: today is the day I will leave him. Never to come back.” She seemed to shrink, her body wilting into itself. “I want to be free, Sara. But I cannot. I have to be here.”

  “Close to him?” Sara nodded and caressed her sister’s cheek. She understood. “I will pray for your heart’s desire, sister. Tomorrow is not for us to know; only God knows the future. We both have to trust in Him.” She squeezed Ruth’s thin hand. They were sisters; they had to support each other. “Will you help me?”

  Ruth tilted her pale face up to Sara’s and gave a weak smile. “You know I will.”

  The women met no one on their way to the stream. They had chosen this time of day for its stillness. Above the deep, the sun would be at its zenith. Sara linked her arm in Ruth’s as they walked. They spoke in guarded whispers until they reached the waterfall, confident that its roar would drown their voices.

  “They are dealing in weapons,” Ruth told Sara. “Kadesh is meeting with the enemies of the United States.”

  “With insurgents?” Sara gasped. “What is this? We have no need to walk with such people.”

  “Protection. Money. Long term. These are the words they use,” Ruth replied.

  “Tell me Kadesh hasn’t opened the caverns to men like this.” Sara put her jar down and seized her sister’s arm. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “They have a meeting place – far from here. Their vehicles return laden with guns.”

  “But what does Kadesh offer in return?”

  Ruth smiled. “Safe passage. Guides, who travel the old routes and assist their comings and goings.”

  Sara swallowed. This was all wrong. It could only lead to disaster. “These men will take what they can then destroy us. Kadesh is jeopardising everything.” She had a terrible vision of armed terrorists wandering the tunnels of her home, the staccato of sub-machine gun fire invading the tranquillity of millennia.

  “He believes the American intelligence will find us. He is taking necessary steps. This is what he tells the elders.”

  “And this company of terrorists are going to help us? I don’t think so.”

  “He believes he is safeguarding the Korumak.”

  Sara snorted. “He’s mad. And Jassim?”

  “He has not spoken against Kadesh. He is biding his time. Perhaps he will act, but I don’t think he has been pushed far enough.”

  “Will he help us?”

  Ruth shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s not worth the risk.” She glanced round to be sure they were alone. “But all this to-ing and fro-ing may help you – and Natasha.”

  Sara nodded. “I’m listening.”

  “They have a regular rendezvous each month. But before this takes place there are vehicles – jeeps and lorries – made ready for the journey. They arrive from the city at sunset on the seventh day. They depart the following dawn. If you timed your departure you wouldn’t be missed for hours.”

  “Where do they keep the vehicles?”

  Ruth smiled. “I will show you.”

  Sara was shaking when she reached the solitude of her chamber. At any time she
expected to be summoned. And if Kadesh had any inkling where she had been... She shivered and took a deep breath. Now she was committed. It could be done. No, it had to be done. But first, one further task had to be accomplished. Sara found her mobile and prayed that she could get a signal outside. She lifted her robe and tucked the phone under her suspender strap. Then she went to find Natasha.

  Chapter 23

  Dracup climbed above the town and looked over the ridge to the distant mountains. Carey had left earlier with a cheery wave and a promise to return in two days. Dracup wiped his brow and wondered if he would find what he was looking for in two years, let alone two days. He headed down to his first site – Bet Giorgis, the cruciform church. From there he intended to visit the remaining ten churches in the hope that he could pick up some sign, some nuance of meaning that would lead him to his goal. As he looked down on the scattered collection of huts and watched the inhabitants move about the honeycombed village in their unhurried, typically African amble he considered again the odds of stumbling across Omega, the sister headpiece of Noah’s sceptre.

  In the meantime there was a real chance that Alpha’s cuneiform would highlight some hitherto missing but significant detail – perhaps even the Lalibela connection. That being the case, he could expect CIA company any time – not an appealing prospect. Dracup wondered how Charles was progressing with his theories. What was it he had said at the airport? I don’t think Theodore’s sceptre was originally Noah’s at all. Under normal circumstances his professional fascination would be vibrating like a tuning fork, but right now Dracup didn’t care about the sceptre’s provenance as long as it pointed him to Natasha. That was his cue to move. Dracup set his hat squarely on his head and went exploring.

  The church of Bet Giorgis – the house of St George – was an astonishing building. It lay partially hidden in a deep gully cut out of the pinky-red tuff of the surrounding terrain. But it was the shape that had drawn Dracup to investigate this particular church before the others. The roof decoration was a relief of three equilateral Greek crosses inside one another, chiselled to fit within the shape of the building that was itself of cruciform design. Too obvious, maybe? He walked quickly around the perimeter, searching for a way in. Eventually he found a group of tourists and tagged along, finding himself in a trench leading into an enclosed tunnel. A jagged circle of daylight announced their arrival at the base of Giorgis, where he could take in the sheer wonder of the building.

  The sides of the pit from which the church had been carved were studded with black openings; caves or tombs, he couldn’t be sure, but now and then there was a flash of bright yellow or blue from within, indicating the presence of a priest or religious devotee of the church. Dracup gazed at the monolithic building. Seven steps led up to the main portal. Seven. He thought of Farrell, the Biblical encyclopaedia, and worried again that Potzner could arrive anytime to hinder or even curtail his own investigation.

  Gathered in and around the church exterior were a motley assembly of priests and tourists, even a white-wimpled nun. One of the robed figures was chanting in a loud, alien lilt, watched admiringly by the camera-toting tourists. A group of young girls, pilgrims to the holy site, posed smiling for the clicking shutters, their white costumes a testament to inner purity. The atmosphere was charged, as if some hidden spiritual energy ran unseen beneath the foundations of the church.

  He found himself ascending the steps. A priest bowed and extended an unspoken invitation to enter. Dracup passed into the interior, into a warm smell of stone and antiquity. A wall hanging depicted St George, the church’s namesake, fighting the dragon – a strange echo from home in this faraway place. Long drapes of red and blue hung from the ceiling, the primary colours contrasting with the terracotta shades of the church walls. The priest beckoned. Dracup followed him to a far corner of the church. The priest smiled, whether in genuine friendliness or solely to display his extensively gold-capped teeth Dracup couldn’t be sure, then chanted some unintelligible litany and disappeared behind a tapestry of symbols. Dracup peered at the runes of the ruffled curtain. Several represented a bright sun-like god, while others were obviously based on Biblical prophecy. There was the Lion of Judah, the crucifixion on Golgotha, and a nautical scene where the Ark of Noah balanced on the most precarious of waves. Full circle. Dracup exhaled in frustration. Theodore... what am I looking for?

  The priest was back, gesticulating. Dracup followed him to a long wooden box. Widely threaded wooden screws ran into the container, which the priest firmly grasped and turned demonstratively, nodding and smiling all the while. It was obviously meant to signify something. He ran his fingers over the wood and the penny dropped.

  “An Ark?” he asked. The priest’s smile grew wider. There were many replica Arks in Ethiopia, as Carey had observed, modelled on the original Ark of the Covenant that was supposedly hidden away in Axum. These revered boxes contained holy books or relics of which the church was immensely proud. Could one of these boxes contain Omega?

  “Does it open?” Dracup made an upward motion with his hands. The priest pointed to a large padlock and made a non-committal gesture before sidling away to attend to other tourists. Carey was right. They didn’t give much away. He made a hurried reconnaissance of the interior. The floor was covered with a combination of rush matting and oriental carpeting. His feet produced no echo as he stepped around each cruciform nave of the church. He stole a glance at the door. Cameras were jostling for position. He returned to the wooden box. The floor was exposed here and Dracup noted the presence of a trapdoor cut into the stone. One large bolt was fixed in place, securing the building from unauthorised entry. He bent and took a closer look. Padlocked.

  He examined a wall-mounted crucifix by a wooden lectern. On the lectern was a thick, leathery book. Dracup opened it and inspected the contents. His eyes lit upon a full-page illustration of a man, bearded and holding a wooden staff. Dracup read the title of the picture and the accompanying paragraph with a growing excitement.

  The staff of Moses and Aaron, fashioned from the blessed Tree. The wood shall for ever live, indestructible in nature, miraculous in power. Blessed be the descendants of Adam touched by its perfection, tho’ blackened by sin, yet shall they be raised to life everlasting.

  He turned the page gently and caught his breath. A three-quarter-length illustration showed a scene of dark devastation. Stars fell from the sky and plummeted into a raging sea. A multitude was gathered on the shore, arms raised either in terror or supplication, Dracup couldn’t say. At the head of the crowd, in a slightly elevated position, stood a man holding a sceptre high against the storm. It was the same staff as the previous page. Beneath the picture there was a line of indecipherable script. He pointed his camera and clicked.

  The priest was at Dracup’s shoulder. He reached over and firmly closed the book, shook his head and pointed to the exit. Dracup reluctantly retreated. Donning a pair of sunglasses, the priest joined him at the entrance to pose for photographs.

  Grinding his teeth in frustration, Dracup walked twice round the building but saw no obvious external entry point. It was as if he were caught in the centre of some diabolical game where each puzzle, once solved, brought only further complexity and merely lengthened the distance between him and Natasha. He wiped sweat away from his eyes with an impatient gesture.

  Perhaps somewhere in the complexity of tunnels and corridors there was a way back into the church via the trapdoor. He retraced his steps along the entry tunnel and trench, briefly inspecting every cavity, perspiring in the enclosed space despite being submerged in the shadow of the walkway. His thighs burned with the effort. To his horror he saw that some of the holes were occupied – a mummified pair of feet dangled from one, and slightly further up a skull lay separated from its skeleton in a dark recess, as if marking the way, watching each passing tourist with wide-eyed curiosity. Dracup stopped and beat the wall with his clenched fist in frustration. How was he supposed to negotiate this maze? Then he remembered Car
ey’s comment about the boy who had offered to take his bags. They’ll do anything if you cross their palm... Cursing himself for an idiot he exited from the trench and walked swiftly back to the hotel. His next foray into the tunnels would be a guided one.

  “Come on, boss.” The boy waited for Dracup to catch up. He hadn’t been hard to find, shying stones with a group of youngsters near the hotel, impatiently kicking his feet in the dust as others took their turn, hollering out his availability to any new arrivals wearing the tourist badge. “What’s your name?” Dracup had asked.

  “Bekele. Call me Bek, boss, everyone does.”

  “Well, Bek, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so let’s get going.”

  The boy had grinned, obviously pleased with the prospect of a long-term contract. And so far, Dracup was getting his money’s worth. Bek knew Lalibela and didn’t hang about. He glanced up from under the brim of his hat. The boy’s lithe figure was just in his line of vision, disappearing round the next corner.

  “Hang on,” Dracup shouted. He took the corner at speed, only to find Bek grinning, hands on hips, waiting.

  “You have to be quicker, boss, okay?”

  “Yes, but I need to be methodical. Where are you taking me?”

  “Method-what, boss?” He grinned, showing dazzling white teeth. “You want to see a cross, I’ll show you a cross.”

  Dracup nodded. He had shown Bek Theodore’s sketch, filled in the gaps for the boy. He needn’t have worried. Bek was bright. “Only half of it you’ve got there, boss, I tell you.” And then he’d said something that had made Dracup’s heart lurch. “Same as the Lalibela cross, you know what? Shape is just the same. Just like these here.” He stabbed a dirty finger at the detailed, painstakingly drawn frieze.