by Daniel Diehl
A clatter from the open bed of the pickup was followed by the klunking sound of someone leaning their elbows on the roof of the cab. A minute later, Ras’ voice floated in through the window.
“I see it. So what?”
“So what is it?’
“Camels.”
“What?”
“Camels. You know, like a caravan. It’s a big one, too. I’ll bet that thing’s a mile long.”
Within a matter of minutes the truck had moved close enough for Jason and Beverley to see the shaggy rumps of eight or ten camels spread laterally across the width of the road and the hard shoulder on both sides. Each of the beasts was loaded with boxes and bags of every size, shape and description, their rear ends swaying gently with the nautical roll of the huge animal’s clumsy gait. Jason slowed the truck to a stop as he and Beverley looked at each other and grinned. When one of the camels took a gigantic dump in the middle of the road their smiles turned to giggles followed by uncontrollable, hysterical laughter. After days of stress, strain, separation and constant danger the absurdity of their situation triggered a long-needed catharsis of laughter. By the time they managed to control themselves Ras had climbed off of the truck and was standing next to the driver’s door scowling in confusion.
“You guys ok?”
“Yeah, we’re fine Ras.” Jason had to wipe the tears from his eyes before he could continue, and even then his words were interrupted by ragged giggles. “Look, if we don’t get around that thing we’re never going to get to Axum. Do you think the ground is hard enough for me to drive around?”
“Out here? No way. That’s all sand.”
“Then could you run up and find the head guy and see if he would mind moving them off the road long enough for me to drive through?”
“I can tell you right now it’s going to cost you.”
“How much do you think?”
“English? I’ll bet he’ll move them for fifty pounds.”
Shaking his head and muttering “robber” between the dying giggles, Jason handed over the money. Forty five minutes after Ras returned to the truck, they were back on their way to Axum.
Thanks to the fitful performance of the tired old truck, and the delay caused by the caravan, it took eleven exhausting hours to get from Addis Ababa to Axum. By the time they found a hotel that would let them wrestle the big crate into their room they were all exhausted and Beverley was giddy and thoroughly disoriented from jet lag. There was full agreement that contacting Fr Marcos would have to wait until morning, but despite their exhaustion Beverley insisted on sending Ras on a scavenger hunt for a list of items necessary to remove Jason’s semi-permanent makeup. By midnight Jason’s face appeared no more than lightly suntanned and his hair was slightly more than halfway back to its normal color. Admitting that it would be nearly impossible to remove more of the shoe polish without giving Jason a serious rash or breaking off so much hair that he would look like a dog with mange, Beverley declared her work finished. Within minutes all three of them were sleeping the sleep of sheer exhaustion.
* * *
“He says we can’t drive inside the gates.”
Ras was standing beside the truck, running linguistic interference between Jason and the indignant Coptic monk who stood blocking their way, waving his arms and shouting.
“Ras, tell him Fr Marcos is expecting us. If he has any questions he should go ask Fr Marcos if it’s ok for us to pull up to the treasury fence.”
After another round of shouting, head shaking and wild gesticulations, the monk finally stomped away toward the tall blue fence in a huff. Minutes later he reappeared on the balcony, pulled along by a frantically excited Fr Marcos. While Marcos ran back and forth along the gallery in front of the treasury, shouting hellos and waving his arms, the monk returned to the entry gate, signaling for Jason to pull the truck up to the fence.
“Do you have it Mr Carpenter?”
The old priest’s wrinkled, prune-like face glowed with anxiety and anticipation as Jason jumped out of the pickup and ran up the ramp to greet him with a warm hand shake and a grin.
“I told you I’d bring you the sun disk.”
“And do you have it with you?” The old man’s excitement was almost more than he could contain. He was marching in place like a small child that needs to go to the toilet but is too excited to leave his new toy.
“It’s in that crate in the back of the truck.”
“Please, bring it inside. Quickly, quickly”
With the help of Ras and the monk, Jason pulled the crate from the bed of the pickup and scooted it up the sloping ramp. When they reached the door to the treasury building Jason signaled everyone to take a rest while he leaned the wooden box against the warm stone wall.
“If it’s ok with you, Father, I think we should unpack it here and then move it inside.”
Looking first one way and then the other, scanning the courtyard, Fr Marcos finally nodded his assent. Jason sent Ras to the cab of the old Ford to retrieve the tire iron and whatever tools he could find behind the seat. Fifteen minutes later, after much prying, grunting and twisting of nails, one side of the crate pulled away to expose layers of Styrofoam sheeting. For no other reason than to make the excitement of the moment last as long as possible, Jason removed the packing with infinite care, setting each piece to the side until the polished, golden face of the bronze disk stood revealed in the glare of the bright Ethiopian sunlight. All five of those present, priest, monk, Jason, Beverley and Ras, stared in wonder at the glittering circle despite the fact that only Jason and Beverley actually understood the awesome, dangerous power it held.
“It is truly magnificent”, said the old priest as he stood transfixed, staring at the object.
Suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable, Jason glanced around nervously. “I think we better get this inside.”
“Yes, yes, certainly.” Fr Marcos opened the door and stood aside, allowing Jason and Ras to lift the disk gently from its crate and carry it a few feet inside the building where they leaned it against the wall.
“Father, this thing is really heavy and the edges are sharp. I think we’re going to need gloves to carry it down the stairs.”
“Oh, certainly, how thoughtless of me. I have several pair of leather gloves I use when tending my garden, just let me…” Still muttering to himself, the guardian crossed the room to a small cupboard from which he extracted a pair of heavy work gloves which he handed to Jason.
“I’m going to need another pair, Father. I can’t move this thing down all those stairs alone and, no offense, but this is a job for young men.”
“No one else may see the Ark. You are the first outsider in thousands of years to behold its glory and I cannot allow it to suddenly become a public spectacle.”
“I’ll help you move it, Jason.”
Fr Marcos stared in open-mouthed shock at Beverley’s words.
“You are a woman. No woman has ever beheld the glory of the sacred Ark of the Covenant. Never. Not even in the days of Moses or Solomon.”
“With all due respect, Father, I just risked my life to steal this thing from some very bad people and then smuggle it out of England and into Ethiopia. Now if you think I’m going to miss seeing the Ark, well…well, you’re just wrong.”
“I am sorry, young lady. Your risk and sacrifice on behalf of the church are deeply appreciated, but allowing a woman inside the Holy of Holies is out of the question.”
Beverley took a deep breath as the color crept up her neck, and it was only Jason’s restraining hand on her arm that silenced her.
“Father, she’s right. And besides, it’s going to take four of us to do this.” Counting off on his fingers, Jason enumerated the team necessary to move the disk safely down the long, worn staircase and through the maze-like cellar. “We need two of us to actually carry this thing. I should go first, and go down the stairs backward, because I’m the tallest. Then we need somebody to take the opposite side of the disk, and because they w
ill be two or three stairs behind and above me, they should be shorter than I am. We also need two people with lights, one to take the lead – that would be you, Father – and one to follow and shine a light on our feet so we don’t trip.”
Pacing back and forth, muttering to himself, the guardian of the treasure finally turned around, sighed and flapped his arms helplessly like a crippled bird. “If the whole world is coming then the boy might as well come along too.”
“Too Cool. Thanks, Father. So, um, where are we going?”
Next, they sorted out who was to do which job. It was decided that Jason and Ras would carry the disk. Fr Marcos led the way and following him would be Beverley who helped light the way forward. The monk, whose name turned out to be Ma’amphela, would come last, illuminating the stairs for Ras. Navigating the narrow, heavily worn stairs with a three-foot-wide, perfectly round bronze disk weighing nearly two hundred pounds dictated that progress was very slow. Every few steps either Jason or Ras had to halt long enough to reposition their grip to ensure that the curved edge of the disk did not slip through their hands.
Traversing the maze of tunnels and litter-strewn passageways of the undercroft was no less taxing than descending the stairs had been, and the entire journey took more than half an hour to complete. By the time they reached the ornate curtain covering the tiny room where the Ark rested both Jason and Ras were exhausted and slick with sweat. Resting their burden on the floor for a moment, Jason and Ras stretched their spines back into position. As they bent to retrieve the disk, Fr Marcos laid a hand on Jason’s arm and spoke.
“The boy cannot enter. Brother Ma’amphela will take his place. The boy and the woman may observe from the doorway but they must not enter the Holy of Holies.” Turning to Beverley the old priest hiked up his shoulders in apology. “I am sorry, but this is our way and you must respect it.”
As Ras removed his gloves and handed them to the monk, Beverley returned the priest’s shrug, conceding to his wishes. Fr Marcos pulled the richly embroidered curtain aside while Jason and the monk carried the disk into the tapestry lined room. From the doorway, Beverley and Ras shone flashlights into the darkness, scanning the strange space with its thousands of ancient Christian and Hebrew symbols worked into the tapestries in thread of purest gold. As the old priest shuffled across the small room, the bobbing circles of light followed his every step until he pulled aside the final curtain. When exposed to the light the golden face of the Ark of the Covenant picked up each beam, magnifying it a dozen times, washing the room with a shimmering aurora and filling each of the witnesses with awe and wonder.
“Before you set the missing disk in place, Mr Carpenter,” began the old priest, “I feel it is important to note that this is unquestionably the first time the Ark has been complete since before Prince Menelik brought it out of the land of Israel nearly three thousand years ago. While there are no records to give us proof, we can only assume that Moses brought both pieces out of Egypt during the Exodus. We can assume this because the disk is the key to unlocking the lid of the Ark, and without it the sacred Ark could not have been opened to act as the repository of the Ten Commandments. Why Solomon, in his great wisdom, did not send the disk to our land with Menelik, one can only wonder.”
“Actually, Father, I think I can answer that.” All heads turned toward Jason. “You know how you told me about the legend of the Egyptian snake god Apep eating the disk of the sun?” The guardian nodded and mumbled his assent. “Well, I think Moses knew the Egyptians were going to turn Apep and hundreds of his kind lose on the world and he stole the Ark to prevent that from happening. I also have reason to believe that these serpents were actually some kind of demons and that Moses and every one of his successors knew how dangerous it was to have both pieces of the Ark in one place. So, to prevent anyone from freeing the serpent demons, Solomon sent the Ark here but kept the disk in the temple in Jerusalem.”
“Demons?” Are you certain of this, Mr Carpenter?”
“As certain as I can be, Father. I promise you that the serpents are real and there is strong evidence that they are actually demons.”
“Are you familiar with the passage which says ‘Nonne Solomonus dominates daemonum est?’”
“I’m sorry, I’m not very good at Latin, Father.”
“I said, ‘Had not Solomon dominion over demons?’. The quote is from a Gnostic Gospel – not the one you brought to me, but one known as The Wisdom of Solomon. The story says that Solomon commanded one of Satan’s chief demons, a creature known as Asmodius, to bring the minions of hell to help in building the great temple. It would serve as a further humiliation to Satan’s followers to be forced to construct a building dedicated to the worship of God. If what you say is true, then it not only supports the legend of Solomon and the demons, but explains how he conjured them. He used the Ark of the Covenant.”
“But the demons don’t come directly through the disk and the simple act of opening the Ark doesn’t call them up.”
“Then, Mr Carpenter, it should be safe to set the disk of the sun in place and see if it really is the key to opening the Ark.” Marcos gestured toward the gleaming coffer as it rested quietly in its tiny alcove. “Shall we?”
Jason nodded toward Brother Ma’amphela who, in turn, nodded back. Together they picked up the bronze disk and stepped sideways toward the Ark. As they lifted the disk above the top of the hawks’ wings, and lowered it gently into the slots, a nerve wracking silence gripped the room. When the weight of the disk came into contact with the Ark, the slightest click could be heard and a sliver of lid corresponding in width and length to the bottom three inches of disk depressed, allowing the disk to settle into place. With the disk attached to the Ark for the first time in three millennia, Jason, Fr Marcos and the monk stood back, admiring the sight and waiting tensely for something – possibly something unspeakable – to happen. After several tense minutes had passed, it was clear that human intervention would be needed to open the great Ark.
Jason looked at Fr Marcos and raised his eyebrows in question. In answer, Marcos only extended a hand toward the sacred object and nodded. Following a quick glance at Beverley, Jason approached the gilded sarcophagus, squatted down on his knees and laid the palms of his hands against the edge of the lid. After drawing and exhaling a long, deep breath he pushed gently against the top of the Ark. With astonishing ease the lid rolled back and instantly a searing white light and a thunderous whooshing noise flooded the room, momentarily blinding everyone there. Stunned, Jason instinctively threw his hands across his eyes and lost his balance, causing him to fall backward, hitting the ground with his right shoulder. As the room’s five occupants tried to reorient themselves, the light slowly dissipated to a more tolerable level, but there remained no doubt that they were in the presence of something truly ancient and unbelievably powerful.
Shielding his eyes, Jason picked himself up and leaned over the edge of the Ark. Before his vision could adjust, Fr Marcos was kneeling next to him, straining to see what wondrous things might be inside. Much of the inside of the Ark was covered with banks of glowing crystals; long ones and short ones, some thinner than a pencil and others thicker than a man’s thumb, red, green, clear and blue, each throbbing as it emitted a different hue of the visible spectrum. While the guardian of the treasures was completely befuddled by this odd discovery, Jason realized immediately that these crystals were nearly identical to the ones in Morgana le Fay’s office; the ones connected to, and powering, the communications disk. So it was true; the Ark of the Covenant was the original power source for the communicating disk; the connecting link between the realm of the dragons and the court of the Pharaohs of Egypt. Pulling his mind away from this stunning revelation and back to the contents of the Ark, Jason stared at the small collection of astonishing objects lying on the bottom of the gold-covered chest.
Most obvious were two finely hewn and polished slabs of nearly black rock. Measuring no more than a foot in width and thirty inches in length,
one face of each tablet was engraved with rows of ancient Hebraic writing. Realizing the significance of what they were witnessing, both Fr Marcos and Jason leaned forward instinctively. As Fr Marcos reached out a hand, Jason grabbed his wrist.
“I think maybe you shouldn’t do that without gloves on, Father. I’m not even sure it’s safe to reach in there with gloves on.”
As Fr Marcos turned to withdraw his hand, the large pectoral cross around his neck swung outward on its chain, pulled toward the tablets bearing the Ten Commandments with such force that it nearly jerked the old man against the edge of the Ark. Too stunned to move, Fr Marcos simply stared at the cross while Jason reached out and forcefully pried it and the chain free before dropping it on the outside of the Ark where it hung limp and lifeless. By this time Ras and Beverley’s gnawing curiosity had drawn them into the room and, along with Brother Ma’amphela, they were clustered tightly around Jason and the old priest.
“Everybody watch this. I think I understand what’s going on here”, Jason said as he removed one glove, stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a few Ethiopian coins. He held the coins above and slightly outside the upper lip of the Ark before letting them fall from his hand. Instead of dropping to the ground, the coins flew forward at an angle, slamming onto the face of the uppermost stone tablet, sticking fast at the point of impact. “Would you look at that; the Ten Commandments are carved on loadstone.”