The Word of God

by Christopher Cummings

  Peter thought hard about that. He had heard of the Dead Sea Scrolls but had not paid much attention. Nor was he familiar enough with the Bible to be able to really understand. Still, he could appreciate that it was important to some people. “So what is one of these scrolls doing in North Queensland?” he asked.

  “I’ll come to that,” Sir Miles replied. “First I will explain the scrolls. They were discovered by Arab shepherds who offered them to various churches and private collectors for sale. This all happened at the time of the Israeli War of Independence back in 1947 so the military conflict complicated everything. The caves where the scrolls were found ended up in Arab territory in Jordan. The scrolls became scattered. Much was lost and some sold, so they are not all in one collection. The local Arabs sold them to the highest bidder you see.”

  Joy frowned. “Could they do that?”

  Sir Miles shrugged. “Who could stop them? Besides, if you are desperately poor they must have been a wonderful windfall. Anyway, some people and organizations bought the scrolls to destroy them because they feared that they went against the teachings of their particular religion. Others went to rich private collectors.”

  “Why would people just collect them?” Joy asked.

  Sir Miles panted a few steps then shrugged. “Who knows? Why does anyone collect anything? However hundreds of these scrolls have been placed in museums and have been preserved and translated. The most famous museum is the House of the Book in Israel, in Jerusalem. The scrolls are important to the Jews too you see.”

  Gwen wrinkled her brow. “So why is this particular scroll important?”

  “Because it is rumoured that it contains vital information about Jesus,” Sir Miles replied.

  Peter reached up to grasp as small tree to help get up a steep pinch. “Is that why the Devil Worshippers want it?” he asked.

  “Probably. I imagine that they are afraid that it might say things that undermine their own theology. They probably wish to destroy the scroll, or at least keep it from being published.”

  Sir Miles paused while he stepped up onto a rock. “So, as you can see, the scroll is vitally important to millions of people. If it proves or disproves the Gospels of the New Testament then many religions will have to admit they were wrong and change. Sadly people who are religious fanatics don’t like to face the truth, or admit they were wrong.”

  “Have you seen one of these scrolls?” Joy asked.

  “Oh yes. I have seen the ones in Jerusalem and two years ago we recovered a scroll from a private collector in Belgium. Our Order has been involved in searching for Dead Sea Scrolls ever since the church learned of them. The scroll we are now searching for only came to light recently and the suggestion is that it proves that Jesus did live, did carry out his miracles and that the Bible is true. So it is very important.”

  “Who has it?” Joy asked.

  “A man named Frank Connolly,” Sir Miles replied. Peter hadn’t expected him to say that, so listened with rapt attention to the story. Sir Miles went on. “During the Second World War the Australian Army sent the 2nd AIF to help Britain in the Middle East. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers were based in Palestine, what is now Israel, where they did much of their training. One of those soldiers was Frederick Connolly, from a place called Upper Barron on the Atherton Tablelands. Apparently he became very interested in religion while he was there.”

  “After the war was over Frederick returned to Palestine and walked around on many pilgrimages. It appears that he wandered the desert for several years, living with the Bedouin. He was in the area when the Israeli War of Independence was fought. For some reason he was expelled from Jordan and returned to Australia.”

  “He took over working the family farm from his father, who died soon after that. Frederick was only about twenty eight by then. He married and had children and settled down to being a dairy farmer for the next half century. Three months ago he died and his oldest son Frank took over the farm.”

  “It seems that Frank sorted out all his father’s old papers and belongings and it appears that among them he discovered one of the Dead Sea Scrolls, with some notes explaining it. Being a good Catholic he showed the scroll to his parish priest, Father Newman. Father Newman read the notes and thought the documents were genuine. He contacted the church hierarchy and word reached Rome. Sir Richard and I were sent to collect the scroll.”

  Joy looked puzzled. “Why not just send it in the mail?” she asked.

  “Good question,” Sir Miles answered. “It appeared that Frank also showed his younger brother Herbert and they argued. Herbert thought the scroll might be very valuable and wanted to sell it to the highest bidder, not just give it to the church. To stop his brother selling it Frank hid the scroll.”

  Gwen nodded. “Sounds typical of some families I know,” she commented.

  Sir Miles nodded. “Yes, unfortunately. Anyway things then went bad. Apparently one day while Frank was at work someone burgled his house. He said that nothing had been stolen but could tell that the house had been thoroughly searched. Next Frank was contacted by two men who tried to buy the scroll. He says they were from a fundamentalist Christian Church. He refused to sell and, on checking, found that no church of that name existed.”

  “The next development was when the two men returned and threatened him. Frank refused. There were then attempts at intimidation. A shed on the farm was burnt and threatening phone calls made. Frank then went into hiding.”

  “So how do you find him?” Gwen asked.

  “He has laid a trail for us to follow,” Sir Miles replied.

  Joy frowned. “Why would he do that?” she asked. “Why not just tell you where to meet him?”

  “So he can check that whoever arrives is the right person. If there is any suspicion he can just break the trail and stay hidden, then try again,” Sir Miles replied. “That is why there are secret passwords, and meetings in places where whoever turns up can be observed from under cover.”

  Gwen looked puzzled. “Why did the Devil Worshippers try to kill you then, rather than just follow you? I mean, Sir Richard was one of them,” she asked.

  “I think that was a mistake,” Sir Miles replied. “I think the local lads learned we were Knights of the Holy Grail and just wanted to kill us without knowing why we were here. From the messages you decoded I believe their headquarters intervened to stop the executions until our good friend Friar Boris could check us out.”

  “How would the Devil Worshipers have learned about the scroll?” Joy asked.

  Sir Miles shrugged. “We don’t know. Perhaps Sir Richard told them. We also know that when Frank first discovered the scroll he talked about it to some of his friends, as well as to his brother. They probably gossiped about it and the Devil Worshippers got to hear of it.”

  They paused for a breather. Peter had a quick drink, noting that he had just drained his third water bottle. He then said: “So this scroll is so important that people will kill to get it?”

  Sir Miles nodded. “Yes, we are dealing with religion at its fanatical level here.

  I would guess that the Devil Worshippers want to get the scroll to destroy it.”

  “And us, as inconvenient witnesses,” Stephen added.

  That was a sickening and sobering thought. Peter saw Joy pale and look anxiously around. He kept continually scanning the bush himself. They were, he estimated, about half way up the mountain by this time. The bush was changing slightly, to longer grass and more She Oaks. At that point the trail turned back to the right before climbing a steep slope to a razor back ridge. There was still no sign of any pursuit.

  The group resumed its upward march. By now muscles were beginning to strain and each step seemed to be an effort. The trail wound on up the ridge, switching back and forth through the open bush and past or over exposed areas of bedrock and large boulders. Peter assessed each of these as a possible delay position if their pursuers caught up.

  Frequent stops were necessary for them to get the
ir breath and to allow their heart rate to slow down but fear kept them moving faster than they would normally have done. The strain began to tell. Joy and Gwen both began to slow down and were plainly tiring. Peter and Stephen, both of whom went hiking in the mountains at least once a month, if not more, were managing the best. Peter found his fourth water bottle quickly emptied as he shared it with Sir Miles, who was looking very red in the face.

  I hope he doesn’t get heat exhaustion, Peter thought. He knew the water situation was now becoming serious again.

  One pm went by. They slogged on up, sweating and puffing, with constant glances behind. Sir Miles also kept anxiously looking ahead. Peter surmised he was worrying about the Black Monk getting to the next contact person first. That caused him to look hopefully ahead to see how close to the top they were. He found it very hard to tell.

  The trail turned right for fifty metres, then climbed very steeply, at what seemed to be a one in one slope. They panted up this and onto a steep-sided razor back ridge. Clumps of rocks along it caused Peter to study it from a military point of view.

  Make a bloody good delay position, he thought.

  Sweating and puffing he slogged on up the spur. As he climbed up over a rock he heard a muffled shriek from behind him, then cries of alarm. He spun round, pistol in hand.

  Joy was jumping backwards, bumping into Gwen and Sir Miles. “Snake!” she cried, pointing downwards.

  Peter glimpsed the tail of a snake vanishing into a tuft of grass at the base of a grass tree. By the fatness of the body, the zig-zag banding on its skin and the tiny, narrow tail he knew it was a Death Adder.

  Joy clasped her hands to her bosom, her face a picture of alarm. “It ran over my boot!” she gasped. “Oh! Oh!”

  They stood clear and looked but the snake had vanished from view. Gwen shuddered visibly. “Uuurgh! Repulsive bloody things! I hate them!”

  Peter looked at her in amazement. “Gwen! I’ve never heard you swear before!” he said.

  “You’ll hear me swear even more if I see another snake,” she muttered, eyeing the clump of grass malevolently.

  “You stepped right over it,” Joy added. She still had her right hand to her breast and was very pale.

  That was a nasty thought. Peter shuddered, then shrugged. Over the years he had experienced many close encounters with snakes. “Come on, just detour around and let’s keep moving,” he said. He stared back down the ridge but there was no sign of pursuit. It made him wonder if they were actually being hunted at all.

  Perhaps they drove up the mountain as well and are just waiting for us?

  That was an unpleasant thought. As he led the way on up the ridge he began to scan ahead more carefully.

  They could now be in front of us setting an ambush! he thought. Biting his lip with anxiety he wished his stomach did not feel bilious with fear.

  The ridge levelled out. The trail led through a stand of She Oaks, then into an area of waist high blady grass and tall trees. Abruptly it turned left and went down into a steep sided re-entrant full of rain forest. Peter paused and waited for the others to catch up.

  He pointed. “The road used to go that way, up along the ridge. But the trail that is in use goes this way.”

  Two overgrown wheel tracks went on up the ridge. The track to the left was heavily churned up by trail bikes.

  “Which way?” Joy asked.

  Peter pointed along the trail bike tracks. “This way. It comes out on a dirt road at the top of the mountain.”

  He led the way down into the re-entrant. At the bottom they found a small creek of clear flowing water. This was a great relief and they drank deeply and refilled their water bottles, Stephen and Peter taking turns to stand guard.

  The trail then climbed up out of the re-entrant on the other side and went on along a gentle ridge through fairly dense timber with an undergrowth of waist high grass and ferns. Peter found his attention divided between watching where he was putting his feet in case of snakes, and looking ahead for the Devil Worshippers.

  Constant glances at his watch made him anxious. Two pm came up and he shook his head.

  The Black Monk must be on the mountain ahead of us by now, he reasoned.

  Sir Miles wiped more perspiration from his face. “How much further to the top do you think?” he asked anxiously.

  “Not too far. It is levelling out and the vegetation is changing,” Peter replied.

  The trail led into a small valley with the jungle lined creek on their right. The grass was long and the She Oaks gave way again to eucalypts. The trail went across a wide basin, then began to climb steeply up another ridge, dashing their hopes that they were at the top.

  Once again they had to stop every hundred paces or so to get their breath. At one halt Peter went off into the scrub to relieve himself. Then it was on upwards. He was sure they were getting close to the top now as the view behind was obscured by trees. Looking back he saw that he could not see much of the Mulgrave Valley and that the Pyramid looked distant and was mostly obscured.

  Then he turned to look ahead, studying the trees and the crestline ahead. A movement caught his eye. Something about it sent a thrill of terror through him. He froze, then ducked down and motioned to the others to get under cover. They did so, eyes anxiously questioning and searching.

  “Movement ahead, there, on that big, flat rock just on the crest, on the right of the track,” Peter said. He indicated the point, about a hundred metres ahead.

  Even as he did there was a flurry of movement at that point. A shapeless furry looking creature sprang up. There was a cry, half-anger and half fear. The creature resolved itself into a man in some sort of shaggy camouflage suit. The man had a rifle which he used as a club to strike furiously at something on the rock beside him. Then he let out a sort of whimper and subsided onto the rock, only his camouflaged head remaining visible.

  Sir Miles had whipped out his pistol. “What the hell? What was that all about?” he whispered.

  Peter shook his head in puzzlement. “Don’t know. It is the Sniper I think.”

  As he said this the Sniper stood up and walked quickly away from them, vanishing from view.

  The group remained crouched under cover waiting. Peter checked his pistol and scanned the scrub. With every minute anxiety increased. He said: “We can’t stay here. If we do the Devil Worshippers behind will catch us up.”

  Stephen shook his head. “Talk about being between the Devil and the deep blue sea!” he muttered. He looked very pale and also had his pistol ready.

  Sir Miles agreed. “We must get on. If that was the Sniper then the Black Monk is already in front of us and my contact is in great danger.”

  Peter studied the ground and then said: “OK, Sir Miles, you stay here with the girls. Steve and I will scout out to the right and come up to the rock out of that dead ground.” He pointed to the re-entrant there. Stephen nodded. Sir Miles accepted his leadership and checked his own pistol.

  The next five minutes were very unpleasant. Peter led the way through the waist high grass and ferns. Later he could not decide which was worse- the fear of snakes; or the sheer numbing terror of anticipating being shot. The two friends went along the side of the hill until they could just see Sir Miles, then turned left and went up the slope side by side.

  The last few metres were the worst. Peter tried to move without making any noise but the long grass rustled and there were dead sticks underfoot as well. He found he was sweating and licking his lips. Sweat trickled into his eyes and he had trouble holding the gun as his palm became slippery with perspiration.

  There was no-one there. Peter looked cautiously in all directions and then stepped up onto the large rock. Almost at once he saw the mangled remains of a large Death Adder, its head squashed. He drew Stephen’s attention and pointed down.

  “I think he was bitten by this snake.”

  Chapter 20

  HARD DECISIONS

  The others were signalled up to join then. Both Joy an
d Gwen gasped in horror when they saw the dead snake.

  Peter nudged the mangled reptile with a stick. “I reckon the Sniper was bitten by it,” he said.

  “Bloody good!” Stephen added. “Serve the bastard right. The biter bit!”

  Sir Miles made a wry face. “Certainly appropriate,” he commented.

  “Why?” Joy asked.

  Gwen answered. “Joy! Didn’t you go to Sunday School? The snake is the Devil’s own symbol. Remember the Garden of Eden?”

  Stephen chuckled. “Bit before her time,” he interjected.

  Sir Miles bent to peer at the snake and visibly shuddered. “Is the snake poisonous?” he asked.

  “Very,” Peter assured him. “This species are called Death Adders.”

  Gwen looked anxiously around. “So what do we do?” she asked.

  Peter shrugged. “We can sneak off into the jungle and abandon Sir Miles’ friend to his fate or we can take the risk and keep going,” he said.

  Gwen bit her lip. “What do you think we should do?” she asked.

  Peter felt sick with fear but knew in his heart he did not really have a choice.

  Not if I’m going to live with my conscience in the future, he told himself.

  He met her eyes. “Keep going and keep our eyes open,” he replied. “I doubt if the Sniper’s attention will be focused on us now, but the Black Monk and his cronies must now be somewhere in front of us.”

  “Couldn’t we just hide in the forest?” Stephen suggested.

  Peter nodded. “Yes we could, but the person waiting for Sir Miles is in danger. I think we should help them,” he replied. Burning in him now was a strong desire to help Sir Miles on his quest.

  Sir Miles said: “You must do what you think best but I must go on with my quest; and if that means confronting Friar Boris then I will.”

  Peter ended the debate by starting to walk. Joy followed at once, as did Gwen and Sir Miles. Stephen shrugged and resumed his role as ‘Tail end Charlie’.