The Seventh Scroll

Still howling with fear of the pit and the flames of hell, he darted

away down the path into the Thorn scrub, the skirts of his shamma

swirling about his ski

over his shoulder to watch the approaching machine.

The pilot spotted him immediately, and the nose of the helicopter sank

in their direction. It came directly towards them, slowing as it

approached the lip of the chasm. They could make out the heads of the

two occupants behind the windscreen of the forward cabin. Still

decelerating, the aircraft hung suspended over the river, pivoting on

the spi

in the scrub, trying to avoid detection.

"That's the American from the prospecting camp." Royan recognized Jake

Helm, despite the bulky radio earphones and the mirrored dark glasses.

He and the black pilot were craning their necks to search the river

banks.

"They haven't spotted us-' But even as Nicholas said it, Jake Helm

looked directly at them across the open void.

Although his expression did not change, he tapped the pilot's shoulder

and pointed down at them.

The pilot let the helicopter sink lower until it hovered in the opening

of the chasm, almost on the same level as they were. Only a hundred feet

separated them now. No longer making any attempt at concealment,

Nicholas leaned back against the hole of the Thorn tree. He tipped his

Panama hat forward over one eye and gave Jake Helm a laconic wave.

The foreman made no response to the greeting. He regarded Nicholas with

a flat, baleful stare, then struck a match and held the flame to the tip

of the half-smoked cigar between his lips. He flipped the dead match

away and blew a feather of smoke in Nicholas's direction. Still without

change of expression, he said something to the pilot out of the corner

of his mouth.

Immediately the helicopter rose vertically and banked away to the north,

heading back directly towards the wall of the escarpment and the base

camp on its summit.

"Mission accomplished. He found what he was looking for."Royan sat up.

"Us!'

"And he must have spotted the camp. He knows where to find us

again,'Nicholas agreed.

Royan shivered and hugged herself briefly. "He gives me the creeps, that

one. He looks like a toad."

"Oh, come on!" Nicholas chided her. "What have you got against toads?"

He stood up. "I don't think we are going to see great-grandfather's

dik-dik again today. He has been thoroughly shaken up by the chopper.

I'll come back for another try tomorrow."

"We should go and look for Tamre. He has probably had another fit, the

poor little fellow."

She was wrong. They found the boy beside the path.

He was still shivering and weeping, but had not suffered another

seizure. He calmed down quickly when Royan soothed him, and followed

them back towards the camp.

However, when they neared the grove he slipped away in the direction of

the monastery.

That evening, while it was still light, Nicholas took Royan back to the

monastery.

"I believe that the criminal fraternity refer to a reco

this nature as "casing the joint"," he remarked, as they stooped through

the entrance of the rock cathedral and joined the throng of worshippers

in the outer chamber.

"From what Tamre says, it sounds as though the novices wait until they

know that the priests on duty are ones that will nod off during their

watch," Royan told him softly, as they paused to gaze through the doors

into the middle chamber.

"We don't have that sort of insider knowledge," Nicholas pointed out.

There were priests passing backwards and forwards through the doors as

they watched.

"There doesn't seem to be any sort of procedure," Nicholas noted. "No

password or ritual to allow them through."

"On the other hand, they greeted the guards at the door by name. It's a

small community. They must all know each other intimately."

"There doesn't seem any chance at all that I could dress up like a monk

and brazen my way through,'Nicholas agreed-A wonder what they do to

intruders in the sacred areas?"

"Throw them off the terrace to the crocodiles in the cauldron of the

Nile?" she suggested maliciously. "Anyway, you are not going in there

without me."

This was not the time to argue, he decided, and instead he tried to see

as much as possible through the open doors of the qiddist. The middle

chamber seemed much smaller than the outer chamber in which they stood.

He could just make out the shadowy murals that covered the portions of

the i

doorway. From Tamre's description, he realized that this must be the

entrance to the maqdas. The opening was barred by a heavy grille gate of

dark wooden beams, the joints of the cross-pieces reinforced with

gussets of hand hammered native iron.

On each side of the doorway, from rock ceiling to floor, hung long

embroidered tapestries depicting scenes from the life of St. Frumentius.

In one he was preaching to a kneeling congregation, with the Bible in

one hand and his right hand raised in benediction. In the other tapestry

he was baptizing an emperor. The king wore a high golden crown like that

of Jali Hora, and the saint's head was surrounded by a halo. The saint's

face was white, while the emperor's was black.

"Politically correct?" Nicholas asked himself, with a smile.

"What is amusing you?" Royan asked. "Have you thought of a way of

getting in there?"

"No, I was thinking of di

At di

During the day he had taken out his shotgun and shot a bunch of green

pigeons. Tessay had marinated these and barbecued them over the coals.

"Tell me, English, how was the hunting today? Did you get attacked by

the deadly striped dik-dik? Hey? Hey?" He bellowed with laughter.

"Did your trackers have any success?" Nicholas asked mildly.

."Da! Da! They found kudu and hushbuck and buffalo.

They even found dik-dik, but no stripes. Sorry, no stripes."

Royan leaned forward and opened her mouth to intervene, but Nicholas

cautioned her with a shake of the head. She shut her mouth again and

looked down at her plate, slicing a morsel from the breast of a pigeon.

"We don't really need company tomorrow," Nicholas explained mildly in

Arabic. "If he knew, he would insist on coming with us."

"Did your Mummy never teach you no ma

in a language that others can't understand. Have a vodka."

"You have my share," Nicholas invited him. "I know when I am

outclassed."

During the rest of the meal Tessay replied only in low monosyllables

when Royan tried to draw her into the conversation. She looked tragic

and defeated. She never looked at her husband, even when he was at his

loudest and most overbearing. When the meal ended, they left her sitting

with Boris at the fire. Boris had a fresh bottle of vodka on the table

beside him.

"The way he is pumping the liquor, it looks as if I might be called out

on another midnight rescue mission," Nicholas remarked as they made