baptism, as did Jesus Christ at the hand of the Baptist."
They followed the staircase down the sheer cliff face.
The treads of the steps had been dished by the passage of bare feet over
the centuries. Down they went, with the great cauldron of the Nile
boiling and hissing and steaming with spray hundreds of feet below them.
Suddenly they came out on to a wide terrace that had been hewn by man's
hand from the living rock. The red rock overhung it, forming a roof to
the cloister with arches of stone left in place by the ancient builders
to support it.
The interior wall of the long covered terrace was riddled with the
entrances to the catacombs beyond. Over the ages the cliff face had been
mined and burrowed to form the halls and cells, the vestibules, churches
and shrines of the monastic community which had inhabited them for well
over a thousand years.
There were groups of monks seated along the length of the terrace. Some
of them were listening to one of the deacons reading aloud from an
illuminated copy of the scriptures.
"So many of them are illiterate," Tessay sighed. "The Bible must be read
and explained to even the monks, for most of them are unable to read it
for themselves."
"This was what the Church of Constantine was like, the Church of
Byzantium," Nicholas pointed out quietly.
"It remains the Church of cross and book, of elaborate and sumptuous
ritual in a predominantly illiterate world today." As they wandered
slowly down the cloister they passed other seated groups who, under the
direction of a precentor, were chanting and singing the Amharic psalms
and hymns.
>From the interior of the cells and caves there came the IC hum of
voices raised in prayer or supplication, and the air was thick with the
smell of human occupation that had taken place over hundreds of years.
It was the smell of wood smoke and incense, of stale food and excrement,
of sweat and piety, of suffering and of sickness. Amongst the groups of
monks were the pilgrims who had made the journey, or been carried by
their relatives, down into the gorge to make petition to the saint, or
to seek from him a cure for their disease and suffering.
There were blind children weeping in their mothers' arms, and lepers
with the flesh rotting and falling from their bones, and still others in
the coma of sleeping sickness or some other terrible tropical
affliction. Their whines and moans of agony blended with the chanting of
the monks, and with the distant clamour of the Nile as it cascaded into
the cauldron.
They came at last to the entrance to the cavern cathedral of St.
Frumentius. It was a circular opening like the mouth of a fish, but the
surrounds of the portals were painted with a dense border of stars and
crosses, and of saintly heads. The portraits were primitive, and
rendered in ochre and soft earthy tones that were all the more appealing
for their childlike simplicity. The eyes of the saints were huge and
outlined in charcoal, their expressions tranquil and benign.
A deacon in a grubby green velvet robe guarded the entrance, but when
Tessay spoke to him he smiled and nodded and gestured for them to enter.
The lintel was low and Nicholas had to duck his head to pass under it,
but on the far side he raised it again to look about him in amazement.
The roof of the cavern was so high that it was lost in the gloom. The
rock walls -were covered with murals, a celestial host of angels and
archangels who flickered and wavered in the light of the candles and oil
lamps. They were partially obscured by the long tapestry banners that
hung down the walls, grimy with incense soot, their fringes frayed and
tattered. On one of these St. Michael rode a prancing white horse, on
another the Virgin knelt at the foot of the cross, while above her the
pate body of Christ bled from the wound of the Roman spear in his side.
This was the outer nave of the church. In the far wall ". the doorway to
the middle chamber was guarded by a massive pair of wooden doors that
stood open. The three of them crossed the stone floor, picking their way
between the kneeling petitioners and pilgrims in their rags and tatters,
in their misery and their religious ecstasy. In the feeble light of the
lamps and the blue haze of incense smoke they seemed lost souls
languishing eternally in the outer darkness of purgatory.
The visitors reached the set of three stone steps that led up to the
inner doors, but their way was blocked at the threshold by two robed
deacons in tall, flat-topped hats.
One of these addressed Tessay sternly.
"They will not even let us enter the qiddist, the middle chamber,'
Tessay told them regretfully. "Beyond that lies the maqdas, the Holy of
Holies." A
They peered past the guards, and in the gloom of the qiddist could just
make out the door to the inner sanctum.
"Only the ordained priests are allowed to enter the maqdas, for it
contains the tabot and the entrance to the tomb of the saint."
Disappointed and frustrated, they made their way out of the cavern and
back along the terrace. They ate their dinner under a sky full of stars.
The air was still stiflingly hot, and clouds of mosquitoes hovered just
out of range of the repellents with which they had all smeared their
exposed skin.
"And so, English, I have got you where you wanted to be. Now, how are
you going to find this animal that you have come so far to hunt?" The
vodka was making Boris belligerent again.
"At first light I want you to send out your trackers to work the country
downstream from here," Nicholas told him. "Dik-dik are usually active in
the early morning, and again late in the afternoon."
"You are teaching your grandpapa to skin a cat," said Boris, angling
the metaphor. He poured himself another vodka.
"Tell them to check for spoor." Nicholas deliberately laboured his
point. "I imagine that the tracks of the striped variety will look very
similar to those of the common dikdik. If they find indications, then
they must sit quietly along the edge of the thickest patches of bush and
watch for any movement of the animals. Dik-dik are very territorial.
They won't stray far from their own turf."
"Da! Da! I will tell them. But what will you do? Will you spend the day
in camp with the ladies, English?" He grinned slyly. "If you are lucky,
you may soon not need separate huts?" He guffawed at his own wit,.and
Tessay , looked distressed and stood up with the excuse that she was
going to the kitchen hut to supervise the chef.
Nicholas ignored the boorish pleasantry. "Royan and I will work the
river in bush along the banks of the Dandera river. It looked very
promising habitat for dik-dik. Warn your people to keep clear of the
river. I don't want the game disturbed."
They left camp the next morning in the glimmer of the dawn. Nicholas
carried the Rigby rifle and a light day pack, and led Royan along the
bank of the Dandera. They moved slowly, stopping every dozen paces to
look and listen. The thickets were alive with the sounds and movements
of the small mammals and birds.
"The Ethiopians do not have a hunting tradition, and I imagine the monks
never disturb the wildlife here in the gorge." He pointed to the tracks
of a small antelope in the moist earth of the bank. "Bushbuck," he told
her. "Menelik's bushbuck. Unique to this part of the world. A much
sought-after trophy."
"Do you really expect to find your great-grandfather's dik-dik?" she
asked. "You seemed so determined when you discussed it with Boris."