a mass of gleaming metal and flashing faux jewels which seemed too heavy
for his ancient scrawny neck to support. Two debteras held his elbows
and guided his uncertain footsteps on to the stairway that led down to
the Nile.
As the procession descended, so those worshippers nearest to the head of
the stairs rose to their feet, lit their torches at the brazier and
followed the abbot down. There was a general movement along the terrace
to join the flow, and as it began to empty, Nicholas lifted Royan down
from her perch on the balustrade.
"We must get into the church while "there are still enough people around
to cover us," he whispered. Leading her by the hand, with his other hand
hanging on to the strap of his camera bag, he joined the movement down
the terrace. He allowed them to be carried forward, but all the time he
was edging across the stream of humanity towards the entrance to the
church. He saw Boris and Tessay in the crush ahead of him, but they had
not seen him, and he crouched lower so as to screen himself from them.
As he and Royan reached the gateway to the outer the eased them out of
the throng of chamber of the church, humanity and drew her gently
through the low entrance into the dim, deserted interior. With a quick
glance he made certain that they were alone, and that the guards were no
longer at their stations beside the inner gates.
Then he moved quickly along the side wall, to where one of the
soot'grimed tapestries hung from the ceiling to the stone floor. He
lifted the folds of heavy woven wool and drew Royan behind them, letting
them fall back into place, concealing them both.
They were only just in time, for hardly had they flattened their backs
against the wall and let the tapestry settle when they heard footsteps
approaching from the qiddist. Nicholas peeked around the corner of the
tapestry and saw four white-robed priests cross the outer chamber and
swing the main doors closed as they left the church.
There was a weighty thud from outside as they dropped the locking beam
into place, and then a profound silence pervaded the cavern.
"I didn't reckon on that," Nicholas whispered. "They have locked us in
for the night."
"At least it means that we won't be disturbed," Royan replied briskly.
"We can get to work right away."
Stealthily they emerged from their hiding-place, and moved across the
outer chamber to the doorway of the qiddist. Here Nicholas paused and
cautioned her with a hand on her arm. "From here on we are in forbidden
territory. Better let me go ahead and scout the lie of the land."
She shook her head firmly. "You are not leaving me here. I am coming
with you all the way." He knew better than to argue.
"Come on, then." He led her up the steps and into the middle chamber.
It was smaller and lower than the room they had left.
The wall hangings were richer and in a better state of repair. The floor
was bare, except for a pyramid-shaped framework of hand-hewn native
timber upon which stood rows of brass lamps, each with the wick floating
in a puddle of melted oil. The meagre light they provided was all that
there was, and it left the ceiling and the recesses of the chamber in
shadow.
As they crossed the floor towards the gates that closed off the maqdas,
Nicholas took two electric torches from his camera bag and handed one to
her. "New batteries," he told her, "but don't waste them. We may be here
all night."
They stopped in front of the doors to the Holy Of Holies. Quickly
Nicholas examined them. There were A, engravings of St.. Frumentius on
each panel, his head enclosed in a nimbus of celestial radiance and his
right hand lifted in the act of benediction.
"Primitive lock," he murmured, "must be hundreds of years old. You could
throw your hat through the gap between the hasp and the tongue." He
slipped his hand into the bag and brought out a Leatherman tool.
"Clever little job, this is. With it you do anything from digging the
stones out of a horse's hoof, to opening the lock on a chastity belt."
He knelt in front of the massive iron lock and unfolded one of the
multiple blades of the tool. She watched anxiously as he worked, and
then gave a little start as with satisfying clunk the tongue of the lock
slid back.
a Mis-spent youth?" she asked. "Burglary amongst your many talents?"
"You don't really want to know." He stood up and put his shoulder to one
leaf of the door. It gave with a groan of unlubricated hinges, and he
pushed it open only just wide enough for them to squeeze through, then
immediately shut it behind them.
They stood side by side on the threshold of the maqdas and gazed about
them in silent awe.
The Holy of Holies was a small chamber, much smaller than either of them
had expected. Nicholas could have crossed it in a dozen strides. The
vaulted roof was so low that by standing on tiptoe he could have touched
it with his outstretched fingertips.
or upwards the walls were lined with From the flo shelves upon which
stood the gifts and offerings of the faithful, icons of the Trinity and
the Virgin rendered in Byzantine style, framed in ornate silver. There
were ranks of statuettes of saints and emperors, medallions and wreaths
made of polished metal, pots and bowls and jewelled boxes, candelabra
with many branches, on each of which the votive candles burned providing
an uncertain wavering light. It was an extraordinary collection of junk
and treasures, of objects of virtue and garish bric-A-brac, offered as
articles of faith by the emperors and chieftains of Ethiopia over the
centuries.
In the centre of the floor stood the altar of cedarwood, the panels
carved with visionary, scenes of revelation and creation, of the
temptation and the fall from Eden, and of the Last judgement. The altar
cloth was crocheted raw silk, and the cross and the chalice were in
massive worked silver. The abbot's crown gleamed in the candlelight,
with the blue ceramic seal of Taita in the centre of its brow.
Royan crossed the floor and knelt in front of the altar.
She bowed her head in prayer. Nicholas waited respectfully at the
threshold until she rose to her feet again, and then he went to join
her.
"The tabot stoneV He pointed beyond the altar, and they went forward
side by side. At the back of the maqdas stood an object covered with a
heavy damask cloth encrusted with embroidered thread of silver and gold.
From the outline beneath the covering they could see that it was of
elegant and pleasing proportions, as tall as a man, but slender with a
pedestal topping.
They both circled it, studying the cloaked shape avidly, but reluctant
to touch it or to uncover it, fearful that their expectations might
prove unwarranted, and that their ..hopes would be dashed like the
turbulent river waters plunging into the cauldron of the Nile. Nicholas
broke the tension that gripped them by turning away from the tabot stone
to the barred gate in the back wall of the sanctuary.
"The tomb of St. Frumentius!" he said, and went to the grille. She came
to his side, and together they peered through the square openings in the
woodwork that was black with age. The interior was in darkness. Nicholas
prodded his torch through one of the openings and pressed the switch.
The tomb lit up in a rainbow of colour so bright in the beam of the
torch that their eyes took a few moments to adjust and then Royan gasped
aloud.
"Oh, sweet heaven!" She began to tremble as if in high fever, and her