The Quest: A Novel (31 page)

Purcell inquired, “Did the monks insist that you stay forever?”

“Sorry?”

“Please go on.”

Gann went on, “After Menelik died, the new emperor, Ezana, sent for the Ark, and it was brought to Axum, where it remains to this day.”

Purcell asked, “Why hasn’t the Marxist government grabbed it?”

“Interesting question.” Gann explained, “They’ve appropriated some church property, but there is a backlash growing among the Coptic faithful, so the government has backed off a bit.” He added, “The stupid Marxists have actually stirred a religious revival amongst the peasants.”

Purcell nodded. That wasn’t what happened in Russia when the Communists crushed the churches, but it was interesting that it was happening in Ethiopia. More importantly, if the Ark of the Covenant was safe for the time being, then maybe the black monastery and the Holy Grail were also safe for now—at least until the team from
L’Osservatore Romano
arrived.

Mercado had come to a similar conclusion and said, “The black monastery is also on borrowed time.”

Gann said, “The new government is trying to consolidate its power, and it doesn’t wish to anger the masses whom it purports to represent. But as you say, it’s only a matter of time before they resume their confiscation of church property. For now, they are satisfied with executing the royal family and the rasses, and appropriating their palaces and wealth.”

Purcell asked Gann, “Are you still working for the Royalists?”

Gann hesitated, then replied, “I am in contact with counterrevolutionary elements here in Rome, in London, and in Cairo and Ethiopia.”

“How’s that counterrevolution looking?”

Gann replied, “Not very good at the moment. But we are hopeful.”

Their antipasto arrived and Mercado picked at his food, then
said, “I am convinced that the Holy Grail could eventually wind up in the hands of the Marxist government. And if that happens, the Grail may not be sold to the highest bidder—it may be destroyed.”

Purcell looked at Mercado. It was inevitable, he thought, that Henry, or one of them, would find a justification for stealing the Grail from the monastery—for its own protection, of course. And, in truth, Henry had a point.

Mercado went on, “After three thousand years of relative stability under the Solomonic dynasty, the whole country is in chaos.” He pressed his point. “And if the black monastery is looted by revolutionary troops—soldiers of Getachu, for instance—the Grail is in jeopardy. Even if it is sold to the highest bidder, that bidder could very well be someone like the Saudi royal family, who have billions to spend on whatever they fancy.” He concluded, “I don’t want the Holy Grail to wind up in Mecca.”

Purcell pointed out, “You’ve done a quantum leap, Henry.”

“Perhaps, but you see what I’m getting at.”

“You’re making a case for why we should relieve the Coptic monks of their property.”

“I am trying to protect the Grail.”

Purcell inquired, “And where do you think it would be safe?”

“The Vatican, of course.”

“I thought you might say that.”

Everyone got a small laugh from that.

Vivian said, “I agree with Henry.”

Gann, too, said, “I agree that you—we—need to get this relic out of Ethiopia.”

Purcell, too, agreed, but he advised, “Not permanently. Just until the times in Ethiopia grow less evil.”

Mercado pointed out, “The Grail has been taken on long journeys over the last two thousand years to safeguard it from evil, and I believe it has fallen to us to do that again.”

Purcell said, “So we are all agreed that if we find the black monastery and the Holy Grail, we are morally justified in stealing the Grail for its own protection.”

Everyone nodded.

Colonel Gann looked at Mercado, Purcell, and Vivian and said, “I should tell you that I am not a believer in this relic as the true cup that Christ used at the Last Supper, and neither do I believe that the Ark of the Covenant and the Ten Commandments are in a hidden chapel in Axum. But these artifacts are central to the Coptic Church in Ethiopia, as well as in Egypt.” He continued, “Egypt may never be Christian again, but Ethiopia will be. And it is important that all the religious objects that are in jeopardy be safeguarded for the time when the Marxists are overthrown and the emperor is restored to the throne.”

Purcell thought that if by some miracle they actually got hold of the Holy Grail and got it to the Vatican—for safekeeping—it wouldn’t get out of there until the second coming of Christ. But that wasn’t his problem.

Gann asked, “Can you tell me a bit more about this Father Armano?”

Mercado looked at Purcell and Vivian, who both nodded. Mercado said to Gann, “I’m sure you know of the Italian spa that Getachu was talking about.”

“I do indeed.” He told them, “You shouldn’t have spent the night there.” Gann explained, “The Gallas fancy the place. I don’t think they bathe there—or bathe at all—but there is fresh water for their horses and for themselves.” He advised, “It is a place to avoid.”

Purcell commented, “We had an old guidebook.”

Mercado continued, “Well, we put up for the night—had a quick wash—and when we returned to our Jeep, we came upon Father Armano, who was wounded and dying.”

“And I’m sure he said more to you before he died than you told Getachu.”

“Correct.” Mercado suggested that Vivian relate the story, which she did.

Gann listened attentively, nodding now and then, and when Vivian had finished, he said, “Remarkable. And do you believe this man’s story about the Lance of Longinus hanging in thin air, dripping blood? Or that this blood healed the priest?”

Vivian said she did, as did Mercado.

She also said, “We think it was more than chance that we and Father Armano arrived at the same place at the same time. And now you tell us that the Gallas are usually there, but they weren’t that night.” She concluded, “We think it was a miracle.”

Colonel Gann nodded politely.

Vivian added, “And it was an eerie coincidence, I think, that Father Armano and Henry were at the same battle of Mount Aradam in 1935.”

“Yes… striking coincidence.” He looked at Purcell.

Purcell said, “I believe the substance of Father Armano’s story, but I’m a bit skeptical about the Lance of Longinus hanging in thin air, or about the Holy Grail healing Father Armano.”

Gann replied, “Yes… that seems a bit unnatural, doesn’t it? But we agree that this relic is probably in the black monastery.”

Everyone agreed.

Gann asked, “Do you have any specific operational plans to find this monastery?”

Mercado replied, “We hoped you could help us with that.”

“I believe I can.” He informed them, “I have a general idea where it is.”

“So do we,” said Purcell, “based on what Father Armano said about his army patrol from Lake Tana to the black monastery, then being taken by foot to the Royalist fortress, then his escape forty years later and his walk that night to the Italian spa.” He suggested, “Maybe we could triangulate all of that if we had a good map.”

Gann nodded again. “It’s a starting point.” He advised, “You ought to begin with aerial reconnaissance if you can.”

Purcell informed him, “We might have access to a light plane in Addis.”

“Good. That will save you time and effort, and help keep you out of the hands of the Gallas—or Getachu.”

Mercado told Gann, “There are possibly some good Italian Army maps in the Ethiopian College in Vatican City.”

“Excellent. I’d like to take a look at them.”

“I’m working on that.”

Gann also informed them, “There is a Falasha village in the
vicinity, as I mentioned to Mr. Purcell at Getachu’s parade ground. These Jews may be a key to locating the black monastery.” He explained, “There seems to be some… ancient relationship there.”

Vivian asked, “What is that relationship?”

Gann further explained, “The royal family, of course, has Jewish blood from Solomon, and they are proud of that. Proud, too, that they, through the Coptic Church, are the keepers of the Ark of the Covenant, which presumably they are keeping safe for the Jews. The Jews there, the Falashas, see Jesus as a great Jewish prophet and they revere him, and presumably they also believe in the Holy Grail—the kiddush cup of Jesus’s last Passover meal.” He asked his companions, “Do you see the connection?”

Everyone nodded.

Gann continued, “Also, it would appear that the only connection the black monastery has with the outside world is through this Falasha village. Shoan.”

Purcell inquired, “What sort of connection?”

Gann replied, “A spiritual connection. But also a practical connection. Food, medical supplies—”

“They have the Holy Grail,” Purcell reminded him. “Cures what ails you.”

“Yes… well… good point.” He continued, “The monastery, like most monasteries, is self-sufficient, but even a monk needs new underwear now and then. Sandals and candles. And a bit of wine.”

Purcell asked, “How do you know all this?”

“We can discuss that in Ethiopia.”

“All right.” Purcell said, “It would seem, then, that the Falashas know how to find the black monastery.”

Gann replied, “My understanding is that there is a meeting place somewhere between the monastery and the village.”

Purcell nodded. He had this feeling, as he’d had in Ethiopia, that he’d fallen through the rabbit hole. He said to Mercado, “This is a whole chapter in our book, Henry. Jews for Jesus.”

Gann changed the subject. “Have you thought about how you will actually get into this walled monastery if you find it?”

Purcell admitted, “We haven’t thought that far ahead—about pulling off a heist in a monastery filled with club-wielding monks.”

Gann nodded. “Well… we can discuss that if or when the time comes.”

“Right.” But the more Purcell thought about all this, the more he believed that time might never come. More likely, they’d wind up in Getachu’s camp again, or if they were really unlucky, they’d meet up with the Gallas. Henry and Vivian, however, believed they were chosen to find the Holy Grail, and that God would watch over them. As for himself, he half believed half of that.

Purcell asked Gann, “If you can get back into Ethiopia, will you actually come with us to the monastery?”

“Am I invited?”

Vivian cautioned, “This would be more dangerous for you than for us.” She asked, “And how would you get into the country?”

Gann reminded them, “I am officially a fugitive from Ethiopian justice, so I will not be applying for a return visa. I will acquire another identity and fly in from Cairo on a commercial flight.” He informed them, “I have access to everything I need in regard to a passport and a forged visa.”

Vivian said, “Sounds risky.”

“Not too.” He explained, “The security people at Addis airport are totally inept—except the ones who are corrupt.” He informed them, “That was how I flew in last time. I was Charles Lawson then, a Canadian citizen, and within a few days I was Colonel Sir Edmund Gann again, up north with Prince Joshua.”

Vivian pointed out, “They know what you look like now.”

“You, Miss Smith, will not know what I look like when I see you in Ethiopia.”

Purcell inquired, “What is your motivation, Colonel, in risking your life?”

“I believe we had this discussion on a hilltop.” He informed everyone, “I
am
being well paid by the Ethie expat community, but even if I weren’t, I’d do this because I believe in it.”

“And what is it that you believe in?”

“The restoration of the monarchy and the liberation of the Ethiopian people from Communism, tyranny, and terror.”

“Do you get paid for trying? Or only for success?”

“Both.” He admitted, “The princely payment comes when the emperor or his successor is back on the throne.”

“Do you get a palace?”

“I get the satisfaction of a job well done—and the honor of having changed history.”

Vivian asked Gann, “Will you be coming to Sicily with us?”

“I’m afraid not. As I explained to Mr. Mercado earlier, I have related business here in Rome.”

Mercado informed Gann, “Neither the Vatican nor the Ministry of War nor the Franciscans seem to have any record of Father Giuseppe Armano, which is why we need to go to Berini—to establish his existence. And also to notify next of kin of his fate.”

Gann thought about that, then replied, “Well, I suppose his name could have been lost.” He added, “But if the Vatican
wants
his name lost, then they’ve been to Berini before you.”

That thought had briefly crossed Purcell’s mind, but it seemed outlandish to believe that Father Giuseppe Armano was disappearing into an Orwellian black hole. But maybe not so outlandish. They’d find out in Berini.

M
ercado said, “In 1868, the Ethiopian emperor Theodore wrote a letter to Queen Victoria. She did not respond, and Theodore, to avenge the insult, imprisoned a number of British nationals, including the consul. The British then landed an expeditionary force on the African coast and marched on Ethiopia to rescue these people.”

Colonel Gann said, half jokingly, “Now we’ve got to pay the bloody beggars to get her majesty’s subjects released.”