The Quest: A Novel (50 page)

The gentlemen stood, and the princess left.

Gann said to his guests, “Miriam and I have had this conversation, as you can well imagine, and I assure you, she knows nothing more than she has told you.”

Mercado said, “I’m sure she’d have told you if she knew more.”

Purcell wondered if Henry really believed that women told their men everything. If he did, he’d be cuckolded every year.

Vivian told Gann, “Tomorrow, we’d like to go to the spa.” She explained that this was not a nostalgia trip, but a bone hunting expedition.

Gann replied, “Rather odd custom, don’t you think?”

Mercado, former atheist, now a believer working for the Vatican newspaper, explained, “This is very important to the Church of Rome when a person is proposed for sainthood.” He further explained, “A mortal remain is considered a first-class relic. A piece of a garment is second-class, other objects—”

“Yes, well, we can stop at the spa and look about for a bone or two.” He added, “Short walk. Half a day at most.”

Vivian continued, “And we’d like to see the fortress where Father Armano was imprisoned for forty years.”

Mercado told Gann, “We spotted incognita from the air and it was, indeed, Prince Theodore’s fortress.”

“Good recon.” He asked Vivian, “Is this part of the sainthood thing?”

She replied, “It is part of Father Armano’s story. It is something I need to see.”

“I see… Well, I’m sure it’s on the way to something.”

Mercado said, “Most of the suspected locations of the black monastery are a day or two walk from the fortress.”

Vivian added, “There may be a clue there.”

Gann nodded. “We’ll take a look.”

They had more fermented fruit juice as they discussed a few items on everyone’s agenda. They agreed they’d be gone a week—or less if they found what they were looking for. If not, they would return to Shoan, and as Colonel Gann said, “Regroup, refit, and strike out again.”

Vivian asked Gann, “Will anyone be here when we return?”

He didn’t reply for a moment, then said, “Everyone will be gone.” He told them, “Miriam and I will meet in Jerusalem.”

Vivian smiled. “That’s very nice.”

Mercado, who was again thinking about exit strategy, asked Purcell, “Could you get that aircraft out of here?”

“We could carry it out.”

“Why can’t you fly it out?”

“It has to take off first, Henry. That’s the hard part.”

“If you land, you can take off.”

“I may have blown the tires. I’ll look at it later.” He asked, “Where would you like to go?”

“French Somaliland.”

Gann interjected, “I think we will need to walk out of here.” He assured them, “A number of Royalist partisans have been to Somalia and back. I have a few chaps who will come along.”

Miriam returned and announced that dinner would be served in an hour, and she offered to show everyone to their rooms.

They all stood and Miriam led them to an arched loggia, along which were wooden doors. She indicated a door and said, “For Mr. Mercado.” Miriam thought she knew the sleeping arrangements and
indicated another door. “For Mr. Purcell, and Miss Smith.” She added, “I hope we have gotten your luggage correctly placed.”

Gann pointed to the end of the loggia and said, “Bath down there.” He suggested, “Let’s say cocktails in one hour, on the patio.”

Purcell, Vivian, and Mercado thanked their hosts, and entered their rooms.

Purcell looked around the small, whitewashed room with a beamed ceiling. There were no windows, but narrow wooden louvers sat high in the wall to let in air and light, and to keep out wildlife and uninvited guests.

There were two gray steel beds against one wall that looked like they’d come from an institution. Against the opposite wall was a wooden table, on which sat their luggage and an oil lamp. In one corner was a chair, and in another was a washstand with a bowl and pitcher. He said, “Looks like a monk’s cell.”

“This will look good after a week in the jungle.”

“It will look like a palace.”

She asked him, “Are you all right with this?”

He didn’t reply.

“I can ask for a separate room.”

“Let me do that.”

“Frank. Look at me.”

He looked at her.

“I am sorry, and I love you.”

“We’ll discuss this in Gondar.”

“We are not going to Gondar.”

“Right.”

She changed the subject and said, “I didn’t think Sir Edmund had so much romance in his soul.”

Purcell admitted, “I was a bit surprised.”

“Love conquers all.”

“Any good news?”

“I’m going to find the bath.” She left.

He stood there awhile, then decided he needed a bath.

He found the door at the end of the loggia and went inside a roofless enclosure in which was a sunken pool against the far wall. The
face of a black stone lion was embedded in the wall, and a stream of water poured from the lion’s mouth. Vivian’s clothes lay on a stone bench, and Vivian herself was floating full frontal nude in the pool.

He took off his clothes and slipped into the water, which was unheated but warm.

She said to him, “No one would believe a village of Jews in the middle of the Ethiopian jungle.” She added, “Or a Roman spa. Or a monastery of Coptic monks.”

“Don’t forget the Jewish princess.”

“Maybe this is a dream.”

With a bit of nightmare, for sure, he thought.

She stayed silent awhile, floating with her eyes closed. She said, “We’re very close.”

“Closer than I thought we’d get.”

“Do you think Miriam will help us?”

“She’s thinking about it.”

Neither of them spoke for a while, then Vivian said, “Thank you for staying with this.”

He didn’t reply.

“You could have left, and I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“It’s a good story.”

The door opened, and Mercado said, “Oh… sorry…” He asked, “Mind if I join you?” He explained, “I’m a bit rushed for time.”

Vivian did not reply, but Purcell said, “You don’t need to ask. We’re all friends.”

P
urcell, Vivian, and Mercado, all fresh from their communal bath, joined the princess and the colonel for cocktails on the patio. Vivian wore her best khaki pants and green T-shirt, and the two gentlemen wore khakis, top and bottom.

The sun was setting and the night had grown pleasantly cool. The purple African sky above the date palms was magnificent, Purcell thought, and if it wasn’t for Colonel Gann’s Uzi on the table, he could imagine he was someplace else.

Colonel Sir Edmund Gann had gone unnative, and he wore his paramilitary khakis to cocktails, though he’d kept his afternoon sandals.

Princess Miriam wore a purple evening
shamma
, trimmed with lion’s mane, the sign of royalty in old Ethiopia.

Cocktails were limited to Boodles gin, a half bottle of which Colonel Gann had been saving for a special occasion, and this was it—which pleased Henry. The gin could be had with or without fruit juice.

The cocktail chatter had mostly to do with the Falasha exodus and the local security situation. Gann explained, “Getachu and his army control the Gondar area and the surrounding Simien Mountains. Here, to the south, which is nearly unpopulated, there are counterrevolutionaries operating in the jungle valleys, as I’ve said, as well as the remnants of the Royalist forces.” He further explained, “These two groups have far different agendas—an elected government on the one hand, and a return to an absolute monarchy on the other.” He told them, “I’m trying to get them to pull together to get rid of the Marxists. I explained to both sides how we in Britain have a monarch and an elected parliament. But they’re not understanding the concept.”

Purcell admitted, “Neither do I.”

Cocktails were brief, and they were escorted into the palace, where dinner was served in a room that held a long table which would seat about twenty; suitable for large family meals, except that everyone was gone. The floor, Purcell noticed, was laid with black stone.

The teak table was set simply, though the silverware was real, Purcell noticed, and each piece was decorated with the Lion of Judah. The dishes, too, had the heraldic lion hand-painted on them. The dinner theme, Purcell saw, was lions.

Fading sunlight came through the high louvers, and oil lamps flickered on the table.

On the menu was grilled goat, some sort of root vegetable, and flatbread, with bowls of dates scattered around the table. Fermented fruit juice was poured into bronze goblets that looked like the ones Prince Joshua once owned, and the one that he, Purcell, had overpaid for in Rome.

Two ladies in middle age served the simple meal and kept the fizzy fruit juice flowing. Miriam promised fresh coffee at the end of the meal.

She was an intelligent and interesting lady, Purcell saw, and he could see why the other old goat in the room—Sir Edmund—was taken with her.

Dinner conversation began light, and in answer to Vivian’s question, Miriam explained, “Most of the Solomonic line are Christian, of course, but some are Jewish, and some are even Muslim. The line from Solomon and Sheba is well recorded, but over the centuries, the three religions have influenced the faith of some families.” She added, “The Jews are not the oldest religion in Ethiopia—the pagans are. If you call that a religion.”

Purcell had just learned that the pagan Gallas ate human testicles, but he didn’t know how to work that into the dinner conversation—or if he should try.

Purcell also wanted to ask Miriam why, in her early thirties, she was not married yet with ten kids, but to be more subtle and polite, he asked, “So do you have to marry within the Solomonic line?”

She stayed silent for a few seconds, then replied, “I was married at sixteen, to a Christian ras, but we produced no heirs, so my husband
divorced me. This is not unusual.” She added, “Most of the rasses are now dead, or they have fled, so I have few prospects for marriage.” She looked at her boyfriend and said without cracking a smile, “So I have settled for an Englishman.”

Everyone got a laugh at that, and Gann said, “Could do worse, you know.”

Vivian asked boldly, “Do you two plan to marry?”

Miriam replied, “We have no word for knight, so here they call him Ras Edmund, which makes him acceptable.”

Again everyone laughed, but clearly this was a touchy subject, so the nosy reporters did not ask follow-up questions.

Miriam switched to another touchy subject—her benighted country. “This is an old civilization in the middle stage of history—a medieval anachronism. The Muslims keep harems and slaves. The Christians dispense biblical justice, and men are made eunuchs, and women are sold for sexual purposes. The Jews, too, have engaged in Old Testament punishment. The pagans practice unspeakable rites, including castration and crucifixion. And now the Marxists have introduced a new religion, the religion of atheism, and a new social order, the mass killing of anyone who is associated with the old order.”

Purcell needed another drink after that. When he was first here, in September, living at the Hilton in Addis, he had almost no idea what life was like outside the capital, which itself was no treat. Their trip out of Addis to the northern front had opened his eyes a little to what Ethiopia was about. Gann, however, had known this place since 1941, and Mercado even longer. And yet they’d returned, and in Gann’s case, he found something compelling about this country—something that drew him to it the way some men are drawn to those places on the map marked “terra incognita—here be dragons.” And Signore Bocaccio… he’d forgotten there were better places to do business.

Vivian, like himself, had come here clueless and freelance, but she had discovered that she was chosen by God to be here, which was better than being chosen by the Associated Press.

And then there was Frank Purcell. He needed to think again about why he was still here.

In his mental absence, the subject had again turned to dark matters. Miriam said, “Mikael Getachu’s father worked for my father in Gondar in the weaving shop. My father treated the family well, and paid for Mikael’s education at the English missionary school.”

Purcell informed everyone, “Getachu’s biography says his parents went without food to pay for his education.”

Miriam replied, “They went without nothing.”

Gann said, “Miriam’s brother, David, was actually lured by Getachu to come to Gondar with the promise that Getachu would release two young nieces and a nephew of the family if David would identify and sign over the family’s assets to Getachu.” Gann added, “Getachu knows he can’t violate the ancient sanctity of Shoan, or more importantly the international agreement protecting the Jews during the exodus. But he has sent a message to Miriam saying that if she voluntarily comes to Gondar, then he will release David, and the nieces and nephew.” He added, “The children’s parents, who are Sahle’s sister and brother-in-law, have already been shot.”

Purcell looked at Miriam, who seemed stoic enough on the outside, but he could imagine the conflicts and pain inside her.

Gann said, “Getachu’s goal all along was to get hold of his princess.”