THIRTY-NINE

 

Axum, Ethiopia

 

“Abba Paulos tells me that you are interested in the Ark of the Covenant.”

Carter stared at the man the priest had introduced as Abuna Mateos, the Bishop of Axum. Mateos had a high-pitched voice and spoke with a cadence that sounded almost musical. He was older, with tufts of wispy gray hair protruding out from under the cylindrical gold-colored cap, which matched his long vestments. But his clean-shaven face looked almost youthful, making it impossible to guess his age with certainty.

“You speak English?” she said.

Mateos, who had been looking at Lazarus, turned to face her with a perturbed expression. Carter knew that look well: the why are you speaking to me, woman look. She had experienced it many times during her years working with relief agencies. To his credit, Mateos hid his displeasure with a smile. “Yes. Also French, Arabic, Hebrew, and of course, Amharic.”

Lazarus thumbed a button on his phone, disabling the babelfish. “I’m Erik Lazarus. This is Dr. Felice Carter.” She noted the emphasis on the title, an attempt to elevate her status somewhat in his eyes. “And yes, we’d like to talk about the Ark.”

Mateos listened, without comment or visible reaction, as they made the connection between the recent earthquakes and solar events with the Ark of the Covenant, and more time trying to establish that they were not kooks or treasure hunters.

After about five minutes of this, the clergyman raised his hands. “Let me understand. You believe that Ark can be used to stop these earthquakes. That is your only interest in it?”

“That’s right,” Carter said. “I know it sounds crazy—”

“Certainly not. God has power over the heavens and Earth. The question before us is whether it is His will to do so. In the Gospels, the Lord warned us that in the Last Days, there would be earthquakes in many places and great signs in Heaven.” His solemn face cracked with a smile. “He also said that we should not be troubled by such things, for the End is not yet come.”

He paused a moment, studying their faces, as if trying to decide whether or not to trust them. “Please, come with me. I want to show you something.”

He led them outside and around to the south end of the cathedral building. At the end of a sprawling courtyard stood the old cathedral, a more traditional looking structure from the seventeenth century. Silhouetted against the old church, separated from the courtyard by a tall wrought-iron fence, were a pair of smaller cube-shaped chapels, the larger of the two topped with an onion dome and a cross.

Mateos pointed to one of the smaller structures. “That is the Chapel of the Tablets, where the Ark is kept. When I was a young man, the Ark was kept in the sanctuary of the church, concealed behind a curtain, just as in the Tabernacle that Moses built, but after many years, the heat—” He squeezed his fist, “—of the Glory of God kept cracking the stones of the floor. So, this chapel was built, according to the same specifications that Moses used. The floor stones, they never cracked again.

“The Glory of God,” he repeated. “It is not for men to see. Only one man, the guardian, a brother of the holy order, who never leaves the chapel, may go before the Ark to offer incense, just as in the days of Moses. I have not seen the Ark. No one but the guardian may see the Ark. Anyone else…” He made a lateral slicing gesture. “Dead. So you see, I cannot help you. The Ark must remain in the Chapel.”

“What good is having it, if you can’t use it when you need it?” Lazarus said. Carter could tell from his tone that he was holding back his frustration.

“It is a symbol of God’s presence,” Mateo said, his tone still patient, but with a slight edge. “Not something that we are meant to use.”

Carter spoke up. “Abuna, has it occurred to you that perhaps this is the reason the Ark was given to your Church? So that it would be available when this time of need arose?”

Mateo gave her a patronizing smile. “My child, has it occurred to you that God sends these signs, these earthquakes, so that we may demonstrate our faith in Him?” He pressed his hands together as if genuflecting. “I am sorry that you have come all this way, but it is not for nothing. Go, and may God’s peace be upon you.” He bowed his head and then turned away without another word.

When he was gone, Lazarus sighed. “That went well.”

“About as well as expected.”

“Convenient how nobody ever gets to see it. They never have to prove it’s in there.”

“Still, if it was a fake, you’d think someone would have exposed it by now.”

Lazarus nodded, staring at the chapel, but he said nothing. She watched him for a few seconds. “What are you thinking?”

“George sent us here to check it out. Rule it out. That’s what we have to do.”

“We can’t just force our way in there and take it.” When he didn’t respond, she repeated the statement. “We can’t do that, Erik.”

“If it’s a fake, we won’t need to take it. I just need a few seconds with it.”

“How are you going to tell the difference in a few seconds?”

“Like you said, it’s covered in gold. It will be heavy.”

“And if it’s real, just touching it might…” She trailed off. “Erik, you’re not… No. You can’t do that.”

He reached out and pulled her into an embrace that felt almost as indulgent as Mateo’s smile. “Pretty sure I’m the only one who can.”