Chapter 44

Purcell looked for an open pasture among the hundreds of acres of orchards and planted fields. He thought he needed about a thousand feet of unobstructed, mostly level terrain, but stone and wooden fences separated many of the fields, and trees grew in most of the pastures.

Purcell wanted to do a wheels-down landing, but if the ground was too wet, rocky, or potholed, he might have to do a belly landing, though he had the rocket pod to contend with.

Most importantly, he had too much fuel on board—about half a tank—and he couldn’t risk staying in the air to burn it off. He instructed Vivian and Henry to clear the aircraft quickly after it came to a stop.

He circled around the periphery of the fields, and he could see a few people near the village looking up at him. Hopefully, Gann was one of them.

Vivian asked, “Do you see a place to land?”

“Only one. That pasture ahead.”

Mercado asked, “Is that long enough?”

“I’ll make it long enough.”

The pasture was slightly sloped, and he decided to land upslope so that the land came up to meet the Navion, and the aircraft would slow sooner uphill and hopefully come to a stop before he ran out of pasture.

He lined up the aircraft with the pasture, which looked to be about a thousand feet long. He now noticed there was a stone fence at the end of the rise, but no trees or water holes.

He had no idea what the winds were doing, but it didn’t matter; this was the landing strip, and upslope was the direction.

Purcell lowered his landing gear and flaps and pulled back on the throttle. His airspeed was barely sixty miles per hour, and he estimated his altitude at five hundred feet, then four, three… He looked out at the approaching pasture of short brown grass. The goats had scattered, but now he could see rocks and sinkholes. “Hold on.”

He cut the power back to idle, pulled the nose up, and the Navion touched down hard and bounced high, then down again and up again across the rocky pasture. He shut down the engine and applied the brakes. Up ahead he could see the stone fence. He worked the rudder, making the aircraft fishtail, and he began to slow, but the stone fence was less than a hundred yards away, then fifty yards.

“Frank…”

“Brace!”

He kicked the rudder hard, causing the Navion to go into a sideways skid. He expected the landing gear to collapse, but the old bird was built well and the gear held as the wheels traveled sideways across the grassy pasture. The Navion came to a jolting, rocking halt less than twenty feet from the stone fence.

Vivian said, “Beautiful.”

Mercado said, “Good one, old boy.”

Everyone grabbed their canvas bags that held the maps, camera, and film, as Purcell slid the canopy open and scrambled onto the wing. Vivian followed quickly and jumped to the ground, followed by Mercado. Purcell joined them and they put some distance between themselves and the Navion in case it decided to burst into flames.

Purcell stood looking at Signore Bocaccio’s aircraft, which landed a bit better than it flew. Vivian unpinned the Saint Christopher medal from Purcell’s shirt, kissed it, then shoved it in his top pocket.

He heard a noise behind him and turned to see a Land Rover coming toward them. The vehicle stopped a distance away and the door opened. Colonel Gann, wearing a white shamma and sandals, came out of the driver’s side and walked toward them. He called out, “Was that a landing, or were you shot down?”

Mercado replied in the same spirit of British lunacy, “Just dropping in to say hello.”

Gann smiled as he continued toward them. “Just in time for tea.”

Gann’s hair was now very short, Purcell noticed, and jet black, and he’d lost his red mustache somewhere, and also lost his riding crop if he’d had one. Also gone was his prison pallor, replaced by a nice tan.

Gann walked up to Purcell. “Good landing, actually. Frightened the goats a bit, but they’ll get over it.”

“So will I.”

Gann flashed his toothy smile, then took Vivian’s hand. “Lovely as always.”

“You look good in a shamma.”

“Don’t tell.” He took Mercado’s hand. “Is Gondar closed today?”

“It is to us.”

“Well, you must have a good story to tell. But first meet my friend.” He waved at the Land Rover, and the passenger-side door opened.

A young woman wearing a green shamma came out of the vehicle, and they all followed Gann as he walked toward the lady.

Gann announced, “This is Miriam.”

She nodded her head.

Purcell looked at her. She was about early thirties, maybe younger, with short curly black hair. Her features were distinctly Semitic, though her skin was very dark, and her eyes were a deep brown. All in all, she was a beautiful woman.

Gann introduced his friends who’d dropped in unexpectedly, and she took each person’s hand and said, “Welcome.”

Gann didn’t say this was his girlfriend, but it was, and that explained a few things. Always cherchez la femme, Purcell knew.

Gann asked his visitors, “Are you being pursued?”

Purcell replied, “Possibly by air.”

“All right then… we will bury the aircraft in palm fronds.” He looked at Miriam, who said in good English, “I will see to that.”

Gann let them know, “Miriam is… well, in charge here.” He explained, “She’s a princess of the royal blood.”

Purcell had had a few experiences with Jewish princesses, but he understood that this was different.

Mercado said to Princess Miriam, “We are sorry to intrude, your highness.”

“Please, I am just Miriam.”

Mercado bowed his head in acknowledgment.

Purcell reminded everyone, “Sir Edmund actually invited us.”

Gann replied, “I did, didn’t I? Glad you understood that. Well, here you are. So let’s be off.” He opened the door of the Land Rover for his princess, and said to everyone, “If the aircraft doesn’t blow up, your luggage will be along shortly.”

Purcell, Mercado, and Vivian squeezed into the rear of the Land Rover. Gann got behind the wheel and turned toward the village, saying, “I’m afraid Shoan will look a bit deserted, as you may have noticed when you flew by a few days ago. Most everyone has gone to Israel. Just a dozen or so left, and they’ll be heading off soon.”

No one responded to that, and Gann put his hand on Miriam’s shoulder and said, “But they’ll all be back. You’ll see. A year or two.”

Miriam didn’t reply.

They entered the small village of about fifty stucco houses, and except for the tin roofs and unpaved streets, Purcell thought he could be back in Berini. No church, however, but he did see the building on the small square that he’d seen from the air, and indeed it was the synagogue, with a Star of David painted in blue over the door.

The square was deserted, and so was the narrow street they turned down, which ended at the edge of the village. Purcell saw the large house he’d also seen from the air, which turned out to be the princess’s palace.

Gann stopped the vehicle under a stand of tall palms and said, “Here we are.”

Everyone got out and Gann opened a small wooden door in the plain, windowless façade. Miriam entered, then Gann waved his guests in.

It wasn’t that palatial, Purcell saw, but the whitewashed walls were clean and bright, and the floor was laid with red tile. Niches in the walls held ceramic jars filled with tropical flowers. They followed Miriam and Gann through an open arch into a paved courtyard where the round pool that Purcell had seen from the air sat among date palms. Black African violets grew beneath the palms, and bougainvillea climbed the walls of the other wings of the house.

Gann indicated a grouping of teak chairs and they sat.

A female servant appeared and Miriam said something to her and she left, then Miriam said to her guests, “I can offer you only fruit drinks and some bread.”

Purcell informed her, “We have about a hundred pounds of coffee beans in the aircraft. Please consider that our houseguest gift.”

Miriam smiled, turned to Gann, and said something in Amharic.

Gann, too, smiled, and Purcell had the feeling that Colonel Gann had briefed the princess about his friends.

Vivian said, “This is a beautiful house.”

“Thank you.”

Purcell went straight to the obvious question and asked Gann, “So, how did you two meet?”

Gann replied, “I was a friend of Miriam’s father back in ’41. Met him in Gondar after we kicked out the Italians.” He explained, “The Falashas own most of the weaving mills and silver shops in Gondar, and the bloody Fascists took everything from them because they are Jews, and arrested anyone who made a fuss about it. I found Sahle in a prison, half dead, and gave him a bit of bread and a cup of gin. Put him right in no time.” He continued, “Well, Sahle and I became friends, and before I left in ’43, I came to Shoan to see the birth of his daughter.” He looked lovingly at Miriam. “She is as beautiful as her mother.”

Vivian smiled and asked Miriam, “Are your parents… here?”

“They have passed on.”

Gann said, “Miriam has an older brother, David, who unfortunately went to Gondar on business a few months ago, and has not returned.” He added, “He is said to be alive in prison.” He added, “Getachu has him.”

The servant returned with a tray of fruit, bread, and ceramic cups that held purple juice. Everyone took a cup and the servant set the tray on a table. Miriam spoke with the woman, then said to her guests, “The aircraft is being hidden, and your luggage has arrived.” She also assured Mr. Purcell that the coffee beans were with the luggage, and coffee would be served later.

Gann raised his cup and said, “Welcome to Shoan.”

They all drank the tart juice, which turned out to be fizzy and fermented.

Gann said, “You must tell me everything.”

Purcell replied, “Henry is good at telling everything.”

Mercado started with their separate arrivals in Addis, and his finding Signore Bocaccio and his aircraft. Gann nodded, but he seemed to know some of this, and Purcell was impressed with the Royalist underground, or whatever counterrevolutionaries Gann was in touch with.

Mercado then described their aerial recon, and Vivian’s wonderful photography, and remembered to thank Gann for the maps, but forgot to compliment Purcell on his flying. Purcell noted, too, that Henry didn’t tell Sir Edmund that he, Henry Mercado, had recently fucked Frank Purcell’s girlfriend. But that wasn’t conversation for mixed company, though Henry might mention it later to Sir Edmund, man to man.

Purcell looked at Gann, then at Miriam, then at Mercado and Vivian. He hoped he was as lucky when he hit sixty. He thought, too, of Signore Bocaccio with his Ethiopian wife and children. If all went well—which it would not—they’d be in Rome in a few weeks; he, Vivian, Henry, Colonel Gann, Miriam, and the Bocaccio family, sitting in Ristorante Etiopia, drinking wine out of the Holy Grail. That was not going to happen, but it was nice to think it.

Henry was getting to the good part—the part where Frank Purcell shot down an armed Ethiopian Air Force helicopter. Henry said to Purcell, “Perhaps you’d like to tell this, Frank.”

Purcell understood that this was a good story for a bar, far away from Ethiopia. But here, it was not a good story. In fact, he had put them all in mortal danger. Though in Ethiopia, that was redundant.

“Frank?”

“Well, I think this chopper was looking for us, and I think our old friend General Getachu had sent him. So the game was up, one way or the other, and we—I—decided to take this guy out.”

Gann asked, “Do you have weapons with you?”

“No.” He explained about the rocket pod, and his creative use of the smoke markers. He didn’t go into detail, but he did say, “I rode in a lot of Hueys in ’Nam, covering the war, and I saw them using smoke rockets.” He added, “Looked easy.” He also explained, “We were dead anyway. Or worse than dead if we landed in Gondar.”

Gann nodded. “Quite right.”

Vivian let Gann know, “They fired a machine gun at us. Frank was very brave. I was petrified.”

Mercado admitted, “I was a bit anxious myself.”

Gann thought about this, then asked, “Did you see any other aircraft?”

Purcell replied, “No.”

Gann said, “They’re probably looking for you on the way to the French territory.”

“We thought about heading there, instead of here. Or Sudan.”

“Well, good that you didn’t.” He informed them, “You wouldn’t have made it.” He let them know, “The Ethies don’t have many jets—just a few Mirages—but they are getting Russian helicopter gunships with Russian pilots, and you would probably have met them on your way to Somalia or Sudan.”

Purcell nodded, then said, “Sorry, though, if we’ve put you in a difficult situation.”

It was Miriam who said, “We are already in a difficult situation. You are most welcome here.”

“Thank you.”

Vivian assured her, “We won’t be here long.”

Miriam looked at Vivian and said, “You are welcome to stay, and you are welcome to leave for French Somaliland, and we can help you with that journey.” She continued, “But I would prefer if you did not go to the place where you wish to go.”

Vivian replied, “We have come a long way to find this place.” She assured Miriam, “We mean no harm to these monks, or to their religious objects.”

“I understand that from Edmund. I understand, too, that you think you have been chosen to find this place. And I respect your beliefs. But I can offer you no assistance with your search.”

Purcell asked, “Why not?”

She looked at him and replied, “We here in Shoan have a sacred covenant with the monks of the black monastery.”

Purcell reminded her, “You’re Jewish. They’re Copts.”

“That does not matter. We are of the same tradition for two thousand years.”

“Right. Well, all we’re asking then is a good night’s sleep and food to take on our journey.”

“I will gladly give you that, but I wish you would reconsider that journey.”

“Can’t do that.”

Miriam didn’t reply.

Purcell said, “And we may have to return here at some point.”

“You are welcome to do that, but we may not be here when you return.”

Purcell looked at Gann and reminded him, “You let us know you were here.” He asked, “Why?”

Gann hesitated, then replied, “I would like to go with you.” He explained, “I’ve spoken to Miriam, and she understands that we believe that the object you are looking for is in danger, and it must be taken to a safe place, though she believes the monks themselves could do that.”

“Maybe they can.” He asked, “But if we took it, where would we take it?”

Gann glanced at Mercado, then said, “It’s not my decision to make.” He let them know, “We need to discuss this.”

Purcell pointed out, “We don’t have it yet, and to be honest with you, we probably never will. So maybe this is moot.”

Vivian said, “When we find it, we will know what to do.”

Purcell thought that Henry had undoubtedly promised the Grail to the Vatican, and Gann may have promised it to the British Museum, to take the place of the Ethiopian royal crown the British had snatched and given back. But in either case, the Grail, if it existed, and if they found it, was to be held in custody until Ethiopia was free again. At least that was the promise.

Mercado asked Gann, “What is the situation in the countryside?”

“A bit unsettled.” He explained about the counterrevolutionaries, and the Royalist partisans, both of whom he was in touch with. He also said, “The Gallas have mostly gone east where the Eritreans are fighting for independence from Ethiopia. But there are some left to see if the fighting here resumes.”

Purcell told him, “We saw some Gallas from the air.” He said to Gann, “I meant to ask you—what do they do with all those balls?”

“They eat them, old boy.” He further explained, “Not the Christian or Muslim Gallas, of course. But the pagan Gallas.” He added, “Gives them courage.”

“Right. You’d need a lot of courage to do that.”

“Never thought of that.” Gann further addressed Mercado’s concerns and told them, “The Israelis have smuggled in some firearms for the Falashas, to be sure the exodus goes off without a problem.” He reached into an empty urn and retrieved an Uzi submachine gun. “Nice piece of goods.” He handed it to Purcell and told them, “We’ll take that with us.”

Purcell looked at the compact weapon with a magazine longer than the barrel. “This should scare the hell out of those monks.”

Gann smiled. “I was thinking more of the Gallas—or anyone else who we may meet in the jungle.” He also informed them, “Getachu has sent some units down this way, but they’ve gotten a bad reception from the Royalist partisans and the anti-Marxist counterrevolutionaries.”

“Good.” Purcell asked, “Do you have three more Uzis?”

“I’m afraid not.” He let them know, “The few men left here need them.”

Purcell passed the Uzi to Mercado, who said, “Reminds me of the old British Sten gun,” and gave it to Vivian.

Gann said to his guests, “It’s a simple weapon, and I’ll show you how to use it in the event… I’m not with you.”

Miriam looked at her lover, but said nothing.

Mercado asked Gann, “Is Shoan safe?”

“It is to the extent that the Provisional government has agreed to let the Jews leave, unhindered.” He added, “So far the exodus has gone well all over the country, though there have been a few incidents, and thus the Uzis.”

Purcell asked Gann, “How do you communicate with the Royalists here, and in Addis?”

“I have a shortwave radio. I keep it outside the village, so as not to compromise the people here.”

“Can you show it to us?”

“Of course. But my batteries have died, and I’m waiting for replacements.” He added, “My Kipling poem to you was my last transmission.”

“We would have brought batteries if they’d been left for us at the hotel.”

“If you’re found with a shortwave battery, you are shot. After being tortured.”

“Right.” Maps and photographs were maybe explainable. Shortwave radio batteries were as hard to explain as a gun. He’d rather have the gun, which could explain itself.

Gann took the gun from Vivian and said, “We should push off tomorrow.” He asked them, “Do you have any idea where you would like to look?”

Purcell replied, “I hoped you—or Miriam—could suggest something.”

“I’m afraid I can’t, old boy.” He said, “I thought perhaps you’d seen something from the air.”

“We did. But we don’t want to see all those places on the ground.”

“Well, we may have to do that.” Gann stayed silent for a moment, then glanced at Miriam and said to his guests, “As I mentioned to you in Rome, the people of Shoan have some contact with the monastery. However, those who had this contact are gone.”

Purcell looked at Miriam. She told them, “The secret is with the elders who have left, and they took their secret with them.”

Gann looked at his guests. “A relationship… a friendship, that has lasted four hundred years, since the monastery was built, is now severed.” He told them, “The last meeting took place two weeks ago, and the monks have been told.”

Purcell again had the feeling he’d slipped into an alternate universe. He asked Miriam, “When the people who went to this meeting place left, how long were they gone?”

She looked at him but did not reply.

He asked, “Which way did they go?”

She replied, “They went in a different direction each time, and they were never gone for the same number of days.”

“Well, that narrows it down.”

Vivian said to him, “Frank, you are being rude.”

“Sorry.” He explained his rudeness. “I just want to find this place and get out of here.”

Miriam said to him, and to her other guests, “Let me think about what you have asked.”

“Thank you.”

Miriam said softly, “This is a difficult time for everyone. This civilization—Christian and Jewish—has come to an end. But we look to the future, which will be better. We must all leave here, but when we return, we must return as we were, with our customs and traditions, and our covenants unbroken.”

Purcell nodded. “I understand.”

Vivian said to Miriam, “We are here to do what you are doing. To take with us what cannot be left here. To keep things safe until this nightmare is over.”

Miriam replied, “You should let the monks do that.” She stood. “I must see to your comforts. I will return shortly.”

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.”