Nelson Demille - The Quest

“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.

Mercado 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.”

Purcell didn’t know if he was actually back in the reading room of the Vatican Library, or if this was a recurring nightmare. Vivian, however, seemed fascinated by the library and impressed with all the documents that Henry had assembled.

Mercado had assured Purcell that this would be a quick visit, to wrap up his background briefing. Next stop was the Ethiopian College, and if they weren’t kicked out again, he, Mercado, and Gann had been allowed one hour in the college library. Vivian, because of her gender, was not welcome.

Mercado continued, “The British Expeditionary Force was led by Sir Robert Napier, and they advanced on the new Ethiopian capital of Magdala. Theodore was beaten in battle and committed suicide on Easter Day 1868.”

Purcell glanced at his watch. Vivian had volunteered to stay in this room and read through Henry’s notes. She’d also brought her camera with her, a brand-new Canon F-1, to begin her photographic documentation of their story, starting with this reading room, and ending, Purcell hoped, with cocktails in the papal reception hall, with everyone holding up the Holy Grail like it was the Stanley Cup.

Vivian saw Purcell smiling and took his picture.

Mercado continued, “Napier, in good imperial tradition, sacked the emperor’s palace and the imperial library at Magdala, carrying off a trove of ancient documents. He took four hundred or so of the most promising of them back to England. He also took the ancient imperial crown that wound up in the British Museum.”

Gann said, “I believe we gave it back.”

“You did,” said Mercado. “And now it’s probably in the hands of the Marxists-or it’s been sold or melted down for the gold and gems.”

Purcell said, “We get the point, Henry.”

Mercado continued, “Inside the rim of the crown is engraved, in Geez, the ancient language of Ethiopia, which remains the language of the Coptic Church, these words”-he glanced at his notes-“King of Kings, Conquering Lion of Judah, Descendant of the House of David, Keeper of the Ark of the Covenant, and Keeper of the Holy Vessel.” Mercado looked at his audience and said, “We can assume that is the Holy Grail.”

No one argued with that translation, but everyone knew that kings and emperors liked to give themselves titles. Theodore may have descended from the House of David, Purcell thought, but he wasn’t the conquering Lion of Judah on Easter Day 1868. Nor was he King of Kings. He was dead. As for keeper of the Ark of the Covenant and the Holy Grail, Purcell was sure that Theodore believed it, but that didn’t make the relics real.

Mercado continued, “Napier, now Lord Napier of Magdala, sold some of the looted documents at auction, and a few of them found their way into the Vatican archives, and this”-he took a curled, yellowed parchment out of a velvet folio-“is one of them.”

Mercado held up the parchment by a corner and said, “It is written in Geez, and I had one of the Ethiopian seminarians who can read Geez translate it for me.”

Gann was looking closely at the parchment as though he could read it, but he said, “It’s Geez to me.”

Mercado smiled politely and replaced the parchment in its velvet folio. “The seminarian thought that based on the style of Geez used, and on the historical event described, this is from about the seventh century-about the time that Islam conquered Egypt.”

Mercado referred to his notes and continued, “This parchment is unsigned, and the author is unknown, but it was probably written by a church scribe or monk and it is an account of a miraculous healing of a Prince Jacob who was near death from wounds sustained in battle with the Mohammadans, as they are called here, who had invaded from Egyptian Sudan. According to this account, Prince Jacob was carried to Axum to die, and was taken to the place-it doesn’t say which place-where the Holy Vessel was kept. The abuna of Axum, the archbishop, gave this prince the last rites, then anointed him with the blood from the Holy Vessel, and Prince Jacob, because he was faithful to God, and because he loved Jesus, and also because he fought bravely against the Mohammadans, was healed of his wounds by the sacred blood of Christ, and he rose up and returned to battle.” Mercado said, “Unfortunately, there is no actual mention of the Lance of Longinus.”

Purcell thought there were other problems with that story. In fact, it sounded like propaganda to rally the troops and the citizens in time of war. But everyone understood that, so he didn’t mention it.

Mercado, too, saw the story as a morale builder and possibly a bit of a stretch. He said, “This proves little, of course, but it does mention the Holy Grail being in Axum at this time, and it is one of the few early references to the Grail having the power to heal.”

Vivian said, “The power to heal those who believe.”

Mercado nodded at his former protégée, then said to everyone, “At some point after this time, with Axum being threatened by Islam, the Grail was taken to a safe place-or many safe places-and now we think we know where it is.”

Mercado stayed silent a moment, then said, “Edward Gibbon, in his Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, wrote, ‘Encompassed on all sides by the enemies of their religion, the Ethiopians slept near a thousand years, forgetful of the world, by whom they were forgotten.’ ”

Mercado looked at his watch and said, “We will now go to the Ethiopian College.”

A short, squat Ethiopian monk met them in the antechamber and escorted them, without a word, to a second-floor library. The college appeared to still be closed for the long Christmas holiday, and they seemed to be the only people there.

A very large monk stood inside the entrance to the library, and the two monks exchanged a few words in what sounded like Amharic.

Purcell looked around the library, which was windowless and badly lit. Book-laden shelves extended up to the high ceiling, and long reading tables ran down the center of the room.

The short monk left, and the big one remained in the room. Apparently he wasn’t leaving, so Mercado said something to him in Italian, and the monk replied in halting Italian.

Mercado informed Purcell and Gann, “He’s staying.”

Purcell asked, “Does it matter?”

“I suppose not.” He said, “There’s a map room here somewhere, and that’s what we want to see.”