Robert Lyndon: Hawk Quest

Vallon leaned forward, intent. ‘What was it that Jesus told him?’

Hero had been moving the book closer and closer to the waning light. ‘It’s no good. I can’t see.’

‘I’ll light a lamp,’ said Vallon. He pulled a glowing stub from the fire and got a lamp burning. He handed it to Hero. ‘Go on from where you stopped. What secrets did Jesus tell Thomas?’

Hero illuminated the page and peered at it. His eyes rose wide with wonder and his mouth opened.

Vallon laughed. ‘What? Are the secrets so profound that you can’t share them with a hell-bound sinner?’

But Hero wasn’t looking at Vallon. His hand rose trembling. ‘Sir.’

Vallon whirled. Black against the stars a dozen mounted figures advanced. ‘Holy God!’

Faruq rode up at the centre of the Seljuk line. ‘Did you really think you could outwit his Excellency?’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Give it to me.’

‘It’s only an old book that Hero reads to me at night to pass the time.’

‘Give it to me.’

Hero handed it over. Faruq flicked through the pages. ‘What is it?’

‘I told you — a book of stories that help while away the hours of darkness.’

Chinua assisted Faruq off his horse. The Chief Secretary held the gospel over the embers. ‘Then you won’t lose anything more than idle entertainment if I burn it.’

Hero and Vallon didn’t speak.

Faruq dropped the gospel onto the embers. Hero flung himself forward, grabbed the book and brushed away the sparks. Chinua aimed his sword at his throat and tore the gospel from his grasp.

‘Stories,’ said Faruq. ‘His Excellency knew that you hadn’t told him the whole story.’ He slapped the book against his hand. ‘I ask you for the last time — what is it? Why is it so important?’

Vallon met Hero’s eyes, conceding surrender. ‘It’s a lost gospel. The Gospel of Thomas, one of Jesus’s disciples. Walter came by it in Armenia and agreed to give it to Cosmas if he raised the ransom.’

Faruq held the book up to the stars. ‘You came into his Excellency’s realm to steal a Christian book.’ He shook his head. ‘That is a very serious crime. Very serious.’

Hero lunged to his feet. ‘Vallon knew nothing about the gospel when he set out on this mission. Cosmas told me about it but I didn’t share the secret until well into our journey. If anyone should suffer, let it be me.’

Faruq regarded them. ‘What else did you take from the tower?’

Vallon sat with his back to him, staring into the embers. ‘Nothing.’

Faruq nodded at Chinua. ‘Search them.’

Chinua took Hero’s chest and passed it to Faruq. He explored its contents, stroked its carved lid, tapped the sides. Hero watched with bated breath, certain that a man of Faruq’s sophistication would suspect it contained a secret compartment. Faruq looked at him. ‘You took nothing else?’

‘Only the gospel.’

Faruq laid down the chest. His men hoisted him back into the saddle. He raised a finger. ‘His Excellency will be disappointed that you lied to him.’

Hero and Vallon waited for the pronouncement of punishment. The moon stood high above the centre of the lake, its mottled face mirrored on the still waters.

Vallon shrugged. ‘His Excellency will be delighted to be proved right.’

Faruq smiled. ‘It would be too much trouble to take you to the Emir to stand trial.’ He tucked the gospel under one arm. ‘I will keep this and you can go on to Constantinople.’ He began turning his horse, pulled it back. ‘I almost forgot. My ruby ring. It was a gift from the Emir. It means a lot to me.’

Vallon dug it out and held it up without speaking. Faruq slipped it on and gave an order. The Seljuks swung round and rode towards Boke’s camp.

Vallon huddled over their own miserable fire, right hand trying to tug the blanket over his left shoulder. An owl shrieked from the top of the tower and jackals yipped out on the plain.

Hero rose and arranged the blanket. Vallon lifted his eyes and saw his devastated hopes mirrored in Hero’s blasted stare. He cupped his hands over his face and shook his head. ‘Don’t say anything. Let’s just sit in silence.’

In the morning they woke to find themselves alone, the Seljuk camp deserted and the road empty in both directions. They ate breakfast in a continuation of last night’s despondent silence, then Vallon went through the laborious business of getting into the saddle.

Hero mounted his own horse. ‘Which way?’

Vallon turned his horse north.

‘What about Caitlin? She’ll be waiting for you.’

Vallon kept going. ‘Waiting for what? Look at me. A helpless cripple. Even my plans to join the Varangians lie in tatters. No one would employ a soldier in my condition.’

Hero caught up. ‘She knows what condition you’re in. She still wants to be with you. I heard her declaration of devotion.’

‘A declaration made in the heat of passion. By now she’ll have had time to reflect and her head will rule that she can make a far better match.’

Hero pranced ahead so that he could look into Vallon’s eyes. ‘You don’t know that for sure. At least give her the chance to make her wishes known.’

Vallon’s dull stare remained fixed straight ahead. ‘We made an agreement. If we found the gospel, I would return. We haven’t got it and so I go on.’

‘She might not want to remain in Suleyman’s court.’

‘She has enough silver to reach Constantinople in comfort.’ Vallon waved his good hand. ‘Forget Caitlin.’

Hero dropped back alongside Vallon. Another fine day, a cloudless porcelain sky over the blinding white salt flats. Flamingos flocked across Salt Lake in lines of bright crimson script. Vallon plodded on, aware that Hero kept glancing at him. ‘I told you I don’t want to hear another word.’

‘It’s not Caitlin I’m thinking about.’

‘What then?’

‘I’ve been thinking about the gospel.’

Vallon uttered a hollow laugh. ‘So have I.’

‘Not like that.’ Hero hesitated. ‘I’m not sure you’ll want to hear my thoughts.’

‘You can’t make its loss any more painful.’

Hero drew breath, held it, then released it all at once. ‘I don’t think we would have been able to sell it. That is, nobody in the Church would buy it.’

Vallon stared at him. ‘You told me that it’s one of the most important books ever written.’

‘Important for the wrong reason. If someone did buy it, they would do so only to suppress it. Destroy it.’

‘Suppress the testament of one of the apostles? Destroy a piece of the Bible?’

‘The Bible is the word of God, but the Church decides what words it wants the world to hear. After reflecting on the sections of the Thomas gospel I was able to read, I’ve concluded that the ecclesiastical authorities wouldn’t want to share them with their flock.’

‘Explain.’

‘First, all four canonical gospels state that Jesus was the son of a humble carpenter and Luke says he practised the trade himself. None of them discuss his boyhood or upbringing. They must have had some knowledge of his early life, yet they chose to draw a veil over it. Not Thomas, though. He says that Jesus was the son of a tekton , a master mason or architect who was also a teacher of the Torah, and that Jesus was educated in Jewish law, becoming an eminent rabbi.’

Vallon winced as his left foot jarred against his horse’s flank. ‘Are you saying that Thomas was a liar and his gospel a fake?’

‘No. In fact, I think his version is more convincing than the others. Remember Luke’s story of how, when Jesus was twelve, his parents lost him in Jerusalem? After five days they discovered him in the Temple, astonishing the scholars with his knowledge of religious matters. The elders would have recruited such a prodigy into their schools, singling him out as a future leader. Elsewhere in the gospels, he’s frequently described as “Rabbi” or “Doctor of Law”. Respected Jewish scholars come to hear him preach. They wouldn’t do that with a carpenter.’