The Seventh Scroll - Smith Wilbur - Страница 55

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The walls of the hut were reinforced with mesh netting to keep out

hyenas. One of these foul creatures could gobble down the pelt in a few

seconds. He made certain the door was wired shut before he carried the

lantern up to the dining hut. The others had all eaten and gone to bed

hours earlier, but Tessay had left his dinner in the charge of the

Ethiopian chef. He had not realized how hungry he was until he smelt it.

The next morning Nicholas was so stiff that he hobbled down to the

skinning hut like an old  man. First he checked the pelt and poured

fresh salt over it, then he ordered Kif and Satin to bury the skull of

the dik-dik in an ant heap to allow the insects to remove the surplus

flesh and scour the brain pan. He preferred this method to boiling the

skull.

Satisfied that the trophy was in good condition, he went on down to the

dining hut, where Boris greeted him jovially.

"And so, English. We leave for Addis now, da?  "thing more to do here."

"We will stay to photograph the ceremony of Timkat at the

monastery,'Nicholas told him. "And after that I may want to hunt a

Menelik's bushbuck. Who knows? I've told you before. We go when I say

so."

Boris looked disgruntled. "You are crazy, English. Why do you want to

stay in this heat to watch these people and their mumbo'jumbo?"

"Today I will go fishing, and tomorrow we will watch Timkat."

"You do not have a fishing rod," Boris protested, but pened the small

canvas roll no larger than a Nicholas  woman's handbag and showed him

the four-piece Hardy Smuggler rod nestling in it.

He looked across the table at Royan, "Are you coming along to ghillie

for me?" he asked.

They went upstream to the suspension bridge where Nicholas set up the

rodand tied a fly on to his leader.

"Royal Coachm " He held it up for her appraisal.

an.

"Fish love them anywhere in the world, from Patagonia to Alaska. We

shall soon find out if they are as popular here in Ethiopia, as well."

She watched from the top of the bank as he shot out line, rolling it

upon itself in flight, sailing the weightless fly out to midstream, and

then laying it gently on the surface of the water so that it floated

lightly on the ripples. On his second cast there was a swirl under the

fly. The rod tip arced over sharply, the reel whined and Nicholas let

out a whoop.

"Gotcha, my beauty!'

 watched him indulgently from the top of the bank.

Sh In his excitement and enthusiasm he was like a small boy.

She smiled when she noticed how his injuries had miraculously healed

themselves, and how he no longer limped as he ran back and forth along

the water's edge, playing the fish. Ten minutes later he slid it,

gleaming like a bar of freshly minted gold as long as his arm, sopping

and flapping up on to the beach.

"Yellow fish," he told her triumphantly. "Scrumptious.

Breakfast for tomorrow morning."

He came up the bank and dropped down in the grass beside her. "The

fishing was really just an excuse to get away from Boris. I brought you

here to tell you about what I found up there yesterday." He pointed up

through the archway of pink stone above the bridge. She came up on her

elbow and watched him with her full attention.

"Of course, I have no way of telling if it has anything to do with our

search, but somebody has been working in there." He described the niches

that he had found carved into the canyon wall. "They reach from the lip

right down to the water's edge. Those below the high-water mark have

been severely eroded by the floods. I could not reach those higher up,

but from what I could see they have been protected from wind and rain by

the dished shape of the Cliff., it has formed a veranda roof over them.

They appear to be in pristine condition, very much in contrast to those

lower down."

"What do we deduce from that?" she asked.

"That they are very old," he answered. "Certainly the basalt is pretty

hard. It has taken a long, long time for water to wear it down the way

it has."

"What do you think was the purpose of those holes?"

 am not sure he admitted.

"Could it be that they were the anchor points for some sort of

scaffolding? she asked, and he looked impressed.

"Good thinking. They could be, he agreed.

"What other ideas occur to you?"

"Ritual designs," he suggested. "A religious motif." He smiled as he saw

her expression of doubt. "Not very convincing, I agree."

"All right, let's consider the idea of scaffolding. Why would anybody

want to erect scaffolding in a place like that?" She lay back in the

grass and picked a straw which she nibbled reflectively.

He shrugged. "To anchor a1adder or a gantry, to gain access to the

bottom of the chasm?"

"What other reason?"

"I can't think of any other."

After a while she shook her head. "Nor can  She spat out the piece of

grass. "If that is the motive, then they were fairly committed to the

project. From your description it must have been a substantial

structure, designed to support the weight of a, lot of men or heavy

material."

"In North America the Red Indians built fishing platforms over

waterfalls like that from which they netted the salmon."

"Have there ever been great runs of fish through these waters?" she

asked, and he shrugged again.

"Nobody can answer that. Perhaps long ago who knows."

"Was that all you saw down there?"

"High up the wall, aligned with mathematical precision between the two

lines of stone niches, there was something that looked like a has-relief

carving."

She sat up with a jerk and stared at him avidly. "Could it clearly? Was

it script, or was it a design? What you see was the style of the

carving?"

"No such luck. It was too high, and the light is very poor down there. I

am not even certain that it wasn't'a natural flaw in the rock."

Her disappointment was palpable, but after a pause she asked,

"Was there anything else?"

"Yes," he grinned. "Lots and lots of water moving very very fast."

"What are we going to do about this putative has-relief of yours?" she

asked.

"I don't like the idea in the least, but I will have to go back in there

and have another look."

"When?"

"tomorrow. Our one chance to get into the maqdas of the cathedral. After

that we will make a plan to explore the gorge."

"We are running out of time, Nicky, just when things are getting really

interesting."

"You can say that again!'. he murmured. She felt his breath on her lips,

for their faces were as close together as those of conspirators or of

lovers, and she realized the double meaning of her own words. She jumped

to her feet and slapped the dust and loose straw from her jodhpurs.

"You only'have one fish to feed the multitude. Either you have a very

high opinion of yourself, or you had better get fishing."

wo debteras who had been detailed by the bishop to escort them tried to

force a way for them through the crowds. However, they had not reached

the foot of the staircase before the escort itself was swallowed up and

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