The church of Bet Giorgis – the house of St George – was an astonishing building. It lay partially hidden in a deep gully cut out of the pinky-red tuff of the surrounding terrain. But it was the shape that had drawn Dracup to investigate this particular church before the others. The roof decoration was a relief of three equilateral Greek crosses inside one another, chiselled to fit within the shape of the building that was itself of cruciform design. Too obvious, maybe? He walked quickly around the perimeter, searching for a way in. Eventually he found a group of tourists and tagged along, finding himself in a trench leading into an enclosed tunnel. A jagged circle of daylight announced their arrival at the base of Giorgis, where he could take in the sheer wonder of the building.
The sides of the pit from which the church had been carved were studded with black openings; caves or tombs, he couldn’t be sure, but now and then there was a flash of bright yellow or blue from within, indicating the presence of a priest or religious devotee of the church. Dracup gazed at the monolithic building. Seven steps led up to the main portal. Seven. He thought of Farrell, the Biblical encyclopaedia, and worried again that Potzner could arrive anytime to hinder or even curtail his own investigation.
Gathered in and around the church exterior were a motley assembly of priests and tourists, even a white-wimpled nun. One of the robed figures was chanting in a loud, alien lilt, watched admiringly by the camera-toting tourists. A group of young girls, pilgrims to the holy site, posed smiling for the clicking shutters, their white costumes a testament to inner purity. The atmosphere was charged, as if some hidden spiritual energy ran unseen beneath the foundations of the church.
He found himself ascending the steps. A priest bowed and extended an unspoken invitation to enter. Dracup passed into the interior, into a warm smell of stone and antiquity. A wall hanging depicted St George, the church’s namesake, fighting the dragon – a strange echo from home in this faraway place. Long drapes of red and blue hung from the ceiling, the primary colours contrasting with the terracotta shades of the church walls. The priest beckoned. Dracup followed him to a far corner of the church. The priest smiled, whether in genuine friendliness or solely to display his extensively gold-capped teeth Dracup couldn’t be sure, then chanted some unintelligible litany and disappeared behind a tapestry of symbols. Dracup peered at the runes of the ruffled curtain. Several represented a bright sun-like god, while others were obviously based on Biblical prophecy. There was the Lion of Judah, the crucifixion on Golgotha, and a nautical scene where the Ark of Noah balanced on the most precarious of waves. Full circle. Dracup exhaled in frustration. Theodore... what am I looking for?
The priest was back, gesticulating. Dracup followed him to a long wooden box. Widely threaded wooden screws ran into the container, which the priest firmly grasped and turned demonstratively, nodding and smiling all the while. It was obviously meant to signify something. He ran his fingers over the wood and the penny dropped.
“An Ark?” he asked. The priest’s smile grew wider. There were many replica Arks in Ethiopia, as Carey had observed, modelled on the original Ark of the Covenant that was supposedly hidden away in Axum. These revered boxes contained holy books or relics of which the church was immensely proud. Could one of these boxes contain Omega?
“Does it open?” Dracup made an upward motion with his hands. The priest pointed to a large padlock and made a non-committal gesture before sidling away to attend to other tourists. Carey was right. They didn’t give much away. He made a hurried reconnaissance of the interior. The floor was covered with a combination of rush matting and oriental carpeting. His feet produced no echo as he stepped around each cruciform nave of the church. He stole a glance at the door. Cameras were jostling for position. He returned to the wooden box. The floor was exposed here and Dracup noted the presence of a trapdoor cut into the stone. One large bolt was fixed in place, securing the building from unauthorised entry. He bent and took a closer look. Padlocked.
He examined a wall-mounted crucifix by a wooden lectern. On the lectern was a thick, leathery book. Dracup opened it and inspected the contents. His eyes lit upon a full-page illustration of a man, bearded and holding a wooden staff. Dracup read the title of the picture and the accompanying paragraph with a growing excitement.
The staff of Moses and Aaron, fashioned from the blessed Tree. The wood shall for ever live, indestructible in nature, miraculous in power. Blessed be the descendants of Adam touched by its perfection, tho’ blackened by sin, yet shall they be raised to life everlasting.