The Quest: A Novel
story, then it will be.”
    “I envy you your faith, Henry,” said Purcell.
    Vivian looked at the priest and said, “He’s traveled a long road to meet us and he’ll finish his story when he awakens.”
    Purcell saw no way to argue with the illogic of Mercado’s faith and Vivian’s mysticism, so he nodded and said, “We’ll post a watch to listen for Gallas and to see if the old man wakes up, or dies.”
    “You’re a very practical man,” observed Vivian. She added, “All brain and no heart.”
    “Thank you,” said Purcell.
    Mercado volunteered for the first watch, and Purcell and Vivian lay down on two sleeping bags.
    The two armies in the hills seemed to have lost their enthusiasm for the battle, though now and then a burst of machine-gun fire split the night air.
    Purcell stared up at the black sky, thinking about the priest’s story, and about Henry Mercado. Mercado, he thought, knew something or deduced something from what the priest had said.
    Purcell also thought about Vivian, lying beside him, and he pictured her naked, standing beside the sulphur pool.
    He thought back a few days to when he’d met her and Henry Mercado in the Hilton bar in Addis Ababa. It had seemed like a chance meeting, and maybe it was, just as meeting the priest in this godforsaken place was totally unexpected. And yet… well, Vivian would say it was fate and destiny, and Henry would say it was God’s will.
    A parachute flare burst overhead and lit up the sky. He stared at it awhile, then closed his eyes to preserve his night vision, and drifted off into a restless sleep.

Chapter 4
    T hey took turns sitting up with the sleeping priest, listening for signs of death and sounds of danger.
    At about three in the morning, Purcell woke Vivian and informed her that the priest was awake and wanted to speak.
    She wondered if Purcell had woken the priest, and she said to him, “Let him rest.”
    “He wants to speak, Vivian.”
    She looked at Father Armano, who was awake and did seem to want to speak. She shook Mercado’s shoulder and informed him, “Father Armano is awake.”
    Mercado moved toward the priest and knelt beside him. “How are you feeling, Father?”
    “There is a burning in my belly. I need water.”
    “No. It is a wound of the stomach. You cannot have water.”
    Vivian said, “Give him a little, Henry. He’ll die of dehydration otherwise, won’t he?”
    Mercado turned to Purcell in the darkness. “Frank?”
    “She’s right.”
    Vivian gave him a half canteen cup of water. The old priest spit up most of it, and Purcell saw it was tinged with red.
    Purcell said, “It’s going to be close. Talk to him, Henry.”
    “Yes, all right. Father, do you want to—?”
    “Yes, I will continue.” He took a deep breath and said, “In Rome… the cardinal… the relic…” He thought awhile, then spoke slowly. “So he told us to go with Il Duce’s army. Go to Ethiopia, he said. There will be war in Ethiopia soon. And then he warned us—the black monastery was guarded by monks of the old believers. They had a military order… like the Knights of Malta, or the Templars.The cardinal did not know all there was to know of this. But he knew they would guard this relic with their lives. That much he knew.”
    Vivian translated for Purcell, who asked, “How can he remember this after forty years?”
    Mercado replied, “He has thought of little else in that prison.”
    Purcell nodded, but said, “Still… he may be hallucinating or his memory has played tricks on him.”
    Vivian replied, “He sounds rational to me.”
    Mercado said to the priest, “Please go on, Father.”
    Father Armano nodded vigorously, as though he knew he was in a race with death, and he needed to unburden himself of this secret that burned in him like the fire in his stomach.
    He said, “The cardinal told us to go carefully, to go only with soldiers, and if we should find this black monastery, go into it. Avoid bloodshed if you can, he told us.
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