The Quest

  Lying facedown on the dirt floor of the tent were three men, each naked. Getachu motioned for Purcell and Vivian to come near and they took a few steps toward the circle of light. They could see that the men’s backs and buttocks were streaked with blood as though they’d been whipped.

  Getachu barked something in Amharic and the men rose to their knees.

  Each man had a collar around his neck—like a dog collar—with a chain attached to it. In the lamplight, Purcell could make out three battered faces, one of which was that of Prince Joshua. His long aristocratic nose was broken, and his eyes were swollen almost shut, but the prince was looking at him and Vivian.

  Getachu said, “You see, I did not shoot them or hang them as I thought I would. But if you look closely, you will see that the Gallas have castrated them.”

  Purcell kept looking at the prince’s face, but Vivian turned away.

  Getachu reached into the pocket of his fatigues and extracted a piece of bread, which he held to the prince’s swollen lips, and said, in English, “Eat.”

  The prince bit into the bread. Getachu did the same with the other two men, who Purcell thought must be what was left of the prince’s staff.

  Getachu dropped the bread to the ground and said, “The Revolutionary government has executed nearly all of the royal family and many rasses, so they are becoming more rare. It is my idea to put them to some use.” He further explained, “These men are now my servants, and they attend to my personal needs. When I am sick of looking at them—which will be soon—they will become the eunuchs assigned to the tent of the women who are their loyal subjects.” He added, “These men will also give pleasure to my soldiers who enjoy something different.”

  Vivian had turned her back to the scene, but Purcell continued to look at Prince Joshua, whose head was now bowed.

  Getachu said to the prince, “Is this not better than death?”

  The prince nodded his head.

  Getachu again barked something in Amharic and the three men dropped to their hands and knees. Getachu produced a riding crop from the deep cargo pocket of his pants and moved behind the men. He said, “Colonel Gann’s riding crop.” He swung the leather crop across the prince’s buttocks and the man yelled out in pain. The soldier holding the lamp laughed.

  Getachu delivered a blow to each of the other two men, who also cried out, causing the soldier to laugh louder.

  Getachu put the crop away and said, “Much better than hanging or shooting. Better for me.” He came around to the front of the men and made an exaggerated bow, saying to Prince Joshua, “Forgive me, Ras. I am just a simple peasant who does not know how to show proper respect to my master.”

  The soldier again laughed.

  Getachu turned to Purcell and Vivian. “That will be all.”

  Purcell took Vivian’s arm and they passed through the curtain and out of the tent. Vivian was shaking and Purcell put his arm around her.

  As they walked toward the hospital tent, she said in a breaking voice, “Those poor men… Frank… promise me…”

  “That will not happen to us.”

  “He’s insane… sadistic…”

  “Yes.” And he was history, getting its revenge. Purcell said, “But he’s not stupid. He knows what he can get away with and what he can’t get away with.”

  Neither of them believed that, but it was all they had at the moment. Purcell thought about their ill-advised decision to leave the relative safety of the capital to find General Getachu. Henry Mercado had miscalculated the situation, and ironically Mercado had half believed the good press that General Getachu was getting in the English- and Italian-language newspapers in Addis. Purcell was angry at Mercado, and angry at himself, but anger wasn’t going to get them out of here. They needed to work on Getachu. A little flattery, a little bluster, and a lot of luck.

  Vivian, however, had another thought and she said in a barely audible voice, “We will get out of here because we are supposed to find the black monastery and the Grail.” She asked him, “Do you believe that?”

  “No. But you do. And I’m sure Henry does.”

  “The signs are all there, Frank.”

  “Right.” The signs all said Dead End. But he recalled that Henry had said that faith had kept him alive in the Gulag, so he said to Vivian, to keep her spirits up, “You may be right.”

  She took his arm and they moved quickly toward the hospital tent.

  Chapter 10

  Purcell and Vivian entered the long hospital tent, which was badly lit by candles and oil lamps. The air was filled with the stench of blood and excrement, and with the moans and cries of the sick and wounded. A bright Coleman lamp hung in the rear, and Purcell could see three men with surgical masks standing around a table, attending to a patient.

  Purcell took Vivian’s arm and they picked their way between the rows of bandaged men who lay naked on dark blankets. Huge flies landed on their faces and Vivian covered her mouth and nose with her hand as she walked, her head and eyes darting around the darkness, looking for Mercado and Gann.

  Doctor Mato spotted them and pulled off his surgical mask, and he and Vivian exchanged a few sentences in Italian, then Dr. Mato returned to his patient.

  Vivian said to Purcell, “Henry and Colonel Gann were taken away as soon as Doctor Mato pronounced them well enough to be moved. They are under arrest.”

  “We know that. Where were they taken?”

  “He says there is a campo… parata militare—a parade ground where prisoners are kept. Due east about five hundred meters.”

  Purcell took her arm and led her quickly out of the tent.

  A nearly full moon was rising over the eastern hills, and the quiet camp was bathed in an eerie silver glow. Red sparks rose from a hundred campfires, and the air was heavy with the smell of burning straw and dried dung.

  They headed east, avoiding the clusters of men around the fires, and avoiding the scattered tents as they tried to maintain their heading across the sprawling camp. In the dark, in their shammas, they attracted no attention.

  No military camp, thought Purcell, was complete without a stockade where an army’s misfits and criminals were held to await trial and punishment, and he scanned the moonlit camp for a structure in a field that could serve as a stockade, but he didn’t see anything more substantial than canvas tents.

  They continued on, and Purcell spotted the other thing that was a necessity in many military camps; the thing that Getachu had mentioned to Vivian. A long line of soldiers stood smoking and joking in front of a large tent, waiting their turn.

  Vivian asked, “What’s going on there?”

  Purcell did not reply, and Vivian said, “Oh…”

  They moved on.

  Vivian was becoming concerned, and she said, “I think we missed it. Let’s ask—”

  “Let’s not.”

  They continued on and ahead was a large sunken field, which formed a natural amphitheater. At the end of the field, Purcell saw a raised wooden platform, and he realized that this was the parade ground and the muster area where General Getachu and his officers could address their troops.

  In front of the platform Purcell also saw a line of poles driven into the ground, which he recognized from too many other third world military camps as whipping posts, or tethering posts where soldiers were chained for punishment and humiliation in front of their comrades. He saw a movement near one of the posts and said, “There.”

  They ran toward the posts, and as they got closer they could see three men with their arms over their heads, hanging by their wrists.

  Purcell saw that Mercado and Gann were still wearing the clothes he’d last seen them in, but they were barefoot. The third man, a naked and unconscious Ethiopian, hung between Gann and Mercado.

  Vivian ran up to Mercado and threw her arms around his chest. He, too, seemed unconscious—or dead—but then Purcell saw his chest heave. Vivian sobbed, “Henry… wake up…” She shouted, “Henry!”

  He opened his ey
es and looked at her. She stood on her toes and kissed his cheeks.

  Purcell saw that the three men wore wrist shackles connected to chains that hung from iron rings embedded in the posts. Their feet touched the ground so they could stand until their knees buckled from fatigue or unconsciousness.

  Purcell looked at the Ethiopian in the bright moonlight and saw that the man’s face was puffy and blistered, and his dark skin showed the result of a whipping.

  Mercado was fully awake now and standing straight up as Vivian put her face into his chest and sobbed as she squeezed him in her arms.

  Purcell moved over to Gann, who was awake and alert, and Gann said to him, “I’m very glad to see you and to see that you and Miss Smith are well and free.”

  Purcell found he was slightly embarrassed by their relative fortunes. But that could change quickly. He did not want to give false hope to a man hanging by chains who was condemned to death, but he said, “I’ve spoken to Getachu and there is a chance—”

  “Getachu plays with his intended victims. Save your breath.”

  Purcell changed the subject and asked, “Is there anything I can get you?”

  “We were fed by Doctor Mato and made well enough to hang here until dawn.” He added, “I will be able to walk to my own execution.”

  Purcell didn’t respond.

  Colonel Gann continued, “Just see if you can convince Getachu to make it quick and clean with a firing squad.”

  “He said he respects you as a soldier.”

  “I can’t say the same for him. But I’ll take him at his word and expect a proper firing squad.”

  Purcell did not reply, but he nodded, then said, “We’ll stay with you through the night.”

  “Good. Plenty of empty poles, old boy.”

  Purcell smiled at the gallows humor despite the circumstances. He looked up at the shackles and saw they were held by a padlock, as were the chains on the iron ring. If he could find something to cut the locks or the chains, he could free Gann and Mercado and they could all make a run for it.

  Gann saw what Purcell was looking at and said, “There hasn’t been a single guard by here, but if you look to your right, you’ll see a watchtower a few hundred meters’ distance.”

  “Okay… maybe after the moon sets.” Purcell considered telling Colonel Gann that his old boss, Prince Joshua, had been captured and was no longer a prince or a man. But that wasn’t news that Colonel Gann would find helpful or hopeful. He said to Gann, “I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Purcell walked past the Ethiopian, who was still unconscious, and came up beside Vivian, who was murmuring to Mercado and caressing his chest and hair.

  He stared at Mercado and they made eye contact. Finally Mercado took a deep breath and said, “Sorry about all this.”

  “It’s been interesting, Henry.”

  “Good story if you can file it.”

  “Right.”

  Mercado said to Vivian, “Go see Colonel Gann. He’s feeling left out.”

  She hesitated, then moved past the Ethiopian, but then came back and looked at him. She put her hand on his face and his chest and said, “He’s dying.”

  Purcell looked at the three men hanging from the posts. In the morning, Getachu would muster his troops so they could see what happens to people who annoy the general. If he was insane, which he was, he would harangue the troops and threaten them with the same punishment if they stepped out of line. But if he was an accomplished sadist, he would speak to them about their victory, or some other matter, without explaining the three men hanging there. The soldiers could draw their own conclusions.

  It also occurred to Purcell that he and Vivian might be paraded out at first muster and also chained to the poles. Or… Vivian could be taken to the tent. Recalling the prince’s fate, he also knew that he, Mercado, and Gann could be serving time in that tent.

  It was not a good thing to be at the mercy of an omnipotent psychopath who was probably also a sexual sadist. He realized he had to do something while he could. But what? Escape was still possible. But could he leave Henry and Colonel Gann? And should he take Vivian?

  Mercado said, “My fault, really. Shouldn’t have left Addis.”

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “Shouldn’t have gone to sleep. Gann asked if I could stay awake while he caught a few winks… I said, ‘Get some rest, old man,’ and next thing I know, we’re surrounded by soldiers and a donkey.”

  “Mule.”

  “Whatever. And now we’re all guilty by association.”

  “Henry, we are guilty of nothing except being stupid enough to come here expecting to be treated as accredited journalists.”

  “Well… it may have gone better if we hadn’t teamed up with Colonel Gann.”

  Purcell thought that Colonel Gann had probably saved them all from the Gallas, but Henry needed to share the blame.

  Mercado sensed that Purcell was not sympathetic to his interpretation of their predicament, so he said, “Fate. Fate is what brought us here. There is a reason for this…”

  “Let me know when you find out.”

  Mercado continued, “When Doctor Mato told me that you and Vivian were here and well, I knew that there was a higher power watching over us.”

  “That thought never once crossed my mind, Henry.”

  “You need to have faith, Frank. Faith will see us through this.”

  Purcell was tempted to point out that he of little faith was not hanging from the pole, but instead he said, “Vivian and I saw Getachu.”

  Mercado did not respond.

  Purcell continued, “He’s basically held a court-martial in his head and condemned Gann to death.”

  Again, Mercado didn’t respond, and Purcell looked at him to see if he was conscious. He was, and he was staring at Purcell waiting for news of his own fate. Purcell said, “You, I, and Vivian are to be court-martialed in the morning.” He added, to ease Mercado’s anxiety, “But maybe not.”

  Mercado had no response, so Purcell related his and Vivian’s meeting with Getachu, trying to sound optimistic, but also realistic, though he didn’t mention Getachu’s thinly veiled threat to put Vivian in the camp bordello. Henry had enough on his mind. Purcell concluded, “Getachu may be waiting to hear from his bosses. Or he may have something else in mind for us that he’s not saying.”

  Mercado did not respond immediately, then said, “We’re more useful to him alive than dead.”

  “Unfortunately, that may be true.”

  “Or the Provisional government will just order him to release us. In fact, I’m sure they will.” He added, “General Andom and I have a good relationship.”

  “Good. I hope General Andom and General Getachu have as good a relationship.”

  Mercado did not reply.

  Purcell asked, “Did Vivian tell you that the Gallas captured Prince Joshua and two of his staff and turned them over to Getachu?”

  “No… God take pity on them.”

  “God is on holiday this week, Henry. In the meantime, I’ll do what I can for all of us as long as I’m not hanging on the next pole.”

  “I know you will, Frank. If you can keep talking to Getachu—”

  “But I have to tell you, Henry, I may decide to bust out of here. Without Vivian. If I can get to Gondar, I may be able to get a flight to Addis and get to the American, Swiss, or British embassy, and get you all sprung.” He looked at Mercado and asked, “Are you all right with that?”

  Mercado seemed to be thinking, then replied, “You’ll never make it, Frank.”

  “Worth a try.”

  “You have no money, no credentials, no… no shoes for God’s sake.”

  “I’ll try to do what Gann was going to do—find some friendly Royalists.”

  “They can’t even help themselves. They’re finished. Hunted down like dogs.” He said, “You need to stay here. To help us all here.”

  “I’ll leave you here in God’s
hands.”

  Vivian returned and embraced Mercado, saying to Purcell, “We need to get them some water, Frank.”

  “All right. Stay here.”

  He headed up the slope of the amphitheater, got his bearings, and walked west toward the hospital tent—the only oasis of humanity in this desert of death. Though to be less cynical, probably any man here would offer water, as the soldiers did at the outpost. These were not bad people, but war, as he’d seen too many times, in too many places, changes people.

  Whenever he started to believe in humanity, he thought of the Khmer Rouge who murdered millions of their own people. And now he’d made the acquaintance of the Gallas, who were a barbaric throwback to the dark side of humanity. In fact, he admitted, his chances of making it to Gondar and Addis were nil.

  Faith, said Henry Mercado. A higher power is watching over us. There is a reason for all this. Well, he thought, it better be a very good reason. And, he supposed, Henry, and also Vivian, thought the reason had to do with them coming upon Father Armano, which Purcell thought was pure chance, but which Henry and Vivian believed was divinely ordained. In any case, they’d see in the morning who was right.

  He reached the hospital tent and helped himself to two canteens of water that he found among what was called the muddied and bloodied—the discarded uniforms and field gear of the dead and wounded.

  He looked, too, for a knife or bayonet, or anything else that could be useful, but the pile had been picked over.

  Purcell wrapped the canteens in a fatigue shirt and made his way back.

  He wasn’t quite sure why Getachu had allowed him and Vivian to wander around freely, but his experience with sadistic despots had always had an element of inconsistency—random acts of cruelty, tempered with expansive acts of kindness. The despot wants to be feared, but also loved for his mercy. The despot wants to be like God.

  Purcell got back to the parade ground and handed a canteen to Vivian, who held it to Mercado’s lips.

  Purcell moved to the Ethiopian, but it appeared that the man was dead. Purcell put his hand on the man’s chest, then put his ear to his still heart.