'Bit fanciful, dear girl.' He settled back to work. 'But I know what you
mean.'
The task of transferring the outline of the designs on to the blank
sheets of art paper was painstaking and monotonous, and the hours passed
as they laboured on hands and knees or crouched over the granite pillar.
At last Nicholas stepped back and massaged his aching back.
'That does it, then. All finished.'
a She stood up beside him. 'What time is it?' she asked, and he checked
his wristwatch.
'Four in the morning. We had better tidy up in here.
Make certain we leave no sign of our visit.'
'One last thing,' Royan said, tearing a corner off one of the sheets of
art paper. With it she went to the altar where the abbot's crown lay.
Quickly she taped the scrap of paper over the blue ceramic seal in the
centre of the crown, and filled it with a rubbing of the design of the
hawk with a broken wing.
Just for luck,' she explained to him, as she came back to help him fold
the long sheets of paper and pack them back in the bag. Then they
gathered up the shreds of discarded masking tape and the empty film
wrappers that he had strewn on the stone slabs.
Before they covered the granite stele with the damask cloth, Royan
caressed the stone panels of script as if to take leave of them for
ever. Then she nodded at Nicholas.
He spread the cloth over the pillar and they adjusted the folds to hang
as they had found them. From the threshold of the brass-bound door they
surveyed the maqdas for the last time, then he opened the door a rack
'Let's go!' She squeezed through and he followed her out into the
qiddist of the church. It took him only a few minutes to slide the
tongue of the lock back into place.
'How will we get out through the main doors?' she asked.
'I don't think that will be necessary. The priests obviously have
another entrance from their quarters directly into the qiddist. You very
seldom see them using the main gates.' He stood in the centre of the
floor, and looked around carefully. 'It must be on this side if it leads
directly into the monks' living quarters-' he broke off with a grunt of
satisfaction. 'Aha! You can see where all their feet have actually worn
a pathway over the centuries.' He pointed out a smooth area of dished
and worn stone near the side wall. 'And look at the marks of grubby
fingers on the tapestry over there.' He crossed quickly to the hanging
and drew a fold aside. 'I thought as much.' There was a narrow doorway
concealed behind the hanging.
'Follow me.'
They found themselves in a dark passageway through the living rock.
Nicholas flashed his torch down its length, ? A
but he masked the bulb with his hand to show only as ,much light as they
needed. 'This way.'
The passage turned at right-angles and ahead they could make out a dull
illumination. Nicholas switched off the torch and led her on.
Now there was the smell of stale food and humanity, and they passed the
doorless entrance to a monk's rock cell. Nicholas flashed his torch into
