and each was capable of carrying sixteen crew and a ton of cargo.
strap the heavy packs on to Nicholas directed them to they had cut for
that purpose. Five the carrying poles that men on each end of the long
poles, with the bundle of the boat stung in the centre, made light of
the load They se off at a cracking pace down the trail, and as soon as
one was ready to take over. They made the team tired the nex exchange
without even stopping, the new porters slipping their shoulders under
the pole on the run while the exhausted team dropped out.
proof and water Nicholas carried the radio in its shock uch a precious
reglass case. He would not trust proof fib He and Royan trotted
instrument to one of the porters.
behind the caravan, joining in the chorus of the along work chant that
the porters sang as they carried their loads down to the monastery.
Mai Metemma was waiting on the terrace outside the church of St.
Frumentius to welcome them. He led them down the staircase hewn out of
the rock of the cliff, two hundred feet to the very water's edge. There
was a narrow rocky ledge against which the Nile waters dashed, and the
spray from the high waterfalls drifted over them like a perpetual
drizzle of rain. After the heat and the bright sunlight above, it was
cold and gloomy and dank down here in the depths of the gorge. The black
cliffs ran with water, and the ledge on which they stood was wet and
slippery underfoot.
Royan shivered as she watched the river racing by, forming a great
spinning vortex as it swirled around the deep rock bowl and then raced
out through the narrow throat of the gorge on its long hectic journey
towards Egypt and the north.
'If only I had known that this was the road you were planning on taking
home-' she eyed the river dubiously.
'If you would prefer to walk, it's okay by me,'Nicholas told her. 'With
luck we will be carrying some extra baggage.
The river is the logical escape route.'
'I suppose it makes sense, but still it's not terribly inviting.' She
broke off a piece of driftwood from a stranded tangle that lay trapped
upon the ledge and tossed it into the river. It was whipped away, and
raced over the standing wave where some submerged obstacle forced the
surface to bulge up.
What speed is that current? she asked in a subdued voice as the splinter
of driftwood was sucked below the surface.
'Oh, not much more than eight or nine knots,' he told her off handedly,
'but that's nothing. The river is still very low. just wait until it
starts raining up in the Mountains, then you will really see some water
passing through here.
it will be great fun. Lots of people would pay good money for the chance
to run a river like this. You are going to love it.'
Thanks,' she said drily. 'I can't wait.'
Fifty feet above the ledge, out of reach of the Nile's highest water
level, was a small cavern - the Epiphany shrine. Long ago the monks had
cut this passage deeply into the rock face, and it ended in a spacious,
candle-lit chamber that housed a life'sized statue of the Virgin,
