the Emperor Haile Selassie changed that in 1959, but we still follow the
true road to Christ. You are welcome, my daughter.'
His debtera poured another dram of brandy and the old man swallowed it
at a gulp. Even Boris looked impressed, 'Where does the skinny old black
tortoise put it?' he wondered aloud. Tessay did not translate, but she
lowered her eyes and the hurt she felt for the insult to the holy man
showed on her madonna features.
Jah Hora turned to Nicholas. 'He wants to know what animals you have
come to hunt here in his valley,' Tessay told him.
Nicholas steeled himself and then replied carefully.
There was a long moment of disbelief, then the abbot cackled happily and
the assembled priests shouted with incredulous mirth.
'A dik-dik! You have come to hunt a dikdik! But there is no meat on an
animal that size.'
Nicholas let them get over the first shock, and then produced a
photograph of the mounted specimen of Moquoda harPerU from the museum.
He placed it on the table in front of Jah Hora.
'This is no ordinary dik-dik. It is a holy dik-dik,' he told them in
portentous tones, nodding at Tessay for the translation. 'Let me recount
the legend.' They were silenced by the prospect of a good story with
religious overtones. Even the abbot arrested the glass on its way to his
lips and replaced it on the table. His one eye swivelled from the
photograph to Nicholas's face.
'When John the Baptist was dying of starvation in the desert,' Nicholas
began, and a few of the priests crossed themselves at the mention of the
saint's name, 'he had been thirty days and thirty nights without a
morsel passing his lips-' Nicholas spun out the yarn for a while,
dwellin on the extremities of hunger endured by the saint, details
savoured by his audience who liked their holy men to suffer in the name
of righteousness.
'In the end the Lord took mercy on his servant and placed a small
antelope in a thicket of acacia, held fast by the thorns. He said unto
the saint: 'I have prepared a meal for you that you shall not die. Take
of this meat and eat.'
Where John the Baptist touched the small creature, the marks of his
thumb and fingers were imprinted upon its back for all time, and all
generations to come.' They were silent and impressed.
Nicholas passed the photograph to the abbot. 'See the prints of the
saint's fingers upon it.'
The old man studied the print avidly, holding it up to his single eye,
and at last he exclaimed, 'It is true. The marks of the saint's fingers
are clear to see.'
He passed it to his deacons. Encouraged by the abbot's endorsement, they
exclaimed and wondered over the picture of the insignificant creature in
its coat of striped fur'.
'Have any of your men ever laid eyes upon one of these animals?'
Nicholas demanded, and one after the other they shook their heads. The
photograph completed the circle and was passed to the rank of squatting
acolytes.
Suddenly one of them leaped to his feet prancing, brandishing the
