Hal had barely time to complete his genuflections and his amens before the Bishop was up and away again, leading him to a smaller shrine off the nave.
"Wait here!" he said. He went directly to the vividly coloured woollen wall-hanging behind the smaller altar and drew it aside to reveal a low, narrow doorway. Then he stooped through the opening and disappeared.
When Hal looked around the shrine, he saw that it was more richly furnished than the bleak, gloomy chapel. The small altar was covered with foil of yellow metal that might have been brass but which shone like pure gold in the candle-light. The cross was decorated with large coloured stones. Perhaps these were merely glass, but it seemed to Hal that they had the lustre of emerald, ruby and diamond. The shelves that rose to the vaulted roof were loaded with offerings from wealthy and noble penitents and supplicants. Some must have stood untouched for centuries for they were thickly coated with dust and cobwebs so that their true nature was hidden. Five monks in grubby, ragged habits knelt at prayer before the statue of a black-featured Virgin Mary with a little black Jesus in her arms. They did not look up from their devotions at his intrusion.
Hal and Aboli stood together, leaning against a stone column at the back of the shrine, and time stretched out. The air was heavy and oppressive with incense and antiquity. The soft chanting of the monks was hypnotic. Hal felt sleep coming over him in waves and it was an effort to fight it off and keep his eyes from closing.
Suddenly there came the patter of running feet from beyond the wall-hanging. Hal straightened as a small boy appeared from under the curtain and, with all the exuberance of a puppy, rushed into the shrine. He skidded to a halt on the paving. He was four or five years of age, dressed in a plain white cotton shift and his feet were bare. His head was covered with shining black curls that danced as he looked about the shrine eagerly. His eyes were dark, and as large as those of the saints pictured in the stylized portraits that hung on the stone walls behind him.
He saw Hal, ran to where he stood and stopped in front of him. He stared at Hal with such solemnity that Hal was enchanted by the pretty elf, and went down on one knee so that they could study each other at the same level.
The boy said something in the language that Hal could now recognize as Geez. It was obviously a request but Hal could not even guess at the substance of it. "You too!" Hal laughed, but the child was serious and asked the question again. Hal shrugged, and the boy stamped his foot and asked the third time.
"Yes!" Hal nodded vigorously. The boy laughed delightedly and clapped his hands. Hal straightened up but the child opened his arms and gave a command that could mean only one thing. "You want to be picked up?" Hal stooped and gathered him in his arms where the boy stared into his eyes then spoke again, pointing so passionately at Hal's face that he almost impaled one eye with his little finger.
"I cannot understand what you're saying, little one," Hal said gently.
Fasilides had come up silently behind him and now said solemnly, "His Most Christian Majesty, Iyasu, King of Kings, Ruler of Galla and Amhara, Defender of the Faith of Christ Crucified, remarks that your eyes are of a strange green colour unlike any he has seen before."
Hal stared into the angelic features of the imp he held in his arms. "This is the Prester John?" he asked in awe. "Indeed," replied the bishop. "You have also promised to take him for a sail on your tall ship, which I have described to him."
"Would you inform the Emperor that I would be deeply honoured to have him as a guest aboard the Golden Bough?" Suddenly Iyasu wriggled down from Hal's arms, seized his hand and dragged him towards the concealed doorway. Beyond the opening they went down a long passageway lit with torches in iron brackets on the stone walls. At the end of the passage were two armed guards, but the Emperor squeaked an order and they stood aside and saluted His tiny Majesty. Iyasu led Hal into a long chamber.
Narrow embrasures were set high up in the walls, and through these the brilliant desert sunlight beamed down in solid golden shafts. A long table ran the length of the chamber, and seated at it were five men. They stood up and bowed deeply to Iyasu, then looked keenly at Hal.
They were all warriors that much was clear from their bearing and their attire. they wore chain-mail and cuirass, and some had steel helmets on their heads, and tunics over the armour, which were emblazoned with crosses or other heraldic devices.
At the far end of the table stood the youngest and most simply dressed yet the most impressive and commanding of all. Hal's eye was drawn immediately to this slim, graceful figure.
Iyasu drew Hal impatiently towards him, chattering in Geez, and the warrior watched them with a steady, frank gaze. Although he gave the illusion of height, he was in fact a head shorter than Hal. A shaft of sunlight from one of the high embrasures backlit him, surrounding him with a golden aura in which the dust motes danced and swirled.
"Are you "General Nazet?" Hal asked in Latin, and the General nodded. Around his head was a huge bush of crisp curls, like a dark crown or a halo. He wore a white tunic over the shirt of chain-mail, but even under that bulky covering his waist was narrow and his back straight and supple.
"I am indeed General Nazet." His voice was low and husky, yet strangely musical to the ear. Hal realized with a shock how young he was. His skin was flawless, the dark translucent amber of gum arabic. No trace of beard or moustache marred his sleek jawline or the proud curl of his full lips. His nose was straight and narrow, the nostrils finely chiselled.
"I am Henry Courtney," said Hal, "the English Captain of the Golden Bough."
"Bishop Fasilides has told me this," said the General. "Perhaps you would prefer to speak your own language." Nazet switched into English. "I must admit that my Latin is not as fluent as yours, Captain."
Hal gaped at him, for the moment at a loss, and Nazet smiled. "My father was ambassador to the palace of the Doge in Venice. I spent much of my childhood in your northern latitudes and learned the languages of diplomacy, French, Italian and English."