'Stay very still,' I warned Wazim. 'The leak is slight, and we may yet reach our destination before the hull fills with water.'
That was not to be, however. Soon water was sloshing over our ankles. Bailing was futile. Although I tried for a while, cupping my hands and flipping it out by the handful, I could not keep pace with the rising water. 'Can you swim, Wazim?' I asked.
'No, master,' he replied, his voice taking on a quaver of concern.
I assured him that I could swim well enough for both of us and that there was nothing to worry about. I was still offering this assurance when the boat struck the canal wall again and the seam opened wider. I felt the water rising, and said, 'Listen carefully, Wazim. I am going to get out of the boat and into the water. Stay just as you are, and do not move. I will hold to the side of the boat and all will be well.'
This was far too optimistic, however; the darkness complicated everything-even simple movements became manoeuvres fraught with difficulty. In the end, I succeeded in sliding over the side without overturning our fragile craft. The water was not overly cold, and I reckoned that by removing my weight from the boat, we just might make it to the river before the vessel sank.
We struck the side two more times in quick succession, and the second bump spun the boat around. Despite being in the water, I was able to keep the vessel from overturning, and perhaps we would have made it to our destination intact if the current had not picked up markedly at the same time. I could not see what caused the stream to move more quickly, but thought it must be that the walls of the canal had narrowed.
And then, in the distance, I heard the rushing splash of falling water. Not wishing to alarm Wazim, I said, 'I think it would be a good idea to join me now.'
'I am happy to remain in the boat, Da'ounk,' he*replied, his voice trembling in the darkness.
'I think you may have no choice, Wazim. I want you to hand the rood to me first, and then ease over the side. We can hold to the rail. The boat will float a long time yet, even with water in it.'
I could feel the stream beginning to swirl around me as the current strengthened. The rushing sound grew louder. In the dark, it would be impossible to judge the severity of the drop, or even to know how far ahead it lay. I kept this to myself, however, as I did not wish to frighten Wazim the more. 'Here,' I said, tapping the rail with my hand, 'let me take the rood, and then I will help you over the side.'
Muttering in some incomprehensible tongue, he passed the holy relic to me, and then prepared to ease himself over the side. Gripping the side of the boat, he made to stand and at that moment I felt the bow veer sharply away; the boat struck the wall of the canal and poor anxious Wazim was thrown off balance. He gave out a terrified yelp and released my hand as he fell back into the boat.
I heard the dry crack of rotten wood. There was a shuddering splash and the fragile craft began to break apart. Grappling with chunks of wreckage, I shouted for Wazim and made for the sound of his thrashing and coughing.
All at once the water surged around me. I felt the floor come up sharply beneath my feet, and floundered for a foothold. Chunks of stone scraped my knees and shins as I was dragged forwards by the force of the water. I shouted for Wazim to keep his head up, and then felt a rising swell like that of the open sea as I was swept over the falls.
Holding tight to the rood, I plunged sideways and struck a jumble of stone blocks on the bottom of the stream bed. I was tumbled along beneath the surface of the water, pummelled by pieces of wreckage as the ruined boat came sliding over the falls. The Black Rood slipped from my hands as I was rolled over again and again by the force of the water.
All was darkness and turmoil. I could not tell where I was, nor which way to the surface. I flailed underwater, desperate to rise, but the stream went on and my lungs felt like they were on fire. My chest ached. I must soon breathe, or burst.
And then I collided with something hard-a dense and solid mass, moving with me in the water. Even blind and confused, I knew it was the rood. I threw my arms around it and let it guide me to the surface.
I clung to the Holy Rood, gasping, gulping down air, and thanking the Swift Sure Hand for his timely deliverance.
I felt something squirming in the water as it slid past; I snaked out a hand and snagged the edge of Wazim's robe, and pulled him up. He spluttered and coughed, and thrashed around wildly.
'Peace, Wazim!' I shouted. 'I have you now. Be still. You will not drown.'
I had to repeat this several times before he ceased struggling; but eventually the fight went out of him and he allowed me to bear him up.
Holding to the rood with one hand, and to Wazim with the other – while at the same time trying to keep my head above water-I could do little more than drift with the current, and this I did, until the stream began to lose some of its force and turbulence. We bobbed along for a time, until I struck the side of the canal with my foot. Releasing Wazim for a moment, I fumbled in the darkness for a handhold on the rough stonework. 'Here, Wazim,' I said, dragging him to the wall. 'We are saved. Grab hold and hang on.'
We were saved, indeed. Pushing the holy relic before me, I worked my way along the wall, feeling for each handhold and talking to Wazim all the while, soothing him with words of encouragement. We edged along this way for untold ages. It is strange, but in the darkness, with nothing to mark either passage or progress, time seemed to stop; we floated in a timeless eternity with neither beginning nor end, only a very wet and endless present.
As I say, I do not know how long we continued this way, but there came a place where I reached for a handhold and instead of stone, my fingers touched wet moss or slime, and slipped; my head sank below the surface. I kicked my legs to right myself and touched something soft underfoot-not once only, but twice, and then again. It took me a moment to realize that it was mud.
The bottom of the canal was covered with soft, mushy silt. A short time later, I found I could stand and keep my head above water. 'See here, Wazim,' I said encouragingly, 'the water is growing more shallow. Get your feet under you and stand.'
We moved on a little further, and the level of the stream continued to drop as the channel grew wider; soon we were sloshing through waist-high water. I pushed the floating rood along beside me, and a short time after that, I noticed a watery grey dimness seeping into the air. After so long a time in the inky blackness of utter darkness, I did not trust my eyesight. But the wan gloaming held and strengthened, and after a time I could deny it no longer. Wazim noticed it, too. 'I think it is getting lighter, praise God's Almighty Christ,' he said, crossing himself in the Eastern manner.
'You surprise me, Wazim.'
'Why? Did you think you were the only Christian in all of Egypt?' He gave me a wry smile. 'The Copts may not be numbered among the mightiest, but what we lack in strength, we make up in stealth.'
'You knew-all this time you knew I was a Christian, yet you never said anything, you never let on. Why? Why did you not tell me, give me a sign or something?'
'A Christian in the khalifa's court must be very careful if he cares to keep his head on his shoulders.'
The water level continued to fall as the walls of the canal stretched further apart; I noticed that the roof had become bare rock, instead of brick, and soon we were slogging through water just over our knees. I picked up the rood and carried it on my shoulder.
We walked on and the light grew steadily brighter. It came to me that this was because it was growing lighter outside. While we toiled below ground, night had passed in the wider world and dawn was breaking; people were rising to begin their daily tasks, and I… I was free and on my way home with the prize I had set out to rescue.