Stories
Alan
EdwardsTHE QUEST
My name is Alan Quartermast and the episode that I am about to relate happened several years ago in a small place called Dankaz, which is in the mountainous region of Northern Ethiopia near to Lake Tana. I was with my companion, and Man Friday, of many years whose Arabic name is completely unpronounceable to me and I have always called Barca. We had been persuaded by Chris, the son of the late Professor Mark Hyham, who had been a colleague of mine for many years before his disappearance two years ago, to come out to this region to continue the search, began by his father, for a legendary missing scroll which it was claimed would clarify many of the teachings of the great prophet Mohamed. Chris's father had believed it had been hidden in one of the caves or caverns which are prolific in the area. It was also believed that the prophet had spent some considerable time near Lake Tana. It was during his last visit to Dankaz that the professor had disappeared. He had been exploring underground when a minor earth tremor had occurred and the ensuing rock-fall had cut him off from his fellow explorers. When a way was dug through to the cavern in which it was thought the professor had been no sign was found of him. After many weeks of searching, with no trace being found, he was eventually declared missing, presumed dead.
It was against my better judgement, but Chris who was a great talker, and encouraged by Barca, for whom a trip to Africa would mean a chance to wear his beloved native robes once more, I was persuaded to agree to the trip. As it wouldn't involve me in any expense, as Chris would be picking up all the tabs, I decided to treat the whole thing as a working holiday.
The three of us flew out to Khartoum, where we hired two four-wheeled drive vehicles, together with drivers and all the necessary supplies for our expedition. We would hire bearers when we got to Dankaz. We set up our base camp on the outskirts of the town and started to make our preparations for our exploration.
On our second evening Barca decided he would go off and talk to the locals. As always, on such occasions, he went native and wore his long white flowing Arab robes. Before very long he was back and in a very exited state. Apparently there had been some recent tremors in the area and local youths who had been up to investigate reported that there was a
rift in the side of the mountain which apparently gave access to some sort of great cavern. We decided that this was too good an opportunity to miss so we agreed to set out early the following morning to investigate.
We were on our way by 7 am driving as close as we could to where the tremors had occurred. The three of us, Chris, Barca and myself, set off on foot leaving the drivers to look after the vehicles. After a short, but arduous, climb we arrived at the place where the rift had occurred. Clambering over the rocks we found ourselves in a sort of passageway. There appeared to be a glimmer of light coming from somewhere along it, so we set off carefully towards the source of the light.
As we went along the passage widened until it finally became a high vaulted cavern. The source of light was the sun’s rays pouring through a crevice high in the roof. This produced the effect of a natural spotlight shining down onto the floor of the cavern. In the beam one could see a myriad of flying insects winging their way up and down and basking in its warmth.
We looked over to where the rays of the sun finally fell. In amazement we saw that it was illuminating a large rectangular slab of rock which, in this setting, had the appearance of a sacrificial altar. We moved as one, carefully negotiating our way across the rock-strewn floor of the cavern.
As we got closer Chris suddenly exclaimed, ‘Look! There is something on that altar.’
Barca and I both looked to where he was pointing. Sure enough there was something there. Some inanimate object that was not definable even in the light of the sun’s rays. We both stood still whilst Chris went forward to see what it was. He picked the object up and turned back towards us carrying it in a very reverent way. As he got closer we could see what the object was.
No it wasn't the missing legendary scroll of the great prophet.
In fact it was . . .
THE RUBY HAT OF OLD MARK HYHAM!
by Alan Edwards