The Quest: A Novel

walls, and they looked down into the monastery below. It was as the priest had described—a fountain, gardens, eucalyptus trees, palms, and a pond. The peaked roof of the large church was made of a translucent material, also as the priest described. There seemed to be no one there. But of course, there was.
    Again without hesitation or comment, Vivian led the way along the wooden walk until they came to a staircase, which they descended.
    They all walked toward the closed doors of the church, which were covered in silver that had obviously been rubbed and polished not too long ago, and they saw the symbols of the early Christians on the doors—lambs, fish, and palms, and in the center of each door was a Coptic cross.
    Vivian asked Purcell, “Do you have any weapons?”
    “No.”
    “Then open the door.”
    Purcell grasped the large ring on the door and pulled. The door opened easily and he went inside, followed by Vivian, then Mercado.
    The inside of the large church was simple and almost crude. The walls and floors were of black stone and there was no ornamentation, and Purcell was reminded of the church of San Anselmo in Berini. But unlike San Anselmo, the altar here was a simple and crude table, partially covered by a white cloth, on which sat a Coptic cross. Also unlike San Anselmo, there were no stained glass windows—in fact, no windows at all.
    But the sun was still high enough to come through the high ceiling, and a strange, prismatic light came through the translucent roof,casting rainbows over the floors and walls. The colors seemed to dance, and to separate into their primary components—red, green, blue—then blend again into their various hues.
    Purcell noticed a door behind the altar, and he walked toward it. Mercado and Vivian followed, and Vivian said in a barely audible voice, “This is the way Father Armano walked.”
    This door behind the altar was open and Purcell passed through it. He sensed, but could not see, that he was in a large space. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out that he was in a long, narrow gallery, and that two rows of stone columns ran the length of the space.
    Vivian came up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. Mercado stood to Vivian’s side, and they all stood where Father Armano and the ten men of his patrol had stood forty years before. Unlike Father Armano, Sergeant Giovanni, and the other men, they did not move forward—but neither did they retreat.
    At the end of the long gallery they could now see two fluttering candles, but the candlelight was so weak that they could see nothing but the flames, as though the fire radiated no light, but gave light.
    They stared at the candles. Vivian said, “It is there.” She took their hands and began walking with them between the two rows of thick columns.
    As they passed each set of columns, Purcell thought that he should be feeling fear, but a sense of peace took hold of him, and he continued on with Vivian’s hand in his.
    As they got closer, the two candle flames seemed to give off more light, and he could see that the candles were set toward the middle of a table. As they got even closer, they could all see that it was a very long table, on which was a white cloth that seemed to shine as though it was luminescent.
    Behind the table were thirteen high-backed wooden chairs, facing them, and Purcell understood that this was a representation of the table of the Last Supper, with a chair for Jesus and all the apostles, including one for Judas, though that chair was often missing in such representations.
    Vivian and Mercado didn’t see it at first, because it was small, and the bronze was not polished, but in the center of the table, betweenthe two candles, and opposite the chair of Jesus, was the kiddush cup of the Passover. The Holy Grail.
    Vivian stepped close to the table and let go of the men’s hands. She stared at the cup. Mercado, too, stared at it, and took a step closer. He said, “It is filled.”
    Vivian said, “It is beautiful.” She turned to Purcell. “Frank?”
    He kept staring where they were looking, but he saw nothing.
    “Frank?” Vivian seemed concerned. “Do you see it?”
    He didn’t reply.
    Mercado kept staring at the spot. “How do you not see it?”
    “There is nothing there.”
    Vivian again looked at him, then back at the spot between the candles. “Frank… do you feel it?”
    “I don’t… I can’t see anything, Vivian.” He looked at her, then at