14
St Catherine’s Monastery, Egypt
A rustle in the cool darkness woke Morgan with a start. It came again and she realized it was long habits sweeping the floor as the monks walked to early prayers.
She lay in the narrow bed and listened to the quiet footsteps, a scene repeated daily for hundreds of years as the faithful men called out to their silent god. Strange that it should be Christians who have a foothold here, she thought. After all, it was holy because of the Jews, because of their trek across this desert to the Promised Land.
She and Khal had arrived at St Catherine’s late the previous night, and had been shown straight to their basic rooms, but now she was keen to look around. Morgan got up and dressed quickly, lightweight walking trousers, t-shirt and fleece jacket to guard
