Fortune Favors (8 page)

“What’s it say?”

The scribe looked up, a faintly perturbed expression flickering across his features. Kismet smiled, hoping to put the man at ease, but saw no change in the gray eyes. He risked extending a hand to the man. “I’m Nick Kismet.”

The man's expression softened just a little, but he disdained the handclasp. When he spoke, his enunciation was precise, with just a hint of superciliousness but no discernible accent. “Dr. John Leeds, at your service.”

In the corner of his eye, Kismet saw a man wearing the common uniform of a ship’s steward enter the lounge. He felt an inexplicable compulsion to remain with the strange scholar, but the hunger and fatigue in his body argued that he should take his leave. “A pleasure making your acquaintance, doctor. Enjoy the cruise.”

“It is the Epic of Gilgamesh.”

The quiet voice froze Kismet in mid-step. He turned back. “I take it you’re not a physician, Dr. Leeds.”

The statement elicited a faint smile. “No. My field is comparative theology. I am also—if I may be so bold as to say it—an expert on mythology and the occult.”

“Thus your interest in one of the world's oldest fairy tales.”

Leeds laughed, but his icy eyes froze away any hint of mirth. “My interest is not purely academic. The quest of Gilgamesh is one that I happen to share.”

“As I recall, Gilgamesh was looking for the secret of immortality.”

“Even so.”

For a moment, Kismet could only stare in mute disbelief at the other man. When he at last found his voice, he averted his eyes, gazing instead at the amber contents of his glass. “Gilgamesh never found it. What makes you think it’s there to be found?”

“Actually, Gilgamesh did find it. In the legend, Uta-Napishtim, the only man to be given the gift of immortality, told Gilgamesh of a plant which could give him eternal life; a plant that grew at the bottom of the sea. Gilgamesh recovered the plant, only to lose it to a hungry serpent.”

“I stand corrected.” For some reason, Kismet got the distinct impression that Leeds didn’t think of the Epic as a fairy tale. “So do you think such a plant really existed?”

“Straight to the point, Mr. Kismet? What if it was that simple; eat the fruit of the Tree of Life, and live forever? Would you not do so in a heartbeat?”

Kismet was already regretting having asked, regretted having even introduced himself to Leeds in the first place, but something about the man—maybe it was his self-confessed quest for immortality, or maybe just the fact that Leeds came off as an arrogant bastard who needed to be taken down a notch—compelled Kismet to stay. “Who wouldn’t? But if such a plant, a Tree of Life, existed, someone would have found it by now.”

“And why do you believe no one has?”

Kismet contemplated the prism for a moment. “So this...the Epic of Gilgamesh is factual?”

Leeds smiled again, a humorless grin that lowered the temperature in the air-conditioned salon by several degrees. “Theologians cannot help but recognize the similarities between characters in the Epic, and those mentioned in the Bible. Gilgamesh is certainly Nimrod, the king who would be a god. Uta-Napishtim the immortal who survived the Great Flood, is Noah. Genesis also speaks of the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden; doubtless the same plant Gilgamesh sought. Its placement at the bottom of the ocean would be an allusion to Eden being lost to the Flood.”

Kismet stroked his chin thoughtfully. He wasn’t a believer, but he knew enough about both theology and mythology to hold his own in the conversation. “Okay, I'll buy that. Of course, the Bible records Noah’s death, whereas Uta-Napishtim was supposed to be immortal.”

“Noah lived to be nearly a thousand years old; the longest any man lived after the Great Flood. His son Shem apparently possessed a similar gift of longevity. To the rest of the world, they would certainly seem immortal.”

“And it is your contention that they possessed some vestige of the Tree of Life from the Garden of Eden that kept them alive well beyond the limit of an ordinary life span?”

“Contention? Better to call it an hypothesis. I am a scientist Mr. Kismet, studying the religions of the world, ancient and modern, not so much to determine what is true, but to find the commonality that might educate us as to the origin of faith.”

Leeds flipped to the back of his notebook as he spoke, and Kismet realized that the thick leather bound volume was actually a Bible. “In the Western world, it is generally accepted that, if there is a religious truth, it is expressed in the Judeo-Christian belief system. Now, if we are to accept the Holy Scriptures as essentially factual—and that is a leap of faith which many in our modern society are no longer willing to make—then the account of Genesis proves unquestionably that the antediluvians lived to extraordinary ages. Adam, Methuselah and Noah himself, all lived to be nearly a thousand years of age. These accounts were not meant to be taken as allegory, as so many today want to believe; the language is very precise. Those men living before the Great Flood had extraordinarily long life spans. What changed?

“The answer is here. Genesis chapter two: 'And a river went out of Eden to water the garden; and from thence it was parted, and became into four heads.'“

Leeds looked up from the pages and watched for a reaction, but Kismet could only shake his head. “I'm not sure I follow you.”

“The rivers that issued out of Eden, the garden of life, were likely imbued with the properties of the Tree of Life, mentioned here in verse nine: 'the Tree of Life also in the midst of the garden.' Adam and Eve were not permitted to eat of the fruit of that tree. They were expelled from the garden for their transgression and barred from entering by the cherubs and the blade of a flaming sword. Nevertheless, the life-giving properties of the Tree of Life flowed out of Eden in the waters of those rivers; diluted to be sure, but still potent enough to enable those men to live to extraordinary ages.”

“Then the Flood came and washed it all away,” continued Kismet, making no effort to limit the skepticism in his tone. “So how did Noah and Shem manage to live on for so long afterward?”

“One explanation would be that both were born into the antediluvian world; both would have tasted the waters of life. But I postulate a different theory.

“Noah was certainly the favored of God, even as Uta-Napishtim was in the Epic of Gilgamesh. I believe that Noah may have carried pieces of the Tree, perhaps its fruit, plucked from the river waters before the Flood. He would have given these powerful items to his sons Japheth and Shem, though not to Ham, the accursed progenitor of the Negro race.”

Kismet winced at the unexpected diatribe. He was liking Leeds less as the conversation progressed.

“Nimrod,” continued Leeds, “was a descendant of Ham, and likely coveted the gift that Noah had passed to his superior offspring. Perhaps the quest of Gilgamesh is an allegory describing Nimrod's desire to seize that power from the children of his grandfather's brothers.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“There is much more evidence to support my claim.”

Kismet wanted to leave; wanted to be away from the odious Dr. Leeds as much as he wanted to take refuge in his stateroom, but the unequivocal assertion held him rooted in place. “Evidence?”

“Earlier you asked why no one else had ever discovered the secret of immortality. In fact, an eighteenth century French nobleman, the Comte de Saint-Germain, reputedly discovered the secret of immortality in a substance he called ‘the Philosopher's Stone’.”

“I’ve heard the story,” Kismet replied warily. “Various charlatans throughout history have claimed to be Saint-Germain, Cagliostro, the alchemist Nicholas Flamel...snake oil salesmen, one an all.”

“Are you so sure that they were charlatans? If Noah or Methuselah could live to be nine hundred years old, why not these men?”

Kismet shrugged. He silently admonished himself for not having made his escape sooner. What he had first mistaken for charisma was, it seemed, just the persuasive passion of a crank. “Those stories failed to convince me then, and nothing I have heard here convinces me now.”

“Then consider a different tale.” Leeds gestured with the Bible. “Have you ever heard of the Sacred Heart of Jesus Christ?”

“Aside from the fact that hundreds of churches, schools and hospitals are named for it, not really.”

“The Devotion of the Sacred Heart is a liturgy found in the catechism, though it is not explicitly mentioned in scripture. The doctrine itself has more to do with the symbolism of Christ's love for mankind, a love so passionate that it caused his heart to glow visibly in his chest.

“In the subtext of this tale however, I see yet another clue in the puzzle of the quest for immortality. There is a tradition among the Gnostics, who were in fact among the earliest of Christ's followers, and never accepted the pollution of the Roman church, that Jesus was in fact one of the Magi; a class of Rabbis devoted to studying the Kabbalah. During the forty days and nights, which Christ spent in the wilderness, he learned the secret of unlocking the powers hidden in the language of the Torah. I believe that he also found something else.

“Another supposition of scholars is that Shem, the son of Noah, was also Melchizedek, King of Salem, and there is no mention of Melchizedek’s death in the scriptures; in fact, St. Paul alluded to Melchizedek's immortality in the Epistle to the Hebrews. It is my belief that Melchizedek bequeathed his vestige of the Tree of Life to Jesus Christ during the forty days of his meditation, and the Christ in turn used the knowledge of the Magi to incorporate it into his own flesh, making it one with his own heart.”

“That is an interesting way of skewing the scriptures,” remarked Kismet. “But it doesn't really support your idea of eternal life. Jesus didn't exactly survive to a ripe old age.”

“Only because he was slain. And yet death could not hold him, for he rose three days later, as an eternal spirit.” Through his discussion, Leeds’ voice remained calm, never betraying the passions he evidently harbored on the subject. “Notice however the particulars of his crucifixion, mentioned in the Gospel of St. John: 'But one of the soldiers with a spear pierced his side, and forthwith came there out blood and water.' The spear of the centurion Gaius Longinus pierced the heart of Jesus. When that happened, the heavens darkened and the earth shook. The gospel of St. Matthew says that tombs were opened and the dead came to life. Imagine the power that was released when the Sacred Heart was pierced. The spear of the centurion became a powerful talisman, as did the chalice in which Joseph of Arimathea collected the heart-blood of Christ. Longinus himself received the gift of immortal life.”

“I have heard those legends as well; the Spear of Destiny and the Holy Grail. I seem to recall that Longinus viewed his immortality as a curse.”

“Only because of his guilt for having slain the Christ. He doubtless wished to kill himself, even as Judas the betrayer did, but he was denied the release of suicide.”

Kismet shook his head, as if clearing away cobwebs. “Okay, so Jesus’ powers to heal, raise the dead and everything else came from his possession of some magic fruit. We'll sidestep the fact that about every Christian on the planet would view that as blasphemy. How exactly is that going to lead you to the secret of immortality? You said it yourself: the Sacred Heart of Christ was destroyed when he was killed.”

“True, but remember what I said earlier. Noah passed his gift on to Japheth also. There were at least two, and perhaps many more pieces of the Tree of Life. I believe they were seeds that survived the Great Flood. Shem, who later became Melchizedek, had the one which eventually became the possession of Christ and made possible his transcendence of the flesh. Japheth also took possession of one of the seeds, and I believe that this is the one which Nimrod, or Gilgamesh sought and eventually captured.”

Kismet frowned. “You said a serpent devoured it.”

“Indeed. But in this instance, the serpent was actually a metaphor for the priesthood of the cult of serpent worshippers. They seized the seed by violence, perhaps even slaying Nimrod, and fled.”

Kismet nodded slowly. “So that is what you are after: the Seed that belonged to Japheth.”

“The Japhetic Seed is still out there somewhere. There are too many legends of men who have discovered the power of eternal life for me to believe otherwise.”

“Everyone wants to live forever,” Kismet argued. “That’s why the quest for immortality is central to religions and folklore. Some people are desperate enough to try crazy things to find the Garden of Eden, the Philosopher’s Stone, or the Fountain of Youth.”

“Curious you should mention that.” Leeds flipped to the back of the Bible and withdrew a folded sheet of parchment. “The Fountain of Youth is rather a pet hobby of mine. There are in fact several legends of such a place on nearly every continent, though the quest of Ponce de Leon is perhaps the one with which people are most familiar. Did you know that most scholars reject the idea that Juan Ponce de Leon, the first Spanish governor of Puerto Rico, was actually looking for such a fountain?”

“I had a professor who maintained that Ponce de Leon was really looking for a cure for impotence, and not a true source of eternal life. Sixteenth-century Viagra.”

If Leeds even heard him, he gave no indication. “There are of course contemporary accounts that verify his interest in finding a rejuvenatory pool, though in most, we find him looking for an island in the Caribbean. It is only in the memoir of a man named Hernando D’Escalante Fontaneda, written in 1575, that we find mention of Ponce De Leon searching for the Fountain of Youth in Florida. He wrote: ‘Juan Ponz de Leon, giving heed to the tale of the Indians of Cuba and Santo Domingo, went to Florida in search of the River Jordan...that he might become young from bathing in such a stream.’

“Fontaneda was a remarkable man. He was, as a youth, shipwrecked on the Florida coast in the year 1549, and captured by Calusa Indians. The Calusa sacrificed all the other survivors of the wreck, but Fontaneda survived, and lived with them in captivity for nearly twenty years. He was eventually freed, and for several years thereafter, served as a guide and translator for
Pedro Menéndez de Avilés
, the Spanish governor of Florida. During that time, he spoke often of a great treasure pit in a Calusa village—gold and silver plundered from wrecked Spanish ships. Fontaneda boasted that, with a hundred men, he could seize the wealth of the Calusa leader, but just three years after winning his freedom, he returned to Spain to reclaim his ancestral lands. A few years later, he recorded the account of his time in captivity. On the subject of Ponce De Leon’s River Jordan, he wrote: ‘I can say, that while I was a captive there, I bathed in many streams, but to my misfortune I never came upon the river.’”