The Flames of Time (Flames of Time Series Book 1) (15 page)

There were numerous breaks in the wall, easily big enough for us to ride the horses through, but dusk was approaching and we’d been warned by one of Androus’s contacts in Baghdad that the ruins were still to this day occasionally inhabited by groups of brigands. So with this in mind we circumnavigated the walls for a while in search of a good place to make our camp. It had been a humid and hot day and with the exception of Harry and Androus we were all glad of a chance to rest and enjoy the cool of the evening.

We decided to make our camp just beyond one of the larger openings in the city wall, on the north-west side of the city where the mighty ruins would shelter us from the prevailing winds. Winds which we’d been warned could whip up to a biting gale within minutes in this wide-open borderland between desert and marsh.

I’d been expecting the camp and the environment to be similar to those we’d made in Africa. But the more we saw of this country the less that seemed to be true, and now as we stopped the differences were again evident. When I first arrived in Africa I’d thought the place had almost an odour of decay about it, which over time I’d become accustomed to and now apparently took for granted. But here in the desert I realised what I’d thought of as decay in Africa was also the fertile odour of life, even in the dry season. An odour that Uruk just didn’t have, for here the earth was almost sterile in its barrenness. Incapable of sustaining life, robbed as it was of every particle of moisture by sun and wind.

The others were busy setting up the camp and directing the half dozen European friendly Kurdish servants we’d been able to hire in for the necessary chores. An hour or so later and our small camp was complete, and we were settling down to see whether Harry had been able to figure out a plan of action for the following day.

The ground was still warm beneath our feet, as we gathered together around a low, flat topped mound of earth.

Harry had the best of his maps with him, and he now spread it across our impromptu table to show us where we were and what we knew about the city behind us.

It wasn’t particularly good news, the details just weren’t there. Even with the multitude of references he’d been able to find, both in the scroll and elsewhere, the landscape around had simply changed too much. All Harry could do was suggest where we concentrate our efforts on the north-west side of the city. There was little else to be done until the following morning when we could get into the city and have a look around.

I was surprised at just how cold it was the following morning, and half expected to see a coating of dew on the baked earth when I got out of my tent, but if there had been any it must have been soaked up by the parched ground almost instantly.

We were up and about in no time, and the first order of the day was to get our bearings by making our way into the centre of the city, where most of the previous excavation work had taken place. After Harry’s rather sombre outline of the situation the night before, we were hoping the orientation of the civic buildings, which we knew had been unearthed would give us a bearing upon a likely main gate.

Riding into the ruined city was an almost unreal experience. We were talking amongst ourselves when we set off, but on entering the city the conversation quickly subsided as we beheld our surroundings. At times it was exactly what I’d expected, baked clay walls mostly collapsed and ruined with little to indicate what kind of structure the remains had once formed. But then a few yards further on they’d become almost whole. There were staircases and windows, upper floors and untold niches and shelves built neatly into the fabric of the structures. All they needed were a roof and few odds and ends of furniture and the place would be habitable. It gave the streets a ghostly air, as though the inhabitants were just hiding and life would spring up again as soon as we passed the corner.

Finally the streets started to broaden out and we reached the heart of the city with the faded remnants of its mighty civic buildings. Previous excavations had been concentrated in this area and though the buildings were cleared of debris and dust giving them a peculiarly sharp quality, they were obviously less intact than the ordinary houses we’d passed along the way. It was nevertheless a fascinating place, especially in the company of Harry and Androus who translated the anonymous piles surrounding us into a wonderful picture of life as it may once have been.

But as good as their understanding was, it quickly became clear there was no mighty avenue leading conveniently to the gate we wanted, and that the city had grown or evolved in a more haphazard way, without any kind of plan or structure. All of this meant we’d just have to split up and examine each of the gateways individually for anything that might indicate it was the one we were after.

Anticipating that this might be necessary we’d each brought some basic hand tools to clear away the accumulated sand and debris. I was with Harry and Peter, while Marlow was with Androus and Jean with Luke. We agreed to meet back at the centre at midday and then we were off, each group in a different direction.

Harry lead the way for our group and we headed out on a slightly more northerly road than the one we’d used when entering the city, but it was much the same in its varied state of preservation, and I could easily see how the different roads could quickly become confusing.

While we were making our way Harry explained the difficulty of the task ahead of us.

‘Even when we’ve located the main city gate, it still won’t necessarily be straight-forward to find the inscribed lapis.’ He began, earnestly. ‘It’s location is described as beneath the city gate, but that doesn’t necessarily mean under the columns. It could just as easily mean under a portion of the road either outside or inside the gate, or even within the columns of the gate itself, and that can mean a lot of excavation.’

Once we got to our first gateway, it turned out to be quite a bit smaller than some of the others, so we were able to quickly move on clockwise around the city walls to the next gate, which looked a little more promising. Once we got to it, it didn’t take me long to realise that I wasn’t a natural archaeologist. After half an hour of carefully scraping away the built up soil and dust from one of the gate posts with a hand trowel, I was ready to move on convinced there could be nothing else of interest to us here, but Harry insisted we just keep at it.

It was hot again now, and as the sun climbed higher into the sky it became ever more difficult to keep in the shade. We were definitely working on one of the larger gateways, not that I could tell, but according to Harry the gate posts whilst mostly brick were topped and bottomed in sandstone, and that was only used for higher status structures. We cleared the posts themselves and discovered stone footings that continued across the road to form a stone threshold. This was buried beneath several inches of baked hard earth, but again, Harry and Peter just kept on working.

I was taking a break, stretching my spine and quietly praying that one of the other groups would discover something to save me from this backbreaking task, when Harry suddenly lurched up and back away from the patch of road that we’d all been clearing. Peter recoiled as well obviously reacting to Harry’s sudden movement.

There didn’t seem to be anything on the ground that could have caused such a response, but Harry had gone as white as a sheet, and was staring fixedly at the stones we’d been unearthing.

Peter fetched some water from one of the horses, perhaps thinking Harry was feeling the heat, but a moment later Harry seemed to come back to his senses enough to explain.

‘The stones, can you see the pattern in the stones that we’ve uncovered.’ He asked, still pale but apparently calming down.

I looked and there was some sort of vague circular pattern that looked like it might be repeated in a carving on one of the bigger central stones. A stone that I was fairly sure Harry had been excavating in the centre of the road.

I indicated to him I’d seen it, but for the life of me still couldn’t understand his response. We’d uncovered all manner of carvings, and patterns around the place, each of which we’d duly sketched or described for later examination. This one, while perhaps a bit bigger, looked no different to any of them.

Regaining his composure, Harry spoke again very carefully. ‘This is the symbol I saw in my dream beneath the rock face in Africa, when we drank from the potion made by Nelion. The memory of it faded once I was awake, and I couldn’t remember what the symbol had been like. Well now I do, and that is it.’

It was our turn to be shocked. I looked at Peter and then back at the symbol in the floor, but I just couldn’t seem to get my mind around what Harry had just said. Africa and the night at the Singing Stones seemed like a distant memory to me now, but I remembered Harry’s enthusiastic account of his dream and his meeting with his old archaeology professor.

I tried to pull myself together, Harry was talking again and I hadn’t heard what he was saying. He looked at me quizzically for moment and then repeated himself.

‘I said it would be quite some coincidence if the carved stone we’re looking for happens to be buried beneath that symbol.’

We had a little more time before we were due to head back and meet up with the others, and we used it to quickly uncover the rest of the stones in the centre of the road, and the pattern that they made up. The symbol itself was a relatively straight-forward circle, but with nine identical radial markings breaking up its circumference, almost like the markings on a clock face, or the key stones of an arch.

We didn’t quite have time to expose the outer stones that mimicked the nine-points of the clock symbol on the central round stone, but it was clear the outer circle was exactly the same, even down to the alignment of the radials.

It almost seemed unnecessary to document what we’d found, as I couldn’t imagine this wouldn’t be the first place we’d come back to excavate. Harry though was a stickler for detail, and after we’d uncovered as much of the threshold as we could, he then insisted we sketch not only the symbols, but also document the sizes, and make a quick positional sketch so the others could see exactly what we’d discovered.

Once we got back to the centre of the city and met up with the others, I began to wonder whether Harry’s motivations in documenting the gate had actually been more involved than I’d suspected, for although he presented the evidence of our find quite persuasively, he seemed reluctant to mention the connection back to Africa. Not that there was any real contest with what the other groups had found, purely in terms of size and the use of stone for construction it seemed our gate was more likely to be the main gate, but still he seemed to hesitate.

Finally though, perhaps after seeing the questioning looks from myself and Peter, he also told the others about the reference back to Africa. It was like a small shockwave running through the group, and even Androus seemed taken aback. Very little was said in response, everyone clearly having questions but knowing nobody would be able to answer them. Talking about the night with Nelion did however seem to put Luke understandably out of sorts, and he just walked off to his horse to wait for the rest of us. The revelation also seemed to affect Marlow, who strangely just thanked Harry before he also moved off.

Following the initial shock there was no mistaking the anticipation in the air as we moved through the city on our way to the gate.

It was a difficult task clearing the rest of the road and raising the stones, without knowing how they were supported below. But Harry and Peter had been thorough in the equipment they’d purchased in Jerusalem, and in no time we had a winch in place and were ready to start trying to lift the stones. It was a slow job and everyone was anxious not to allow anything to drop once we’d started to raise them up, but gradually we managed to remove the central stone and then those surrounding it. Beneath there seemed to be distinct layers of clay and then sand, beneath which was a sheet of hammered copper, and then another layer of stone into which were set nine perfectly preserved and exquisitely carved tablets of lapis lazuli. Androus was visibly shaking as they were each passed to him, before he wrapped them in a cloth and placing them in a bag.

It was scorching hot by now with no escape from the sun, which made us all tired, but both Harry and Androus insisted we again take the trouble to sketch and document the site, before reconstructing the road with all its layers. Even burying it with all the compacted earth covering we’d worked so hard to remove, in order to preserve the site until it was time for us to tell the world of our discovery.

CHAPTER 11 – POINTS OF LIGHT

We made our way slowly back to the camp in almost complete silence, Androus carrying the tablets like a child cradled in his arms the whole way. Once back though it was a different matter, and we all crowded around as he took out the tablets one at a time and placed them side by side across the low mound of earth we’d earlier used as a map table. Even to my ignorant eye they were exquisite creations, the intermingling shades of blue, highlighted here and there with flecks of shining gold. Each tablet perfectly shaped and carved with flowing unbroken lines of script. As for the text, before we even knew what it said we still marvelled at the precision and elegance of it, carved deep into the stone, each figure perfectly chiselled, but on a scale that could compare to any modern printed page.

Androus and Harry were in a world of their own, apparently oblivious to our crowding, questioning and chattering, but eventually, after reclaiming the tablets from the greedy hands surrounding them, and spending several minutes examining the start of each, Androus attempted to describe what the text said.

‘These tablets are written using the same language as the scroll, with those same unusual word forms and script, but there seem to be some differences…

‘There are at least three distinct sections, here a version of the story we know…