The Flames of Time (Flames of Time Series Book 1) (12 page)

‘Or of course, Chuk if you prefer,’ interjected Androus, smiling generously, ‘as some of my much older, if not wiser friends still call me.’

That got an almost apologetic look from the still grinning Harry, before he continued on.

‘Chuk, these are the intrepid adventurers I told you about in my wire.’

‘Splendid Harrison, splendid,’ responded Androus expansively, ‘and for my part I am also most pleased to meet all of you, and not a little intrigued as to this strange text with which you would like my assistance in the translation. But where are my manners, you have no sooner arrived in Jerusalem than I have hijacked you and kept you standing outside your hotel, when you must all be eager to clear the dust from your throats and freshen up.’

With that Androus all but ushered us into the hotel proper. The rooms were spacious, airy and light, and whilst none of us had views of the more famous Temple Mount, the small deep set windows we did have, afforded almost equally pleasant rooftop views across part of the Old City to the Citadel Tower and one corner of Omar Ibn el Kattab Square.

As I took a few minutes to settle into my room in the hotel and look out over the antique rooftops, I suddenly felt a little… displaced by the extent of the change in scene and surroundings. To go from the solitude and comparative austerity of Africa to the bustle and hubbub of Jerusalem, with all the sounds, sights and smells of a vibrant and busy city, just seemed too much somehow.

I was still feeling that displacement when I became aware of a knock at the door. One of the hotel staff with some tea and dates. Thanking him, I absently poured myself a glass of the tea as he left, and was instantly assailed by the aroma of the mint. It was almost shocking in its intensity, but at the same time seemed so in keeping with the place. Having not tried it before I sipped it at first, and then drank the rest of the pot thirstily, revelling in the heady aromatics and mild sweetness of the drink as it refreshed and invigorated me. It was exactly what I’d needed to bring me back to myself. As I finished the tea, I once again looked out of my small window across those antique rooftops, but now it was with a curiosity and eagerness, that I just hadn’t felt before.

I found Androus, and the others downstairs waiting for me in one of the lounges. They’d already unrolled the scroll across one of the tables, and Androus was hungrily devouring it as I approached.

‘This is very interesting,’ he was saying, looking up briefly to acknowledge me as I arrived, ‘It seems to be written in an early Babylonian style… quite remarkable! I didn’t realise your familiarity with the script was anywhere near so advanced Harrison, let alone to use it to write so well in Babylonian. I really must applaud you.’

‘I didn’t write this Chuk,’ responded Harry in a very careful tone, ‘This scroll is at least several hundred years old.’

‘Harrison, why do you try and tell me this? You know as well as I there are no Babylonian scrolls. Clay tablets, stone inscriptions, even precious metals stamped with a word or two. But scrolls, no. This is an elaborate joke at best, a poor hoax at worst. But this is not a real Babylonian scroll.’

‘Now I didn’t say it was a real Babylonian scroll,’ continued Harry earnestly, ‘but Chuk, if this is written in Babylonian, then it was done so several hundred years ago, at least. And I am very sure that if you look at this more closely you’ll be able to see that it is very real.’

‘That cannot be, you know as well as I the Cuneiform languages were only recovered from obscurity eighty years ago. Prior to that they have been lost for over a thousand years, if not two thousand for Babylonian…

‘You are thinking perhaps this is a blind copy? A clueless scribe copying from a tablet to this scroll without understanding the nature of that which he copies?’

‘I would prefer not to speculate before you’ve had a proper chance to study it Chuk.’ responded Harry carefully, ‘All I can say at this moment is the place in which we found it is possibly even more remarkable than the scroll.’

‘Then why will you not tell me more about this place? It sounds like it may help.’

‘For now Chuk we’ve agreed that your objectivity in the translation is of far greater importance to us than the authentication. Can we impose upon you in this way, and I promise we will explain everything else once we have the translation.’

It was obvious Androus was far from happy at being kept in the dark about the scrolls origins, but on the trip over we’d all agreed that until we knew him better, it would be best not to tell him anything about the temple or Marlow’s vision. It would also, as Harry had said, guarantee Androushan’s objectivity.

With obvious reservation Androus agreed to carry out the translation as best he was able over the next few days, although Harry had already saved him a good piece of work by copying the scroll into a much more manageable notebook he’d obtained on our journey here. With this in hand Androus took his leave and returned to the library to begin work.

It was a glorious day, and with no further progress possible until we had a better idea about the contents of the scroll, we decided to take a break and explore the city around us.

I had to confess to Harry, that barring the obvious mentions in the bible my knowledge of Jerusalem was otherwise quite lamentable. This like a red rag to a bull was enough to inspire Harry to a fever-pitch of enthusiasm, and before I knew it we were off with Peter somehow sucked into the whirlwind of our passing. Despite their rather churlish grins at our predicament, Luke, Harry and Marlow somehow managed to escape the enforced guided tour, and headed off separately, Marlow and Jean to the Suq, Luke to wander around some of the old churches.

It was an exhausting avalanche of sights and sounds, but I’d be doing Harry a disservice if I didn’t also confess to being both fascinated and exhilarated by his tour. The layers of history and culture revealed by him at every step as we walked, or jogged, around the city. Narrow alleys festooned with a wild array of hanging clothes and fabrics and overhung by massive arched buttresses to support the great city wall. The building or just doorways of a dozen different styles framed by countless spires, pillars and ancient roads. And of course the ascent to the Temple or Majed Mount, and the last vestige of the second Temple, the elegant Dome on the Mount and the grand Al Aksa mosque.

It was nearly seven o’clock in the evening by the time Harry ‘allowed’ us to return to the hotel, where we found the others, apparently also only recently arrived, relaxing in the cool of the courtyard with more of the wondrously pungent mint tea.

It seemed we’d all made the most of our time and were now ready to relax properly. Marlow and Jean had popped into the Armenian library to see how Androus was doing and to invite him to offer us his initial opinions of the scroll over dinner at our hotel. But to their slight surprise they’d been ushered away without sight or sound of our reluctant epigraphist, with only the message that he was busy and hadn’t got the time to see them. Not knowing what to make of this response they’d decided to leave him be and return to the hotel alone.

It seemed the hotel had only a handful of other guests, and following a delicious meal, the manager invited us to take our drinks up to the hotel roof to better enjoy the sunset and the evening air. We’d heard the almost mournful strains of the call to prayer as we were finishing our meal, and as we moved out now onto the paved and balustrade encircled rooftop, the city seemed to have become more restful. The horizon, almost exclusively painted from a limited palette of deep reds, purples and blues, from the recently sunken sun, with just the odd wisp of cloud here and there coloured over with a watery lilac or yellow for contrast. I was struck by how different the night was in Jerusalem. In Africa it would be filled with the sound of uncounted insects, so pervasive after a while as to seem like the sound of silence itself. Yet here in the middle of this ancient city surrounded by ten thousand souls there was a different urban stillness.

Marlow had engaged the manager in conversation after he’d shown us to the roof. And watching them for a moment, I could see an almost identical blend of tranquillity and wonder in their faces as they looked out across the city at the thousand hazy blinking lights of the valley beyond.

I’ve no idea what time we finally made our way down from that rooftop and retired for the evening, but it seemed scarcely moments later that I was being roused from my slumbers by Jean knocking on my door.

‘George, get up! Quickly! Androus is here. He’s found something in the scroll.’

It took me a second to collect my whits, but throwing on some clothes I followed Jean into the lounge we’d used on the previous day.

The staff were around and about, preparing the hotel for the demands of the day, and had considerately supplied us with a large pot of coffee, that I now helped myself to as I entered the lounge. Androus was there, obviously eager for us all to arrive, while at the same time making a close examination of the original scroll and box. Beside him were Marlow, Harry and Jean and now myself, joined a few moments later by Peter and an obviously tired Luke. At which point we all started to try and make sense of why Androus had disturbed us all so early.

Putting the scroll carefully back into its box on the table in front of him, and picking up his coffee he seemed almost agitated as he started to talk to us. Recounting how he’d left us yesterday with the copy of the scroll writings and made his way back to the library. Confessing his doubts and misgivings about spending his time on what must be a hoax. Then when once settled back at the library how he’d become curious about the fake and who would have the skill and inclination to craft such a thing.

It hadn’t taken long before he was completely absorbed.

‘It seemed sketchy at first,’ he continued, ‘the language was indeed Babylonian, but it seemed poorly done. Cuneiform as a script is wonderfully phonetic, so with just a few words it becomes easy to identify which of the many languages the script is being used for. There are some words that are the same in Persian as they are in Chaldean and Babylonian, but there are others that change over time or which we only find in certain languages. In this way it is very like the modern English alphabet which can be used to write in French, German, Spanish or Italian.

‘Now the scroll begins in a standard enough format - I am Siusutra conqueror of time, longest of breath, source of the waters and master of the deep etc. Odd phrases of which some seemed vaguely familiar or reminiscent of other texts, but some of the words were unusual even archaic. I can’t be sure but they seem to me like they may be a common root from which perhaps the Babylonian word may be derived. The rough meaning is clear enough though.

‘It was interesting to be sure, for this to be a hoax would require some considerable expertise and time. But then I noticed a mistake. As I’d sketched out the opening oration or statement, I’d been a little hasty in my translation of the author’s name, and now when I looked at it, I realised it was actually spelled as Ziusudra.’

Androus stopped for a moment then, as though ordering his thoughts.

‘Now Ziusudra was known to the Greeks as Xisuthrus, whose story is recounted by Eusebius of Caesaria, via Alexander Polyhistor and the writing of Berossus high priest of Marduk in Babylon.’

Androus’ bright crimson handkerchief had somehow found its way into his hand and standing he applied this to his forehead as he made to refill his coffee cup.

‘Am I right in remembering Xisuthrus as another name for the biblical figure of Noah?’ asked Harry rather wide eyed.

‘No, no, no. Harrison, there is an association yes, but it is far more complex and quite the other way around.’ responded Androus rather wearily and taking a breath before continuing.

‘One of the oldest pieces of human writing that the modern world has yet discovered, is on a series of tablets found in southern Iraq just over two hundred years ago. It tells the tale of the deluge or the flooding of the earth up to the heavens, and a man who built a boat to survive. This is where the comparison with the far simplified biblical account ends. Because, as a reward for his efforts this figure Utnapishtim or Ziusudra is given the gift of ‘breath eternal’, he is then removed to a faraway place by the gods, this place is variably known as the origin or source of the rivers. He is also, as Xisuthrus, described as being a king who ruled for over sixty four thousand lunar months or five thousand years. In the same tale he is also described as being visited by the legendary Gilgamesh of Sumeria who also seeks the secret of life everlasting.’

‘My dear Androushan, this is all very well,’ interjected Jean, ‘but it hardly seems something that would require you to work through the night on, or to disturb us at such an early hour for.’

‘You are quite right Jean.’ responded Androus with a weary smile and stretching his back slightly as he walked over to the window with his coffee, ‘please indulge me as I have indulged you. The final point I wished to explain was that name of Ziusudra is a fairly recent addition to our understanding, and has been known to the modern world for less than twenty years, from a single fragmentary tablet of even more ancient Sumerian origin.’

‘If I am to come to point then for disturbing you all so early, then I should perhaps begin by confessing that when I came here yesterday, I was fairly convinced that your scroll was some elaborate fake. But now when I look at the evidence. For that scroll to not only be written in old Babylonian, but to feature words cleverly constructed to seem like archaic versions of that already archaic language, and then for that same scroll to contain a name so recently added to our understanding. Well, gentlemen I think I can safely say that in the last twenty years there have only been a dozen people in the world capable of such thing.

‘Now I do not wish to labour this point, but you have to realise that if there is any chance, however remote, that this scroll contains the words of such an ancient figure. Well it could quite possibly be the single most important document to be found this millennium.’