The Phoenician Code

by Karim El Koussa

  “Ok. Wait a second… here it is, total length of the Temple is equal to 24.5 meters, whereas the width is equal to 10.5 meters, and so is the height.”

  “24.5 meters! For total length,” Maya wondered aloud. “I don’t know. I’m not sure about that.” She paused for a second, doing a quick study in her mind, regarding ancient Phoenician Temples. “Well I’m afraid this could be a wrong measurement,” she expressed, her eyes rolling up and to the left, as if looking at her transcendental thoughts. “And, 10.5 meters for each, width and height? I also doubt it,” Maya concluded.

  “What are you saying?” Youmna snapped. “That the numbers on the sketch are wrong?”

  “I’m not sure about that.”

  “But, you do mean we have a wrong interpretation of the numbers here. Right?” Youmna asked, trying to clarify the confusion.

  “It looks like it. In fact, I’m wondering if an arms-length to the Ancients was exactly the same as an arms-length today,” she reported, laying out her concerns.

  “Maya could be totally right about her speculation,” Paul suggested. “But, then again, how would we know how ancient Phoenicians truly measured their Temples.”

  “Well, as an active Archeologist who has worked on the field for some time now, I can easily confirm that Phoenician Temples have proven to be of bigger size than that. Their lengths vary between 28 and 49 meters. Their widths and heights vary between 14 and 21 meters each,” Maya explained. “So… if this was known as the ‘Great Phoenician Temple’ of Gebel, the House of El, it should have at least been constructed according to these measurements, no less,” she ended and they all reflected for a moment.

  “With all due respect to your great experience, Maya, there is only one-way to find out if the numbers are correct,” Jim declared politely.

  “How do you intend to do that?” she inquired, feeling confronted.

  “Let’s go out, and inspect the Temple field, according to the numbers we have found, and we’ll see if these numbers do match it or not,” he suggested enthusiastically.

  “I’m up to the challenge,” she said, with conviction.

  “Great idea,” Zago agreed, certain of Maya’s victory.

  “Alright then,” said the Archaeologist. “Go ahead, and I’ll follow you with the mapping device.”

  When Paul, Jim, and Zago were about to leave, Youmna hastened to ask them for their help, securing the Stone in a safe compartment she had already set in the tent. Then, they all departed towards the ruins, followed by Maya with her mapping device, five minutes later.

  Upon reaching the ditch of the Great Phoenician Temple, Maya, assisted by Zago, immediately started to prepare the device, to map the area according to the calculations they had received from the ancient sketch. They also took into consideration that the place where they actually found the Stone could well be the entrance to the Temple; and as Maya had explained, regarding Phoenician Temples, the altar should be directed towards the East; and this meant that the sun should be shining from behind it.

  While ambling between the ruins, Jim stepped on a rock along his way. He stumbled and fell hard on his knee, releasing the sheet of paper, on which he had drawn a copy of the sketch. It flew and whirled in the air before landing precariously on a heap of rocks, a few meters ahead.

  “Damn!” he shouted, as he stood up unharmed, and ran for it. As his hand reached for the paper, an unexpected breeze blew, displaced it, and then shoved it through a gap, between the stones. Youmna sprinted after it.

  “Hold on!” he cautioned, without taking his gaze from the place where the paper had disappeared.

  Astonishing as it may have been, Jim frantically heaved away one rock after another. Why the bother? Maya thought. He could have easily tried to draw the sketch once again, Zago said to himself. Oddly, Jim concentrated on his task, as if his whole life depended on it. Paul didn’t comment. He knew his friend, the artist, very well.

  “Just give me a second, please,” he finally managed to say. “I just want to outline the place in exact concordance with the sketch on the paper,” he explained. “Oh, there it is.” He smiled at them.

  He finally got hold of it.

  Moments later, they began mapping the Temple field. It was late in the afternoon.

  “It looks small to me,” Youmna reasoned, as she shaded her eyes with the back of her hand to maximize her view. “The Temple field is certainly bigger than the Temple dimensions we had calculated before, from the information found on the sketch. Maya could be right.”

  “I guess so,” Jim added in agreement, as if passing on his apologies to Maya, who just grinned.

  “Exactly,” she confirmed. “So, if we dig according to the dimensions at hand, in search of the Cup of Life, hidden in the ritual room—the Saint of Saints—we may instead stumble into the ruins of the second part of the Temple—the Saint. That would be a great discovery indeed, I tell you, but aren’t we all searching for the Cup of Life?!” she concluded with great fervor in her voice. Her eyes shone as never before, and her silken face blossomed.

  “Of course we are,” replied the Alchemist at once.

  In fact, the Cup of Life could well be the Philosopher’s Stone itself, which Youmna has long been searching for. The elixir of life… of Immortality…

  “Yes... we all are,” Zago agreed, looking at them.

  “What to do, then?” Jim rushed to ask, baffled.

  “We have to find the exact dimensions. That is all,” Maya replied acutely. “In fact, Archeologists often fall into this trap, a factual riddle, because there are usually two different standards of measurement: the regular and the Royal.” She paused for a wistful instant. “I have a strong feeling that we have considered the regular arms system of measurement, while we should have taken into account the Royal one instead, here, for this Temple,” she enlightened the team.

  “And what could the Royal arms system of measurement be here?” Paul inquired. His eyes fixed upon her.

  “I simply don’t know. If I knew, I would have told you without hesitation,” she said. “We, Archeologists, usually deal with regular and royal cubits systems of measurement, not arms. I believe… and I’m just proposing, that there should be a similar system of measurement for regular and Royal arms.”

  A few moments of silence passed away, then it dawned on her, as she smiled.

  “What is it?” Youmna hurriedly asked the Archaeologist in an eager voice. “Have you found the way to measure it?”

  “No. I haven’t,” she rejoined, “but I know someone who knows.”

  A soft breeze of air hovered above the Temple field.

  .17.

  The Beirut National Museum

  Friday, October 22, 09:17 AM

  They did not dawdle inside the pitch for long; after Maya had made a phone call to someone they didn’t know but had heard of. It was Dr. Hamid Saab, former Professor of Archaeology at the AUB, and head of the Archaeological Research at Mount Hermon. She requested an urgent meeting from her teacher, after she conveyed to him the brief information about the Stone. Then, she sent him an email with the complete data. Dr. Saab called her back, an hour later, and arranged a meeting with her on Friday morning.

  The team took advantage of the lovely October, Wednesday afternoon, to meander in the Old Souk nearby. The girls bought some souvenirs to take home and a few others to send to friends they knew abroad, as they eagerly chatted. Jim, on the other hand, took several additional photos of the old houses and shops in the area. Paul and Zago enjoyed the walk thoroughly.

  They made it a point to lighten up, and enjoy the sunset, while lying down on the soft sandy beach below the site, before they gathered for dinner in a small seafood restaurant close by. White wine was served at their table, as the restaurant quickly became packed with both Lebanese and foreign tourists in cheerful moods.

  Time went by quickly, and the day faded away, with the sun parting from his celestial realm, giving room to his sister, the moon, to take his place. She sho
ne timidly over the Mediterranean Sea. It was a perfect time for Jim to play his guitar, the sound of which echoed in the far-spaced night sky.

  Thursday passed without much activity. In fact, they didn’t have much to do on the Archaeological site, only a few things here and there, as they waited for something to unfurl, before the expected meeting the next Friday morning.

  The small restaurant that edged the new port had been designed to welcome everyone, however, the tourists: Historians and Archeologists, who had jammed the Archaeological site of Gebel during the day, were among the first to come. A wooden cottage with a comforting interior, decorated with fine hand-made tables, and bamboo-stem curtains welcomed the team of five. While Jim, Maya, and Zago ordered coffee, Youmna and Paul voted for fresh orange juice and warm croissants.

  The remarkable quietness that reigned over the place at this early time of the morning matched their silent meditation. The sea captured their gazes through the glass windows and soothed their internal turmoil. The water formed flimsy foam a few meters away from the cottage, as it gently brushed against the greenish rocks below. Yet, on the calm surface of the water, sunrays shone beautifully, in gracious scenery, which only nature could create; a nature to which they belonged.

  Moments later, a group of multinational tourists entered the cafeteria, and sat nearby. It was not difficult to guess their origin from their appearance and language: Americans, British, Germans, Italians, French, and Arabs. Lebanese have seen them around enough, to recognize them. Then, a woman in her fifties, apparently the guide, initiated a historical description on how the Greeks, and later the western world in its entirety had adopted the Phoenician Alphabet. The expressions on their faces went through the most remarkable series of changes, from doubt to neutrality, then awe and admiration. They had, indeed, come to visit the most ancient urban place on Earth—Gebel.

  A gentle shake on Paul’s shoulder hauled him out of his deliberations. He turned his head to meet Maya’s eager eyes, looking down at him with a note of urgency. Lost in his deep thoughts, he had failed to see her getting near him at the table.

  She gently waved Jim’s sketch in front of his face, and said, “I want to go to the Museum, Paul. Would you be able to take me?” She brushed a strand of her light-brown hair behind her ear, a habit of hers that made her look very charming.

  “Yes, but… why the rush, Maya? Have you called your teacher, I mean, Professor Saab, and checked if he has solved the riddle yet?” Paul inquired.

  “Yes I have…” she said, and paused. “And he confirmed it,” she added in excitement.

  “Very well then. I’m very excited to find out what he has to tell us. Let’s go!” Paul stated clearly, ready to leave at once.

  “Thank you, Paul. The Museum opens in just about an hour, I think,” she said with a smile that brightened her face.

  Paul observed the far-distanced sea in front of him, and then looked at the ashtray on the table, putting his cigarette out. He sighed deeply, and closed his eyes. The Cup of Life, the Philosopher’s Stone, the elixir of Immortality… he thought. Without a word, seconds later, he got up, moved away from the table, and left the cafeteria. A few silent steps ahead, and he reached the sandy shore of the city of Gebel. He lingered there for some time.

  Guarded by a police squad, the inside and outside of the Beirut National Museum swarmed with tourists from all walks of life. Maya and Paul bypassed beautiful ancient relics, some dating back to Prehistoric Canaanite and Egyptian eras; others to Bronze and Iron, Phoenician, Hellenistic, Roman, Byzantine, Arab, and Mamluk periods. Then, they hurried toward the hall, where the Sarcophagus of King Ahiram resided. It was there that the meeting with the Professor was set to take place.

  Protected by stern-looking guards, and surrounded by a fence, a white limestone Sarcophagus stood with ancient nobility. Many people lined before it, in wait for their turn to see it.

  “That’s it,” Maya exclaimed, “The Sarcophagus of King Ahiram of Gebel!”

  They scurried through the crowd and towards the coveted object of their interest, as they stole quick glances over people’s heads, left and right, to find where the Professor was waiting for them.

  A man of mid-stature, Professor Saab was in his late seventies. He wore an elegant brown suit over an ivory shirt with a red tie and a blue scarf around his neck. His abundant white hair and white moustache made him look solid and charismatic.

  “This is a friend of mine, Paul Khoury,” Maya introduced the two men, after she greeted her teacher with warm affection, and great respect. They hadn’t seen each other for some time.

  “Paul is a historian,” she said with a smile.

  “I see,” the Professor intoned with firmness. “It’s nice meeting you,” he uttered. “Are you here for the Sarcophagus?”

  “I would like to know more about it, but I’m actually here for the Stone,” Paul answered straightforwardly.

  The professor gave Maya an inquiring look, over his fine eyeglasses. She nodded.

  “Here’s a brochure on the Sarcophagus, I got it from the guide in charge. It has all you need to know,” he said gently with a warm smile on his face.

  The brochure conveyed a notable piece of information that caught Paul’s attention immediately. The Sarcophagus had two inscriptions, one above the other. The first one read as follows: ‘This Sarcophagus was made by Ittobaal, the son of King Ahiram of Gebel, for his father, Ahiram, when he placed him inside his eternal place of rest.’ The other one read: ‘… and if a king among kings, or a governor among governors, or a commander of an army rides against Gebel and opens this Sarcophagus, let the scepter of his dominion get plundered and his royal throne get overthrown….’

  The apparent engraving on the Sarcophagus depicted King Ahiram on his Royal Sphinx Throne, holding a reversed lotus in his hand, a sign of his death, and receiving homage by his subjects, standing in line. In front of him stood a table, filled with food for sustenance in the afterlife.

  That was it. There were no clues of anything mysterious in nature. There was nothing else, but a burial description of the King, by his son, and a curse against intruders and relic hunters.

  “What do you know about it, Professor? Is there anything else we should know?” Youmna asked curiously.

  “Well, this Sarcophagus was made by Ittobaal, for his father, Ahiram, as the brochure narrates,” Dr. Saab said, looking at them and shrugging off his shoulders. “It is still considered one of the best works done by Phoenician artisans. It was made out of beautiful white limestone. However, its Phoenician inscriptions are of a later period, some time around the year 1000 BC. They are indeed living proof of the beautiful Phoenician writing system,” he explained eloquently.

  The Professor was proud to be one of the descendants of an ancient civilization of great achievements. However, his vibrant eyes that had seen much glittered with a strange light, as if he had a deep knowledge of things of great importance that he did not wish to reveal. The Historian in Paul, who had perceived that mysterious light in the Professor’s eyes, wanted to know the hidden facts, regarding the Sarcophagus, but he decided to respect the man’s wish for now. In fact, his focus was on the Stone and only the Stone.

  “Anyway, let’s go to a quiet spot, there, on the right,” the Professor said, and led the way. “I have analyzed the data you emailed, Maya, and I must frankly say: it’s quite interesting,” he uttered in a low voice, and looked at her squarely in the eyes, before looking at Paul. “If we read the inscription again, we may find that Thor mentioned the House of El as the Seven-Pillared Temple, built with the arms of the Kabbirim to the Sun. Right?” the Professor inquired.

  “Yes, that’s absolutely right,” she rejoined, looking a bit perplexed.

  “And so... what are you implying, Professor?” Paul inquired in a steady voice.

  “Before I respond to your question, Mr. Khoury, I’m sure we are standing before something quite unique, Maya. I have often heard about the Seven-Pillared Temple, during m
y many years of research and work, but…” he paused for a thought then continued, “I always thought it was just a myth.” He fixed his eyeglasses on his tanned face. “The sketch on the Stone is a great revelation; you couldn’t know the repercussions of such a discovery on the Academic front, if it were to be released worldwide. Do you know what this means? It means a great deal, in terms of history, religion, and politics. It could change what was taken for granted for decades.”

  “You mean, in regards to the Temple of Solomon and the Biblical Kingdom of Jerusalem?” Paul asked attentively.

  “Certainly… certainly, Paul. And, that’s why we should be very cautious, in dealing with this delicate matter.”

  “What do you mean?” Paul asked impatiently, his concerned eyes set on the Professor’s. His sore memory of the escape from Montreux to Berlin—because of the audacious thesis he had presented at the Château de Chillon, in which he had refuted both the Temple and the Kingdom—flashed back in his mind.

  The Babylonian Brotherhood… he thought, all to himself. I should inform Maya about them.

  “Oh… there is nothing to worry about for the time being, Paul,” said the Professor in a comforting tone. “Just keep the discovery of the Stone limited to very few and selected people, and this goes also for you, Maya.”

  “Don’t you worry, Professor,” Maya reassured him. “The Stone is well protected, and only seven truthful persons know about it.”

  The professor nodded in agreement, yet with vigilance and time ceased for a second.

  “What about the arms of the Kabbirim?” Maya inquired. “I believe this is what concerns us right now.” She was trying to lead them back to the focal point of their discovery. She had no clue of the implications the Stone may have on them. “Although the sketch is of great significance, it would mean nothing if it were not followed by tangible verification on the ground,” Maya stated.