“Please tell me you’re kidding about that.” Cassie was incredulous.
Griffin’s voice was grim. “I wish I were. Quaint local custom, don’t you think? Not coincidentally, many of the countries that still practice this atrocity are located in the region where the horse was first domesticated and where Kurgan culture originated. The Eurasian steppes. There does appear to be a correlation between bride abduction and a fast horse.”
Cassie was about to badger him with several more questions when the Jeep came to an abrupt halt.
“We made it,” Fred announced. “And in one piece which, all things considered, is a bonus.”
His passengers climbed out of the vehicle and dusted themselves off. Cassie shook her hair to dislodge particles of grit. The sun had risen high enough to make her notice the mid-day heat.
“Does it ever rain here?” she asked their guide.
Fred shook his head. “Not much at this time of year. Hot and dry is the weather forecast for the next couple of months.” He pointed off in the direction of a narrow dirt trail that cut through the forest. “We have to walk the rest of the way to the calendar stones.”
The group followed him wordlessly as the path twisted ever upward through the dim pines. After about a ten minute hike they passed the tree line. The pines gave way to windswept earth covered with a thin layer of scrubby grass and the occasional boulder. They continued to walk to the top of a rise where they finally paused to catch their breath.
Cassie looked off into the distance at the panorama spread out before her. She could see a series of mountain peaks running off in a straight line to the east. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “What a view.”
“It’s pretty impressive,” Fred agreed.
“Oh, I say!” Griffin exclaimed. His attention was focused on a section of hillside below the rise where they were standing. The ground leveled out into a small plateau. On this table of land, a series of stones had been arranged into a ring. The boulders were all approximately eight feet high and had been shaped into rectangles of a uniform thickness. Massive crosspieces rested across the tops of several of them. Some of the stones contained relief carvings of animals or birds and one held the figure of a human female. They had once been spaced evenly though time had marred the original symmetry. Some of the crosspieces had cracked and fallen to the ground. A few of the base stones leaned at odd angles and several had toppled or been pushed over. Still the ring shape was unmistakable.
“This is extraordinary!” The Scrivener scurried down the hill until he stood in the middle of the henge which was strewn with boulders, broken rock and weeds. To all appearances, the place had been abandoned for millennia.
The other three caught up with him and began to examine the formations, some of which ran almost to the edge of the plateau.
“Careful there,” Fred cautioned as Cassie moved dangerously close to the edge.
She had been so intent on examining a megalith that she’d paid no attention to her precarious position. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. “Yikes!” she exclaimed as a loose rock under her heel rolled down the decline and tumbled over the side.
Fred steadied her arm. “It’s a sheer drop of about a hundred feet off the edge.”
The other two men came to examine the cliff.
Cassie peered over the rim which dropped off a mere five feet from the base of one of the megaliths. “There’s a little ledge down there,” she noted.
The others looked to where she was pointing.
“Must be a great view for anybody who could get down there to sit on it,” Erik observed.
“Actually, there is a way down there,” Fred offered. “This cliff is honey-combed with hermit cells. You just can’t see them from up here.”
“Somebody held hermits prisoner here?” Cassie asked in disbelief.
“Not that kind of cell,” Griffin objected. “Early in the history of the Christian church, certain reclusive souls abandoned the world for a life of spiritual contemplation. Many of them took to the mountains and hollowed out caves where they could live and pray in peace.”
“But how could they get down there?” Cassie persisted. “Rope ladders?”
“There are tunnels through the mountainside,” Fred explained. “Most of them were natural cave formations that were excavated and extended over time. You have to know where to look but I’ve explored a few. There are trails below the tree line that will lead you directly through the mountain and out to the hermit cells in this cliff. You just can’t get to them from up here.”
“Fascinating,” Griffin said. He took one more look over the edge of the cliff before retreating to observe a megalith several feet away.
The others followed him back.
“How long do you suppose these stones have been standing here?” Cassie asked.
Griffin was scrutinizing one of the bird carvings—a vulture. “It’s difficult to tell but I would hazard a guess that this site was already ancient by the time Troy was sacked. There are other megalithic formations in Turkey and Armenia that date back to 9000 BCE.”
Cassie glanced at him in surprise. “But that’s a couple of thousand years before Catal Huyuk and I thought that was supposed to be ancient.”
The Scrivener gave her a brief smile. “I’m afraid we’re all going to have to revise our definition of the word ‘ancient’ during the course of this relic quest.” He transferred his attention back to the carving. “The depiction of this specific bird is significant. The vulture is a prominent figure in the excarnation rituals depicted on the walls of Catal Huyuk. In all probability, the ancestors of those people built this ring.”
“Just exactly what are we looking for here?” asked Erik.
All three paused in their examination and turned toward Griffin.
The Scrivener’s exhilaration evaporated. He seemed to hesitate. “I’m not sure exactly. Megalithic formations have been found all over the world. They may have measured a variety of astronomical phenomena. It all depended on which planet or which star was important to a particular culture. Certainly most of them would have taken account of obvious phenomena like the summer and winter solstice. Lunation cycles. Possibly even eclipses.”
“But how does all of that work?” Cassie felt lost.
“The principle is quite simple really,” Griffin replied. “Let’s take something like the winter solstice. The ancients watched the skies on a daily basis in a way that most modern people would find incomprehensible. It was, in effect, their favorite television program. Over time, they would have observed the sun rising at a different point along the horizon as the seasons changed. In the case of the winter sun, they would have noticed it rising at a point farther and farther south as the days grew shorter. There would come a day when the sun had reached its southernmost point. The ancients would position a stone to mark that location. Every year thereafter, when they observed the sun rising above that particular stone, they would know that winter was over and the days were about to grow longer again.”
“Cool. So which stone is it?” Cassie asked eagerly, looking around the circle.
“I have no idea.” Griffin sounded nonplussed. “I might be able to calculate it based on the sun’s current position on the horizon during sunrise but there’s no way to tell just by looking around the circle.”
“Besides, we’re not looking for the winter solstice,” Erik corrected, kicking a small rock out of his way. He strode over to where the other two stood in the middle of the ring. “We’re trying to figure out where the sun is when the soul of the lady rises.”
“Yes, a much more obscure reference to be sure,” the Scrivener agreed.
“Look, guys. Maybe Griffin’s original idea wasn’t so far-fetched,” Cassie suggested. “It’s got to be one of these suckers so why don’t I just go around the circle and touch them and see if I can get any impressions.”
The two men exchanged a skeptical glance. Fred came to stand behind Erik, listening to the conversation but offer
ing no comment.
After a long pause, Erik asked Griffin,“You got any better ideas?”
“Sadly, not at the moment.”
The Security Coordinator turned to Cassie. “Go for it, toots.”
“OK, but one of you guys better follow me around in case I get a hit and it knocks me off my feet. Remember what happened in Crete.”
Erik nodded. “I got your back.” He obligingly trailed Cassie as she chose her first target.
“Let’s start with this one.” She selected a pillar that directly faced the mountain peaks in the distance. “Griffin, why don’t you keep track of where I started.”
Cassie braced herself, closed her eyes and laid her palms flat against the first megalith. Nothing happened. For the next half hour she repeated the process with every standing stone in the circle and with the same disappointing result.
“No dice.” She finally sat down wearily on a patch of dry grass. Her three companions joined her, looking equally depressed.
“What now?” Fred asked bleakly.
“I suppose we should go back to the hotel and regroup,” Griffin suggested.
“The funny thing is that I know the Minoans were here.” Cassie sighed. “I can feel it when I touch the surface of any one of those megaliths. It’s almost like I’m wearing a blindfold and they’re playing blind man’s bluff with me. I just can’t get a fix on their position.”
“The fact that you were able to sense that much is comforting,” observed Griffin. “At least we know we’re looking in the right place.”
“Yeah, but looking for what?” Erik lay down on the ground and locked his hands behind his head. “Thousands of years ago, some people came here to look up at the sky. There are a bazillion things they might have thought were important out there.”
“Oh come on. I’ll bet it was two bazillion,” Cassie joked weakly.
“Look, it’s not over yet,” Fred offered. “You guys traveled thousands of miles to end up in exactly the right spot. If you got this far, you’re bound to figure it out.”
“Yes, but not today,” Griffin murmured wistfully.
“Nope, not today,” Erik agreed.
Chapter 19 – Through A Glass Darkly
It was early. Still dark, in fact, and the compound was quiet. Abraham could hear no footsteps echoing down the corridors. No wailing babies. No whispering women. It was at least an hour before they would stir. Only the guards were awake. The old man’s insomnia had caused him to join the vigil of those who kept a watchful eye on the sleeping flock. The wolves that inhabited the Fallen Lands were always prowling. Always hungry for souls. But the wolves were not the reason Abraham had tossed and turned for the past three nights. Nor why he had risen hollow-eyed and lethargic for the past three mornings.
He sighed and faced the bathroom mirror, intent on finishing his ablutions. Tilting his head, he shaved the side of his neck but the final stroke nicked his skin. A few drops of blood spattered the sink. Abraham winced and jerked his hand involuntarily, causing the razor to clatter to the floor. Groaning at his own clumsiness, the old man stooped to retrieve it. As he bent down, his knees made a cracking sound in protest. He willed himself to stoop further despite an additional twinge of pain in his knee-cap. He was not about to give in to imaginary weaknesses. Especially not now. He would need all his strength for what lay ahead.
Abraham straightened back up, staunched the cut on his neck and appraised his haggard reflection in the glass. The cause of his sleeplessness was his last worrisome conversation with Hannah. She had opened his eyes to Satan’s insidious plan to destroy the Blessed Nephilim from within. The sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach told him that Daniel’s wives were only the beginning. Error always had a way of compounding itself so that what started with four might end with the corruption of all. If each of the women repeated the same story, rumors would spread that the Scion was somehow deficient. This would inevitably lead to questions about the Diviner’s own lack of judgment. A crisis of faith might erupt that could shake the foundation of the Brotherhood to its core. Although Abraham was more than prepared to fight Satan on the battlefield of the Fallen Lands, he never expected to battle that same unseen foe within his own sanctuary.
The Diviner had no idea what course of action to take. He peered earnestly into the depths of the mirror. “Help me, Lord. Tell me what to do.” He didn’t know why, but he repeated the words over and over until they became a mindless chant. Five times, ten times, twenty times. He lost count but kept on chanting anyway. “Help me, Lord. Tell me what to do.” The effect was hypnotic. On and on he went, growing hoarse from the effort, until he heard a whisper bubble up from within his own consciousness. “You must save her soul.”
Abraham stopped chanting. He stared dazedly at himself.
“You must save her soul.”
He considered the instruction for a moment. The message must refer to Hannah. Daniel’s other wives were older and too far steeped in their own corruption to be saved. But Hannah was young, hardly more than a girl. Malleable clay that could be molded to suit any purpose. There was still hope that she might be redeemed if she could be separated from the influence of her sister-wives.
Abraham straightened up and took stock of his appearance. Not so very old as all that, he thought. A few lines around the eyes but that was to be expected from a man of wisdom and experience. In his youth, he had been considered handsome. He turned sideways to regard himself in profile. Surely any woman of the congregation would count herself fortunate to be chosen by him. Any grown woman perhaps but would a girl think so too? The question made him drop his eyes briefly. He scowled and censored the thought. A patriarch of the Bible would have had no such qualms before taking a new wife.
He walked into the bedroom to dress. Carrying his tie back into the bathroom, he knotted it before the mirror. As he ran a comb through his thick silver mane, he noted with satisfaction that many men of his age worried about baldness. That condition would never trouble him.
“You must save her soul.”
What better way to save her and set her feet on the right path than to marry her himself? It was true that she was currently wed to his son but his son was often away from home doing God’s work. Without Daniel to guide her behavior, she had already become an easy target for the devil. There was no telling what other trouble she might cause if left to her own devices. A beauty like hers could be dangerous—a sure occasion of sin. Better that such a temptation should be safely locked away in his keeping. He wasn’t so very old as all that. His youngest wife was in her thirties. Not much more than Hannah’s age.
Abraham warmed to the idea. The girl’s future was bright indeed. To be elevated to the rank of Diviner’s wife at the age of fourteen. Rachel, his Principal Wife, had produced ten children. Given Hannah’s youth, she could easily supplant Rachel by producing more and ascend to her title. The girl would surely be overwhelmed with gratitude once she understood the earthly benefits Abraham was about to bestow upon her.
The Diviner switched off the bathroom light and crossed into the bedroom. He picked up his suit coat and dusted it meticulously with a lint brush. Inspecting the black fabric, he nodded with satisfaction and donned the jacket. It was settled. He would inform the girl this morning and make the announcement to the congregation in the afternoon.
Turning to leave the bedroom, he caught a final glimpse of himself in the cheval mirror and allowed himself to smile for the first time in days. This was the ideal solution. Abraham knew it was divinely inspired. Through his righteous influence, Hannah would become worthy in the eyes of the Lord. Satan would no longer attempt to cloud her thinking once she was the wife of the Diviner and any further rumors about Daniel would be decisively quashed. Let her find fault with the outcome of her next wedding night, if she dared.
He closed his eyes and whispered a final prayer. “Lord, I am ever yours to command. I shall wed this girl as you have directed that I might shape her into a Consecrated Bride worthy t
o enter your kingdom.”
Abraham waited in silence for the reply which he knew would come from within.
“Well done, my good and faithful servant.”
Chapter 20 - Nomad’s Land
The dispirited quartet of relic hunters climbed out of their Jeep and dragged themselves wearily into the hotel lobby. The search of the calendar stones had proven fruitless. They needed time to regroup and formulate a new strategy but before they could cross to the elevator they were intercepted. A compact middle-aged man launched himself out of an arm chair near the entrance and hurtled toward them.
He was dressed in a camp shirt, khaki pants and hiking boots. Looking eagerly from one face to the next, the newcomer exclaimed, “I am so very glad you have arrived! I did not know how to reach you.” He spoke with a heavy Slavic accent. Doffing his straw hat, he revealed a thinning patch of blond hair.
“Stefan?” Griffin asked in a puzzled tone.
“What are you doing here?” Erik mirrored his team mate’s surprise.
Hurriedly dropping his duffle bag to the floor, the visitor energetically shook hands with the two men. “I have been trying to catch up with you for many days now. It has been very difficult. First you are one place, then you are another. I am always, how you say, one step behind.” He stopped abruptly and whirled to face Cassie. Clicking his heels, he gave a stiff bow from the waist. “You are Cassie Forsythe, no?” He peered intently into her face.
“No. I mean y..y..yes,” the girl stammered, bowled over by his energy.
“Allow me to introduce you,” Griffin intervened. “This is Stefan Kasprzyk.”
To Cassie’s ears, the last name sounded as if it rhymed with wasp chick.
“He’s the Kurgan trove-keeper.”
The Mountain Mother Cipher (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 2) Page 11
