by Tom Pollack
“So what’s up with that Spanish flag decal on your moped?” Juan Carlos murmured to Amanda in Spanish as he sat down next to her.
Her reply came fluently in his native tongue. “I like the Spanish flag,” she said. “Actually, I like a lot of Spanish things,” not bothering to look up from her laptop at the late arrival.
There was no time for Juan Carlos to ask another question, as just then the guest lecturer took the podium.
“Good morning, my name is Dr. Archibald Walker, and I am from the Getty Museum…”
The polished speaker launched into his presentation, “Technology and Ancient Artifacts,” with a flamboyant prop: an impossibly thick scroll which was about four feet wide, supported by a richly stained and polished wooden dowel with ornate handles.
“As you are all doubtless aware,” Walker’s flowing baritone captivated the audience, “the Dead Sea Scrolls are one of the landmark discoveries of twentieth-century archaeology. The texts shed momentous light on a broad range of long-debated issues, including the dating of a stabilized Hebrew Bible and the relationships between early Christianity and Judaism.”
“Do you think I could borrow a pen?” whispered Juan Carlos to Amanda, again in Spanish.
“Sure, I’ve got an extra one. Here you go.” Keeping her attention on Walker, she reached into her backpack and handed over one of her ballpoints. Their exchange, however, did not escape the lecturer at the podium.
“If you two would like the microphone, I’d be only too happy to surrender it,” Walker quipped dryly.
Acutely embarrassed, Amanda shook her head apologetically.
“I am only jesting,” Dr. Walker said. “Actually, I recognize this young man in the front row from his teenage years. He is the grandson of an old friend of mine in the profession, Dr. Silvio Sforza, who now directs the Museo Archeologico Nazionale. Juan Carlos’s job in archaeology is assured, unlike the rest of you!”
The audience tittered ambivalently. Obviously, Dr. Walker was ignorant of Juan Carlos’s soccer prowess. Amanda finally took notice of her seatmate.
“Now, where was I?” Walker asked rhetorically. “Ah, yes, the Dead Sea Scrolls. If I could ask you two to render me a little assistance?” Once again, he gestured to Amanda and Juan Carlos and beckoned them toward the oversize scroll at the edge of the stage.
“These incredible manuscripts have come down to us in many shapes and sizes. Most of their fifteen thousand fragments are tiny. Several of them, however, are immense. The Temple Scroll, for example, measures nearly thirty feet in length. Recently, though, many scholars have come to believe that even this manuscript may be dwarfed by a granddaddy. Experts hazard the theory that a yet undiscovered scroll, measuring ninety-eight feet—a figure arrived at by extrapolation from text density data—contains the entire Pentateuch, or the first five books of the Hebrew Scriptures. What would such a monster scroll look like?”
Motioning for Amanda and Juan Carlos to take hold of the ornate dowel, Walker grasped the end of the lengthy, blank white sheet. “If you two would kindly unfurl this for me.”
With little choice in the matter, both students proceeded down the aisle toward the rear of the auditorium with Walker’s prop. It was their joint baptism in fieldwork, they joked later.
Holding up a smaller scroll, crowded with tiny characters, Dr. Walker continued the lecture.
“Try to get a mental picture of tiny inscriptions consuming the entirety of the scroll your two gracious classmates have revealed before you. I submit that the accomplishment of storing the volume of data these larger scrolls contained was, in that time, as revolutionary as the first supercomputers. And consider the task of backing up the data! I believe you may now begin to appreciate, in a fresh way, the magnitude of the scrolls’ discovery…”
After the lecture, Dr. Walker summoned Amanda and Juan Carlos to the stage to thank them for their help. Juan Carlos greeted him respectfully, as befitted an old family friend.
“Last I spoke to Silvio he told me you were across town at USC?”
“I transferred last fall, sir. A more highly regarded classics department here,” the young man replied.
“And a better soccer team,” Amanda added loyally. She had finally put the pieces together. He was the chiseled midfielder who’d torn off his jersey to celebrate UCLA’s win in the championship game that Amanda and her sorority friends had attended last month.
So this athlete was also, apparently, a budding classicist? Amanda’s interest was piqued. Walker interrupted her train of thought by handing his business card to both of them. “As a token of my appreciation, I’d be delighted to give you a tour of the Getty Villa. Feel free to call anytime.” The two expressed their own thanks and departed the stage.
“So when did you acquire your fondness for ‘Spanish things’?” Juan Carlos asked playfully while they were strolling to the rack where her moped was parked.
“I lived there for a year when I was fifteen,” she replied.
“Ever go to Italica near Seville?”
“My dad and I traipsed all around there. I loved the great amphitheater and all the other treasures of Roman history. The three emperors who were born in Italica certainly left quite an imprint.”
“My grandfather Silvio took me there once. And also to Mérida, in Extremadura.”
“To Mérida? Really? I’m jealous!” Amanda grinned at him. “The cosmological mosaic there must have been awesome! I’ve only seen pictures.”
“Yes, and their theater is also pretty special,” he replied.
The two chatted happily, playing an archaeological version of “Do you know?”
“When I was growing up,” Amanda told him, “my dad would bring home artifacts from land sites being cleared for oil refineries all over the world. I started my own little museum.”
“Does your dad still travel a lot?” he asked.
“Constantly. Right now, he’s in Nigeria, near Port Harcourt. Not too many Greco-Roman sites nearby.”
“You must miss him.”
“It’s okay. I do get a little blue sometimes. I’m glad I’m in Kappa. My sisters don’t let those moods last very long,” she said with a smile.
His eyes brightened. “May I see you again?”
“Are you sure you’re not too busy?” Amanda responded in a teasing tone. “I understand you spent quite a while chatting up my friend Laura at Q’s last month!”
“Now listen…” he started to protest.
“Don’t worry. Laura told me all about your conversation. Actually, I have a couple hours now before my class in Greek language. Wanna go for a cappuccino?”
CHAPTER 53
China, 210 BC
“PEOPLE NEVER LIE TO me, Philo.” The emperor glared menacingly at his guest.
Cain’s voice trembled slightly as he began his confession. “Majesty, when you noticed my wound’s rapid healing, your eyes did not fool you. Rather, I deceived you with my explanation. The cure’s source lay neither in medical science nor in alchemy. It had deep roots in my own past.”
“Then Kwok-se misinformed me? He presented you as a cartographer from the West!” the emperor thundered.
“And so I was when Kwok-se traveled to Alexandria. Your childhood friend did not lie to you. Indeed, I have been many things, in many places.”
The emperor leaned forward, intrigued by Cain’s admission. “What are you saying?”
“Long, long ago, my God cursed me for slaying one man—my brother.”
Before Cain could continue, the emperor broke in.
“Is that all you are worried about? I have killed many members of my own family, and massacred millions of enemies besides! I have ordered scholars and tomb laborers buried alive. Why do you think I have built the terra-cotta army to defend me against their spirits? Unifying China has come at a price, my friend!”
“The curse of my God is different, Majesty,” replied Cain. Making sure he had the emperor’s full attention, he spoke words that had never been
heard by another human. “God has condemned me to a life of immortality.”
Qin Shihuangdi was incredulous. “Condemned! How can eternal life be anything but a blessing of untold value?”
“I have been alive, Majesty, for literally thousands of years. Long before the Great Pyramids of Egypt were built, I wandered the earth’s continents. You know me as a cartographer, but I have had many professions: merchant, architect, astronomer, athlete, engineer, and epic bard. Once, I even ruled an empire almost as powerful as yours. But, whatever my station, life for me has been a continual struggle to come to terms with the curse. I have never discovered those terms.”
“You are saying then, Philo, that you already possess the immortality I seek?”
“Yes, Majesty. And I am also saying that you must be cautious in your search, because success may be failure in disguise.”
Cain was surprised at himself. He had actually tendered to the emperor the most accurate account of his life that he had ever given to any human being. Why had he done so? Certainly he was trapped, and the alcohol had loosened his tongue. But Cain also felt a strange sympathy toward this unique individual. Here was a ruler of virtually unlimited means investing himself in an ultimately futile quest. Perhaps, if the emperor’s ambitions were redirected, the destiny of many people in this amazing civilization could be altered for the better.
Meanwhile, Qin Shihuangdi lay back in his cushioned seat, his head wobbling. His face was an unreadable mask.
Cain shuddered slightly, imagining the possible fates that now awaited him. With the horrors the emperor had just admitted to, an outcome far worse than death might well be waiting for him. Cain actually pondered the prospect of Qin Shihuangdi ordering that he be buried alive! And what if the emperor simply killed him on the spot—surely the terra-cotta soldiers would be no match for God’s sevenfold vengeance.
After several seconds that seemed like minutes, the emperor straightened and stared vacantly at Cain, his eyes twitching convulsively. Then, he burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Tears began streaming down his face as he tumbled to the floor in a cackling heap, eventually gasping for breath to the point of alarming Cain. At length, the emperor collected himself and rose to speak.
“I simply don’t believe you, Philo! If anyone would have found the secret of immortality by now, it would have been me. You are the most entertaining after-dinner storyteller I have ever met! For that reason, if for no other, I could never bring myself to move against you. For the rest of your immortality, you will always have a golden passport from His Imperial Highness Qin Shihuangdi. I earnestly request your presence at the wedding of my third son!”
Still laughing hilariously, His Majesty clapped his hands and a servant appeared. “Tell my secretary to inscribe passports for our distinguished visitor at once!” As the man bowed and departed, the emperor replenished their spirits and raised his goblet. “To eternal life!” he exclaimed.
***
The next morning, Cain did not expect to see the emperor, considering their late-night festivities and the ruler’s obviously precarious health. But neither did he expect to encounter Lijuan, who knocked softly on the door of the chamber Cain had been assigned in the Shaqiu palace.
“Another breakfast invitation?” Cain inquired, only half jokingly.
Something in her face, however, stifled Cain’s banter.
“The emperor is dead,” she whispered once he had closed the door behind her.
Cain paused. How much did this most favored of the emperor’s concubines know about what he had confessed to the supreme ruler only hours before?
“Were you with him when he died?”
“Yes, he sent for me two hours before sunrise. But almost as soon as I arrived at his chamber, he fell into a coma. I sat by his side until he stopped breathing.”
If she was telling the truth, Cain calculated that his secret was safe.
“What will happen now, Lijuan?”
“Li Si has already issued strict orders to conceal the death. He says a civil war could break out if people learn of it. But I think his command is for another reason. He wants Hu Hai to gain the succession, not the older son Fusu, as the emperor wished.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“You would have found out anyway. You are not foolish. But I have another reason.”
“Which is?”
The beautiful young woman looked down. “When emperors die, they…take their concubines with them,” she murmured, choking back a sob. “They will take his body back to Xi’an. Then Qin Shihuangdi and I will be reunited for eternity in the mausoleum.”
Cain felt a stab of pity. Although she had played a spy’s role, she probably had no choice. There was no doubt now that he had to slip away before Li Si’s attention fell on him. But there was no way he could take her along.
“To live, you must take risks,” he advised as he took her hand tenderly. “Disguise yourself as an old widow. Then find a way to disappear from the palace into the crowds of Shaqiu or a neighboring town. Try to make a new life for yourself out here in the East. It will be hard for them to find you.”
“But no man will want me ever again if I am old and wrinkled,” she protested tearfully.
“You can shed the disguise and move on again after a year or two,” he replied. “To live, you must also make sacrifices!” Lijuan bowed and quietly let herself out the door.
***
Cain had been planning his own escape for some time. His strategy also hinged on disguise. His first goal was to get back to Xi’an, where he had left the sizable rewards the emperor had bestowed on him for his mapmaking services. It was imperative, moreover, to detach himself as soon as possible from the treacherous Li Si. He could not be absolutely sure of Lijuan’s veracity, and in any case he had no desire to get caught up in a palace coup or a civil war.
So he decided to adapt the ploy he had used in Alexandria and become an elderly merchant. On the pretext that the necessary cosmetics were needed for an alchemical experiment, he had previously ordered their purchase in the main Shaqiu market. Since he was well known as the late emperor’s herbal advisor, no suspicions were aroused among the palace staff.
The next day, in his new disguise, Cain proceeded to exit the palace. As he skirted the perimeter of the main courtyard, he encountered a strange sight within. Li Si was shouting orders to a small contingent of guards, who were laying the First Emperor’s corpse on an ox cart. Then, in an apparent attempt to mask the stench of the body for the long trip to Xi’an, they loaded the cart with dead fish.
As he hurried outside to join a waiting merchant caravan, Cain muttered to himself, “Not quite the funeral procession the emperor would have envisioned.”
CHAPTER 54
Kashgar, Along the Silk Road, 210–50 BC
“YOU WILL ALL DIE before sunrise, unless someone tells me where I can find Kwok-se of Xi’an and Philo of Alexandria. These criminals are wanted for the assassination of our First Emperor. We know they are hiding in this area!” Yang thundered.
Burly, with a long mustache and fine armor, Yang was the leader of hundreds of armed men that streamed into the marketplace already bustling with Silk Road merchants. Atop a regal horse that bore Li Si’s coat of arms, Yang scanned the crowd, looking for anyone matching the description of the two fugitives. Every stall and booth was suddenly silent. He cued his men, who then tossed lumpy vegetable sacks into the center of the square. The bags burst open upon impact, and dozens of severed human heads rolled in all directions, their vacant eyes staring at the stunned onlookers. The spectators leaped back, shrieking in their native tongues.
The bounty hunters now had everyone’s full attention.
From his vantage point in the front row of frightened merchants, Cain witnessed the gruesome display. He noticed many of the severed heads were crawling with maggots, but some had likely been killed that very day.
Cain was still in disguise as an elderly merchant, despite fleeing Xi�
�an more than six months earlier. He was staying in Kashgar at a popular inn on China’s western border while he searched for his old friend Kwok-se. He was in the marketplace that afternoon buying Chinese herbs, spices, and other trade goods for the next leg of his journey. Kwok-se’s trail had gone cold months ago. Apparently Cain was not the only one looking for his friend.
Yang dismounted, drew his blade, and moved toward a startled Cain.
How had he recognized him?
Suddenly, Cain felt a cool burst of wind blasting through the marketplace from the distant mountain passes, bringing with it the first drops of an early spring rain. Looking up at the gathering storm clouds, the approaching leader seemed to have a second thought. He spun around on his heel and addressed the audience behind him.
“This is what happens to towns that harbor fugitives!” bellowed Yang as he dipped his Jian sword to the ground and lanced the eye socket of a severed head. He then held up a bulging bag of coins for all the people to see. “Our prime minister offers a reward of one hundred sovereigns for these two murderers. Or you can remain silent and join these tongues licking my boots.” He threw the purse into the air, and the gold coins spilled into the midst of the severed heads.
Hearing no response, the leader twisted around. As his calloused hand reached for Cain’s neck, a shadow flitted across his face and his fingers closed, at the last second, around an entirely different neck. He thrust the pleading Chinese vendor to his knees and prepared to strike. The wily soldier was about to offer the crowd a live demonstration to jog their memories.
His polished blade was poised to arc downward.
“These vagabonds,” interjected Cain in fluent Chinese. “What do they look like? I may have seen one.” He then caught the imperial tracker’s wrist on its backstroke. Cain had quick reflexes for an old man, hopefully not too quick.
