Carved in Stone

by Stein Willard

  The man smiled broadly, causing his dark features to light up. He quickly moved closer and, a stickler for etiquette - especially Turkish etiquette - Aeron held out her hand. She topped him by at least two inches and had a sturdier build.

  “Good day to you too, Doctor Whitaker,” he said in a smooth, deep timber and in perfect English.

  He knew her name. Aeron gave him an uncertain smile. She was intrigued and eager to know what an obviously wealthy Turk would want with her. She’s been living here for the past two and a half years and knew that Turkish etiquette dictates that small talk before business was a common practice. She respectfully kept her hands hanging at her sides as she waited for the man to start the conversation.

  The man looked around and shook his head. “It’s almost criminal to allow esteemed academics such as yourself to work in a room with such an inadequate cooling system.” His dark eyes found hers again. “It is not my intention to offend, but merely to state what I think can be an improvement to your work environment.”

  Aeron gave him a small grin. “I have been working here for so long that I’ve not even noticed that the air-conditioning needs an upgrade.”

  A dark brow shot up. “How long if I may ask, doctor?”

  “Please call me Aeron. And I’ve been based in Ankara for the past two and a half years.”

  The man had a stunned look on his face. “That long already? I’ve only been made aware of your presence and your work a few days ago.”

  Puzzled by the man’s reaction, Aeron grappled for something to say before she forgot about etiquette and asked him what business brought him over to the Museum.

  “I was about to make some coffee; could I interest you in a cup?”

  The man smiled warmly. “Thank you for the offer, but I will not be taking up too much of your time?”

  “Of course. Do you mind if I put on a fresh pot?”

  “Not at all.” He walked over to the work bench and looked down at the shard that she’s been working on the whole morning. “Let me guess… the Ottoman era.”

  Aeron was both surprised and impressed by the man’s knowledge. “Yes, we found it a few months ago, but the dating and cataloguing took a while before we could get down to deciphering the pictograms.” She measured off some ground beans and got the pot going. “But with the summer intake of undergraduates, we’ve managed to cut the backlog in half.”

  When she turned back it was to find the man’s eyes resting on her, an almost revered expression in the dark orbs. Stunned, she quickly lowered her head to hide the blush.

  The man chuckled softly. “My sincere apologies, Aeron. With what I’ve heard about you and the many accolades you’ve received over the years, I can’t help but to be in awe of your achievements.”

  She was instantly relieved to find that the man’s reaction was not flirtatious. She didn’t have a clue as to how she would’ve handled the situation if he was interested. “Thank you for your kind words, sir.”

  “Mehmet Sadik.”

  “It is a pleasure, Mr. Sadik.”

  “No, doctor, it is truly my pleasure.” His eyes were intense as he looked at her. “I have read your thesis and the excellent reviews that all your articles received regarding the topic.”

  Aeron blinked. “I wrote it almost ten years ago. At that time many of my peers, despite the archaeological evidence, still considered the Warrior Queen a myth. I got lucky that I could find a few scrolls that made a mention of her.”

  The man stared at her long and hard. “What would you say if I told you that I have all the evidence you need to convince your peers?”

  Aeron couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Ten years ago there was already so little known about the woman and nothing new emerged since. After a short rule of only five years, the Queen disappeared never to be seen or heard of again. Details about her death were inconclusive to the point where Aeron had to leave it out, unless she wanted to further feed the scepticism of her peers. Was it possible that more information was available about Aspen? Or was this a clever ploy by art thieves to stage a robbery of the museum? She studied the man closely and found his demeanour unchanged. His gaze was open and honest.

  “I say that it would be impossible.”

  The man smiled again, this time mysteriously. “In your thesis you mentioned Phage, but was very vague about her origin and the position she held in Queen Aspen’s court.” Aeron felt the hair rise at the back of her neck. “Well, I can tell you for sure that Phage was the daughter of an ancient queen who ruled over a band of ferocious female warriors.”

  A loud gasp sounded and Aeron was shocked to find it came from her.

  “The Amazons?” she squeaked. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the man. “But…but ...”

  “I know many scholars dispute the existence of the Amazon race. I also know that as much as your thesis were scoffed at by some - citing a lack of, or too little information about Queen Aspen, Archaeological reference to Aspen could not be questioned. It was when you mentioned Phage that a storm broke loose.”

  Aeron pursed her lips, recalling the statement made earlier by one of the students. Ten years later, her thesis was still the most talked about issue because of her reference to a second Queen of Galatia. It had taken years to defend her claim. Except for that vague reference to the exalted Phage in the scroll, she had nothing else to substantiate her claim. She was lucky that the whole experience had not cost her her career.

  “As I said earlier, Phage did exist. What was missing in your thesis was her link to Aspen.” The man brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his lapel. “Phage was Aspen’s Consort.”

  Shaking her head slowly, Aeron stumbled back so she was leaning against her desk. Was it possible that this stranger could be the key to one of history’s most elusive puzzles? Could she allow herself to believe that her instincts might have been right?

  “I…I don’t know. This sounds too farfetched.”

  The man lifted a dark brow. “I have all the evidence to corroborate that fact.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Aeron was still dazed when she closed the front door of her flat behind her and leaned against it. Her sling bag slipped off her shoulder and fell to the floor, unnoticed. She closed her eyes as she recalled the conversation she’d had with the Turkish businessman. Opening her eyes, she looked around the small, spartan flat. She needed to tell someone or she would burst with excitement. But first, to make sure all that had happened was not a figment of her overactive imagination. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out the business card.

  Mehmet Sadik, Vice President of Empire Incorporated. It was one of the oldest business conglomerates in the world. It was also the biggest contributor to the Turkish Heritage Association. She had heard that the head of this vast business empire was rumoured to be a deformed heiress, who hid herself from the world, but who possessed one of the sharpest business minds of the century.

  And she was going to meet the elusive pariah in person.

  Anticipation bubbled to the foreground again and Aeron made a dash for her phone. In her excitement she had to try twice before she got the number right. Glancing at her watch, she grinned. Her mother should be sitting down for lunch at the Country Club. The phone was answered after the third ring.

  “Hi honey, is everything okay over there?” Jennifer Whittaker’s voice was thick with concern.

  “Everything’s fine, mom. Am I interrupting your lunch?”

  “On the contrary, my dear, you saved me. The Club appointed this new chef last week to stand in for Rupert, who’s gone to London to visit his ailing mother.” Jennifer’s voice lowered to a whisper. “The food is a disaster.”

  Aeron snickered. If there was one thing her mother detested, it was incompetence when it comes to food preparation. Born into old money, Jennifer married what was considered beneath her station. With her marriage to a middle-class archaeology professor, many challenges arose. Right from the start, Shawn Whittaker refus
ed to be a kept man. He allowed her to live the life she was used too, with one exception. As the man of the house it was his duty and pleasure to provide for his wife. Jennifer, in turn, as the wife of the man of the house, took it upon herself to make her husband’s life as comfortable as she could. That included cooking. It had taken Jennifer gazillion hours of cooking classes and watching cooking shows to finally reach a level where she was sure she could consider herself a true expert in the culinary arts. What started off as a feat to impress her husband, had turned Jennifer into one of the most celebrated food critics in the world. So when her mother said a dish was a disaster, Aeron believed her.

  “How long before Rupert returns?”

  “Another week,” Jennifer lamented.

  “I’m sure you’ll survive this, Mom. How’s Dad? I sent him an e-mail two days ago, but he never replied on it.”

  “You know your father, honey. He’s somewhere in Iceland. One of his friends invited him to evaluate a find at a dig.”

  “He’s in Iceland? But…but…”

  Jennifer chuckled. “He said you’d be angry when you find out. Apparently you promised each other to go look for that dead warrior together.”

  “And still he went,” Aeron scoffed.

  “Oh darling, you’re both the same. Your interest in anything ancient is unrivalled. Whatever his friend found must be of great value, I must add. Your father took the first available flight out.”

  Aeron felt a shiver run down her spine. There was nothing else besides… An even stronger frisson chased down her spine. Hlif. Only the discovery of Hlif or anything associated with the Viking Warrior would make Shawn Whittaker, the most celebrated scholar of archaeology, fly halfway across the world at a moment’s notice.

  “Mom, did he say anything? I mean did he mention a name or something?”

  “Not that I can recall. Honey, do we really have to talk about your Dad and long lost dead people? I would rather talk about you?”

  Long lost dead people? Now why would her mom use that phrase unless her father mentioned something?

  “Aeron? Aeron, honey, you still there?”

  “Yes, mom. I was just…”

  “Thinking about whatever it is your Dad had to rush off for. I know.” A soft sigh sounded. “How are things over there?”

  Aeron remembered why she called her mother in the first place. “I have good news, Mom.”

  “Do tell. I can do with some good news to distract me from my violated taste buds.”

  Aeron snickered. Her mother could be so dramatic at times.

  “I think I found out who Phage was. You still remember Phage?”

  Jennifer snorted. “Of course. How can I forget the many hours I had to pour over ancient volumes to cross-reference the name? Who is she? Wait! Honey, does this mean that you can authenticate your claim and make all those stuffy professors swallow their words?” Jennifer’s voice had risen in her excitement.

  “Oh yes! I’ll insist they take out a page in the Archaeological Science Review to apologize.”

  “Ooooooh,” Jennifer crooned. “Your father will so glad to hear this. Now tell me, where did you get the information?”

  “Well, I haven’t seen it yet, but I will soon.” There was a long silence on the other side of the line. “I’ve learned my lesson, Mom. I will assess the information thoroughly before deciding what I want to do with it.”

  “I know. I just don’t want to see you get your hopes up and then the information is useless or probably fabricated.”

  “I will make double sure, Mom. I promise.”

  “Are you flying down for your birthday?”

  Aeron smiled. Her mother was good at changing subjects, especially if they unsettled her. For the duration of the three years it took her to defend her thesis and the inclusion of Phage, Jennifer, it seems, were the hardest hit by how the archaeological fraternity had ripped into Aeron’s theory. Together, they had placed tags on hundreds of excavations in the hope that somewhere Phage’s name would emerge. But if what Mr Sadik is offering her is the real thing, she hoped to put that nasty period behind her, especially for her mother’s sake.

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. Sorry, Mom.” Aeron knew her mother’s been looking forward to her birthday. “I know I said I’d make it, but…”

  “It’s your thirtieth birthday, Aeron. It must be celebrated.”

  Aeron grimaced. She knew her mother was going to take this hard. For the past year her mother couldn’t stop talking about the huge party she was going to throw her and all the celebrity friends she’d invite. But what came up now was just way more important to her than a birthday party. The guests, she was sure, would in actual fact only be there to see her more famous parents.

  “I’m having the Phage interview on that day.”

  “Oh!”

  “It was the only time I could get.”

  After a short silence, Jennifer cleared her throat. “Well, I think it’s a valid reason to miss your own birthday. I will try and get your father to accompany me to Ankara in two weeks’ time. Will that suit you?”

  “It will be great to have you here, mom,” Aeron said. “I haven’t seen you in almost a year.”

  “Then that’s settled. Now all I have to do is to get your father to come home.”

  “I don’t know, Mom, if he’s there for what I suspect, I think you’ll not find it easy to lure him back.” Aeron leaned back in the chair, riding its hind legs. “That find is one that almost every archaeologist dreams about.”

  A soft chuckled sounded. “There is one thing your father likes more than archaeology, my dear, and only I can offer that.”

  Aeron fingers went slack around the phone and it clattered to the wooden floor. Trying to reach for it, she lost her balance and crashed to the floor, the chair splintering under her weight. She moaned as she cradled her elbow.

  “Honey? Honey, are you ok?”

  At the muffled sound of her mother’s voice, Aeron rolled over to retrieve the phone from where it was under her hip.

  “I’m ok, Mom,” she moaned.

  “You didn’t break anything, did you?” Jennifer sounded concerned. “Maybe you should call an ambulance or something.”

  Aeron swallowed the sharp retort that came to mind as she rubbed her elbow. Instead she took a deep breath. “If you are so worried about my well-being, Mother, then I beg you never to mention anything remotely close to you and father’s sex life to me again.”

  Jennifer’s laughter flowed over the line. “With the kind of people we are, I am shocked that we’ve managed to raise such a prude.” More laughter followed. “Nonetheless, I promise not to shock you again.”

  “That will be greatly appreciated.”

  “So what are you up to for the rest of the weekend?”

  Aeron glanced at her watch. She was going to be late if she didn’t get going now. “I’m meeting some students for a drink in an hour. I have to rush if I don’t want to be late, but I wanted to share the news with you first.”

  “I’m happy for you, Aeron.” There was short familiar silence and Aeron knew what was coming. “And the nightmares? Are you coping?”

  No matter how many times that question was asked, Aeron will never know how to answer it. Not many people dream about themselves dying. It’s a given that they will all die one day, but the intensity of her dream scared her. She feels everything—the cold steel of the blade piercing her body; the cold, metallic taste of fear in her mouth. Aeron shuddered. She first had this dream on the night of her twenty fifth birthday. What started off as a wonderful day spent with her grandparents and the maturity of her multi-million-dollar trust fund, ended with her sitting up in her bed, sobbing uncontrollably. Since she’d spent the night at her parents’ mansion, her mother was the first to her side. That night she couldn’t sleep a wink, scared that the dream would continue if she did. It took many therapy and hypnosis sessions to ease the frequency of the dream. But it still surfaced now and then. The la
st time was about a week ago. Thanks to an abundance of coffee and a backlog in cataloguing, she could forget about the dream and work through the rest of the night. But her mother need not know that.

  “I haven’t had one in a long time, Mom,” she lied. The lie tasted bitter, but Aeron knew that Jennifer would worry unnecessary. “I really need to run now.”

  “Talk to you again, honey. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mom.”

  Aeron hung up and began to strip as she made her way to the small bathroom.

  CHAPTER 3

  Ankara wasn’t really known for its nightlife, but whatever was on offer, was of great quality. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, Aeron walked the short distance to the small beergarten. She heard the group even before she saw them. Their American accents and boisterous laughter drew her attention to a large table in the corner. She smiled when she caught Caroline’s eye. As she came closer, the professor stood and pointed to an empty chair next to hers.

  “You won’t believe we have been here a scant ten minutes by the amount of beer bottles, but I had them slave away in the heat,” Caroline teased. Aeron nodded at the group as she took a seat.

  “At their age, I too believed that beer could fix everything. I think I’ll have one too.” She was saluted by a chorus of ‘hear, hear’ as Caroline signalled for the waiter. The youngsters began to chat among themselves and Aeron turned to Caroline. “How was your afternoon? Any ground-breaking finds?”

  “Not today, but tomorrow we plan to accompany Professor Levy and his group to the Ankara Citadel. Although my focus is more on the Roman influence on Ancyra’s history, I have a student who, just like you, is more partial to the Galatian influence.”

  The waiter placed her beer before her and Aeron nodded her thanks. “The Galatian rule was tempestuous to say the least, but they made quite an impression on the Romans.”

  “I agree completely.”