The Arkana Mysteries Boxed Set

by N. S. Wikarski

  “That is because we are attempting to protect our finds not display them,” Xenia corrected gently. “Think of this as an underground storage facility.”

  Cassie’s mind leaped to another topic. “I don’t know why you would even keep a trove here on Crete.”

  “Pardon?” Xenia seemed shocked at the comment.

  “The entire Minoan culture was matristic,” Cassie said. “All the artifacts are out in the open, and the people who’ve been excavating for a century aren’t trying to suppress anything. What exactly do you need to hide?”

  Xenia’s face grew serious. “That is a very good question, Cassie. We are fortunate that the local archaeologists are so friendly to a goddess culture. However, their liking for the Minoans does not prevent them from making errors when they interpret the artifacts. This trove collects objects that contradict some of their explanations about Minoan culture and its symbols.

  “You have already seen two instances at Knossos. The lily prince fresco and the throne room which were reconstructed based on overlord assumptions about Minoan social order. But they are minor compared to other errors which are repeated by many as if they were truths. In fact, one of the artifacts I want to show you is an example of how they can be explained incorrectly.”

  Xenia reached out for an object on the table. A young woman was brushing debris off a small stone sculpture which was about the size of a human hand. She gave it to the trove keeper.

  Cassie recognized the object. She looked at Xenia questioningly. “Isn’t that a miniature of the giant sculpture we saw at Knossos?”

  “Yes,” the Greek woman replied. “It is another example of the horns of consecration. This one would have been used at a small votive altar in a home perhaps.”

  The pythia stepped closer to inspect the relic. “The horns look pretty abstract to me. What are they supposed to be exactly?”

  Xenia smiled knowingly. “I think perhaps we should start by talking about what they are not.”

  Griffin joined the discussion. “The conventional explanation is that horns of consecration are the horns of a bull.”

  Cassie tilted her head to one side. “Oh, I see it now.”

  “How do you know the horns belong to a bull?” Xenia asked pointedly.

  “Because the Minoans were fixated on bull-leaping.”

  “What if I were to tell you that horns of consecration have been found in European villages dating back to 7000 BCE?” the trove keeper persisted.

  “Then maybe old Europeans had a bull fixation too?” Cassie offered uncertainly.

  “Horns of consecration represent regeneration,” Griffin explained. “Does it seem likely to you that a goddess-worshipping culture would take the horns of a bull as its most important symbol?”

  Cassie gave an exasperated sigh. “I don’t have a clue if they would or wouldn’t. Why don’t we make this painless, and you tell me what you want me to know?”

  Griffin and Xenia looked at one another and laughed.

  “I suppose we are being rather too hard on our new pythia,” the scrivener admitted.

  “Let us go into my office. All will be clear in a moment.” The trove keeper brought the small stone sculpture along with her.

  The trio went through one of the doors on the back wall to a small office stacked with papers and books.

  “Please sit,” Xenia invited.

  Cassie took a chair while Griffin perched on the end of the desk.

  Xenia scanned her bookshelf and selected a volume. She thumbed through it quickly until she found the page she wanted. “You must remember that ancient matristic cultures saw the goddess as the source of life, death, and rebirth. Not the rebirth that is called reincarnation but the rebirth of seasons. Winter is followed by spring, and with it, the goddess shows her power to bring forth new life out of death. The ancients worshipped the power to give life.”

  Xenia paused and then prompted gently, “Does a bull bring forth new life?”

  “No, but a cow does,” Cassie blurted out the words automatically before the significance of what she’d just said had sunk in. “Holy cow!”

  “Precisely.” Griffin laughed. “Holy cow. As Hathor in Egypt, she was called the cow of heaven. Cows, as well as bulls, have horns. The overlord obsession with phallic symbols like the horn would automatically assume the gender of the animal to be male.”

  “But there are plenty of other female animals they might have picked to symbolize regeneration. Why the cow?” Cassie was mystified.

  “There are two reasons,” Xenia replied. “The cow became an important source of food. She could provide not only a calf but also milk. Neolithic farmers began to incorporate this new food into their diet, and they saw the cow as a special gift from their goddess. But there is an even more important reason.”

  Xenia opened the book she still held in her hands and laid it flat on the desk. The page she had selected showed a cow’s skull placed above an altar. “The name for this object is ‘bucranium.’ The head and horns of cattle of either sex would be called a bucranium. The horns of consecration are an abstract symbol for this object.”

  Cassie studied the image for a moment. It looked like a bleached cattle skull from Death Valley.

  “Now look at this image,” Xenia instructed as she flipped the page.

  Cassie peered at it uncomprehendingly until she read the caption. “Diagram of female human reproductive system.”

  The pythia blinked in surprise. The diagram exactly matched the outline of the bucranium. The uterus was shaped like a cow’s skull while the ovaries and fallopian tubes mimicked the curve of the cow’s horns.

  Transferring her attention to Xenia, she asked, “But how would they have known this? They didn’t dissect cadavers back in the day.”

  “Because of excarnation,” the scrivener answered. “When a person died, her body would have been exposed to birds of prey to strip off the flesh before the bones would be cleaned for burial. A human body in various stages of decomposition could be observed with the internal organs exposed. It would have been a macabre epiphany, to be sure, but the connection would have been easy to make.”

  Xenia continued the thought. “We know the old Europeans recognized the similarity eight thousand years ago because they created statues and drawings of the goddess with a bucranium drawn directly over the pelvic region of her body. The bucranium symbolizes the power of the goddess to create life. Minoans shrines usually display ritual objects between the horns as part of their cult practice. To amplify the power of regeneration.”

  “Then what’s the connection to bulls?” Cassie was puzzled. “I know the animal in that bull-leaping fresco wasn’t a cow.”

  “The bull was the sacrificial animal of choice to the Minoans,” Griffin said. “His skull is also a bucranium which symbolizes regeneration, but he is far more expendable. Cows were too valuable to sacrifice. They provided calves and milk. Every cow on Crete was known by her individual name. The bulls, alas, were not.”

  Xenia wordlessly handed the horns of consecration to Griffin. Cassie stood up to get a better view of what he was looking at.

  “You see the markings just here and here,” the trove keeper pointed to two small bees inscribed at the base of either horn.

  Griffin studied them in silence for several seconds. “They are quite similar to one of the hieroglyphics on the granite key, but the match isn’t exact.” He sighed. “I was hoping this treasure hunt would be simple.”

  “Perhaps this will help,” Xenia said. She picked up another small artifact which had been sitting on her desk.

  Cassie recognized it instantly. “It’s a double axe like the ones we saw at the palace.”

  “It’s called a labrys from the Lydian word meaning ‘axe.’ The word labyrinth is derived from this object—the place of the labrys,” Griffin said.

  The pythia frowned. “That’s something else that’s been bothering me. Why would a goddess culture ch
oose a weapon for a sacred symbol?”

  Griffin’s face took on a cryptic expression. “You’ve already seen that nothing is quite what it seems. Where an overlord archaeologist sees a bull, we see a cow. Where they see an axe, we see something entirely different.”

  “When is an axe not an axe?” Cassie asked, mystified.

  “When it is a butterfly,” Griffin said softly. “This symbol was painted on pottery, incised into sculpture, and always found in conjunction with images of the goddess. For six thousand years in old Europe, the double-triangle was always used in a context suggesting metamorphosis and rebirth. The caterpillar which becomes a butterfly is another universal symbol in old Europe for the power of the goddess to regenerate life. Double axes were never forged of material that would have made them useful as weaponry.”

  Xenia joined in. “The Kurgans used axes as weapons. When they first invaded Greece and later Crete, they would have seen the labrys as a weapon and a symbol of a war-mongering sky god. But that was not the way in which the original inhabitants viewed it.” She took the small bronze labrys in her hand and fitted it in the center of the horns of consecration which Griffin was still holding.

  Cassie noticed for the first time that a hole had been drilled into the base of the horns and the handle of the small double axe fit neatly into it. It now stood upright between the horns.

  Xenia looked intently at Cassie. “There are always many ways of seeing the same object. A Minoan looking at the horns with the labrys at the center sees a double symbol of the power of the goddess to regenerate life.”

  Griffin picked up the thread. “An overlord warrior looking at the same objects would see the bull’s horns as a symbol of virility and the double axe as symbolic of conquest in battle.”

  Xenia took the objects back from Griffin. “It is a simple choice of whether to see life or to see death in these things. All of us in the Arkana believe the world has been looking at death too long.”

  The mood in the room grew solemn until the trove keeper smiled. “But I did not bring the labrys out to give you a lecture on the state of the world. Look at this.” She pointed to tiny birds inscribed on either wing of the bronze butterfly.

  “Remarkable,” the scrivener exclaimed as he leaned over for a closer look. “They look exactly like the symbols on the key. Unfortunately, there is no sequence, no message.” He sounded disappointed.

  “It was not the sequence that I wished to show you,” Xenia said. “Clearly there is no message here, but the same hand may have created both. Look at the image again and tell me if you think so.”

  “Good heavens, I believe you’re right!” Griffin exclaimed. He drew the folded photographs of the key out of his pocket and compared the image of the bird on the key to the ones on the labrys. “It may have been the same artist! There’s clearly a connection of some sort. Where was this artifact found?”

  “The horns of consecration and the labrys were both found at Psychro Cave.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t mean Psycho Cave?” Cassie asked archly.

  Griffin rolled his eyes. “Not psycho, psychro with an R.” He turned to Xenia. “That’s on the plateau, yes?”

  The trove keeper nodded. “The Lasithi Plateau. It is less than two hours from here if you wish to go there tomorrow.”

  “I think it would be worth investigating.” Griffin rose as if he were getting ready to depart, but Xenia laid a restraining hand on his arm.

  “There is one more artifact I wish you to see. Wait please.” She left the office briefly and returned with a small gold object in the palm of her hand. She held it out for her guests to inspect. “Exquisite, is it not?”

  Cassie studied it for a moment. “It’s a bug, but I can’t be sure what kind. Maybe an Egyptian scarab?”

  “I believe it’s a chrysalis,” Griffin offered uncertainly. “A cocoon for a butterfly?”

  “That is so,” Xenia affirmed. “The chrysalis was yet another symbol of transformation and regeneration to the Minoans. But look at the mark on the head.”

  “A lily!” the visitors exclaimed in unison.

  “Not only that, I believe it matches the pictures you have brought.”

  Griffin feverishly checked his photograph of the key. “It does, it does! Look at the two lilies flanking the Linear B text. They are identical to this one.” He looked intently at Xenia. “Where did this come from?”

  “Ah, that is where we have a little problem,” she hesitated. “It was bought from a private collector. He thought it may have come from Karfi.”

  “But there’s nothing there!” Griffin’s tone was despairing.

  Cassie raised her eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

  “Karfi was the Minoan last stand if you will. Once the Dorians overran the island, many of the original inhabitants fled to the Lasithi Plateau. An area high in the mountains which would have been very difficult for an invading force to take. Karfi was the last known Minoan settlement. It was built into the side of a mountain and was sloppily excavated by archaeologists in the 1930s. There’s really nothing to see there but rubble.” Griffin ran his hands through his hair. “This is maddening. Our clearest connection to the key, yet we have no idea where this object originated.”

  “I have a thought,” Xenia suggested tentatively. “Perhaps the pythia can help?”

  “Cassie?” Griffin looked at his teammate blankly.

  The trove keeper wordlessly held out the gold chrysalis toward Cassie.

  “You want me to…” The pythia trailed off. She gulped. It was one thing to touch relics under Faye’s guidance, but she had no idea where this odd little bug had come from. It might be another tainted relic for all she knew. Still, if she could finally do something other than trail around and ask questions, maybe there was a reason for her to be part of this mission after all. Fortunately, she was wearing the obsidian pendant Faye had given her. She gripped it tightly in her left hand and held out her right to take the artifact. Drawing in a deep breath, she said, “OK, here goes nothing.”

  She found herself walking in a procession. There were people ahead of her carrying torches. This time, the part of her that was Cassie was still around, like someone hovering just over her shoulder, watching the spectacle. The other part of her was a woman wrapped in a shawl. It was cold, and there were snowflakes in the air. The woman was part of a group walking down a long narrow ramp that seemed to lead underground. There was a square doorway ahead. As she passed under the doorway, she realized she was in a burial chamber. She felt very sad. There was a square box in the center of the room. It seemed to be made of clay—some sort of terra cotta casket. There were decorations painted on the clay: birds, flowers, and numerous horns of consecration with double axes at their center. A priestess was performing a ceremony. She was pouring liquid into a bowl and chanting. For the first time, Cassie registered that the woman she was channeling held something in her right hand. Looking down, she realized it was the chrysalis. The woman in her vision walked up to the casket, and Cassie could see that the lid was covered with funeral gifts—jewelry, miniature vases, small golden axes. The woman gently placed the chrysalis on the casket and touched her hand to the double axe painted on the lid.

  Cassie blinked. She was back. The other two were looking at her intently.

  “Where did you go?” Griffin asked in a slightly worried tone.

  “I was attending a funeral,” she said tersely, then recounted exactly what she had seen.

  The scrivener seemed to view her with a newfound respect. “That’s very helpful,” he said at last. “It sounds as if you were in a tholos tomb. That’s a type of burial chamber. The fact that it was partially underground suggests a Mycenean design rather than Minoan, but no matter. Xenia, are there any tholoi near Karfi?”

  “Yes,” the trove keeper assented. “There are a few cemeteries near the settlement and a number of tholos tombs. Some are partially below ground.”

  “Excelle
nt!” Griffin sounded hopeful once more. “By tomorrow Erik will be here, and we can search Psychro Cave and the cemeteries around Karfi.”

  “Oh good,” Cassie thought to herself. “More underground burrows.” She decided that if she ever owned a house someday, it wouldn’t have a basement.

  Chapter 34 – A Plot in the Country

  It was almost midnight when Leroy and his charge arrived in Heraklion. Hunt was annoyed that they had rushed off the mainland to Crete with no advance warning. Apparently, Junior’s talk with the preacher hadn’t gone well. The old man must have lit a fire under the kid because they left the minute after he got off the phone. The Nephilim groupies chartered a boat to take them from Pylos to Heraklion.

  Daniel was quiet on the trip over. Hunt watched him staring at those photos of the key until they were like to burn a hole in his eyeballs. No sense asking the kid what he thought he could see there.

  Once they docked in Crete, Leroy was introduced to another one of the boy’s faithful flunkies—some weedy little islander named Nikos. He gave Hunt the once over and then pulled Daniel off to the side to whisper to him. He kept looking back over his shoulder at the cowboy. After a couple of minutes of gesturing and pointing, they walked back toward him.

  “Brother Nikos says you must come with us,” Daniel told him hesitantly.

  “I just gotta ask. Is he your actual brother? Cuz the way your daddy keeps collectin’ wives, I figure maybe he’s got a couple stashed here in Greece too.”

  “No, Mr. Hunt,” Daniel said stiffly. “Brother Nikos is my spiritual brother, not my biological brother.”

  “Well, considering how many acorns is hangin’ off your family tree, you can’t blame a body for askin’.”

  Daniel doggedly repeated his earlier statement. “Brother Nikos says you must come with us.”

  Lerory rubbed his neck irritably. It was late. He was tired from doing nothing all day, and the last thing he needed was to get prayed over. “Now I already told you, son, I ain’t sleepin’ in one of your confounded compounds.”