The Atlantis Keystone (2 page)

E
rik Stenbock looked around and wondered if the other passengers in the crowded tube carriage had noticed his frustration. Unlikely, he concluded after having observed the tired and empty faces surrounding him. He was in a foul mood and had a headache. The fact that he had been forced to travel across London during the five o’clock rush hour made him even more angry with his mother. She normally handled all matters relating to Torpa but this time she had involved him just because he happened to be in London for the day. She clearly hadn’t grasped that he had a demanding job as a lawyer and that he would be tired after an early start, a journey to England and an all day meeting with one of his worst clients. Ignoring the feelings and wishes of others, in particular his, was his mother’s specialty. Without first checking with him, she had agreed for Erik to meet up with as she put it: ‘a very persistent professor from Oxford University’. This professor apparently had a particular interest in an ancient artefact which had been donated to the British museum in the nineteenth century by a previous Torpa owner. His mother had been thrilled to find out that the artefact in question was referred to as “the Torpa tablet” after its place of discovery. She had seen this information and new important academic contact as an excellent opportunity to get some publicity and perhaps stir up some media attention around Torpa, something which she constantly craved. Interest from Oxford University was not to be ignored in her view. Consequently she had been most helpful to the professor and had already provided all the material requested; in particular copies of historic journals from the estate. Apparently the professor and his team had found something of interest in the journals and had requested a meeting to discuss it.

Erik took off his tie, put it in his pocket and undid the top buttons of his shirt. He was relieved when the tube voice announced that they were in Holborn. He squeezed out on the platform, noting the approving glances from a woman by the door when he took off his suit jacket. Leaving soaring temperatures and sweaty armpits behind, he walked along the yellow line towards the escalators. Glancing at his wristwatch, he realised he was fifteen minutes late and started to run up the stairs and outside. While walking briskly following signs for the British museum he tried to compose himself as best he could for the meeting with the professor. He attempted to shake off his bad mood and to overlook the fact that he lacked any interest in, or knowledge of, ancient history. It was difficult to ignore that he was as excited about the meeting as he would be over an eyelash stuck in the eye. He viewed it as an irritation which would hopefully go away if he blinked sufficiently. Unfortunately, he feared blinking would not help in this case.

He had never been to the British Museum before and as he entered the gate he found an impressive building littered with tourists. It wasn’t difficult to spot the professor in the crowd. He was standing on the stairs together with a short, plain and pale young woman, who Erik assumed was one of his students. As he approached them, putting on a forced smile, he was surprised to see that the professor appeared younger than expected, in his thirties, not much older than himself, although still with typically professor-like features. He didn’t have a beard but his face showed traces of early stubble. His glasses were outdated and scratched. His hair was almost laughable. It appeared that he hadn’t touched it since getting out of bed that morning and had obviously slept on his left side, hence the flattened appearance on that side of his head. Erik smirked and shook the professor’s hand, introducing himself.

The professor smiled back and announced: “Paul Simmons, professor of linguistics at Oxford University. Pleased to meet you.” He then turned to his colleague and continued: “This is Emma Johnson, one of my most brilliant students, who is writing her dissertation on Linear A and its various theories of decipherment.”

The young woman blushed at her professor’s flattering words, making the spots on her cheeks seem even redder. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Mr Stenbock,” she said. “I’ve spent some time studying the Torpa tablet and have read a lot about Torpa, so I almost feel like I know you, or at least your childhood home.” She laughed nervously and glanced at Paul as if she wondered whether she had said too much. Erik was just about to say something in response when his eyes met hers. He was stunned. Although not much else in this young student resembled his late wife appearance wise, their unusual eyes were almost identical. In addition to the rare colour combination of one eye which was brown and the other green, it was something about them; possibly a slight twinkle, an air of intelligence or insightfulness or the way they were formed and the brightness of the colour green. She had Anna’s eyes. It was almost absurd. She was so unlike Anna in everything else; her complete opposite. Erik had never been speechless in his life and he found the sensation embarrassing. He quickly composed himself and muttered something about how much he looked forward to finding out what they had discovered. He hoped that he had managed to conceal his inner turmoil. They didn’t appear to have noticed. This reminder of Anna had come as a complete shock to him and he had a hard time focussing. In a blow, he saw Anna in her wedding dress, smiling, the tang of salty water in his mouth, the rumbling noise from the water almost submerging the screams, his own scream of powerlessness at the unfairness of the forces of nature, the disappointment at being saved and his squirrel-like search for Anna that followed. Anna’s body had never been recovered and she had been declared dead shortly after the tsunami but her eyes had remained in his consciousness day and night ever since. Seeing this woman’s eyes had opened a wound which had only just started to heal. He resisted an urge to shake her hard; so that the student’s mousy hair, spotty pale face, unplucked eyebrows and generally boring appearance would be exchanged for Anna’s striking radiance, freckled nose, captivating smile and tall slender body. God, he missed her so much.

“Shall we go in?” professor Simmons suggested and led the way through the entrance. Erik plodded along, still out of balance. The professor ventured through the domed entrance hall and stopped just by the entrance to the Egyptian rooms. In front of them was the glass encased Rosetta stone; the pride of the museum and, in spite of fierce competition, arguably its biggest attraction. The professor continued: “You can see before you the trilingual stone which was used to unlock the mystery of Egyptian hieroglyphs.” He waited for Erik to approach the stone. Erik was somewhere else in his mind but to please him he studied it closely, noting that the stone was almost black and full of neat minute writing. He didn’t particularly reflect on what he was looking at exactly and why; too preoccupied with trying to erase the persistent images of his late wife and her brutal death from his mind. “The Rosetta stone bears the same text in three different languages…” The professor rambled on.

Erik decided to force the disturbing thoughts to go away by focussing all his attention on the professor’s mouth as he spoke, silently wondering what the relevance of what he was saying was. Before Erik had managed to understand why they were there, the professor ventured back to the entrance hall and indicated for them to follow. He continued through the lofty room, passed the reception desk, domed library and into an older library on the other side; the King’s library. The student was smug and clearly knew where they were heading. As soon as they entered, Erik noted the smell of old books; it reminded him of visits to the local library when he was at school; possibly the last time he was in a proper library housing something other than law books. The professor led them to the top floor in the most remote corner. There he picked out a volume hidden away in one of the back rows. Evidently one of the most popular books in the library, Erik mused silently and smirked. The professor immediately found the page he was looking for. At this stage, none of them said anything. The book in question appeared to be listing items in the museum’s collection. They walked over to a nearby table and sat down. Professor Simmons smiled and placed the book in front of Erik. There was a black and white picture of a part of a stone showing beautiful ancient writing presented in perfectly straight diagonal lines, crafted with so much care that every hieroglyph was an artwork in itself. He could see that the stone had once been circular in shape but it had been badly damaged and only half of it remained. The edges were uneven and full of ugly cracks. Below the picture was a brief comment about the donation in 1829 and the Swedish donor, Claes Erik Stenbock of Torpa. It also explained that the artefact would have been fifty centimetres in diameter had it been intact. It was four centimetres thick and made of stone. It also detailed that although the artefact appeared to have been circular, most historians agreed that originally it had been tablet shaped, square with a rounded top, with a larger carving at the bottom, probably depicting Pharaoh Ahmose and Queen Tetisheri. The text finished off with a brief statement that the reasons behind the disfiguration were unknown. So this was the Torpa tablet, Erik established. It was a beautiful artefact despite the damage but he was none the wiser about its significance.

The professor started to explain: “I have devoted a major part of my life to trying to decipher the unknown script called Linear A. You might know that this was the writing of the early Minoans on Crete. The Minoans were a powerful people of whom we know fairly little. They populated Crete and some of the other Greek islands in the Bronze Age from about four thousand years ago. We know that they had grand palaces, plumbing, running water and beautiful frescoes. No one has so far managed to decipher the Linear A script.” Erik noted a hint of disappointment in the professor’s eyes, as if he felt personally responsible for the insufficient levels of success in this regard. “But if we did we might be able to find out more about this astonishingly advanced civilisation. I have to say it’s certainly a difficult nut to crack though,” he added thoughtfully and glanced at the student. He then took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“I can vouch for that as well,” the student added with a brief laugh. “We believe that the underlying language which the script conveys is wholly unknown, which makes it exceedingly difficult. But we hope that we will be able to get some help,” she said pointing demonstratively at the book. Erik glanced at it but carefully avoided looking at the student, not wanting to catch a glimpse of her eyes.

The professor continued: “Yes this, my boy, is the Torpa tablet,” he said waiving at the picture. “The original is in a museum in Heraklion on Crete, so unfortunately we would have to make do with this picture today.” He sounded as if he was giving one of his lectures. “The Torpa tablet is famous among certain linguists and historians since it may be the key to finally decipher Linear A. The reason for this is that, like the Rosetta stone, it has the same text in more than one language; ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic writing on one side, which we can read, and incomprehensible Linear A on the other. Unfortunately, as you can see, we only have half of it. The other half has never been found. If we had the whole Torpa tablet it may possibly be used to decipher Linear A.” The professor turned the page in the book and fell silent to let Erik study it. Erik still had a headache and didn’t feel like reading anything but forced himself to focus.

On the left page there was an informal translation of the Egyptian side. Erik skimmed it quickly. It appeared to talk about some sort of calamity or war but the text was incomplete:

“…of water which swept in over the land with godly force. Smoke was clouding the sky. By day, the darkness was persisting with no [torch] being lit and by night a pillar of fire could be seen in the [west]. With his council, His Majesty descended in his boat to observe the devastation of the victors…

…coloured white. The descendants of the great Tetisheri [symbols for both priestess and queen] were orphaned and without possessions/[clothes]. His Majesty set about to strengthen the two lands, to cause…

…Before the [tempest] the fleet of the [ ] [coalition] had conquered the foreign invaders and liberated those who were under their command…

…came out victorious but lost their lives when the gods interfered…

…discontent of the gods [titles] ensured that the…

…disappeared under water. All that existed had…”

On the right page Erik could see a picture of the other side of the tablet; the Linear A side. It was equally impressive, with delicate inscriptions of writing boasting exquisite craftsmanship and skill. To Erik the script itself appeared funny; somewhere between a child’s attempt at coming up with a new alphabet or a very untidy form of the Greek. There were in no way as many pictures of recognisable objects as in Egyptian hieroglyphs. If anything, Erik thought, the writing was closer to our alphabet, with more abstract symbols presumably representing sounds rather than words. He suddenly wondered what Anna would have thought of the tablet. She had a history degree and owned an antiques shop in central Gothenburg; always on the lookout for old things with an interesting history, which was probably also why she had been so obsessed with Torpa. Perhaps this broken Bronze Age item would have been too old and damaged to capture her interest for the shop but she would no doubt have been more interested in it than he was. He had been studying the pages for what to him seemed like an eternity and he felt obliged to say something.

“It’s beautiful. A shame it’s broken. But surely you can get some help from the half tablet?” Erik made an effort to sound interested.

“Well, the problem is that the Linear A and Egyptian texts don’t correspond for an obvious reason: The hieroglyphic side has been inscribed diagonally and the Linear A side horizontally. So it’s useless without the other half.” Erik felt stupid for not having thought of that. Professor Simmons continued: “That’s why we need your help; to give us access to Torpa to search for it. We have recently made a discovery which has given us reason to believe that the lost half is still at Torpa. Obviously well hidden.”