The Flames of Time (Flames of Time Series Book 1) (19 page)

Winter arrived, and to my wonderment snow fell in Jerusalem, instantly transforming the old city and surrounding countryside into an even more exotic and magical environment. A welcome break in the routine came when Androus finally finished his translation of the Gilgamesh tablets. But while the library restorers had done all they could with the shattered tablets, the damage in the end had been too great and Androus was left with just an uncertain collection of letters and odd words from which he could decipher very little.

We still had the undamaged tablets, which while interesting, we knew to only represent a more detailed version of the account we’d already obtained from the scroll. The disappointment was made all the worse by the fragmentary hints and suggestions retrieved from the restored tablets.

Having said that, we all knew how much work Androus had put in, to translate this more detailed version of the Gilgamesh story from the tablets. So, once complete, we all dutifully made our way through the snow blanketed streets to the library and the fire-warmed map room to work our way through it.

I can’t pretend I was persuaded of the value of spending so much time on this second account of the Gilgamesh journey, especially when we’d already retrieved the tablets it lead to. But as soon as we started to work our way through it, it became clear why Androus and Harry had been so insistent we do it.

Just the odd additional comment here and there seemed to provide us with that little bit of extra information necessary to actually pinpoint the route and direction. Comments as insignificant as where his shadow fell upon the ground while he was walking, or sight of a lake or river in the distance seemed to make the route suddenly obvious.

And then we found it, the key to the other accounts on the scroll and of all things it took the shape of… Butterflies. Gilgamesh in his quest to find immortality, had travelled around the Levant, through modern day Syria, Lebanon and Turkey, as well as down into the Sinai Peninsula and Egypt before finally making his way deeper into Africa and to Ziusudra’s temple. But despite knowing the start and the end points of this journey, and even being able to conjecture upon some of the more significant settlements and locations along the way, the detail in the scroll just wasn’t enough to be sure of the exact route.

But now, with the tablet translation it suddenly became clear, and a section of the journey fell into place. Where we had previously thought an excursion to Cyprus had been followed by a return to the mountains of Lebanon, it now seemed he may have left the island and continued on to somewhere else, either on the mainland or even another island. The geography still sounded very much like that of Lebanon, with mountains, lakes, springs and an abundance of deer, pine and cedar trees. But Gilgamesh had visited this place, because it was rumoured that the sacred pools and grotto’s were often inhabited by gods and spirits who hid their presence by summoning great clouds of butterflies and other insects.

‘That could be Rhodes’, interjected Peter looking slightly shocked. ‘I travelled there with my family when I was a boy, so my father could visit the medieval city. But while we were there we travelled into the high mountains to a remarkably beautiful area of springs and streams, that every year attracted an unimaginable number of butterflies.’

None of us had heard of this before, but this unknown land of Telina was mentioned in several of the other accounts on the scroll.

‘Rhodes would fit the other accounts well,’ suggested Harry thoughtfully, ‘in the account of Faron, whom we think may have originated in Crete, there is mention of Telina as one of the places visited. The same with the account of Alcathos of Ephyri.’

The cold and snow beyond the windows was forgotten now, as we bent our attention to the other two accounts on the scroll that mentioned this place. It was engrossing work, and when next I looked up from our task the inky darkness of the winter night had transformed the windows into a lightless reflection of the room. But importantly in that short time we’d confirmed that all three of the accounts that mentioned Telina could credibly be referring to Rhodes.

It took us a week to trace the two routes mentioned in the scroll. Faron it seemed had indeed hailed from the southern shores of Crete, while Alcathous had come from an area just outside ancient Corinth.

Better still, while we were tracing these two routes to Crete and Corinth, we also managed to identify the locations of several other sites mentioned in other sections of the scroll, thus opening up further accounts for study that would previously have been immensely difficult for us.

It was like a switch had been thrown, and the rut we’d had so much trouble escaping, was now forgotten, and we could be on our way again. But our suddenly rejuvenated enthusiasm was just as quickly cooled by the winter weather, which was now firmly against us. The snow, which made Jerusalem so picturesque, would not only make it more difficult for us to get out of Jerusalem, but also make it doubly difficult to find the sites we were looking for when we got onto the ground in Crete or mainland Greece. The thinnest covering of snow or frost would completely obscure those subtle clues and markings we'd be so dependent on if we were to find our goals.

The waiting was frustrating. But for the sake of a few more weeks, we would not only have a much easier journey, we’d also be able to conduct our search in the ideal early Spring conditions, when the snow and ice had gone, but before much of the native vegetation started to grow again.

As irritating as the waiting was, it was also a good opportunity to work on some of the other accounts, and possibly add a third or forth location to our journey. Not that we’d need to bother with these if we found what we were looking for in either of the first two locations, we just knew from our last trip, there were no guarantees.

We spent the next few maddening weeks, half preparing for our journey, half researching the other accounts, and all the while watching the weather. We had more information to go on than ever with our search, but some of the accounts still seemed to evade our understanding. Certainly the Indo-Chinese adventurer was beyond our immediate abilities, as it seemed was the account of an indigenous African hunter and priest, whose tale, while crammed full of descriptive detail seemed to include not a single place name. In contrast the account of the explorer from the Black Sea area, abounded with the names of places and geographical features, all of which were wholly unknown to us.

But that still left us with some promising options. I was still keen to try and find the home of the Iberian woman who was also both warrior and chieftain. The place names and directions leading to her home were still vague, especially toward the western end of the Mediterranean, before the route crossed any of the locations we’d now identified, but it was enough to confirm part of the route and ascertain she was indeed likely to be Iberian. This wasn’t enough for us to try retracing the route on the ground, but it might just be sufficient to make it worthwhile contacting someone who knew the area.

Androus and Jean had a few possible contacts to try, who might in their turn know of some knowledgeable locals they could recommend. It would doubtless take a while, but we sent off the letters and hoped.

In the meantime, the snow and cold were persisting, much to my mixed delight and frustration, and the apparent indifference of the local inhabitants. But as the waiting continued I noticed it seemed to be getting to Jean, who was uncharacteristically sullen and irritable. Thinking a bit of exercise would do us both good I decided to seek him out and suggest a long walk around the city, possibly stopping off along the way for some warming coffee or chocolate.

I caught up with him in his room, just as he was donning his boots and coat to go out,

‘Splendid,’ I said, with slightly exaggerated good humour, ‘I was just coming to see if you’d like to venture out for a stroll, and here you are putting your coat and boots on in readiness.’

‘Unfortunately my friend,’ he replied, ‘I have just a simple errand to run, which I do not think would interest you.’

I’d have taken the hint normally and left him to his own devices, but something in his manner made me hesitate, and on a whim, I decided to push the boundaries of good manners a little and impose myself upon him.

‘Nonsense, I shall walk out with you while you perform your errand, and try to persuade you to stretch your legs a little further as we go.’

I didn’t ask where we were going as we exited the hotel and courtyard, and walked out onto the streets. The snow had started again, a light gusty fall this time, made up of tiny ephemeral flakes that seemed barely heavy enough to fall to earth. We walked first toward the centre of the city, and then as we entered the Muslim quarter, northward toward the Via Dolorosa.

I didn’t want to dissemble, or keep up the act with Jean, which I knew he’d soon see through if he hadn’t already, so once we got into the swirling snow, I just outlined my concerns.

‘I’m getting a little worried about you Jean,’ I said, looking fixedly ahead. ‘You seem to be struggling with something, the waiting perhaps, I don’t know. But whatever it is I’d like to help if I can.’

The rhythm of his steps beside me faltered briefly as I spoke, but then regained their regularity.

‘Thank you George,’ he responded, after a brief hesitation, ‘But while I am indeed straining beneath a burden, it is unfortunately not something I am yet able to share.’

I couldn’t think what it was that might be troubling Jean so, but I knew he’d been as open and honest with me as he was able. So after assuring him, that when he was able to share his burden, I would be more than willing to help hear it, I changed the subject.

We walked in silence for a bit, before reaching one of the big Suq markets, where Jean momentarily disappeared to perform his errand, and then we walked back.

The snow was getting a little heavier now, the ephemeral flakes previously so reluctant to fall ground ward, now seemed to have plucked up their courage, and had started their descent in earnest.

My walk was now out of the question, but on the way back to the hotel, we decided to take a slightly more circuitous route by way of a compromise for us both. Many of the stall holders and shops were preparing for the worst and starting to close early, and it seemed anyone with a choice had already made their way home, leaving the streets strangely quiet and serene, with even our footsteps being muffled by the lying snow.

We were halfway back to the hotel and discussing how we would best approach our forthcoming journey to Crete and the Greek mainland. When Jean stopped suddenly, and motioned me back to the intersection of a narrow alley we’d just crossed.

I couldn’t imagine what he was playing at to begin with, but after tentatively looking around the corner he drew back and motioned for me to do the same. It was Luke, and he was with the young woman again, the one we’d seen him with in the park.

‘Is it not our own Luke and the young lady we saw him with once before?’ Jean asked quietly as he joined me in looking around the corner.

They were stood outside an ancient looking stone building, attempting to shelter from the snow while they spoke. Luke again seemed almost deferential to the young woman, who for her part seemed to accept his strange respect as though it was perfectly natural.

They were talking quite heatedly though, almost arguing, and eventually the young woman seemed to accept his point, and turning, opened the door into the old building before ushering Luke inside and following him.

It was a perplexing scene. Firstly because he claimed not to have known the young lady when Jean had confronted him at Uruk, and now again because of that almost servile respect he seemed to offer her, and which she so readily accepted.

This was all just beginning to go through my head, when Jean suddenly moved past me into the alley, and toward the building Luke and the young woman had entered. I followed, half-expecting Luke to step out and accuse us at any moment.

‘Perhaps there is a name or address beside the door,’ Jean was saying, as I followed him. But there was nothing to indicate who might live in the house, so as quickly as we’d come, we turned and made our way back to the main street.

I could tell Jean was still thinking about it, but we’d gone barely a hundred feet, before he disappeared again up a slightly larger side street. The cold and damp from the snow was starting to seep through my clothes now, and I wasn’t really in the mood for random exploration, but he went only about forty feet, before stopping in the shelter of a large doorway.

‘What do you think George’, he said looking out across the street, to an old stone church opposite.

‘It’s very nice Jean, but I don’t think now is really the time for us to be studying the city’s architecture.’

‘Perhaps not,’ he replied with that entertained light in his eyes again, which always indicated when he was playing with someone, ‘but the stone is the same, is it not, and the age also, and it is the same distance from the road down which we were walking.’

It took me a second or two to figure out what he was talking about.

‘You think this church is in some way connected to the building we’ve just seen Luke enter? Perhaps even the same building, and we were just looking at its rear entrance?’

‘Did you notice?’ Jean continued mercilessly. ‘The building into which Luke entered, in addition to having no number or name, also had no windows or even a keyhole in its door.’

‘But why would Luke be entering the back door of church in central Jerusalem with that young woman.’ I asked.

‘That I cannot say, my friend,’ Jean responded, ‘but it will be interesting trying to find out will it not?’

Once we’d got back to the hotel and had a chance to dry off and think about things, there were of course any number of possible reasons for Luke’s actions, that it would be pointless for us to speculate upon. Just as importantly though, it was clear now, for whatever the reason, this was not a matter Luke wanted to discuss, which meant it was not something we could in fairness ask him about. Whatever it was, we would for now just have to leave the matter alone.