carved stone in its niche.
Once again, Grant was struck by how much it looked like a bullet. “What are those ridges round it?” he asked.
“The original meteorite was probably covered in some sort of sacred mesh or web,” Reed explained. “When they carved this copy, they also copied the ropes.”
“They?” Muir sounded tense enough to snap. “Who the fuck are
they
?”
“The people who took the original meteorite away.” Serenely oblivious to Muir’s simmering anger, Reed stared at the baetyl. “You see the small hollow in the top? I expect that held the fragment that Pemberton found. They’ll have sawn it off and left it here, to give the effigy the power of the original. A propitiation to the gods, if you like.” He gave a small smile—lost on Muir.
“They . . .
they
. . . Who are we talking about here? Pemberton? The Nazis? Some Cretan shepherd who wandered into the wrong cave?”
“Oh no.” Reed knelt down and started examining the piles of pottery laid out on the stone bench. “The meteorite was gone long before that—probably at around the time the Bible was being written.”
Muir paled. “You’re saying we’re two thousand years too late?”
“Not the New Testament.” Reed seemed to lose his train of thought completely as he peered closely at a piece of painted pottery. He held it up to the lamp, turning it this way and that. Then, just as suddenly, he continued, “They took the meteorite around the same time that Moses was leading the Jews out of Egypt. Three thousand years ago—give or take the odd hundred.”
“Jesus Christ.” Muir slumped against the wall and pushed an unlit cigarette into his mouth. Grant and Marina looked at each other uncertainly, while at the far end of the chamber Reed busied himself with the potsherds.
“What do we do now?” Muir asked no one in particular.
Reed stood and brushed the dust from his knees. Lamplight smoldered in the lenses of his glasses and a stray tuft of hair cast a hornlike shadow on the wall behind him. “Actually, I think I know where they took it.”
C HAPTER 7
SS Kalisti, North Aegean. Four days later
So explain this to me again.”
They were sitting out on deck as the ferry steamed across the Aegean. The sea lane had always been a busy one: in its time it had seen heroes, gods and a thousand vengeful ships on their way to sack a city, all sailing by. Some were still there, watching from above: the Gemini, the twins Castor and Polydeuces who sailed with Jason on the
Argo
; Pegasus, who had carried Perseus and Andromeda over the sea to Greece; Hercules, who had travelled this way to perform his labors. They glimmered in the night sky, while below the moon laid out a silver path on the water.
“I think Pemberton guessed. Those lines from the
Iliad
he wrote down—he wasn’t only thinking of the Germans. He must have been reading them because he’d made the connection.” Reed shifted slightly on the hard wooden bench and pulled his scarf closer round his neck. Around him, Muir, Grant and Marina all waited like students in a tutorial. On the table between them lay two fragments of pottery, the clay tablet and Pemberton’s journal.
“To understand this story you have to begin with the Minoans. Or rather, begin with their ending. Around 1500 BC they were at the height of their powers. What they achieved then in architecture, painting, sculpture and writing was thehigh point of all European civilization for a thousand years afterward. Then . . .”
“Bang.”
Reed gave Grant a severe look over the rim of his spectacles. “Are you familiar with this story, Mr. Grant?”
“Lucky guess. In my experience, when everything’s going so swimmingly, that’s when it’s time to load your gun.”
“In this case,
bang
is the literal truth. A vast volcanic eruption on the island of Thera—or what used to be Thera. Now it’s a ring of islets round a very large hole in the sea. It blew its top—must
Once again, Grant was struck by how much it looked like a bullet. “What are those ridges round it?” he asked.
“The original meteorite was probably covered in some sort of sacred mesh or web,” Reed explained. “When they carved this copy, they also copied the ropes.”
“They?” Muir sounded tense enough to snap. “Who the fuck are
they
?”
“The people who took the original meteorite away.” Serenely oblivious to Muir’s simmering anger, Reed stared at the baetyl. “You see the small hollow in the top? I expect that held the fragment that Pemberton found. They’ll have sawn it off and left it here, to give the effigy the power of the original. A propitiation to the gods, if you like.” He gave a small smile—lost on Muir.
“They . . .
they
. . . Who are we talking about here? Pemberton? The Nazis? Some Cretan shepherd who wandered into the wrong cave?”
“Oh no.” Reed knelt down and started examining the piles of pottery laid out on the stone bench. “The meteorite was gone long before that—probably at around the time the Bible was being written.”
Muir paled. “You’re saying we’re two thousand years too late?”
“Not the New Testament.” Reed seemed to lose his train of thought completely as he peered closely at a piece of painted pottery. He held it up to the lamp, turning it this way and that. Then, just as suddenly, he continued, “They took the meteorite around the same time that Moses was leading the Jews out of Egypt. Three thousand years ago—give or take the odd hundred.”
“Jesus Christ.” Muir slumped against the wall and pushed an unlit cigarette into his mouth. Grant and Marina looked at each other uncertainly, while at the far end of the chamber Reed busied himself with the potsherds.
“What do we do now?” Muir asked no one in particular.
Reed stood and brushed the dust from his knees. Lamplight smoldered in the lenses of his glasses and a stray tuft of hair cast a hornlike shadow on the wall behind him. “Actually, I think I know where they took it.”
C HAPTER 7
SS Kalisti, North Aegean. Four days later
So explain this to me again.”
They were sitting out on deck as the ferry steamed across the Aegean. The sea lane had always been a busy one: in its time it had seen heroes, gods and a thousand vengeful ships on their way to sack a city, all sailing by. Some were still there, watching from above: the Gemini, the twins Castor and Polydeuces who sailed with Jason on the
Argo
; Pegasus, who had carried Perseus and Andromeda over the sea to Greece; Hercules, who had travelled this way to perform his labors. They glimmered in the night sky, while below the moon laid out a silver path on the water.
“I think Pemberton guessed. Those lines from the
Iliad
he wrote down—he wasn’t only thinking of the Germans. He must have been reading them because he’d made the connection.” Reed shifted slightly on the hard wooden bench and pulled his scarf closer round his neck. Around him, Muir, Grant and Marina all waited like students in a tutorial. On the table between them lay two fragments of pottery, the clay tablet and Pemberton’s journal.
“To understand this story you have to begin with the Minoans. Or rather, begin with their ending. Around 1500 BC they were at the height of their powers. What they achieved then in architecture, painting, sculpture and writing was thehigh point of all European civilization for a thousand years afterward. Then . . .”
“Bang.”
Reed gave Grant a severe look over the rim of his spectacles. “Are you familiar with this story, Mr. Grant?”
“Lucky guess. In my experience, when everything’s going so swimmingly, that’s when it’s time to load your gun.”
“In this case,
bang
is the literal truth. A vast volcanic eruption on the island of Thera—or what used to be Thera. Now it’s a ring of islets round a very large hole in the sea. It blew its top—must
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