by Jodi Taylor
‘Yes,’ said Hyssop.
I smiled politely because I was pretty certain she meant criticism rather than questions. Still, better to get everything sorted here than stand arguing on the streets of Babylon, so I kept my face neutral and said, ‘Yes?’
‘I feel my team is being underused.’
‘In what way?’
‘Street-mapping?’
‘I can assure you,’ I said, ‘that mapping Babylon in the time allocated will be a full-time job. If you feel it’s too much, however . . .’
‘I am not convinced this is the most cost-effective way to conduct this assignment. Less time on site means less cost.’
‘Actually,’ said Clerk, who was obviously as fed up with her as I was, ‘why don’t we just stay at home and open an encyclopaedia. Think how much time and money that would save.’
‘Not as much as leaving our enormous Security Section at home,’ were the words muttered by someone who fortunately wasn’t me.
Hyssop swept on. ‘As you are continually reminding me, the purpose of the Security Section is to protect historians while they carry out their missions. How can we do that if we’re out surveying a city?’
‘Well, firstly,’ I said, ‘street-mapping is a legitimate Security task. Major Guthrie mapped Troy and Mr Markham did the same for Knossos. You are following a well-trodden path. As for protecting historians, as I said, Mr Evans will accompany my team and you and Scarfe will accompany Mr Clerk’s.’
She shook her head, mouth an obstinate line. ‘I would prefer, in the interests of allocating resources appropriately, if Evans and Keller took charge of the street-mapping project with Glass, and Harper accompanies you, leaving Scarfe and me to accompany Prentiss and Clerk.’
My first instinct was to say no because that would mean there wasn’t an experienced Security presence with either team, but I took a moment for second thoughts. Clerk and Prentiss knew what they were doing. They’d get on with the job no matter who accompanied them. And Hyssop, who did at least have some experience, could keep an eye on Scarfe. Sands and I could easily look after ourselves. Having Harper would make very little difference to us. Allowing Hyssop to have her way could be construed as a gesture of goodwill. I stared down at the table, thinking it through and not allowing myself to be rushed. So you could say everything that happened afterwards was my fault. I certainly blamed myself, but at that particular moment I honestly couldn’t see a good reason not to go along with her scheme. They lacked experience but, to be fair, they were never going to overcome that if I had them all on street-mapping. So I looked up and made one of the worst decisions of my life.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I don’t see why not. Please be aware though, this will be a regimented society and there will be strict protocols. Especially in most temples and religious areas. This is not an area in which you have yet gained expertise. Please allow yourselves to be guided by Clerk and Prentiss.’
She nodded curtly and the briefing continued. But the damage was done.
I continued. ‘In addition to all this, we shall be recording everything for IT to make their usual holo on our return. We shall be aiming for spectacular and colourful – which just about sums up Babylon. Have a look at this.’
I showed them a quick snippet of the holo we’d made in the Cretaceous. The bit where Sussman and I were nipping alongside and even under some pretty massive reptiles. Not many people have seen an Alamosaurus from the underneath. Nor had to dodge haystack-sized lumps of Alamosaurus shit, one dollop of which could probably stun an historian for a month. Hyssop’s Half-Wits were a little bit quiet afterwards. Peterson, who’d attended the briefing out of sheer nosiness, and I did not exchange glances.
I went on to talk a little about Babylonian religion and the significance of their gods in daily life. I had to do this because the importance of religion to people in ages past can come as rather a surprise in these secular times. To make things easier for everyone, I pretended I was back briefing the Time Police – all of whom have the attention span of a box of tissues – and kept it short. It was up to Hyssop to provide full details for her team and ram home some sort of understanding of what they could expect. I wasn’t optimistic.
Treadwell, however, seemed happy enough with the briefing. I suspected he’d already drawn up lists of prospective customers for the holo. He did ask if there was any chance of ‘bringing anything back’ – like a stick of rock, I assume – and I said no, not this time; we’d stand a better chance as the city started to fail soon after Nebuchadnezzar’s death in 562BC, when there would certainly be a better opportunity to do so.
He nodded, apparently satisfied.
I wasn’t, but it was too late now.
Because Hyssop had been at my briefing, I felt perfectly justified in requesting to be included in hers. We gathered together in the Security Section. Cox handed me a mug of tea and I promised myself I would sit quietly and not cause any trouble.
And I did. I was as good as gold as they went through the ten thousand and forty-five ways an historian could get into trouble and what to do about it when we did. Hyssop did most of the talking. Evans and Keller said very little and the others gave the impression there wasn’t anything a civilian could teach them so the civilian didn’t try that hard. I’d have to rely on Evans and Keller to sort them out if we got into any difficulties.
I set the jump for the day after. We were expecting to be on site for two to three weeks, depending on how things went, and when I returned Leon would probably be back. And Matthew and Mikey and Adrian, of course. At which point Treadwell might look fondly back to the days when he only had me to deal with.
We assembled outside Number Eight. Dieter had tactfully shunted Treadwell up on to the gantry, muttering about safety lines and the need to set a good example.
Hyssop swung into immediate action, attempting to organise what she called a ‘general inspection’. I suspected there was very little difference between her ‘general inspection’ and the normal St Mary’s pre-jump check, but it was just another area she was whittling away at and I wasn’t going to stand for it. I cut across her quite ruthlessly.
‘Right,’ I said to the Security Section. ‘We’ve been over this, but just to reinforce: I’m leading the team in Number Eight and Mr Clerk is leading the team in Number Five. Messrs Sands, Evans, Glass and Harper are with me. Miss Prentiss, Captain Hyssop, and Messrs Scarfe and Keller are in Number Five.’
I addressed everyone, even though my words were for Hyssop and her team. ‘Firstly, we check each other for jewellery, wristwatches, anything so familiar you’ve forgotten you’re wearing it. Then it’s into the pods. Please don’t forget to ensure each foot makes contact with the decontamination strip just inside the door. We’ll jump and then you’ll decontaminate thoroughly before we leave the pod. I believe Dr Stone has talked to you about the dangers of inadvertently bringing modern viruses with us.’
They nodded. I couldn’t help noticing Harper and Glass in particular weren’t half as cocky as they’d been this time yesterday.
I stepped closer. ‘OK,’ I said quietly. ‘I’m going to say this. If anyone is having second thoughts, then say so. It’s happened before and it can be dealt with and no one will ever know. Please speak up now rather than when things go tits-up at the other end.’
No one moved.
‘All right then, let’s go.’
We filed into our respective pods. My team settled themselves quietly. Mr Lindstrom had programmed in the coordinates – outward and return journeys – and together we checked over the console.
‘Green lights across the board, Max,’ he said. ‘Everything topped up and working. Good luck.’ The door closed behind him. Someone stirred in the sudden silence. I heard their clothing rustle.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Here we go. For those not brave enough to ask – closing your eyes does not help. Computer – initiat
e jump.’
‘Jump initiated.’
And the world went white.
Babylon, 565BC. The centre of the world. Ruled over by Nebuchadnezzar II. King of Babylon. King of Sumer and Akkad. King of the Universe.
We landed about an hour before dawn and we landed gently. I’d toyed with the idea of warning our newbies to stay away from Peterson and his percussive landings but there’s such a thing as overtraining. A sensitive and sensible trainer always leaves something for her trainees to discover for themselves.
While everyone else was milling around getting themselves sorted out and adjusting their shawls so the fringes hung properly, I called up the other site. Mr Clerk reported they were down and safe. I couldn’t hear any sounds of arguing so presumably Hyssop wasn’t trying to barge her way out of the door and take charge before they’d even switched off the engine.
We were to meet at the Ishtar Gate and spend some tourist time there, just strolling around and admiring things and getting our bearings generally before starting work properly tomorrow.
Staring at the screen now, I could see this city was far larger and denser than I had anticipated. It was heaving with activity and I couldn’t wait to get out there but first things first. I had two rookies with me who thought they knew everything. This was going to be fun. Let the training commence.
‘OK, everyone – Mr Glass, could you initiate decontamination, please. Yes, that control there. That’s right.’
We stood still while the cold blue lamp dealt with any potential infections we might have brought with us.
‘All right,’ said Evans, in his role as mother hen. ‘All done. Just make sure you stand on the decon strip as you exit. With both feet.’
Both Glass and Harper nodded. Neither of them had said anything yet and I guessed they were oscillating between terror, excitement and the need to be cool. I so remembered that feeling.
‘At this stage,’ said Evans, ‘we usually ask you to check your weapons.’
They pulled out their stun guns, which were fine, and then a small blaster each, which was less fine.
Evans sighed. ‘You were briefed on the importance of not killing anyone. I remember moving my lips to that effect. No unauthorised weapons.’
‘Yeah,’ said Harper, ‘but . . .’
‘But nothing,’ I said. ‘Please place them in the lockbox in the locker behind you. Our first line of defence is always running like hell.’
There was grumbling but they obeyed. No doubt Hyssop would be wanting a word with me later because I was damn sure Clerk would have made them do the same in his pod. I wished Markham would come back. I really missed . . . well, I was going to say his unobtrusive efficiency but I think we all know unobtrusive isn’t the most frequently used word to describe him. I’d always taken Security completely for granted. They were there; they did their job – I never had to worry about what was happening behind me. Now it occurred to me that I needed to worry more about what was happening behind me than in front.
Behind their backs, Evans made a reassuring face at me. At least I assumed that was what it was and he hadn’t suddenly developed some major intestinal disorder, but I felt better.
We’d been on site about a quarter of an hour and there hadn’t been any sort of riot or disturbance so it seemed safe to assume no one had noticed our arrival.
‘If someone could get the door, please.’
Sands opened the door. I took a deep breath, ‘Here we go, people,’ and led them outside into the teeming streets.
So this was Babylon. Capital city of Babylonia, the most powerful kingdom in Ancient Mesopotamia – the Land Between Two Rivers. Built along both sides of the big, muddy, slow-flowing Euphrates, it was the largest city in the world, with a population of around two hundred thousand people. And it was huge. I’m still not quite sure what a hectare is but this city covered between eight hundred and nine hundred of them. That’s an awful lot of hectares.
We began to orient ourselves. We were parked on the west bank of the Euphrates, just north of the main canal. The King’s Gate was over to the west and Nabopolassar’s Bridge to the north.
Clerk and his team were in the newer part of the city on the other side of the river, where the posh people lived. A wide canal divided that part into two main areas – religious sites on the one side and the big houses of the rich on the other. Actually, there were canals everywhere. Large ones branched off the river and smaller channels branched off of them, all the way down to tiny, reed-clogged streamlets. In the desert we might be but there was no shortage of water in this city.
The canals were congested with small reed boats – kuphars, coracle-like boats made of wood and waterproof skins or leather. They came in various sizes but – and this is interesting – every single one carried at least one donkey. This was Babylonian ingenuity. Traders would row downriver to Babylon, sell their goods, and strip down and sell the wooden parts of the boat – wood has value in the desert – keeping only the leather skins and the donkey. Then they’d load the skins on to the donkey and trudge back upriver whence they came to begin the sequence all over again. Clever.
The Euphrates itself was lined with sailboats made of papyrus and wood, their square sails furled for the moment. Armies of men were unloading luxury goods of every kind – ivory, timber, gold, lapis lazuli . . . And there were warships, too, with raised platforms for the archers and, in some cases, a giant ramming device fitted at the front.
We gave our new colleagues a moment to take it all in. I knew they all had desert experience so the sudden blast of superheated air came as no shock to them. I was glad to see they had the sense to stand in the shade of the pod while they got their bearings. Because it was very, very hot. And dry. I remembered to keep my mouth closed. A hot, sluggish wind brought no relief other than to shift some of the piles of sand that had blown against every vertical surface. I imagined it was a constant battle to keep the dust and grit out of houses and temples.
I squinted in the bright sunlight. There were people everywhere. I could see men I assumed to be soldiers, with their domed helmets, either marching around in groups of six or standing idly on street corners watching the women go by. They carried tall shields and wore their swords across the front of their bodies. Quivers of arrows hung from their belts and their bows were slung over one shoulder. Their armour gleamed in the bright sunshine, and like most men here, their hair and beards were curled and oiled. Beautifully presented but competent. The shock troops of their day.
And there were plenty of women on the streets, which was encouraging. Like me they wore layers of shawls and scarves, wound around their undertunics. Not all their heads were covered, but the headdresses I could see were very intricate. My small pointed cap with the dangly bits really was extremely modest by their standards. They mixed their fabrics and they certainly mixed their colours. Most of the women on the street were gloriously dressed and with at least two or three attendants, one of whom was carefully holding a fringed canopy over her mistress. These were obviously society women. Everyone – male and female – was a riot of colour and embellishment.
Like their buildings. We were braced for the splendour of the Ishtar Gate – everyone’s seen the images – but the buildings around us – private houses, shops, temples, shrines, public buildings, granaries, brothels – were also vividly painted in the favourite Babylonian blue and smothered with images of bulls, lions, flowers, palm trees and insects. With the brilliant sun bouncing off the walls around us the effect was eye-watering. I’ve never wanted sunglasses so badly. Anyone bringing a tray of the latest in fashionable shades would be sold out in seconds.
The men on the streets covered a much larger social span. Their costumes ranged from a tiny waist string for the very poor and slaves, to simple belted tunics with short sleeves, all the way up to fabulous concoctions of fringed shawls in rainbow colours. These were thick with embroidered t
hread and precious stones and swathed them from head to mid-calf. The fabrics appeared to be silks, linens and cottons – all of it feather-light.
A laden cart trundled past, kicking up the dust. The air was thick with it. Dust swirled continually, along with flies and other insects. Big, bold and persistent buggers. I noticed many people carried what looked like decorated and dyed horse’s tails to whisk them away. We, alas, were whiskless, but maybe we could cobble something together tonight. And it was something to remember for the future. Hot, dry, desert town? There will be insects. Bring whisks.
The noise was everything you’d expect from two hundred thousand people and their donkeys, goats, sheep, chickens, dogs and children. Merchants and shopkeepers bellowed, each seeking to be the loudest, holding up their wares for inspection. There were children shouting behind a high wall and somewhere a baby was crying. Clucking chickens hung from a pole, their legs tied together and really not very happy about it. Wagons and handcarts rattled along, creaking under their loads.
More armed men marched past, their feet stamping in the dust and sand, with their armour glinting. Boys ran along behind them, imitating their steps. Playing at being soldiers. Adults made sure to get well out of the way, pressing back against the mud-brick houses packed so closely together. These were single-storey buildings with flat roofs and built around a courtyard. There were no windows in any of the external walls. Occasionally the outer doors had been left open, offering us brief glimpses of busy courtyard life – women crossing with pitchers and bowls, smoke rising from open fires. What looked like rugs or carpets hung from the roofs – whether they were airing in the sunshine or this was another way of decorating their houses, I couldn’t tell. Or possibly they were sleeping mats. People would sleep on the roof after sundown, taking advantage of any cooling night breezes.