The Granite Key (Arkana Mysteries)

by N. S. Wikarski

  “I think it very likely that an inscription of this importance would have been placed in one of the ceremonial areas. Not in the underground storage rooms or the artisan’s workshops. We won’t have to cover the entire complex—just the central court, the corridors and the main chambers.”

  “But do you not think that strange markings such as these would have been catalogued already if they had been found?” Xenia persisted.

  Griffin smiled knowingly. “Ah, but you see that’s the genius of the code. Look closely at these hieroglyphics. They are all common Minoan artistic motifs. The hourglass, spirals, meanders, dots, flowers, birds, fish and so on. An archaeologist who viewed them would consider them nothing more than decoration. It’s the arrangement of images that provides the meaning.” The Scrivener quickly sketched several symbols in succession. “For example, if I draw these symbols in this particular order, I’ve just spelled the word Potnia.”

  “And that means?” Cassie prompted.

  “Potnia,” Xenia explained, “is a Greek word which means the lady or mistress. In this context, it would mean the goddess much as Catholics would use the expression Our Lady to speak of the Virgin Mary.”

  The girl studied the composite image Griffin had created. “So we should start by looking for this combination of symbols?”

  “Actually you should look for this symbol first.” Griffin drew a picture of a flower. “It’s a lily and the sacred flower of the Minoan goddess. Look at the photograph with three lines of code displayed on it. The top line is written in Linear B and says ‘To find the Bones Of The Mother.’ If you look at either end of the inscription, you will see a lily. I would assume that the lily is the symbol we should associate with that message. It acts like a directional arrow to get our attention. ‘Look here’ is what it seems to say. ‘Pay attention. The symbols that follow will be about the Bones Of The Mother.’”

  “Right, got it,” Cassie said. “Find the lily.”

  Griffin looked around the table to see if there were any other questions. Tentatively he asked, “Shall we get started?”

  The trove-keeper stood up, retrieving her keys from her purse. “Come, we will take my car.”

  ***

  Xenia maneuvered her small Citroen through the narrow city streets and out into the countryside. Apparently, Griffin’s ordeal of being seated in a confined space wasn’t over. As if being crumpled in coach wasn’t bad enough, he insisted on folding himself in half so that Cassie could sit in the front seat of the car. It took nearly an hour to reach the site. As they motored down into a valley surrounded by green rolling hills, they were confronted with a sprawling multi-level hodgepodge of exposed stairways, two-story chambers, heaped stones and reconstructed pillars. After parking the car, they walked up a winding path toward the entrance. The palace had collapsed in many places exposing underground vaults and massive storage urns to the sky.

  “This place is huge,” Cassie exclaimed in dismay.

  “Yes, it is,” Griffin agreed, “but not to worry. We aren’t going to search all of it. The palace complex takes up approximately six acres of land and consists of over one thousand interlocking chambers. Parts of the original structure were five stories high. Calling it a palace is really a misnomer since it had a very different function than housing royalty. There are artisans’ workshops and food processing areas that contain grain mills and wine presses. It served as a central storage facility for the region and was very likely the religious and administrative center as well. At its height, Knossos and its surrounding countryside had a population of several thousand people.”

  “You know a great deal about the history of this place,” Xenia noted approvingly.

  “It’s what he does,” Cassie confided. “He’s a walking encyclopedia.”

  “Hardly,” Griffin protested. “I’m sure to get at least a few of the details wrong. I’ve only been here once before as a child.”

  “I think you are doing a good job. Please continue,” the Greek woman said.

  He complied. “Very well then. As you wish. For Cassie’s benefit we’ll have a short history lesson. The site was first excavated by Sir Arthur Evans in 1900. Like Heinrich Schliemann who was convinced that Troy really existed, Evans believed the fantastic stories of classical writers that a great civilization had once flourished on the island of Crete. He set about proving it and unearthed the treasures of a culture which was unlike anything else in the ancient world. Even though Greece and Rome owe most of their cultural advancement to what came before in Minoa, it’s still quite distinct.”

  “Really?” Cassie was intrigued. “What makes it so different?”

  “A great many things,” Xenia said. “You will see as we walk along.”

  “Let’s talk about where Knossos is situated for a start,” suggested Griffin.

  “Why?” Cassie asked in surprise. “It doesn’t look all that different from pictures I’ve seen of other ancient ruins.”

  “Location, location, location,” Griffin hinted.

  Cassie raised an eyebrow. “It looks like a great location to me. Rolling hills, lots of greenery. A photographer would love this place.”

  They were standing in the middle of an area that was called the central court.

  “Let’s pause here for a moment,” Griffin suggested. “Try to look at the location from an overlord perspective and you’ll understand what makes this place different.”

  Cassie turned in a semi-circle, surveying the area. After a few moments, she shrugged and gazed at the Scrivener. “OK, I give up. What’s the problem?”

  Xenia smiled briefly.

  Griffin chuckled as well. “From a tactical standpoint, this location is terrible if you’re trying to fend off an invading army. It’s in a middle of a valley, exposed on all sides. There are no battlements, no fortifications, no moat. Nothing.”

  “Then why did they build it here?” Cassie asked perplexed.

  “Because they were not a culture that was in love with war,” Xenia said softly. “They were in love with life. When this location was first chosen, the people who lived here had nothing to fear from invaders. They lived in a peaceful land and this place was built as a tribute to the goddess they worshipped. Look here.” She drew Cassie over to a large stone sculpture that looked like the goalposts in a football stadium.

  “What is that?” The girl stared at the curious object. She’d never see anything like it.

  “They are called the horns of consecration and they are one of the most common symbols in Minoan culture though they did not originate on Crete. Horns of consecration first appeared in the artifacts of Old Europe eight thousand years ago. In the ruins on the island you will see them everywhere. Much like the crucifix is seen everywhere in the Christian religion. Come stand behind the horns and look through them. What do you see?”

  Cassie did as she was told. “First there’s a round hill and then back in the distance, a mountain top.”

  “Yes, that is Mount Jouctas which was sacred to the goddess in ancient times. There is a reason why the palace was built exactly here and it was not for military defense. It was an act of worship.”

  Griffin picked up the thread. “All four palaces on the island take advantage of the same topographical features. First there is an enclosed valley where the palace is set, then a mounded hill on axis with the palace and beyond that, a mountain peak, also on axis with the palace. The landscape becomes part of the shrine.”

  “You have heard of the monoliths at Stonehenge and Avebury, have you not?” Xenia asked.

  “I’ve heard of Stonehenge anyway,” Cassie admitted.

  “All such structures had a cosmic significance to the people who built them. The monoliths connect the sky with the earth through their sophisticated calendar measurements,” Xenia said.

  “Nineteenth century archaeologists, of course, posited that the monoliths in Britain had been built by some war chief and had a military function,” Griffin added. “But of course they were wrong. J
ust as wrong as it would be to assume Knossos was built for defense.”

  Cassie remained standing behind the horns of consecration and considered the landscape from that perspective. “When Faye first started telling me about how the world used to be, she said that a long time ago there were civilizations that didn’t go to war.”

  “And this was the last of them,” Xenia murmured.

  Cassie turned to look at her in surprise. “The last of them?” she repeated. “But this place is ancient.”

  “The palace was damaged and rebuilt many times because of natural disasters but it was finally destroyed by fire around 1350 BCE,” the trove-keeper said.

  “That’s still over three thousand years ago,” Cassie insisted. “And you say this is the last of those old civilizations?”

  Griffin nodded. “I’m afraid she’s right, Cassie. Cultures nearly as sophisticated and equally peaceful go back ten thousand years.”

  The girl shook her head in disbelief.

  “Perhaps we should begin our search now,” the trove-keeper suggested.

  They began by pacing through the central court, their eyes sweeping every stone for the lily symbol that matched the one on the granite key. As they moved farther afield, their search led them through a confusing array of short passageways, interlocking rooms, light shafts, and stairways. Cassie found herself becoming disoriented. “Wait, stop for a minute. I think I’m getting dizzy. Where are we?”

  Her two companions paused and exchanged a look. “That’s probably how the invading Hellenes felt when they first came to this place,” Griffin commented. “That’s why they invented the myth of the labyrinth and the minotaur.

  “The what and the what?” Cassie asked blankly.

  “Surely, you know the legend.” Xenia sounded surprised. “That is the story that gives the civilization its name.”

  “It’s safe to assume that Cassie’s knowledge is sketchy at best,” Griffin confided to the trove-keeper.

  “But she is the Pythia,” Xenia protested.

  “I’m afraid she came late to her calling,” the Scrivener explained.

  “Would somebody please tell me about this...”

  Labyrinth and minotaur,” Griffin corrected.

  “Whatever. Just tell me what they are.”

  “Would you like to do the honors?” Griffin turned to Xenia.

  “If you wish.” She nodded and launched into the tale.

  Chapter 34 – Art And Facts

  “The ancient Hellenes said that this island was once ruled by an evil king named Minos. He was evil because each year he demanded that the Athenians send him a tribute of maidens and youths who would be sacrificed to the minotaur. The minotaur was a mythical beast with the head of a bull and the body of a man. He lived in a maze that was called a labyrinth. It was so confusing that anyone who entered the labyrinth could never find their way out again before being devoured by the monster. A Hellenic hero called Theseus was able to navigate the passages of the labyrinth with the help of King Minos’ daughter. He slew the minotaur so that no more Hellene youth would be sacrificed to the bull-man ever again.”

  Cassie listened skeptically to the account. When Xenia was finished, she commented, “Given what I’ve learned about ancient Hellenic legends, I’m not sure I believe their version of things.”

  “You are wise to doubt the tale. Overlord mythology is often propaganda to explain why the conquerors should be in charge of society. The Hellenes wished to create a story that would favor their heroes and discredit the civilization that came before.”

  “Was there ever a real King Minos?” the girl wondered aloud.

  “No one knows.” Griffin shrugged. “But Sir Arthur Evans was familiar with the legend and that’s the reason he called this civilization Minoan, after the fabled King Minos. You see, the language of the original inhabitants has been lost so we don’t know what these people called themselves. With respect to the minotaur, the bull was a sacrificial animal to the Minoans so it would have been easy for the Hellenes to fuse the notion of man and bull and give it a negative connotation. In fact, they said the beast was conceived by King Minos’ wife after she mated with a bull. As for the labyrinth, the word roughly translates as place of the double axes. Given the profusion of that particular symbol around the palace and the confusing architectural design, I think the Hellenes got the idea for their mythical labyrinth from Knossos itself.”

  They had been continuing their search the whole time Griffin and Xenia were unfolding the story. By the time the tale was finished, the trio found themselves in a room with paintings covering the walls. Cassie thought they were paintings until Xenia explained that they were frescoes—pictures painted over wet plaster. The images displayed at the palace were reproductions. All the original images had been moved to the museum at Heraklion in order to protect and preserve them.

  “Sir Arthur Evans went to great pains to reconstruct the frescoes and often he didn’t have much to work with. He had to guess what the originals might have looked like,” Griffin said.

  “These are amazing!” Cassie exclaimed as she went from one image to another. The Minoans obviously loved nature. It was evident in the birds and flowers and monkeys and dolphins. All in brightly colored motion.

  “This doesn’t look like any classical art I’ve ever seen,” the girl commented. “These people sure aren’t shy, are they?” The men in many of the frescoes were depicted wearing loincloths while the women wore dresses with open bodices, exposing their breasts.

  Xenia laughed. “That is true. They had a very frank attitude about the human body and did not consider it a source of shame.”

  “It isn’t merely the mode of dress that distinguishes them from other ancient societies,” Griffin observed. “When one thinks of Babylonian, Egyptian or even Greek art, the style is angular, geometric, static. Here the style is fluid and graceful. Almost alive.” He paused to contemplate a picture of a blue bird at rest amidst flowers. “The difference in style is also reflected in a difference in subject matter.” He stood next to Cassie. “Look carefully and tell me what you don’t see in these images.”

  “OK, here we go again.” The girl laughed.

  “I’ll give you a hint. Think about the typical Greek pottery that you would find in museums. What scenes do they depict?”

  Cassie paused to consider. “Usually some guy stabbing another guy with a sword.” She recalled Griffin’s earlier comment about the non-defensive location of the palace. The answer came to her more quickly this time. “I’ll go out on a limb and say that Minoan art doesn’t show a lot of violence?”

  “No warfare, no struggle, no weapons of any kind,” the Scrivener affirmed. “All of the images you see at Knossos speak of the benevolence of nature and of human beings living in harmony with that benevolence.”

  “Well, what about this one?” Cassie walked over to a fresco of what looked like a bull fight. “Here’s this guy grabbing a bull by the horns while another guy is jumping off the bull’s back and a third guy is standing behind. Isn’t that violent?”

  Both Xenia and Griffin started laughing simultaneously.

  “The guy, as you call him, who is grabbing the bull’s horns is actually a woman,” the young man said.

  “Huh? How can you know that? Her chest looks pretty flat.”

  “Based on the color of the skin,” Griffin explained. “Like the Egyptians, the Minoans distinguished between the sexes in their artwork by depicting women with white skins and men with reddish brown. We also know that bull-leaping was a sport in which both sexes participated.”

  “So what’s she doing grabbing the horns, then?” Cassie was still mystified. “Is she trying to break the bull’s neck? Did the guy who’s positioned over the bull’s back get tossed?”

  “Your assumptions show how much you have been influenced by overlord values,” Xenia remarked, still smiling. “The people in the picture are demonstrating their acrobatic skills. When the woman grasps the bull’s horns,
he will instinctively lower his head and try to toss her. She will use the momentum to spring over the animal’s back and land behind him. The man depicted above the bull is doing a somersault and he will alight where the second woman is standing. She may be in position to catch him.”

  Cassie was impressed. “I bet the Flying Wallendas never had the nerve to try a stunt like that. Jeez, it looks dangerous.”

  “No doubt it was,” agreed Griffin. “Bull-leaping was practiced in ancient Anatolia and India long before the Minoans settled here. To this day a variation of it is still performed in the Basque region of France. In terms of a test of courage it seems much more sporting than bullfighting.”

  “That is a hideous blood sport begun in Spain by the Romans.” Xenia’s voice was filled with disgust. “A small army of men on horseback torturing the animal for hours by stabbing him repeatedly until he is weak enough to be dispatched by a matador with a sword. You see the difference in the world view. Bull-leaping shows the unity of human and nature. Bullfighting shows the overlord desire to subdue and destroy nature.”

  Griffin tactfully tried to soothe her. “Perhaps it’s a sign of the times that bullfighting is rapidly falling out of favor with the public. It’s even been formally outlawed in many places.”

  “The sooner the better,” Xenia growled. “Come, let us move on. We have more areas to search.”

  The trove-keeper marched out of the fresco room.

  It had just been an impression when she’d first met her, but now Cassie was sure that she didn’t want to be on Xenia’s bad side. It was a good thing no bullfighters were likely to cross her path today. Griffin suggested they give the trove-keeper a few minutes head start to allow her to cool down.

  After waiting a discrete interval they caught up with her in a chamber that was called the throne room. When she saw them wander in, Xenia calmly moved on to a new topic. “This is quite incorrectly called the king’s throne room because of that chair.” She pointed to a carved alabaster seat fitted into the wall.

  “Sir Arthur based his assumptions on the fact that the chair is centrally located ergo it must be a throne,” Griffin added. “And where you have a throne—“