“This area is strictly climate-controlled,” Xenia explained. “While high humidity and cool temperatures are very good for wine, they are very bad for artifacts.”
Cassie noticed several people working at long tables in the center of the room. They appeared to be polishing objects of various sizes and shapes. A few of them looked up and nodded to the newcomers.
“This is where we restore our finds.”
“Are all the troves like this one?”
“They’re all different,” Griffin offered. “It depends on what space is available. Some troves are very new and modern. Some are a bit more rustic. The Minoan trove has been around for centuries. Before the excavation of Knossos, in fact.”
“Many of the troves are located underground for security reasons,” Xenia added.
Cassie inspected the room more closely. Against the back wall were rows of tall metal shelves holding a variety of artifacts in no particular order. Some broken shards of pottery, jewelry, small votive statues.
Xenia noticed the direction of Cassie’s gaze. “Those are items that still need some restoration work. Anything that has been finished is catalogued and placed in storage.”
“That’s where my lot comes in,” Griffin explained. “Every object that is added to the collection needs to be logged into the Central Catalog.”
“Where do you store all the artifacts?” Cassie didn’t see much space in the room where they were standing.
“That depends on the size and type of object. Some of the little things like jewelry and seals are right here.” Xenia gestured to a locked metal cabinet with dozens of rows of shallow drawers over against the right wall. “We have separate rooms for the larger objects in the collection.”
For the first time Cassie noticed other doors flanking the metal shelves which must lead into more storage space. “It doesn’t look the way I expected.” She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “No torches flaming from the walls. No cobwebs. No snakes.”
“I fear you’ve seen one too many Indiana Jones movies.” Griffin chuckled.
“Maybe that’s it. But it doesn’t look like a museum either. No display cases.”
“That is because we are attempting to protect our finds, not display them,” Xenia corrected gently. “Think of this as an underground storage facility.”
“Like Area 51?” Cassie’s interest was piqued.
“Area 51?” Xenia repeated blankly.
“There are no space aliens in any of the troves, Cassie, I assure you.” Griffin sounded exasperated.
“Why should we have space aliens here?” Xenia seemed puzzled.
Griffin shook his head, as if warning Xenia not to ask.
Cassie’s mind leaped to another topic. “I don’t know why you even have a trove here on Crete.”
“Pardon?” Xenia seemed shocked at the comment.
“I mean, the entire Minoan culture was what you call matristic. All the artifacts are out in the open and the people who’ve been excavating for a century seem really proud of them. They’re not trying to suppress anything. What exactly do you need to hide here?”
Xenia’s face grew serious. “That is a very good question, Cassie. We are fortunate that the local archaeologists are so friendly to a goddess culture. However, their liking for the Minoans does not prevent them from making errors when they interpret the artifacts. This trove collects objects that contradict some of their explanations about Minoan culture and its symbols.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“You have already seen two instances at Knossos. The lily prince fresco and the throne room which were reconstructed based on overlord assumptions about Minoan social order. But they are minor compared to other errors which are repeated by many as if they were truths. In fact, one of the artifacts I want to show you is an example of how artifacts can be explained incorrectly.”
Xenia reached out for an object on the table. A young woman was brushing debris off of a small stone sculpture which was about the size of a human hand. She gave it to the trove-keeper.
Cassie recognized the object. She looked at Xenia questioningly. “Isn’t that like the giant sculpture we saw at Knossos. That horn thing?”
“Yes, it is,” the Greek woman replied encouragingly. “It is another example of the horns of consecration. This one would have been used at a small votive altar in a home perhaps.”
The girl stepped closer to inspect the relic. “The horns look pretty abstract to me. What are they supposed to be exactly?”
Xenia smiled knowingly. “I think perhaps we should start by talking about what they are not.”
“Huh?”
Griffin joined the discussion. “The conventional explanation is that horns of consecration are the horns of a bull.”
Cassie tilted her head to one side. “Oh, I see it now.”
“How do you know the horns belong to a bull?” Xenia asked pointedly.
“I guess because the Minoans had a thing about bulls. I mean, what with the acrobats jumping over them and all.”
“What if I were to tell you that horns of consecration have been found in European villages dating back to 7000 BCE?” the trove-keeper persisted.
“Then maybe Old Europeans had a thing about bulls too?” Cassie offered uncertainly.
“Horns of consecration represent regeneration,” Griffin explained. “Does it seem likely to you that a goddess-worshipping culture would take the horns of a bull as its most important symbol?”
Cassie gave an exasperated sigh. “I don’t have a clue if they would or wouldn’t. Why don’t we make this painless and you tell me what you want me to know.”
Griffin and Xenia looked at one another and laughed.
“I suppose we are being rather too hard on the girl,” the Scrivener admitted.
“Please come into my office. All will be clear in a moment.” The trove-keeper brought the small stone sculpture along with her.
The trio went through one of the doors on the back wall to a small office stacked with papers and books.
“Please sit,” Xenia invited.
Cassie took a chair while Griffin perched on the end of the desk.
Xenia scanned her bookshelf and selected a volume. She thumbed through it quickly until she found the page she wanted. “You must remember that the ancient matristic cultures saw the goddess as the source of life, death, and rebirth. Not the rebirth that is called reincarnation but the rebirth of seasons. Winter is followed by spring and with it the goddess shows her power to bring forth new life out of death. The ancients worshipped the power to give life.” Xenia paused and then prompted gently, “Does a bull bring forth new life?”
“No, but a cow does,” Cassie blurted out the words automatically before the significance of what she’d just said had sunk in. “Holy cow!”
“Precisely.” Griffin laughed. “Holy cow. As Hathor in Egypt she was called the cow of heaven. Cows as well as bulls have horns. The overlord obsession with phallic symbols, like the horn, would automatically assume the gender of the animal to be male.”
“But there are lots of female animals they might have picked to symbolize regeneration. Why the cow?” Cassie was mystified.
“There are two reasons,” Xenia replied. “The cow became an important source of food. She could provide not only a calf, but also milk. Neolithic farmers began to incorporate this new food into their diet and they saw the cow as a special gift from their goddess. But there is an even more important reason.”
Xenia opened the book she still held in her hands and laid it flat on the desk. The page she had selected showed a cow’s skull placed above an altar. “The name for this object is bucranium. The head and horns of cattle of either sex would be called a bucranium. The horns of consecration is an abstract symbol for this object.”
Cassie studied the image for a moment. It looked like one of those bleached cattle skulls from Death Valley.
“Now look at this image,” Xenia said
as she flipped the page.
Cassie peered at it uncomprehending until she read the caption. “Diagram of female human reproductive system. “Holy sh—”
“I think you meant to say cow,” Griffin interrupted smoothly.
The girl couldn’t believe her eyes. The diagram exactly matched the shape of the bucranium. The uterus was shaped like a cow’s skull while the ovaries and fallopian tubes mimicked the curve of the cow’s horns. She looked up at Xenia. “But how would they know this? I mean unless they were dissecting cadavers way back when, how would they figure this out?”
“Because of excarnation,” the Scrivener said. “When a person died, her body would have been exposed to birds of prey to strip off the flesh before the bones would be cleaned for burial. A human body in various stages of decomposition could be observed with the internal organs exposed. It would have been a macabre epiphany, to be sure, but the connection would have been easy to make.”
Xenia continued the thought. “We know the old Europeans recognized the similarity eight thousand years ago because they created statues and drawings of the goddess with a bucranium drawn directly over the pelvic region of her body. The bucranium symbolizes the power of the goddess to create life. Minoans shrines usually display ritual objects between the horns as part of their cult practice. To amplify the power of regeneration.”
“So what’s the deal with the bulls then?” Cassie was puzzled. “I mean I saw the animal in that bull leaping fresco and it wasn’t a cow.”
“The bull was the sacrificial animal of choice to the Minoans,” Griffin said. “His skull is also a bucranium which symbolizes regeneration but he is far more expendable. Cows were too valuable to sacrifice. They provided calves and milk. Every cow on Crete was known by her individual name. The bulls, alas, were not.”
Xenia wordlessly handed the horns of consecration to Griffin. Cassie stood up to get a better view of what he was looking at.
“You see the markings just here and here,” the trove-keeper pointed to two small bees inscribed at the base of either horn.
Griffin studied them in silence for several seconds. “They are quite similar to one of the hieroglyphics on the granite key but the match isn’t exact.” He sighed. “I was hoping this treasure hunt would be simple.”
“Perhaps this will help,” Xenia said. She picked up another small artifact which had been sitting on her desk.
Cassie recognized it instantly. “It’s one of those double axes like we saw all over the palace.”
“It’s called a labrys from the Lydian word meaning axe. The word labyrinth is derived from this object. The place of the labrys,” Griffin said.
The girl frowned. “That’s another thing that bothered me but we never got a chance to talk about it earlier. Why would a goddess culture choose a weapon for a sacred symbol?”
Griffin’s face took on a cryptic expression. “You’ve already seen that nothing is quite what it seems. Where an overlord archaeologist sees a bull, we see a cow. Where they see an axe, we see something entirely different.”
“When is an axe not an axe?” Cassie asked, mystified.
“When it is a butterfly,” Griffin said softly.
The girl stared at him as if he’d lost him mind. “A butterfly,” she repeated skeptically.
“This symbol was painted on pottery, incised into sculpture and always in conjunction with images of the goddess. For six thousand years in old Europe the double-triangle was always used in a context suggesting metamorphosis, rebirth. The caterpillar which becomes a butterfly is another universal symbol in old Europe for the power of the goddess to regenerate life. Double axes were never forged of material that would have made them useful as weaponry.”
Xenia joined in. “The Kurgans used axes as weapons. When they first invaded Greece and later Crete, they would have seen the labrys as a weapon and a symbol of a war-mongering sky god. But that was not the way in which the original inhabitants viewed it.” She took the small bronze labrys in her hand and fitted it in the center of the horns of consecration which Griffin was still holding.
Cassie noticed for the first time that a hole had been drilled into the base of the horns and the handle of the small double axe fit neatly into it. It now stood upright between the horns.
Xenia looked intently at Cassie. “There are always many ways of seeing the same object, no? A Minoan looking at the horns with the labrys at the center sees a double symbol of the power of the goddess to regenerate life.”
Griffin picked up the thread. “An overlord warrior looking at the same objects would see the bull’s horns as a symbol of virility and the double axe as symbolic of conquest in battle.”
Xenia took the objects back from Griffin. “It is a simple choice of whether to see life or to see death in these things. All of us in the Arkana believe the world has been looking at death too long.”
The mood in the room grew solemn until the trove-keeper smiled. “But I did not bring the labrys here to give you a lecture on the state of the world. Look at this.” She pointed to tiny birds inscribed on either wing of the bronze butterfly.
“Remarkable,” the Scrivener exclaimed as he leaned over for a closer look. “They look exactly like the symbols on the key. Unfortunately, there is no sequence, no message.” He sounded disappointed.
“It was not the sequence that I wished to show you,” Xenia said. “Clearly there is no message here but the same hand may have created both. Look at the image again and tell me if you think so.”
“Good heavens, I believe you’re right!” Griffin exclaimed. He drew the folded photographs of the key out of his pocket and compared the image of the bird on the key to the ones on the labrys. “It may have been the same artist! There’s clearly a connection of some sort. Where was this artifact found?”
“The horns of consecration and the labrys were both found at Psychro cave.”
Cassie laughed. “You’re kidding. You’ve got something here called a psycho cave?”
Griffin rolled his eyes. “You do seem to enjoy mispronouncing things. Not psycho, psychro with an R.” He turned to Xenia. “That’s on the plateau, yes?”
The trove-keeper nodded. “The Lassithi plateau. It is less than two hours from here if you wish to go there tomorrow.”
“I think it would be worth checking.” Griffin rose as if he were getting ready to depart but Xenia laid a restraining hand on his arm.
“There is one more artifact I wish you to see. Wait please.” She left the office briefly and returned with a small gold object in the palm of her hand. She held it out for her guests to inspect. “Exquisite, is it not?”
Cassie studied it for a moment. “It’s some kind of bug but I can’t be sure what. Is it one of those Egyptian scarabs?”
“I believe it’s a chrysalis,” Griffin offered uncertainly. “A cocoon for a butterfly?”
“That is so,” Xenia affirmed. “The chrysalis was yet another symbol of transformation and regeneration to the Minoans. But look at the mark on the head.”
“A lily!” the visitors exclaimed in unison.
“Not only that, I believe it matches the pictures you have brought.”
Griffin feverishly checked his photograph of the key. “It does, it does! Look at the two lilies flanking the Linear B text. They are identical to this one.” He looked intently at Xenia. “Where did this come from?”
“Ah, that is where we have a little problem,” she hesitated. “It was bought from a private collector. He thought it may have come from Karfi.”
“But there’s nothing there!” Griffin’s tone was despairing.
“Karfi?” Cassie repeated, for once not mispronouncing the name.
The Scrivener explained. “Karfi was the Minoan last stand if you will. Once the Dorians overran the island, many of the original inhabitants fled to the Lassithi plateau. An area high in the mountains which would have been very difficult for an invading force to take. Karfi was the last known Minoan settlement. It was built into th
e side of a mountain and was sloppily excavated by archaeologists in the 1930s. There’s really nothing to see there but rubble.” Griffin ran his hands through his hair. “This is maddening. Our clearest connection to the key and we have no idea where this object originated.”
“I have a thought,” Xenia suggested tentatively. “Perhaps the Pythia can help?”
“Cassie?” Griffin looked at the girl blankly.
The trove-keeper wordlessly held out the gold chrysalis toward Cassie.
“You want me to…” The girl trailed off. She gulped. It was one thing to touch relics under Faye’s guidance but she had no idea where this odd little bug had come from. It might be another tainted relic for all she knew. Still, if she could finally do something other than trail around and ask questions, maybe there was a reason for her to be part of this mission after all. Fortunately, she was wearing the obsidian pendant Faye had given her. She gripped it tightly in her left hand and held out her right to take the artifact. Drawing in a deep breath she said, “OK, here goes nothing.”
She found herself walking in a procession. There were people ahead of her carrying torches. This time, the part of her that was Cassie was still around, like someone hovering just over her shoulder, watching the spectacle. The other part of her was a woman wrapped in a shawl. It was cold and there were snowflakes in the air. The woman was part of a group walking down a long narrow ramp that seemed to lead underground. There was a square doorway ahead. As she passed under the doorway, she realized she was in a burial chamber. She felt very sad. There was a square box in the center of the room. It seemed to be made of clay—some sort of terra cotta casket. There were decorations painted on the clay: birds, flowers and numerous horns of consecration with double axes at their center. A priestess was performing a ceremony. She was pouring liquid into a bowl and chanting. For the first time, Cassie registered that the woman was holding something in her right hand. Looking down, she realized it was the chrysalis. The woman in her vision walked up to the casket and Cassie could see that the lid was covered with funeral gifts—jewelry, miniature vases, small golden axes. The woman gently placed the chrysalis on the casket and touched her hand to the double axe painted on the lid.
The Granite Key (Arkana Mysteries) Page 22