“We better get a move on,” the Pythia advised her teammates. She walked toward the line of stones which had once been the partition wall of the bailey. The entire citadel looked different than in her vision. There was no roof now and the walls had been levelled so that only squares and circles could be seen protruding a few feet above the ground. Cassie scanned the geometric shapes for a circle of stones with an opening where a door used to be. There were, in fact, two circular structures on the mound but she headed, without hesitation, for the smaller of the two. The trio stepped inside and all of them immediately focused their attention on the rocks embedded in the dirt floor. The line of stones bisected the tower at a right angle to the gap in the wall which had once been the door. The center rock looked as if its top had been sheared off.
“That must be the one,” Cassie said. “Give me the lily rock.”
Erik reached into his backpack and handed her the carved stone.
The Pythia knelt on the ground and tried a few different angles to get the missing piece to fit flush against the stone beneath. After several tries, it finally slipped into place. When it did, the daylight around her seemed to dim and she felt herself slumping sideways.
The room had darkened. The walls were high again and the plank ceiling cloaked the tower in shadow. The Minoans were nowhere to be seen. Cassie was alone in the observatory, kneeling on the floor, still touching the lily rock. At that moment a blaze of light covered her hand. She recoiled in surprise until she identified where the light was coming from. Several feet above her head, a sunbeam was shooting through the single hole in the ceiling. It settled on the lily rock, illuminating it directly while leaving the stones on either side in shadow.
Cassie felt the soft pressure of fingers resting on her shoulder. She jerked her head up in alarm to see the Minoan priestess bending over her. The old woman pointed at the lily rock and then at the ray of light as if to say, “Look.” After that, the scene faded to black.
The Pythia found herself lying on the ground curled into a fetal position. Her teammates knelt on either side of her.
“That came out of nowhere,” Erik said, helping her to sit up.
“You were fitting the rock into place and then you collapsed without warning,” Griffin explained.
Cassie rubbed her head. “How long was I out?”
“Only a few moments,” the Scrivener replied. “Sorry one of us didn’t catch you. It took us by surprise.”
“Me, too,” the Pythia agreed. She rose to her feet, still staring at the stone flower.
Her teammates followed suit, waiting silently for an explanation.
“I’m really getting the 3-D version now,” she said ruefully. “The Minoan priestess isn’t just seeing me in my vision, this time she touched me on the shoulder.”
“How extraordinary,” Griffin said. “It’s unprecedented for a Pythia to communicate directly with the subject of her trance. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“I don’t think it’s me who’s extraordinary,” Cassie demurred. “I’m pretty sure it was her doing.” She told her companions what had occurred.
They all stood in a tiny circle surrounding the lily rock.
“Can you remember the direction the light came from?” Griffin asked.
“Sure. I was facing this way,” Cassie stepped to the right side of the rock and faced the doorway. She turned to look over her shoulder. “The light was coming from the ceiling over there.” She pointed to the left.
“Erik, would you happen to have brought a compass?” the Scrivener asked.
“I never go anyplace without one.” The Paladin retrieved the item and handed it to Griffin.
“Let’s see now.” Griffin turned until he was facing north. “Yes, I thought so,” he muttered half to himself. “I’ve been reading up on the original design of this observatory. Fascinating subject. Supposedly, it was oriented toward the pole star which means it faces directly north. That doorway,” he gestured toward the gap in the circle, “is positioned due west. From Cassie’s description of the light source, it seems the hole in the ceiling was no random accident. It was placed at the southernmost edge of the roof.”
“Why?” Cassie asked blankly.
Griffin gave a cryptic smile. “Because this entire structure is a solar calendar.”
Erik gazed dubiously at the innocent-looking circle. “How do you figure that?”
Griffin turned to face the other two. “Picture, if you will, this tower with the walls intact at a height of approximately seven feet.”
“Not hard for me to do,” Cassie remarked. “I saw the walls with my very own psychic eyeballs.”
The Scrivener continued. “Then visualize a flat roof covering the tower with a single hole allowing light to enter. This observatory’s dimensions are constructed with a very specific purpose in mind. On the longest day of the year, the summer solstice, light entering the chamber at high noon would strike the ground at the southern edge of the wall, casting no shadow. Conversely, on the shortest day of the year, the winter solstice, light at noon would graze the bottom of the northern wall.”
“But the light didn’t touch either of those spots,” Cassie protested. “It only hit the lily rock and that’s in the dead center of the room.”
“Precisely!” Griffin exclaimed in triumph.
“Do you get what he’s talking about?” Cassie peered at Erik.
The Paladin raised an eyebrow. “If I did, it would be a first.”
Griffin gave an exasperated sigh. “It’s really not that complicated. During the time between mid-winter and mid-summer, the light would advance across the floor of the chamber. By placing markers at intervals and observing the position of the light, one could tell exactly what time of year it was.”
“You think those stones lined up in the middle of the floor used to be calendar markers?” Erik asked skeptically.
“I do indeed,” the Scrivener concurred.
“That’s pretty ingenious,” Cassie said. “So if the lily is carved into a stone in the middle of the floor then it must mean we’re looking at a date halfway between the winter and summer solstices.”
“Quite so,” Griffin agreed. “The midway point would measure either the spring or fall equinox—the two times of year when day and night are of equal length.”
“So which equinox is it?” Erik urged. “March twenty-first or September twenty-third? They’re six months apart.”
“Yes,” Griffin rubbed his chin contemplatively. “That does appear to be the sticking point. Spring or fall? Spring or fall?”
Cassie tilted her head to the side, studying the lily’s design. “Anybody notice something odd about the way the flower is carved?”
Her teammates stared vacantly at the stone in the ground.
When neither one of them spoke, she continued. “Remember how the direction the lily was pointing made a difference when we were in Africa? Well, this one is pointing toward the doorway.”
Griffin consulted his compass. “You’re right. The top of the lily is pointing west. West is symbolically associated with autumn just as east is associated with spring.”
“So that means the Minoans wanted us to pay attention to the autumn equinox,” Erik remarked.
“That would appear to be the case,” the Scrivener concurred.
“It’s great that we figured out which equinox is important but what’s that got to do with the riddle?” Cassie countered.
Only half-listening, Griffin repeated mechanically, “On an island tower she alights to drink, biding til her kindred fill the jaws of the lion.”
“Let’s recap,” the Pythia said. “So far we’ve found the island tower. Score one point for us. The bird stops here to drink. Lots of water around, at least during monsoon season in the summer. Check. Then she waits.”
“Yes, she waits,” Griffin echoed. “Perhaps the lily carved into the floor indicates the interval she must wait.” His eyes gleamed. “That’s it. Given that the lily points w
est, that must mean the interval between the fall and spring equinox. The dove must wait here from September twenty-third until March twenty-first.” His joy ebbed when the implication of his words struck him. “Oh, dear. A six-month hiatus.”
“We’ve gotten around stuff like this before,” Cassie objected. “All we have to do is figure out the reason why she’s supposed to wait.”
“She must wait until her kindred fill the jaws of the lion,” Griffin replied simply.
“And that means what exactly?” the Pythia prodded in frustration.
“Haven’t the foggiest,” Griffin admitted.
Erik rubbed his eyes irritably. “Time out. Stop and think about this for a minute. Every riddle we’ve cracked so far had something to do with astronomy, right? We’re standing in the middle of a big honking observatory. Call me crazy but I’d say the riddle has something to do with constellations.”
Griffin gave him a dazed look. “You’re right, of course. I’ve been racking my brain over this conundrum for so long that I’ve completely lost my perspective. I failed to see the most obvious function of this room. In addition to being a solar calendar, it’s also a place to watch the stars.”
“Good! Now we’re getting somewhere,” Cassie encouraged. “So what constellations would be important in this part of the world around the spring and fall equinox?”
“We’re dealing with agricultural civilizations,” the Scrivener said, thinking out loud. “They used calendars to mark planting and harvest cycles.”
“Like spring and fall,” Cassie added helpfully.
“Like spring and fall.” Griffin nodded. His eyes glazed over briefly as a thought struck him. “Oh good grief!” Without explanation, he removed his own backpack and rooted through its contents to retrieve some photos.
Cassie and Erik huddled closer to watch over his shoulder. He was studying images of the golden bull artifact.
After several moments his face took on an incredulous expression. “It was staring at us all the time.”
“What!” Both Cassie and Erik shouted in unison.
“The artifact itself is a clue to solving the riddle.” Griffin handed each of them a photo of the golden bull. “In ancient times, Taurus The Bull was the principal constellation which symbolized the arrival of spring. Of course, by the time the Minoans arrived here the actual equinoctial point had already shifted to Aries due to precession but the mythological association with Taurus remained.”
Cassie squinted hard at the image. “What about the blue stones around the bull’s neck? If we know this figurine is the Taurus constellation, do the sapphires mean something astronomical too?’
“That’s brilliant, Cassie! Bloody brilliant!” Griffin beamed at her. “Seven sapphires. Seven sisters. The gems must represent the Pleiades. The Pleiades is a star cluster decorating the shoulder of Taurus. Of course there are more than seven stars in the cluster but only the brightest can be seen by the naked eye—” Griffin stopped speaking abruptly.
His two companions exchanged dubious glances. Erik shrugged and muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
The Scrivener gathered his thoughts. “I seem to recall a reference. Yes, I’m quite sure of it. The ancient Greeks referred to the Pleiades not as sisters but as a flock of doves. In all probability they appropriated that bit of mythology from the Minoans who preceded them.”
“Doves!” Cassie exclaimed. “As in the ‘kindred’ of the dove from our African riddle?”
“The very same, unless I miss my guess,” Griffin said triumphantly. “I’m sure that line of the puzzle hinges on an astronomical phenomenon associated with the Pleiades. We need to get back to Bhuj as soon as possible. I must consult the reference materials I left at the hotel.”
“Bet you’d kill for a decent internet connection right about now,” Erik said dryly.
Griffin gave him a wry smile.
As the other two exited through the doorway of the observatory, Cassie waved at the tyro standing on the other side of the citadel to get his attention. He gave a shy wave of acknowledgment in return, knowing it was time for him to secure the carving to the calendar stone beneath. The flower had disclosed its mysteries to the trio. Now it would wait until Daniel and his henchman arrived. Cassie glanced nervously at the etching one last time. Hopefully, the Arkana still had a good enough lead before the Minoan lily was forced to confess its secrets for a second time.
Chapter 26—Unstrung
As a general rule, Leroy Hunt hated mornings. Sunlight blasting him in the eye and the sound of chirping birds usually gave him an uncontrollable urge to dive for his pistol. But this morning when the alarm clock buzzed, he sprang out of bed with an unusual surge of energy. He had big plans for this day. As he brushed his teeth, he couldn’t help feeling that the tide was surely turning in his favor. He had first noticed a change in the wind during his dinner with Chopper. Not only had he gotten a free meal out of the evening, he’d also gotten a boatload of information out of his old army buddy. Chopper probably didn’t realize that he’d given Leroy his best lead yet as to where the old man had stashed those pricey doodads of his. Next time the cowboy was in the preacher’s study, he would have to pay close attention to that wall of paneling with all the cameras trained on it. He’d be willing to bet that behind it lay his fortune.
Aside from the prospect of imminent wealth, Leroy had other reasons to feel like he was strolling in high cotton. Today was the day he was going to turn the tables on the invisible Somebody who’d been dogging his every move. He had deliberately called Abe on his bugged cell phone to say he was going to check out a few more leads. He’d been hazy on the details because he knew his message would be intercepted by Somebody. While Abe and Somebody were sitting tight and waiting for him to report results, Leroy intended to slip out and do some private legwork around town.
As he stood before his closet considering what clothes to wear that morning, he gave a regretful sigh. His distinctive appearance was ordinarily a source of pride but he allowed that it could also be a problem if he needed to keep a low profile. Today, he knew he’d have to don a disguise but he sure didn’t have to like the idea. Shoving aside racks of cowboy attire and his cherished Stetson hat, he selected a nondescript pair of blue jeans, a tee shirt and loafers. He topped the ensemble off with a windbreaker and trucker cap pulled down low over his forehead. Just in case his features might still be recognizable in that get-up, he added a pair of dark sunglasses. After checking his look in the mirror, he slipped out the fire door of his apartment building and exited down the alley. Leaving his truck parked in its usual spot, he walked to a bus stop several blocks away.
Hunt kept an eye peeled to see if he’d been followed but as far as he could tell nobody was tailing him. He had to transfer twice in order to reach his destination. Bus number three let him out right in front of the moving company office where he mentally congratulated himself on his cleverness in pulling this ruse off. A few seconds later, his good mood faded into an agonized “Awww, hell no!” at the sight which greeted him. In what was becoming an unfortunate pattern, he stood before an empty shop with a grim expression on his face and murder in his heart. No sign in the window, not a stick of furniture left inside. The Continental Moving Company was gone without a trace. After he’d been so careful and taken such elaborate precautions, there was nobody left to interrogate. The cowboy remained transfixed beneath the el tracks as a train roared overhead. Its deafening noise effectively muffled the string of curses issuing from his lips.
After he’d calmed down enough to look at the situation rationally, it occurred to Leroy that there might be a reason the moving company had vanished. He recollected the shabby appearance of the business the last time he’d visited. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine they could have folded while he was away in Arizona. Maybe there was no darker force at work here than bankruptcy. Well, their bad luck had just become his bad luck too. He needed to find out who had paid for Miz Rhonda’s move. Knowin
g that the moving lady might bridle at a question like that, he’d been prepared to break into the office after hours to check the files. But there were no files left to check, not here anyway.
An idea occurred to him. The records of the moving company must have been put in storage somewhere. All he had to do was find out where that place was. He glared in annoyance at the empty plate glass window. No “For Rent” sign listing a management agent. Well, there was more than one way to get that information. He’d have to take a bus down to City Hall where the property records were kept. Once he knew who owned the building, he’d be able to get some answers about where their last tenant went. Leroy ground his teeth in vexation. He hated being a paper monkey. He hated it almost as much as sitting in his apartment monitoring surveillance feed but there was one thing he hated more than both those activities. Standing in front of an empty building with a stupid expression on his face. He intended to get to the bottom of this.
***
Several hours later, the cowboy sat on a barstool at his favorite neighborhood tavern nursing a beer. He’d slipped back into his apartment and changed into his regular clothes. Going to the bar in the evening was part of his usual routine and he didn’t want to change that—especially not now. Not after what he’d learned that afternoon.
He’d bounced around City Hall for half a day trying to find the department that could tell him who owned the property under the el tracks where the moving company had previously done business. Once he got a name and number, he called the owner on his burner phone. The owner referred him to the property manager. She told him the moving company had only leased the office for a month. That’s when the bells and whistles started going off in his head.
Leroy distinctly remembered his conversation with the old wino in the alley behind the antique shop. The bum had insisted the movers had been operating in the neighborhood for years. At a minimum, they would have had to be in business for the two months prior to his visit if they’d really handled Miz Rhonda’s move. Leroy felt that familiar prickling sensation in the hairs on the back of his neck.
Into The Jaws Of The Lion (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 5) Page 15