by J. F. Penn
“It’s lamp-stand,” Marianne grinned in triumph.
“Seriously, then this could be … ”
“Yes, one of the letters to the church in Ephesus as mentioned in Revelation 2. It talks about removing the lamp-stand if they don’t return to the faithful practices of the church. This could be the start of the cache, Ben. This is so exciting. These are the moments we live for as archaeologists.”
She grabbed my hands and did a kind of happy dance in the confines of the trench, laughing as she twirled under my arm. I was briefly in heaven and locked that moment in my mind. God forgive me for the thoughts I had about her, set against all the vows I had taken.
“Get over to the main findings tent, you two. There’s no time for that now.”
The voice came from above and we both looked up to see Arkady Novotsky staring down at us, a frown on his aristocratic face.
Marianne protested.
“But Arkady, look what we’ve … ”
“There’s no time for this. We’re not here for documents, for worthless tablets. I’ve had a communication and need to share it with the team. Main tent, ten minutes.”
He stomped off and his shadow retreated in the heat of the afternoon sun.
Marianne rolled her eyes at me.
“He seems to be getting worse, don’t you think?”
I nodded.
“If we’re not here for tablets like this, then what are we here for?”
Marianne’s smile faded and her eyes darkened. She turned in the narrow trench and I caught sight of her profile. Her rounded belly protruded significantly now, reminding me that she could never be mine. She rubbed at it absent-mindedly.
“Sometimes I’m not even sure myself, but I suppose we should get to the main tent. I’m going to need your help getting out of this trench.”
She cheerily tried to distract me but I was puzzled. This tablet could possibly be significant but Arkady had dismissed it as nothing. What was going on here? I smiled at Marianne, hiding the mixed emotions I held in check every time I looked at her.
“Let’s get you out of here then,” I said, helping her up the ladder.
The main camp tent was dark inside, a welcome respite from the harsh Turkish sun. The canvas cast a green light over the people inside, as if they were under a rainforest canopy. Conversation was muted as the team gathered to wait for the announcement. I followed Marianne as she went to sit with her husband, Leon Sierra, a ruggedly handsome Sephardic Jew. I knew Leon had been born in Spain and was now living in Israel between archaeological digs. He was confident and loved a good argument, which I had experienced around the campfire most evenings. When Leon turned his attention on you, he made you feel unique. When he turned away, it was as if the face of God had moved on, his favors bestowed on someone else. The spell he had cast on Marianne was complete because his attention was still fixed on her, but I worried for her future. What would happen when his attentions were focused elsewhere? They surely would, as the brilliant man had a short attention span, flitting between projects, solving archaeological mysteries and then moving on. Leon was a true citizen of the nascent state of Israel, bent on finding his place in the world and willing to fight in order to protect it.
Marianne sat down heavily and Leon pulled her into him, reaching out to stroke her stomach.
“Neshama Sheli,” he spoke softly but I could still hear the words. The Hebrew meant ‘my soul’ and the endearment hurt me, even though I knew I had no right to feel this way. I tried to focus on the other people gathering in the tent, willing myself away from their intimacy, but I couldn’t stop myself thinking about them. I knew that Leon and Marianne had met on last summer’s dig right here in Ephesus. Their passion had exploded and they married fast. Now she was five months pregnant with twins. Marianne had said they were returning to Israel after the dig was finished. She had looked wistful as she spoke, but it seemed that Leon couldn’t stand the winter in her native Wales and so they wouldn’t go back this year.
Arkady strode into the tent, flinging the canvas violently open before him. He launched into a tirade immediately, not bothering to wait until everyone was seated.
“We’ve spent three months here and what do we have to show for it?” He pointed at one of the display tables, where some tablets and pottery shards lay. “We’re not here for coins or pots or useless tablets. We’re here for the relics of the early Church. We’re here for clues as to where the most precious objects might be.”
I had never seen Arkady like this before. The man had previously been fair and even tempered but now spittle flew from his mouth as he spat his words.
“Where Hitler failed in finding the greatest relics, we will succeed. Ephesus may be where the Apostle John wrote his gospel. This is the site of one of the seven churches of Revelation. This is where three separate early ecclesiastical councils met to decide on the beliefs of the Church. Yet we have pitifully little to show for our time here. We’ve found practically nothing and time is running out.”
A man dressed completely in black stepped forward and calmly placed his hand on Arkady’s arm. The gesture seemed at once a dominant warning, but also fatherly, although the man seemed barely a few years older than Arkady.
Marianne whispered to me.
“That’s Elias Marietti, the liaison from the Vatican secret archives. All very hush-hush.”
Arkady calmed and changed his tone. The man removed his hand.
“We have funding for only two more weeks and then we’re done for the season,” he said. “I’m sorry but the funding for Ephesus is being channeled into a new project for next year. Some of you may be asked to join but it will be quite a different journey.”
An audible groan went up from the gathered team, many of whom needed the meager pay the dig provided. The end of this project meant the end of a fixed income for most and they would have to return to other jobs for the off-season. Arkady opened the floor for questions and hands went up all over the tent.
“I’m going to go back and examine that tablet,” I whispered to Marianne. “If it’s important, perhaps it can help keep the dig open for longer.”
She nodded, but her face was clouded, her eyes misty and focused on Arkady. Her hand was tightly grasping Leon’s. I left the tent without looking back for it was not my career that was at stake, and I suddenly felt like an outsider once again.
Later that evening, I waited until the camp was quiet and then picked my way back towards Arkady’s tent. I had fully excavated and cleaned up the tablet and I was convinced it was related to the Revelation letter to the Ephesus church. The language was similar to the Greek used in the New Testament prophecy and also in the gospel of John. If it could be matched, then surely this was the beginning of something more significant? I had to return to Blackfriars within a few months and I was desperate to go back with an experience of something bigger than the closeted life of an academic monk. If I was honest with myself, I also wanted to stay near Marianne a little longer. She brought a glimmer of magic to my life.
I’d been agonizing for hours over how to approach Arkady, given the mood he seemed to be in, but I knew this was my last chance. Most of the team would give up quickly and look for other work. Ephesus had a number of dig sites and they would all be jostling for position with other teams. I walked past Leon and Marianne’s tent and heard voices raised in anger. Leon spoke in fast Spanish, in turns annoyed, frustrated and then pleading. Emotion could be understood across any language gap. I stood still for a moment, wondering whether I should intervene. I could hear Marianne crying and then Leon’s voice soften as he clearly went to comfort her. The sounds soon became more intimate and I walked away, my shoulders dropping. I prayed for the strength to be faithful to my vows made to the Dominican order. Help me obey, Lord. Forgive these treacherous thoughts, I prayed. I knew that the vows didn’t exclude me from these feelings but I knew that a higher purpose was meant for me. I was a teacher and a student of Sacred Theology and this summer interlude
was a brief sojourn, intended to teach me new lessons. I was certainly learning them.
I arrived at Arkady’s tent. The flap was partially open and I could see inside where Arkady sat at his desk, back to the doorway. He was surrounded by sketches, pieces of paper covered in drawings and some thrown to the floor. Many were crumpled and torn, others discarded, only half drawn but all of them featured a horse’s head in black charcoal, its nostrils flared and eyes wild. In some, the torso of the horse was shown and in one, a rider could be seen, a skeletal figure reaching down with a sword towards a victim huddled at its feet. A bottle of Raki sat near Arkady’s right arm, the cheap Turkish aniseed alcohol that I had seen the locals drinking on a Saturday night. The bottle was almost empty and as I watched, Arkady filled his glass again, downed the spirit and continued to draw. His arm moved fast and he was a surprisingly good artist, dashing out the sketches and then drawing again on another piece of thick white paper. I could see obsession in the man’s movements, the edge of darkness in his drawings. This was not the time to talk to Arkady Novotsky, so I walked away into the humid Turkish night.
*****
“That was the first time I saw the figure of the pale horse, the stylized head that Thanatos now uses as its symbol. I didn’t see it again until the attack by the team before Pentecost.” Ben pointed at the wall where the graffiti of the braying horse had been spray-painted during the assault only a few weeks ago. “It was left on my wall and that’s when I knew I would have to tell you the truth about that time.”
“Did you ever get to speak to Arkady about the tablet?”
“No,” replied Ben. “The next day he left with Marietti and everything wound up soon after.”
“So what happened to Arkady later?” Morgan asked.
“He was one of those on the 1979 trip to recover the Nazi treasures supposedly hidden in Antarctica. Marietti led that expedition and soon after he left the Vatican to head up the ARKANE Institute.”
Morgan frowned, puzzled.
“Surely that trip was a myth? Could Hitler really have smuggled the occult treasures out before the end of the war?”
“That expedition happened alright, but it was done in top secret. I only know because of your mother. It seemed that Leon had been asked to go but in the end he was one too many fiery personalities. He stormed off before the expedition left and never worked with that team again. You and Faye had been born by then and Marianne had made a lovely little home for you in Oxford where she had a lecturing job. But Leon never settled and they separated.”
Morgan sighed.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this before. You had nothing to be scared of, Ben and you weren’t part of their breakup. I worshipped my father, but I know he had his faults and a hell of a temper.”
Ben bent his head and looked at the floor. He struggled to find the right words to tell her the final piece of the puzzle.
“I loved your mother, Morgan. She was the love of my life. Of course that love was never consummated and I never told her. But she knew. I couldn’t help but be happy when Leon left, as then Marianne needed my help. We were friends, close friends. I’m so sorry.” Ben’s hand clutched Morgan’s arm, like an anchor in his storm of emotion. “I’ve felt this guilt for a long time as I celebrated the breakup of your family, and God forgive me for it, but I loved the years I had as her close confidante. Faye never warmed to me, but when you came to Oxford, I felt as if Marianne was smiling on our friendship.”
Morgan stood up and paced the small office, then returned and knelt in front of him. She took his old hands in hers.
“Ben, you were a good friend to the mother I never knew. What happened back then is in the past. You’re my friend now and you also know vital clues to what might be going on, so I need you to be honest with me. Life moves on, we all change.”
“I don’t believe Marietti has changed,” Ben replied. “Which is why I worry for you working with ARKANE.” He waved his hand, as if to brush away the past. “But no matter, you must make your own decision.”
“Did Arkady continue to work for Marietti?” Morgan asked.
“No, they had a violent difference of opinion on the Antarctica trip. Arkady never worked well with others anyway, especially if he wasn’t in charge. He became dangerously obsessed with the occult. Marianne told me that he coveted the treasures they sought and spent a great deal of time studying the black arts.”
Ben walked to the window, looking out at the summer rain that had cleared the quad. “Then something serious happened and Marietti severed all ties with him.”
Morgan waited for him to continue.
“Arkady had become involved with a girl, Aniela, very young and beautiful. Few had seen her, as she mainly stayed hidden in his rooms, and no one was friends with her. Poor girl, so isolated. She was found one morning, strangled, badly beaten and cut in what looked like a ritual pattern. It seemed the occult had turned Arkady’s mind.”
“Was he arrested?” Morgan asked.
Ben turned, shaking his head.
“It was covered up, considered too high a risk for the expedition to have a police investigation. After all, they sought occult objects and it was a religious trip funded partially by the Vatican secret archives. Aniela was Polish with no family they could trace. So her body was cremated and Arkady was just sent away.”
“But he was clearly a dangerous man? What happened to him after that?”
“I only found out about it later but I ask forgiveness for what happened daily. Marianne always worried that he would come after you or Faye, and when she died, she made me promise to always watch over you. When I saw the braying horse’s head, the sign of Thanatos, it made me think that Arkady had returned. I hadn’t seen that sign for many years and now here it is again, in a new incarnation.”
“But what connects Thanatos to Arkady? He would be an old man or maybe dead now?”
Ben sighed.
“Later on he had a family and a son but he remained obsessed with the prophecy. I believe that this is the beginning of the fulfillment of Arkady’s dark plan started long ago and the son has found a way to take the plot global.”
“How can you be sure?” Morgan asked. “No one has that kind of global reach.”
Ben picked up a glossy magazine and handed it to her. The front page was emblazoned with the angular face of Milan Noble, CEO of Zoebios. The glowing lead article extolled the virtues of the multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical business that had expanded from the West into Africa, and now China and India. It portrayed Noble as the ‘Lord of Life’, a man on the brink of changing the world with his focus on birth control, education for women, mental as well as physical health.
“He’s the spitting image of Arkady,” Ben said. “I look at him and it’s as if I’d just walked off the dig. If Arkady’s son runs that company, then he has the power to change the world. He holds the health of millions in his hands, Morgan. You need to find out if he’s behind Thanatos and what he’s up to before he unleashes the prophecy on those he’s meant to serve.”
London, England. 1.13pm
Michael Jensen rolled over in bed and looked at the time again. The cheap blue digital watch had a cracked plastic cover but at least it still worked. It had only been two hours since the last pill but they helped to quell his anger and he wanted to experience the sensation once more. Without the pills the audio program had made him feel calm and relaxed, affording him a brief space of sanity in an increasingly crazy world. That was addictive enough, but the new pills and the headset made him feel as if he was in the presence of the Divine and he wanted that feeling again. The note that had come with the couriered package said that the pills should be taken once daily before the audio for the full effect. But what harm could come from being in that place for a longer period? It was as if the clouds had parted in his mind and he could perceive more than the human eye could see. He was like an eagle soaring above the earth, and the voice that spoke made him feel chosen.
; Michael hadn't thought much about God since he was a teenager. A brief flirtation with a Christian youth club provided him with girlfriends but certainly no inner belief. He had answered the questions on the Zoebios website saying that he was a Christian but it had been years since he had been to church. Still, the stories from Sunday school stuck with him and he had prayed at times of desperation. He knew that he was responsible for where he was now, but that didn't make it any easier. He'd lost his job at the factory when his anger had spilled over one time too many after repeated warnings and in this economy, it was proving hard to find other work.
At the beginning, he had been to the Job Centre every day, determined to beat the odds, sure that he wouldn't be just another statistic. But then it had become harder and harder to get up, as he had nothing to show for his efforts, so what was the point of trying anymore? As Michael reached for the pills, he looked at the picture by the bed. Jenny's smile had been real back then, before he had driven her away. He glanced over at the door, splintered in places where he had punched and kicked it in frustration. He clenched his fists as the anger rose again.
But in the last few days he had felt some hope. The audios he had downloaded from Zoebios had made him start to think that he could change something, that his actions could make a difference. The pills supercharged the feeling so how could it be a bad thing if he took more now? He popped a pill from the packet, placed it under his tongue and put on the large headset. Michael started to feel a presence as he listened, an entity that was just out of the corner of his eye. He sensed it was there but now he wanted to see it. Was it God? Was he seeing the manifestation of Jesus?