Relics

by K. T. Tomb

  “So, if not the enigma, then what?”

  “The Seal of Solomon.” Simon studied her face after speaking.

  The Seal of Solomon had risen to great importance in European paganism and the occult. Said to possess extensive powers with dozens of legends as proof, it was, indeed, thought to be of such great potency that world destruction was often considered a possibility. If the Caliphate of Raqqa had such a weapon in their hands… She ended the thought. They were just legends, made-up stories that gave Solomon some sort of godlike superpowers. They were ridiculous, of course. If Solomon had such powers than what had happened to his great kingdom?

  “You almost got me killed over a silly bunch of stories about a powerful ring,” she growled. “I’ve read that book, precious.”

  “The Ark of the Covenant was a silly story as well,” he responded. “And yet…”

  He was referring to what had taken place only a few years before when she had nearly gotten her best friend, Charlotte, and her entire team killed on another of Simon’s ill-conceived quests.

  “Fine,” she sighed. “I’ll find your all-powerful ring. Where do I start?”

  “Before I tell you that,” he began, “there is one more thing that I need to tell you.”

  “Only one?” She snorted. “I’m betting there are dozens of things that you need to tell me, but won’t.”

  Simon shrugged again before continuing with what he meant to tell her. “One of the men in the attack was not Arabic. My man didn’t get a good enough look at him for me to tell you any more, but, well, you need to be wary of everyone.”

  “Oh great,” Phoe answered. “Non-Arabic narrows down the field a great deal. Where do I start?”

  “With a visit to your old friend, Reginald Whitherby,” Simon grinned.

  “That old bird is still alive?”

  “It seems that his involvement with you and Charlotte on your last case has given him new life.”

  “My team?”

  “I’ll contact them and have them ready.”

  “Jonathan?”

  “Take him with you.”

  Chapter Three

  As Phoe was looking for whatever car was supposed to have been arranged to pick up her and Jonathan from Heathrow, she was still smarting from the fact that she’d had to fly a commercial airline, on Simon’s recommendation, due to security concerns. Even first class was a far cry from what she was used to and her irritation had risen to such a level that even Jonathan was keeping his distance.

  When the long, black car pulled up to the curb next to her and the back window lowered in order to reveal the face of Reginald Whitherby, she knew that they would be waiting no longer.

  “Miss Phoenix.” Whitherby beamed through the open frame.

  “Mr. Whitherby,” she responded in kind.

  “Well, come on then, we’ve quite a trip ahead of us and we best be on our way. Though I have no doubt that we’ll make it back before eventide, I suspect we’ll be having tea at our destination nevertheless.”

  Sensing the urgency of the professor, Phoe drew Jonathan forward and pushed him through the open door of the car. “My brother, Jonathan,” she announced.

  “First your sister and now your brother. I’ll have the great fortune of meeting the entire family before long, I have no doubt. Reginald Whitherby,” he said, bowing slightly and tipping his tapered stovepipe hat toward Jonathan.

  “Pleased to meet you, sir,” Jonathan responded as he settled into the facing seat in the back of the car. Phoe slid in beside him. “And Charlotte’s not our sister; she just seems like it most of the time. She’s a very close, and dear, family friend.”

  “I don’t recall your home being a long journey from the airport.” She smiled and waved a hand at the cover on his head. “And a hat to boot. I have never known you to be a man of hats.”

  “In that, you would be mistaken, my dear Thalia,” he chuckled softly. “I am a man of many hats, literally speaking; of course, I’ve only one real trade.” He paused to allow them to enjoy his dry pun and then continued. “This is a particularly appropriate hat from my vast collection. It is of a type that Welshmen favor. I thought it was my best choice for our trip to Wales today.”

  “Wales?” Phoe wrinkled her brow.

  “Picton Castle, to be exact.” His face became less jovial and took a more serious cast. “It’s quite a drive, but I fear not enough time to give you all the background into our reason for our visit to the Phillips family.”

  “Any background you have would be quite helpful in this one. I’m afraid that we’ve been flying blind thus far.” Thalia matched his grave tone with her own.

  “It’s an interesting history and one of particular irony as well, considering the subject of your, shall we say, quest. Our history begins with a man who was a great entrepreneur in pharmaceuticals at the turn of the last century. Perhaps you are familiar with GSK Pharmaceuticals: Glaxo Smith Kline?”

  “I am, indeed,” Phoe responded, not yet making the connection to either the irony or the connection to her “quest,” as it was being called.

  “Well, as you might also already know, the merger of four large companies, including one called Burroughs, Wellcome & Company are what formed GSK some years ago. One of the proprietors of the aforementioned Burroughs, Wellcome & Company, was none other than a gentleman by the name of Sir Henry Solomon Wellcome.”

  “I’ve heard of the Wellcome Trust,” Thalia responded. The world-renowned foundation was a leader in medical charities.

  “The product of our very same Solomon Wellcome.” He smiled broadly once more, though Phoe wasn’t sure if it was because of her brightness at drawing the connection or the fact that he was hinting at the irony of the man’s name.

  Reginald Whitherby’s worshipful admiration for the subject of Sir Henry Solomon Wellcome was certainly obvious as they traveled out of London en route to Wales and Picton Castle. Though Phoe found the chatter somewhat interesting, Whitherby had a tendency to prattle on, taking plenty of rabbit trails as he went. She found herself watching the incredibly lush and green countryside as it passed by.

  Though perhaps useful in some way for setting the stage for their visit, what she learned during that long drive didn’t seem to have any connection with Solomon or his great magical ring. She endured the story, remembering some of the high points, but forgetting a great deal of what had been related to them by the overly eager professor.

  Eventually, she discovered that it was the common love of Professor Whitherby and Henry Wellcome for archeology that had made the former such a devoted admirer of the latter. What she and Jonathan learned from the hours of lecturing—which, no doubt gave Whitherby a great deal of pleasure—was that Sir Wellcome had not only collected historical medical artifacts, but that he also had a keen interest in non-medical artifacts as well. His extensions were quite impressive and took up a large portion of the British Museum. He had been particularly fond of taking part in the dig at Jebel Moya, Sudan, where he had hired 4,000 locals to help with the excavation. They were very near their destination before Phoe began to hear items of interest to her “quest.”

  “You see, when the Akhmim Codex, more commonly known as the Berlin Codex, was unearthed in Egypt, our late friend became very interested in one of the items that was mentioned in the papyrus fragments. An artifact known as the Pillar of Sheba. On this particular pillar, there were a series of riddles, which, according to legend, she had presented to Solomon to solve.”

  “The Pillar of Sheba,” Jonathan broke in. “Is that like the Enigma of Sheba?”

  Phoe turned to look at her brother, impressed that he was gaining interest; something that, up until that point, had been an on again, off again proposition.

  “No, Jonathan, they are two separate artifacts, but very similar in their content. It seems that both she and Solomon were extremely fond of presenting riddles to one another and solving them in turn. In fact, many say that in Sheba, Solomon had met his match in his renown
ed wisdom.”

  “So, does the Berlin Codex direct on to the Pillar of Sheba and, in turn, to the Seal of Solomon?” Phoe asked, growing impatient with the professor’s lengthy discourse.

  “Oh, that it were so easy as that, my dear,” he chuckled. “You’ll see for yourself in a few moments. It seems that we have arrived at our destination.”

  Phoe looked out the tinted window at the large stone castle that began to overpower the landscape outside her window. It was certainly all that one expected to see when the word “castle” was mentioned. Its tall stone walls, though sporting modern windows and doors, were topped with the typical merlons jutting upward in the parapet and with the crenels cut down into them where defenders might man a catapult or in more modern times, a cannon.

  As impressive as the shape and size of the castle was, it was the immaculate landscaping around it that made the entire vista something that made her gasp. “It is amazing,” she voiced. Listing to the professor rattle on the entire ride had been worthwhile after all.

  “It is, indeed,” Whitherby answered. “The Welsh and, specifically, the Phillips family, take a great deal of pride in maintaining such a fantastic part of our nation’s history. I do hope that we’ll have time for a tour. You absolutely must get a close-up view of the Woodland Gardens.”

  “It is lovely, indeed,” Phoe agreed. “I hope we get a chance for an up-close look as well, but could you please let me in on the reason that we are here?”

  “I never did get around to that, did I?” he chuckled. “Well, our host is a great-grandson of Sir Henry by marriage into the Phillips family, a gentleman known as Alfred Guy Phillips the third. He was fortunate enough to inherit some of the private pieces of Sir Wellcome’s non-medical collection as well as some excavation maps and notes that might prove to be helpful on your quest. Ah, look. There’s the old boy now.”

  Chapter Four

  “Miss Thalia Phoenix,” Alfred Guy Phillips the Third said as he laid two wooden boxes with glass covers on the table in front of her. “Let me present to you the 44 seals of Solomon.”

  “Forty-four?” Phoe gasped. “But…” The sentence never came out. She was rendered speechless, not only by the sudden surprise, but by what she saw in the cases.

  “Which one are we looking for, Phoe?” Jonathan asked, moving into a better position to see the contents of the two boxes.

  Which one? She hadn’t had any idea that there were 44 of them. “Where did they all come from?”

  “Various places in Africa mostly, a few from across the channel in various places; no doubt they were carried home from the Crusades. I can only imagine the effort that Sir Wellcome must have gone through in order to discover them all. For all we know, there might be dozens more.”

  “What sort of authenticity could they have?” Phoe wrinkled her brow.

  “The only authenticity that they could have at all was that they were talisman from an era when the legends of King Solomon had begun to take on an occultist form.” Professor Whitherby broke into the conversation. “You see, they are certainly artifacts was some historical significance, though the idea that they were ever in possession of the wise king is certainly doubtful.”

  “So, what is their purpose?” she asked. “Like this one, for instance?”

  “From what I understand—though the professor probably can explain it better than I can—each of these seals is said to have a very specific purpose. The one that you’re pointing to there, I believe it is for resisting enemies. The one next to it is one that was of particular interest to Sir Wellcome, and likely what set him on the path of collecting them in the first place. Its purpose is to cure diseases and pains,” Mr. Phillips responded. He continued to point out several of the seals, giving an explanation for what each of them was for. Their purposes ranged from protecting one from poverty to releasing one from prison to bringing the one you love from far away.

  “Each seal,” Professor Whitherby broke in, “is said to be connected to a pentacle of either the sun or moon, or of one of the planets: Jupiter, Mars, Mercury, Saturn or Venus. Thus, via that connection to the gods, they hold particular powers related to the god that the pentacle represents.”

  “Wow!” Jonathan exclaimed. “A person who had use of all of those rings would certainly be powerful. That is, of course, if they actually worked.”

  “And who is to say that they do not work?” A fifth person entered the room, calling out the response to Jonathan’s statement. “As powerful as they are or might be, however, they do not hold a candle to the true power of The Seal; the actual signet ring of wise King Solomon.” The new member to the gathering placed emphasis on “The Seal.” All eyes, of course, were drawn to the newcomer.

  “My son, Alfred Guy Phillips the Fourth,” Alfred the Third announced, and then made introductions of the guests. “Professor Whitherby, you already know. This is Jonathan Phoenix and his sister, Thalia Phoenix.”

  He shook hands with the first two and nodded slightly. When he turned to Phoe, he lingered a bit longer. “The famous archeologist/treasure hunter. It is indeed a pleasure to finally meet you. We know many of the same people… or perhaps are known by them at least.”

  “Some would say that notorious is a better word, but yes, I have been known to seek out artifacts of special interest to particular clients, Mr. Phillips.” Phoe smiled as she responded. It was a fake smile. What she really wanted to do was find a restroom and vomit.

  “Call me Guy,” he responded, pronouncing the word in the French manner, which reminded Phoe of someone trying to hock up a loogie.

  The urge to vomit became stronger. Phoe drew her hand away and tried not to be too obvious as she wiped it on her thigh. It was a childish response, but the overly sweet approach was just creepy. He was handsome and well-built and might have attracted some interest from her if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was snobbish and oily, for lack of a better word.

  “I believe that primary client of yours would be the Vatican. Am I right? You see, Miss Phoenix… should I call you Thalia?”

  “Miss Phoenix will do.”

  “As you wish, Miss Phoenix. What I was about to say is that I have done some research on you. Your resume is quite impressive.”

  “Most of it is public knowledge,” she said, dismissing his boast.

  “Guy has studied Sir Wellcome’s notes and maps extensively.” The older Phillips cut into the awkward conversation. “In fact, he has led some expeditions, one of which is currently underway in the Sudan. He was at Jebel Moya, where Sir Wellcome spent a great deal of his time. He is quite likely the foremost expert on the actual signet ring of Solomon.”

  The accolades only caused the younger Alfred to puff out his chest even more and turn up his nose slightly. He dismissed it in a gross attempt at humility, but certainly soaked in the praise and only used the opportunity to point out how much greater in stature he was than all the others present.

  “So, there is, actually, just one Seal of Solomon?” Jonathan asked.

  “There is, indeed.” Guy welcomed the opportunity to show off. He led Jonathan and the rest to a group of maps spread out on an adjacent table. “We’ve several digs taking place in this region of the Sudan. Included among those, as you might have already imagined, is the one at Jebel Moya. Though it is possible that the Seal could be found at any one of these sites, it is unlikely that what we are really after is the same thing that Sir Wellcome, my great, great grandfather, was looking for and that is the Pillar of Sheba. You see, the pillar can help give us Sheba’s actual country of origin.”

  Phoe welcomed the opportunity to escape his attention, even if it was only for a moment; however, she was intrigued by her task and couldn’t help reinserting herself into the conversation. “Sheba was Ethiopian, wasn’t she?”

  “Many think that; however, some argue that her name suggests that she might have come from the area now referred to as Yemen, which, of course, is just across the Ban al-Mandab Strait at the narrow southern
end of the Red Sea that divides it from the Gulf of Aden. It is very likely that Sheba or the Queen of Sheba could have been from either place, but narrowing it down might actually help us better understand where the seal’s resting place might be.”

  “Isn’t it just speculation that Sheba would have had any knowledge of what became of the seal?” Phoe asked.

  “That would be true, except for the fact that the Pillar of Sheba was returned along with some other items to the queen upon Solomon’s death.”

  “So why look in the Sudan? Why not go to Ethiopia?”

  “Because of the Coptic language that makes up the Codex of Berlin. Yes, it came from Egypt, but the Copts were throughout the region, which stretched from Cairo all of the way to Ethiopia. You are familiar with the Coptic Churches of Ethiopia, right?”

  “I am,” she replied simply. Less than a year before, she had gone to one of those churches in Lalibel in order to authenticate the replica Ark of the Covenant that was kept there. It hadn’t been one of her favorite trips. She didn’t feel like going into any further detail. Everyone knew that she had been called in to make the authentication and her name was in headlines all over the world. She, however, didn’t feel it was necessary to boast about it.

  “Following Sir Wellcome’s theories and given some of the items that both he and our new excavations have unearthed, we not only have reason to believe that the Pillar of Sheba is there, but that we may have already uncovered it. You’re certainly welcome to join me on my trip to Sudan to verify it.” The invitation was oily thick. “I’ve actually put together a binder with copies of Sir Wellcome’s maps and notes so that you can be brought up to speed. So, what do you say? Shall we link up?”

  “I’m sorry,” Phoe replied, beaming, “I only work alone or with people that I know.” She snatched up the offered binder, eager to get away as soon as possible. “Shall we be on our way back to London, then?”