by K. M. Ashman
‘The world was covered in ice?’ asked Brandon
‘No not the world, that’s a common misconception. The ice at the poles was much thicker along with most of the northern hemisphere but from the Alps southward, the weather was much milder and this was where humanity retreated to avoid the cold. However, even here there would have been glaciers in the mountains.’
‘What has all this to do with Isis?’
‘I’ll get to that, bear with me, this is important. Around that time, humanity was spread far and wide throughout the area. Evidence is becoming known of many different cultures that were fairly advanced, especially in the east. Archaeologists have found pottery, arrows and even burials from that age suggesting a high level of civilisation and trade. It seems it was a hunter-gatherer society and smaller tribes would have been in abundance throughout the warmer continents. The rainforests were wider spread and even the Sahara was green with trees. Though there was an abundance of people there seemed to be little, if any cohesion between smaller groups. At the time, a particular fertile area would have been the Black sea valley, a huge, natural basin covering over 169,000 square miles, almost twice the size of Great Britain today. It would have been fertile, had a warm climate with good hunting and plenty of fresh drinking water from the lake, an ideal location for human habitation.’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Brandon, ‘the Black Sea is salt water. I know, I’ve been there on holiday.’
‘You’re right,’ she said ‘it is but it wasn’t always so. Anyway, this land was probably populated with thousands of individual tribes and clans, all living independent of each other and though there was plenty of trading going on, you could say the time was right for someone with a vision to exploit the situation.’
‘Isis?’
‘No not Isis, she came a couple of thousand years later, this person was called Assur.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Fair point,’ said India, ‘we can’t be sure but there are many fables and stories passed down through many cultures that hint at his existence. For now, let’s just accept that Assur was a real person sometime after the end of the ice age. Anyway, according to Pagan beliefs, Assur saw an opportunity to bind the many different groups together in one great tribe around the lake. Legend has it that he coordinated the sharing of resources, leading the indigenous people away from their reliance on hunter gathering and into agriculture. History shows us right across the world that once a civilisation accepts and masters farming, whether livestock or crops then with the support of a suitable climate, that society flourishes. Well, this was perfect timing for Assur. The landscape was ideal, the lands fertile, the climate warm and a steady rainfall ensured the growing conditions were perfect. No one knows where he came from but we can imagine he was of eastern descent due to the knowledge he possessed.’
‘Why?’ interrupted Brandon.
‘The far east was far more advanced than the middle east and had been farming for heaven knows how long but wherever he came from, he brought the secret of agriculture with him. Well, you can imagine, all of a sudden word must have spread like wildfire that there was a tribe near the lake that never went hungry without any need to hunt. It must have sounded like heaven and other tribes flooded to join him. He must have been quite a charismatic man but with luck and climate on his side, he managed to spread the word and quickly became a great leader. The story goes that he had a brother called Set and one day while he was out on a journey in the desert, Set murdered him in a fit of jealousy and took his place as leader. However, though he was gone, his legacy was solid and over hundreds of years, the Black sea basin was cleared to become a fertile haven of agricultural excellence. Society flourished and Assur became legendary as a god, the father of civilisation.’
‘Interesting,’ said Brandon, ‘I had no idea. How come this isn’t taught in schools?’
‘Don’t forget, until recently the bible’s creation theory was the only authorised version of history and this would have been seen as heresy. But Middle East archaeology is one of the hottest areas of discovery at the moment with new findings happening on an almost daily basis.’
‘So how is this relevant to us?’
‘Well, this is where it takes an interesting turn,’ she said, ‘Assur was long dead and it would seem that for thousands of years the area thrived as everyone farmed and traded. However, like most eras, times changed and there appears to have been an extended period of conflict between the tribes surrounding the lake. No doubt, leaders rose and fell with none making much of an impact until one day, perhaps thousands of years after the death of Assur, a woman arrived on the scene. She was apparently a very clever woman and was known as twice wise. Her name was Aset or Isis to you and me.’
‘And I suppose she bonded them back together?’ suggested Brandon.
‘Not at first, as though the mother figure was revered in most civilisations, she was still a woman and any self-respecting male leader couldn’t allow a woman to just walk in and take control. He would simply challenge her to a duel and take her role no matter how wise she may be.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Well, that’s where her genius shines through. There was no way she could win a fight so she had to win the people’s support by other means. In addition there was another problem, she was pregnant so needed an ally, someone who would demand instant respect from all the warring tribes and she knew exactly who to call on.’
‘Who?’
‘Assur.’
‘But he was dead.’
‘That’s right and by now, he was known as a god amongst the peoples of the basin but she needed his influence and the respect that the people held for him, so what she did was to make an astonishing claim. She claimed that she had searched the land, found the individual parts of his body and resurrected him. Not only this, she also claimed she was still a virgin and that the god Assur had fathered her baby.’
‘And they bought it?’
‘Well, let’s not forget this was a mystical time when people believed in gods, demons and magic.’
‘It seems some things never change,’ he murmured.
‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘whatever the reason, the people believed her. She became the epitome of the mother figure and the good times returned once more to the area. She gave birth to Horus, a son and he was proclaimed a saviour who would save the world. Her name was revered across the area and the population flourished.’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Brandon, ‘this is an awful lot of information for something that has no evidence.’
‘Oh the evidence is there if you look hard enough,’ she said, ‘in the legends and the stories that abound throughout the world. Just take the story of Assur. The whole area of the Middle East is touched by his legacy. Modern day Syria is named after him and Iraq was once called Mesopotamia, which in itself covered the area once known as Assyria, a derivation of Assur. There were cities called Assur and gods named Assur. In fact, everywhere you turn the name is riddled throughout ancient history but I accept that rumour and hearsay alone are not enough. However, when you apply the same rational to Isis, there is evidence aplenty.’
‘Where?’
‘Written on in the tombs, temples and pyramids of Egypt for a start,’ she said. ‘Her name and symbols are referred to throughout the Egyptian empire from its earliest days to modern day Pagan cults. She had temples built to her throughout history including Rome, Greece and Turkey, you name a place and she has probably been worshipped there in some way shape or form. Even Christianity has been touched by her.’
‘How?’
‘The Virgin Mary.’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake,’ he said.
‘You can believe me or not, the choice is yours but if you look at the image of Isis nursing her infant, she usually has the orb of the sun depicted behind her. Look at the famous pictures of the Madonna and child and she has a radiant halo behind her head. Put them together and they are almost exactly the same yet
Isis lived thousands of years before Mary of Nazareth. I’m not saying that Mary never existed, just that those who chronicled the events hundreds of years later may have been influenced by the stories of Isis. Paganism was everywhere and every role in life had a different god. Is it any wonder that they were influenced by what they knew?’
‘But that’s not the only coincidences if you think about it. Both Mary and Isis had a reputed Virgin birth, with the baby fathered by a god or in Mary’s case, god himself. Both then give birth to a saviour who will save the earth. Who am I talking about? Mary, Isis, both or are the stories basically based on the same versions of history altered by people’s perception over hundreds of years. Even the bad guy Set has a modern day equivalent in Satan.’
‘Fascinating,’ said Brandon, ‘but I’m not sure I buy it.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said India, ‘we're getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s go back a few steps. Forget about the Christian similarities, let’s go back to the times of Isis and Assur. At least you can accept there is reasonable evidence that they existed, yes?’
‘Okay, I’ll run with it.’
‘Good, as I said Isis was very successful and the area flourished. She became bigger than Assur ever was and over the centuries was deified as the goddess of purity and fertility, a reference to the success of the harvest and the Virgin conception of her child. But as great as she was, her name was known only to those in the valley of the Black Sea.’
‘But you said the cult was huge.’
‘It was but to these people the Black Sea basin was the centre of their universe. Let’s not forget this area was more than twice the size of modern day Britain and proportionately was probably the most advanced and populated area of that time. There would have been hundreds of thousands of people living around the lake. Remember, this was before the pyramids of Egypt were built, before Rome existed and even the islands of Greece were still inhabited by hunter-gatherers. The Mediterranean Sea was much lower, as indeed were all the sea levels as a lot of water was being held encapsulated in the ice caps of the north. The people of Isis were probably one of the most advanced peoples of the world at this time and had things worked out differently would have become the epicentre of a great civilisation.’
‘Would have? Why, what happened, a war of some sort?’
‘No on the contrary, though there was a disaster, the majority would have survived but they just moved out of the area.’
‘Why?’
‘The great flood.’
A silence fell in the darkened room before Brandon finally spoke.
‘Please don’t tell me you mean Noah’s flood.’
‘I do.’
‘Oh this is getting ridiculous,’ he said and stood up, switching on his torch.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
‘Getting out of here,’ he said, ‘before these torches run out.’
‘I thought we had agreed we would wait for the manager.’ she said.
‘It’s been over an hour,’ he said, ‘if anyone was coming they would be here by now.’
‘Surely he wouldn’t just leave us down here, that would be would be stupid.’
‘Unless he was the one who locked us in.’
‘What?’
‘Think about it,’ he said, ‘there’s only one way into these tunnels and that’s through his office. Only he knows we are here so who else can it be?’
‘What are you going to do,’ she asked picking up her own torch.
‘Those cables,’ he said, pointing at the old electricity supplies piercing the walls, ‘they must lead somewhere, so pass me that crowbar.’
He climbed on a chair and hit the rotten wood with the tool. The sixty-year-old wooden panel broke easily and within a few minutes he had made a hole wide enough for him to peer through.
‘There’s another panel a few yards along,’ he said and made the hole in the panel as wide as he could. Eventually it was big enough to crawl through and he jumped down off the chair. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘I’ll help you up.’
‘I’m not going in there,’ replied India.
‘You have to,’ he replied, ‘you are smaller than me, I’ll never fit through.’
‘I can’t, ‘I suffer from claustrophobia. This room is bad enough but at least I had you here with me. It looks like that hole is barely big enough for me to crawl through. I can’t do it.’
‘It’s only a few yards, India,’ he said, ‘drop into the next room and come and open the door from the outside. It’s probably our only chance.’
‘I can’t,’ she said again.
‘India, you can,’ he said, ‘I’ll help you up and you go in feet first on your back. Just keep your eyes closed. Two minutes max and it will be over. I will be only a few feet away at all times.’
‘I don’t have an option do I?’ she asked.
Brandon just smiled grimly.
‘We could wait for help to arrive,’ he said, ‘but somehow I think that could be quite a while, if ever.’
‘Okay,’ she said, ‘I’ll do it.’
‘That’s my girl,’ he said and dragged the table across to below the cables, ‘come on, I’ll help you up.’
She climbed into the hole, feet first and wriggled until only her head and shoulders, remained in the room.
‘Good,’ said Brandon, ‘keep going until your feet touch the board on the other side and kick it as hard as you can, it should give way easy enough. When it does, turn over and lower yourself into the room.’
‘Here goes,’ she said and wriggled into the tunnel, ‘keep that bloody light on.’ Within a few minutes he heard the sound of banging and a sudden shout of ‘Yes’ as the board fell away.
‘It’s gone,’ she shouted, ‘I’m just going to drop down.’
‘Be careful,’ he called and watched as she disappeared from view.
A second later, she called again.
‘I’m in,’ came her muffled voice, ‘just looking for the door, just a second there’s someone…Oh, my God’ she screamed, ‘Brandon…Help me.’
----
‘India.’ shouted Brandon, ‘what’s happening? India, answer me, are you okay?’
Apart from her crying, there was no answer and Brandon looked around frantically for the crowbar. He laid the torch on the table and smashed at the door with little success. He looked around again and picked up the solid bench. Using it like a battering ram he smashed it against the hinge side of the door. Straining every muscle, he hit the door repeatedly, until at last, the door frame fixings gave way and the whole doorway fell outwards in a cloud of dust. Brandon climbed through and taking his torch, ran the few yards to the next room, coughing as he went.
This door was also locked but he could see it was a very old padlock and probably hadn’t been opened in years. He returned to the linesman’s room for the crowbar and a minute later, smashed the padlock from the frame before running in to the darkened room. His torch cut through the darkness and he immediately saw India sat in the corner, still crying and shaking in terror.
‘India,’ he said grabbing her by her arms, ‘India, it’s me, Brandon, what’s the matter.’
She looked up at him and threw her arms around him in relief.
‘Okay India,’ he said, ‘you’re safe now, the darkness must have got to you quite bad.’
‘No,’ she sobbed, ‘look…there.’
He turned his head and pointed the torch in the direction she was staring and his blood ran cold.
Leaning against the wall was a large primitive crucifix and tied to the cross was the rotting remains of a young girl.
----
Brandon stared in disbelief at the heart stopping horror in front of him. The girl seemed to be less than ten years old and by the state of the corpse and lack of smell must have been there for months if not years. The rotting fabric hanging from her skeletal frame had once been a white nightdress of some sort but the thick dust layer had transformed it into a morose dirty grey.
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A spider, annoyed by the sudden intrusion of light, scuttled from the web suspended between her nailed wrist and her head, seeking the safety of her straw like hair.
‘Oh my god,’ whispered Brandon and walked over to inspect the body more closely.
‘Brandon, get me out of here,’ said India quietly.
‘Wait a minute,’ he said and shone the torch slowly over the whole body. The skin was stretched tight over the skeleton and her head hung down onto her chest. He used the torch to raise the head up, swallowing hard as he saw the empty sockets of her eyes.
‘Brandon, for Christ’s sake, let’s get out of here,’ said India, unaware of the ironic reference of the link to the cross.
Brandon leaned closer and using his other hand, broke through the cobwebs to get a better look at something underneath.
‘Brandon, I need to get out of here now.’ she said looking nervously over his shoulder at the dead girl.
He fumbled with something before answering.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘let’s go.’ He led her from the room and they made their way back to the station entrance. A few minutes later, they reached the office door and found it already ajar.
‘That’s strange,’ said Brandon, ‘wait here.’
‘Why?’
‘If this guy locked us in that room, he’s probably the one responsible for those poor girls’ deaths. Who knows how he will react when he knows we are alive?’ He picked up a broken piece of wood and wielding it like a club, pushed the door slowly open, his eyes squinting in the bright light of the workroom within.
India waited outside in the maintenance tunnel, nervously shining her torch around her as she waited. A few moments later, she jumped as she heard him call her name. ‘India,’ he shouted, ‘come here, quickly.’
She ran in and found him crouched over the body of the station master lying in a pool of blood.