Chapter 23

They couldn’t talk much on the ascent. It wasn’t steep, but it was slippery. Their gloved hands felt strange when they held them. They kept their heads down and trudged along.

Keith nearly stumbled into a massive stone head before they realized they had reached the terrace where the gods sat with men.

“Oh my...” Maddie began. “This is amazing. This head is taller than we are!”

“It’s only the head,” he said pointing. Beyond him on a platform above the terrace were the remains of five thrones with seated figures. If the heads were attached they would rise more than twenty feet above the platform, dwarfing everyone and everything else.

“In all of the classical sites that I can think of, there are only standing gods. These are all seated. I thought that was a convention that originated in the Renaissance.”

“There aren’t many websites that talk about this site and most of them have copied and pasted from the same source as far as I could tell,” Keith said. “I didn’t have time for extensive research, but I remember reading that when Antiochus was asked why the gods were seated, he responded that this was their home and there was no reason for them to stand.”

“It’s like being in the living room of the gods. What is this style?”

“A bit of a cross between Hellenic and Persian. Antiochus’s mother was descended from Alexander the Great. His father from the Persian emperor Darius,” Keith explained. “It’s the only place recorded where the two are equated and pictured as one.”

“Who is the big one in the middle? Zeus?”

“Yes. It starts with Antiochus, then the goddess Kommagene or Tyche. On the other side of Zeus are Apollo and Hermes. They all have Persian names as well. Antiochus claimed not only kinship but complete equality with the gods and instead of being called King Antiochus he was called Theos, or God Antiochus.”

“That’s an ego for you,” Maddie said. Keith turned in a slow circle to look out over the valley below.

“Look. That must be the village where Najat wants us to meet him.” It was scarcely a dozen houses clustered together beneath them.

“At least it doesn’t look too far away,” Maddie said. “I hope he can get there. I don’t think he likes me much, though.”

“He’s a chauvinist,” Keith agreed.

“Well, where do we start?”

“There.” Keith pointed.

She turned and looked up at the statues. Behind them rose the tumulus, 150 feet in the air and nearly 200 yards across. It was made of loose gravel. No one had ever found the burial chamber of the King.

“We have to climb that?”

“No. But on the other side is another terrace, pretty much the same as this one,” Keith said. “Gutenberg’s instructions were clear. The clues are on that side. According to the site map, there is a processional path that circles the tumulus.”

It took another half an hour for them to move to the eastern terrace on the narrow track around the huge mound of gravel. It was muddy and slippery with patches of ice. What they found on the eastern terrace mimicked the western with the seated gods surrounding a level area where worshipers participated in various festivals.

“Antiochus decreed that his birth and his ascension would be celebrated every month,” Keith told her. “So on the tenth and seventeenth of every month there were parades and feasts on each of the terraces.”

“Where’s the entrance?” Maddie asked.

“That’s the problem.”

“Don’t tell me we have to look around for an entrance that archaeologists haven’t found in fifty years of digging!” she said.

“Well, we have clues the archaeologists haven’t had,” he answered. “First I’m to stand beside the king.”

“Look, there are all kinds of kings and gods and what-have-you around here,” Maddie said. “Can we be any more specific?”

“Well, let’s start with Antiochus,” Keith said. “He was King of the Kommagene. Then we’ll try Zeus, King of the gods.”

“So what then?”

“I need to follow the symbols of initiation,” Keith said.

“That could be almost anything,” Maddie said. “Ancient religions had all kinds of symbols—any that could be used in initiation.” They paced around the area looking for symbols.

“But Gutenberg only created one set of initiation symbols. And he’s the one who wrote the instructions we are following.”

“Shield, crescent, lozenge, cross,” Maddie recited the basic shapes of the original printer’s marks. “Caduceus, pyramid, chalice, scroll.” They searched the ground and sides of the huge sculptures. “Sword, diamond, trefoil, star.” The climb to the terrace had been rigorous enough that they shed their heavy parkas while they walked, but by noon they had pulled them tight against themselves as the winds whipped in gusts around them and the sky darkened with the threat of a late-season snow. April was unpredictable at best and the two huddled together in the middle of the Western Terrace looking back toward the monuments.

“Antiochus seems to have been into words instead of symbols,” Maddie said. “We can’t possibly transcribe and read all the inscriptions on these monuments.”

“It follows that a shrine that evolved to protect the word would use a lot of words to do it,” Keith said. “But we are definitely looking for symbols.”

“What did it say exactly?”

“Stand beside the king and follow the symbols of initiation to the water’s edge. There you will find the path to enlightenment,” Keith recited.

“How about that king?” Maddie asked pointing a fallen figure. “You haven’t tried him yet.”

“You are brilliant, darling,” Keith said standing and moving directly to the massive stone lion, king of the beasts. Maddie followed more slowly, examining the ground as she approached.

“Keith, this won’t be right. This statue isn’t close to where it should be. They’ve been knocked down just like the heads were. On the western terrace, the lion was up next to the eagle and the thrones.”

“They were probably in something close to these positions when Gutenberg was here, though,” he said. “The monument is over 2,000 years old. He would have been here maybe 600 years ago.”