Free The Exodus Quest by Will Adams Page B

puzzles, jumbling all the pieces up together, then throwing away ninety per cent and bashing up the rest with a hammer. But making sense of such things is what I do. It’s why Fatima invited me down here. I usually work with ancient texts, but the principle’s the same.’
    ‘How do you go about it?’
    ‘It’s easiest if I explain with scrolls. Imagine finding thousands of fragments from different documents all muddled up together. Your first task is to photograph them all to scale and at very high resolution, because the original fragments are simply too fragile to work with. You then examine each one more closely. Is the material papyrus or parchment? If papyrus, what weave? If parchment, from what animal? We can test the DNA these days, would you believe, to see if two fragments of parchment come from the same animal. What colour is it? How smooth? How thick? What does the reverse look like? How about the ink? Has it smudged or bled? Can we analyse its chemical signature? Is the nib thick or thin, regular or scratchy? And what about the handwriting? Scribal hands are very distinctive, though you have to be careful with that, because people often worked on more than one document, and some documents were written by more than one scribe. Anyway, all that should help you separate the initial jumble into different original scrolls; rather like separating the jigsaw pieces I mentioned earlier into their different puzzles. Your next task is to reassemble them.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘Often we’re already familiar with the texts,’ answered Gaille. ‘Like with the Book of the Dead , for instance. Then it’s just a question of translating the fragments and seeing where they fit. But if it’s an original document – a letter, say – then we look for other clues. Maybe a line of text that runs from one fragment to the next. If we’re very lucky, multiple matching lines, putting it beyond doubt. More usually, however, we’ll put similar themes together. Two fragments on burial practices, say. Or two episodes about a particular person. Failing that, fragments are, by definition, damaged. Is there a pattern of damage? Imagine rolling a sheet of paper into a scroll, burning a hole through all the layers with a cigarette, then ripping it up. The burn-holes won’t just help you reassemble the scroll, they’ll also tell you how tightly it was rolled in the first place, by the steadily decreasing distances between them. And scribes often scratched guidelines on their parchment to keep their writing level. We can match those scratches from one fragment to the next, by tiny variations in the gaps between them, like checking tree rings.’
    ‘And there are similar indications with talatat , are there?’
    ‘Yes,’ nodded Gaille. ‘Though they tend to be more elusive. For example, talatat are made either from limestone or sandstone. Limestone talatat typically go with limestone; sandstone with sandstone. And the composition of the stone is useful, too, because walls were often built with stone from a single quarry. But you can’t rely too heavily on that. Paint residue can also be helpful, as can weather-damage. Maybe the bricks have been sun-bleached. Or maybe there was a leaky pipe nearby, and they’ve got matching water stains. Anyway, once we’ve done what we can, we try to reassemble them into scenes. Talatat are typically decorated either on their long side, which we call “stretchers”, or on their short side, which we call “headers”. Egyptians used alternate courses of stretchers and headers. That really helps. After that, it often really is a case of putting heads on torsos. Fortunately, many of the scenes are duplicates of each other, or of scenes that have already been reconstructed from talatat found elsewhere, so we know what we’re looking for.’
    Lily’s ears pricked up. ‘But not all?’ she asked shrewdly.
    ‘No,’ acknowledged Gaille. ‘Not all.’
    ‘You’ve found something, haven’t you?