Free The Lost Temple by Tom Harper Page A
Authors: Tom Harper
village called Zakros. It means . . .” She thought for a second. “It means the Valley of the Dead.”
“Sounds promising.”
C HAPTER 5
Valley of the Dead, Crete
Red rock walls rose stark above them, glowing in the sun, but in the cleft of the gorge a tangle of plane trees and oleanders shaded the valley floor. Grant peered up through the leaves, shading his eyes against the brightness. They were in a vast canyon, curving gradually toward the sea. High above, a series of dark holes riddled the cliffs.
“Those are tombs.” Marina’s black dress was gone, traded in a village they’d passed for a pair of surplus green military trousers and a short-sleeved blouse, unbuttoned just far enough to draw Grant’s eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking. Her dark hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and, though she wore no make-up, three days walking across the mountains had burnished her skin to a lustrous brown. A coil of rope was looped over her shoulder.
“People have been buried in those caves since Minoan times,” she continued. “So, the Valley of the Dead.”
“Doesn’t look too frightening to me. Sun’s shining, wild-flowers are out, birds are singing.”
“Actually, to the Greeks, birds were often seen as harbingers of death, messengers to and from the underworld.”
“Oh.” A sinister note suddenly crept into the trill chirruping around them. “Has anyone ever explored the caves?”
“Always.” She wrinkled her nose. “It doesn’t take long for the sacred relics of one generation to become pickings foranother. Archaeologists have found a few ancient burials, but most of them disappeared a long time ago.”
“Then why . . .”
“We’re not here for the tombs.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, a copy she had sketched of Pemberton’s drawing. “You see the horns? We’re looking for a shrine.”
“Not the same thing?”
“The Minoans didn’t bury their dead in their temples. No one did until the Christians came along. The ancients would have been shocked by the idea of bringing the dead into the places of the living. They put them in the cities of the dead—necropolises. Like those caves.”
“So where do we look for the temple?”
Marina considered it for a moment. “Hogarth—another archaeologist—excavated at the mouth of the gorge in 1901. He found a few Minoan houses, but no shrine.”
“Maybe Pemberton found something he missed.” Grant took the drawing from Marina and squinted at it. “You said these zigzag lines might represent water?”
“Or they might be purely decorative. There’s no way . . .”
“Look.” Grant held the paper upright, looking straight down the valley. “These two triangles on each side—those are the sides of the gorge. You’ve got the sea in front of them. And here”—he jabbed a finger in the center of the picture—“the temple.”
Marina looked doubtful. “I don’t think you can assume that the Minoans used spatial relationships in their art like that.”
“Bollocks. They drew it as they saw it.”
“Really?” Her tone hardened. “And how do you know how they saw the world, so many thousand years ago? For that matter, how do you explain the lion floating in mid air? Did they draw that as they saw it?”
“Perhaps it’s a cloud.”
“And the dome underneath it? A rainbow, perhaps?”
“Well, have you got a better idea?”
She sighed. “No.”
But Grant’s victory was short-lived. The canyon endedalmost half a mile from the coast, spilling out into a few dusty farm fields.
“The ruins Hogarth found must be somewhere here,” said Marina, exasperated. She looked at the sketch again. “What did Pemberton see here that made him think of the Valley of the Dead?”
In one of the fields a gaunt ox was dragging a plow through the dry earth. A farmer in a tweed jacket stood beside it, swatting its flank with a cane, while a stout woman in a headscarf looked on. They watched
“Sounds promising.”
C HAPTER 5
Valley of the Dead, Crete
Red rock walls rose stark above them, glowing in the sun, but in the cleft of the gorge a tangle of plane trees and oleanders shaded the valley floor. Grant peered up through the leaves, shading his eyes against the brightness. They were in a vast canyon, curving gradually toward the sea. High above, a series of dark holes riddled the cliffs.
“Those are tombs.” Marina’s black dress was gone, traded in a village they’d passed for a pair of surplus green military trousers and a short-sleeved blouse, unbuttoned just far enough to draw Grant’s eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking. Her dark hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and, though she wore no make-up, three days walking across the mountains had burnished her skin to a lustrous brown. A coil of rope was looped over her shoulder.
“People have been buried in those caves since Minoan times,” she continued. “So, the Valley of the Dead.”
“Doesn’t look too frightening to me. Sun’s shining, wild-flowers are out, birds are singing.”
“Actually, to the Greeks, birds were often seen as harbingers of death, messengers to and from the underworld.”
“Oh.” A sinister note suddenly crept into the trill chirruping around them. “Has anyone ever explored the caves?”
“Always.” She wrinkled her nose. “It doesn’t take long for the sacred relics of one generation to become pickings foranother. Archaeologists have found a few ancient burials, but most of them disappeared a long time ago.”
“Then why . . .”
“We’re not here for the tombs.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, a copy she had sketched of Pemberton’s drawing. “You see the horns? We’re looking for a shrine.”
“Not the same thing?”
“The Minoans didn’t bury their dead in their temples. No one did until the Christians came along. The ancients would have been shocked by the idea of bringing the dead into the places of the living. They put them in the cities of the dead—necropolises. Like those caves.”
“So where do we look for the temple?”
Marina considered it for a moment. “Hogarth—another archaeologist—excavated at the mouth of the gorge in 1901. He found a few Minoan houses, but no shrine.”
“Maybe Pemberton found something he missed.” Grant took the drawing from Marina and squinted at it. “You said these zigzag lines might represent water?”
“Or they might be purely decorative. There’s no way . . .”
“Look.” Grant held the paper upright, looking straight down the valley. “These two triangles on each side—those are the sides of the gorge. You’ve got the sea in front of them. And here”—he jabbed a finger in the center of the picture—“the temple.”
Marina looked doubtful. “I don’t think you can assume that the Minoans used spatial relationships in their art like that.”
“Bollocks. They drew it as they saw it.”
“Really?” Her tone hardened. “And how do you know how they saw the world, so many thousand years ago? For that matter, how do you explain the lion floating in mid air? Did they draw that as they saw it?”
“Perhaps it’s a cloud.”
“And the dome underneath it? A rainbow, perhaps?”
“Well, have you got a better idea?”
She sighed. “No.”
But Grant’s victory was short-lived. The canyon endedalmost half a mile from the coast, spilling out into a few dusty farm fields.
“The ruins Hogarth found must be somewhere here,” said Marina, exasperated. She looked at the sketch again. “What did Pemberton see here that made him think of the Valley of the Dead?”
In one of the fields a gaunt ox was dragging a plow through the dry earth. A farmer in a tweed jacket stood beside it, swatting its flank with a cane, while a stout woman in a headscarf looked on. They watched