37
The Eternal City
The next morning, Rome Italy
Indiana Jones gazed out the train window as it drew nearer to the Tiber River and the great city of Rome; the heart and soul, and the center of culture, learning, and power, of maybe the greatest empire the world has ever seen.
Rome was the city from which the likes of Caesar, Augustus, Tiberius, and Hadrian ruled most of the known world. But it was a place where the lofty ideals of just government and the rule of law coexisted with decadent indulgence, slavery, and barbaric blood sport.
Indeed Rome was an enigma.
But Indiana Jones didn't have time to decipher the enigma of the ancient Imperial Capitol on this, the third day of the young year 1938. For him and Vadoma Rome was just a stop along the way on what was becoming an increasingly odyssey-like journey to try to reach Egypt and locate the missing archaeologist Lord Richard Malboury; and maybe find the lost Sun Tablets of the Pharaoh Akhenaton in the process.
Their trip down from Switzerland to the Eternal City of Rome could probably best be described with the adjective 'whirlwind'. After the battle on the lake, Herr Rupprecht had taken them into his home where they'd had a chance to dry their clothes and get something to eat. Then the helpful Swiss gentleman, who spoke endlessly of his anti-Nazi views, was kind enough to drive the pair the sixty odd kilometers from Konstanz to Zurich. There in Zurich they boarded the train that would take them through the spectacular scenery of the Alps and down to Italy. But neither Jones nor Vadoma took in much of the scenery. Both of them were exhausted and slept most of the way through to the Italian border.
Indiana Jones had been on edge as they crossed through to Italy, not knowing whether to expect any trouble from the border guards, or worse, the OVRA, Mussolini's secret police. Jones knew that the Gestapo had direct links to the Black Shirted OVRA and it wasn't altogether out of the question that they had cabled ahead to be on the lookout for the two of them; after all, at the very least he owed them one Messerschmitt airplane. But then again Jones hoped that maybe the Nazis thought that he and Vadoma had perished on the lake along with their boat.
Whether the Nazis thought they were dead or alive though, Jones and Vadoma had no trouble at the Italian border. Their fake Identification papers worked fine and early evening had found them arriving in the Italian alpine city of Milano where they waited three hours for a night train down the coast to Rome. Now as dawn was breaking over the Apennine Mountains to the east, they were completing the last leg of the long journey.
Vadoma was sitting next to Indy, her head resting sleepily on his shoulder until the train made a turn that sent a glint of early morning sun into her eyes.
She squinted and stirred, "Where are we?" She asked in a tired voice that bespoke of their recent ordeals and travels.
"We're almost to Rome," Jones answered her.
"Good," she said, "I am so tired of trains Indy."
"Well, you're in luck," Jones said, "this is the last train we'll be taking...at least until we get to Egypt anyway."
Indiana Jones' plan upon arriving in Rome was to proceed down to the port complex of Ostia, ten miles down the Tiber River on the Mediterranean coast. There he would locate the first passenger ship, cargo freighter, tramp steamer, or whatever ship he could find that was leaving for Alexandria Egypt; a task that shouldn't be too difficult in Rome's busy port complex.
Vadoma turned her head to get the sun out of her eyes and fell back asleep. Jones continued to contemplate the situation.
For obvious reasons as they approached closer towards what was once the center of the Roman Empire Indiana Jones' thoughts began to turn once again to the Roman writer Grachius Calvertus, and his two thousand year old 'Sun Tablets' scroll that might hold the key to not only finding Richard Malboury, but also the three thousand year old Sun Tablets themselves.
Despite the maelstrom of recent catastrophes and near escapes Jones maintained in his mind a clear picture of the archaeological aspects of the quest that he and the gypsy woman now pursued. Whatever else might be tumbling around in his mind at any particular time, for Indiana Jones there was one thing that was always neatly stored and arranged....and that was archaeology.
He cast his mind back a few days to the discussion at the dinner table at Allenby's house. He thought again of the words written in the scroll that he'd discovered in the safe in Malboury's office:
Where the sacred waters of the Nile anoint those of us who worship her glory...where ibuses wander to the tune of flute and sistrum...beneath the feet of the Goddess I laid to rest the power of the sun.
As he had discussed at the dinner table that night, he thought for certain that the Goddess in question most probably must be Isis. Indiana Jones then thought of the most famous temple devoted to the worship of Isis; one that was active throughout the late period and the Roman period of Egyptian history. That temple was the Temple of Isis on Philae Island near to Aswan in the Upper Nile.
The Sun Tablets scroll, probably buried by Calvertus in the Temple of Isis, was no doubt a map to the location of the Tablets themselves.
Had Malboury already found it? Jones could only hope not.
Jones knew too that it was likely that Marcus had come to the same conclusion, that the most likely location of the scroll would be the Temple of Isis on Philae Island. Probably he and the MI5 agent were even now endeavoring to reach the temple and find the scroll before Malboury and the Nazis.
Indiana Jones knew that it did not bode well for him if either Malboury and the Nazis, or Marcus and MI5, found the Sun Tablets scroll before he did. The reasons were obvious why Malboury and the Nazis should not be allowed to find it first. But even for Marcus and MI5 to find it would be bad for Jones since, more than anything, he needed to find and rescue Malboury before anyone else could, in order to get himself out of the mess he was in with the authorities.
It was essentially a three horse race, Jones thought, and right now he was in third place. But he knew that there was no quitting; no going back.
As the train slowed and pulled into Rome's central train station, the Stazione Termini, Indiana Jones turned to Vadoma, "Wake up, this is where we get off," he spoke softly to her.
Her long lashed eyelids fluttered and then opened slowly, "Finally," she said as she yawned and stretched, "I am so tired Indy."
"Me too," Jones said, "but we're still a long way from Egypt."
The two of them stepped off the train and walked out of the station on to the Via Giovanni Giolitti to search for a cab to take them to the port complex at Ostia.
"Indy I am hungry," Vadoma suddenly exclaimed, "can't we stop and eat first?"
Jones thought for a moment. All things considered, they could certainly spare a few minutes time to get something to eat, "Sure, I could use a bite too. A cup of cappuccino and some good Italian pastries might just hit the spot."
They changed direction and proceeded up to the Via Nazionale. As they walked, Jones was still deep in thought. Malboury, Nazis, Marcus, the scroll, the Temple of Isis, the words of the Roman writer Calvertus; all spun round in his head.
But there was something that wasn't quite right. Indiana Jones had a strange feeling about something. In the past Jones knew that such feelings had often proven to be premonitions. Something didn't sound right somewhere in the equation; something didn't fit. The problem was that he couldn't quite put his finger on what that 'something' was.
Was Malboury perhaps a Nazi sympathizer after all? Were they all on maybe the wrong track? Did the Sun Tablets of Akhenaton and Nefertiti really even exist at all? What was it about the words of Calvertus that didn't seem to make sense? Indeed there were a lot of questions.
But the questions could wait until after they ate, Jones thought, as he and Vadoma eventually found an appealing little sidewalk café on the Via Napoli and sat down. Both of them ordered cappuccino, and cornetti breakfast pastries topped with butter and eggs. The food was delicious; all the more so since it was the first food they'd eaten since Switzerland.
Jones continued to turn over in his mind all of the questions that were now vexing him, and to try to figure out what it was that wasn't adding up.
Malboury couldn't be a Nazi sympathizer, he thought. Otherwise why would the Nazis have sent Vadoma over to try and get information from him? And Jones had seen with his own eyes how the Nazis had tried to murder Vadoma in England to keep her quiet. No, he thought, it was something else that was bothering him. The more he thought about it the more it seemed to be something in the writing of Calvertus that might be the 'something' that was out of place.
...Flute and sistrum... Jones ran over the words in his mind as he sipped his cappuccino. ...where ibuses wander... was there some kind of code? ...some kind of double meaning in Calvertus' words?
Vadoma noticed the look of deep concentration on Indiana Jones' face, "What is it Indy, what's wrong?"
Jones looked across the small café table at her and managed a half smile, "Oh, nothing, I'm just trying to solve a puzzle, that's all."
"What kind of puzzle?"
Jones shrugged, "That's just it, I don't know."
He placed a forkful of cornetti in his mouth and continued to torture his mind trying to solve the conundrum whose solution seemed so close that he could almost taste it, just like the delicious Italian pastry that currently delighted his palate.
...Beneath the feet of the Goddess... the sacred waters of the Nile... Jones turned the words over and over...anoint those of us who worship her glory...laid to rest the power of the sun... he struggled to find some hidden meaning, some secret clue...but after a while he gave up, unable to find anything. Maybe it was something else, he thought, as he and Vadoma finished their breakfast and flagged down a taxi.
A few minutes later they were headed for the port complex at Ostia in the back seat of a taxi cab. They were hurtling down the Via delle Terme di Caracalla through the western outskirts of Rome at speeds that could at best be called 'excessive', and at worst 'dangerous'. Indiana Jones was bemused to think that he had yet to meet an Italian who could drive an automobile at anything less than breakneck speeds.
At this rate it would be a short ride Jones thought; though he hoped it wouldn't end in a hospital. Determining that ignorance might be the best way to deal with the situation, Indiana Jones laid his head on the seatback, pulled his fedora down low, and closed his eyes.
A moment later they sprang open.
"That's it!" He suddenly exclaimed.
"What's it?" Vadoma asked, startled.
It seemed that revelations in the back seats of taxi cabs were starting to become the norm for Indiana Jones.
"The words in the scroll!" Jones said excitedly, "the Temple of Isis! That's it!"
Vadoma narrowed her pretty eyes in confusion, "What is it Indy?"
Jones leaned forward and struggled to make himself understood to the cab driver in a mix of bad Italian and broken English. He succeeded, and a few moments later they were on their way back towards Rome... and the Stazione Termini.....
They had another train to catch.
The Eternal City
The next morning, Rome Italy
Indiana Jones gazed out the train window as it drew nearer to the Tiber River and the great city of Rome; the heart and soul, and the center of culture, learning, and power, of maybe the greatest empire the world has ever seen.
Rome was the city from which the likes of Caesar, Augustus, Tiberius, and Hadrian ruled most of the known world. But it was a place where the lofty ideals of just government and the rule of law coexisted with decadent indulgence, slavery, and barbaric blood sport.
Indeed Rome was an enigma.
But Indiana Jones didn't have time to decipher the enigma of the ancient Imperial Capitol on this, the third day of the young year 1938. For him and Vadoma Rome was just a stop along the way on what was becoming an increasingly odyssey-like journey to try to reach Egypt and locate the missing archaeologist Lord Richard Malboury; and maybe find the lost Sun Tablets of the Pharaoh Akhenaton in the process.
Their trip down from Switzerland to the Eternal City of Rome could probably best be described with the adjective 'whirlwind'. After the battle on the lake, Herr Rupprecht had taken them into his home where they'd had a chance to dry their clothes and get something to eat. Then the helpful Swiss gentleman, who spoke endlessly of his anti-Nazi views, was kind enough to drive the pair the sixty odd kilometers from Konstanz to Zurich. There in Zurich they boarded the train that would take them through the spectacular scenery of the Alps and down to Italy. But neither Jones nor Vadoma took in much of the scenery. Both of them were exhausted and slept most of the way through to the Italian border.
Indiana Jones had been on edge as they crossed through to Italy, not knowing whether to expect any trouble from the border guards, or worse, the OVRA, Mussolini's secret police. Jones knew that the Gestapo had direct links to the Black Shirted OVRA and it wasn't altogether out of the question that they had cabled ahead to be on the lookout for the two of them; after all, at the very least he owed them one Messerschmitt airplane. But then again Jones hoped that maybe the Nazis thought that he and Vadoma had perished on the lake along with their boat.
Whether the Nazis thought they were dead or alive though, Jones and Vadoma had no trouble at the Italian border. Their fake Identification papers worked fine and early evening had found them arriving in the Italian alpine city of Milano where they waited three hours for a night train down the coast to Rome. Now as dawn was breaking over the Apennine Mountains to the east, they were completing the last leg of the long journey.
Vadoma was sitting next to Indy, her head resting sleepily on his shoulder until the train made a turn that sent a glint of early morning sun into her eyes.
She squinted and stirred, "Where are we?" She asked in a tired voice that bespoke of their recent ordeals and travels.
"We're almost to Rome," Jones answered her.
"Good," she said, "I am so tired of trains Indy."
"Well, you're in luck," Jones said, "this is the last train we'll be taking...at least until we get to Egypt anyway."
Indiana Jones' plan upon arriving in Rome was to proceed down to the port complex of Ostia, ten miles down the Tiber River on the Mediterranean coast. There he would locate the first passenger ship, cargo freighter, tramp steamer, or whatever ship he could find that was leaving for Alexandria Egypt; a task that shouldn't be too difficult in Rome's busy port complex.
Vadoma turned her head to get the sun out of her eyes and fell back asleep. Jones continued to contemplate the situation.
For obvious reasons as they approached closer towards what was once the center of the Roman Empire Indiana Jones' thoughts began to turn once again to the Roman writer Grachius Calvertus, and his two thousand year old 'Sun Tablets' scroll that might hold the key to not only finding Richard Malboury, but also the three thousand year old Sun Tablets themselves.
Despite the maelstrom of recent catastrophes and near escapes Jones maintained in his mind a clear picture of the archaeological aspects of the quest that he and the gypsy woman now pursued. Whatever else might be tumbling around in his mind at any particular time, for Indiana Jones there was one thing that was always neatly stored and arranged....and that was archaeology.
He cast his mind back a few days to the discussion at the dinner table at Allenby's house. He thought again of the words written in the scroll that he'd discovered in the safe in Malboury's office:
Where the sacred waters of the Nile anoint those of us who worship her glory...where ibuses wander to the tune of flute and sistrum...beneath the feet of the Goddess I laid to rest the power of the sun.
As he had discussed at the dinner table that night, he thought for certain that the Goddess in question most probably must be Isis. Indiana Jones then thought of the most famous temple devoted to the worship of Isis; one that was active throughout the late period and the Roman period of Egyptian history. That temple was the Temple of Isis on Philae Island near to Aswan in the Upper Nile.
The Sun Tablets scroll, probably buried by Calvertus in the Temple of Isis, was no doubt a map to the location of the Tablets themselves.
Had Malboury already found it? Jones could only hope not.
Jones knew too that it was likely that Marcus had come to the same conclusion, that the most likely location of the scroll would be the Temple of Isis on Philae Island. Probably he and the MI5 agent were even now endeavoring to reach the temple and find the scroll before Malboury and the Nazis.
Indiana Jones knew that it did not bode well for him if either Malboury and the Nazis, or Marcus and MI5, found the Sun Tablets scroll before he did. The reasons were obvious why Malboury and the Nazis should not be allowed to find it first. But even for Marcus and MI5 to find it would be bad for Jones since, more than anything, he needed to find and rescue Malboury before anyone else could, in order to get himself out of the mess he was in with the authorities.
It was essentially a three horse race, Jones thought, and right now he was in third place. But he knew that there was no quitting; no going back.
As the train slowed and pulled into Rome's central train station, the Stazione Termini, Indiana Jones turned to Vadoma, "Wake up, this is where we get off," he spoke softly to her.
Her long lashed eyelids fluttered and then opened slowly, "Finally," she said as she yawned and stretched, "I am so tired Indy."
"Me too," Jones said, "but we're still a long way from Egypt."
The two of them stepped off the train and walked out of the station on to the Via Giovanni Giolitti to search for a cab to take them to the port complex at Ostia.
"Indy I am hungry," Vadoma suddenly exclaimed, "can't we stop and eat first?"
Jones thought for a moment. All things considered, they could certainly spare a few minutes time to get something to eat, "Sure, I could use a bite too. A cup of cappuccino and some good Italian pastries might just hit the spot."
They changed direction and proceeded up to the Via Nazionale. As they walked, Jones was still deep in thought. Malboury, Nazis, Marcus, the scroll, the Temple of Isis, the words of the Roman writer Calvertus; all spun round in his head.
But there was something that wasn't quite right. Indiana Jones had a strange feeling about something. In the past Jones knew that such feelings had often proven to be premonitions. Something didn't sound right somewhere in the equation; something didn't fit. The problem was that he couldn't quite put his finger on what that 'something' was.
Was Malboury perhaps a Nazi sympathizer after all? Were they all on maybe the wrong track? Did the Sun Tablets of Akhenaton and Nefertiti really even exist at all? What was it about the words of Calvertus that didn't seem to make sense? Indeed there were a lot of questions.
But the questions could wait until after they ate, Jones thought, as he and Vadoma eventually found an appealing little sidewalk café on the Via Napoli and sat down. Both of them ordered cappuccino, and cornetti breakfast pastries topped with butter and eggs. The food was delicious; all the more so since it was the first food they'd eaten since Switzerland.
Jones continued to turn over in his mind all of the questions that were now vexing him, and to try to figure out what it was that wasn't adding up.
Malboury couldn't be a Nazi sympathizer, he thought. Otherwise why would the Nazis have sent Vadoma over to try and get information from him? And Jones had seen with his own eyes how the Nazis had tried to murder Vadoma in England to keep her quiet. No, he thought, it was something else that was bothering him. The more he thought about it the more it seemed to be something in the writing of Calvertus that might be the 'something' that was out of place.
...Flute and sistrum... Jones ran over the words in his mind as he sipped his cappuccino. ...where ibuses wander... was there some kind of code? ...some kind of double meaning in Calvertus' words?
Vadoma noticed the look of deep concentration on Indiana Jones' face, "What is it Indy, what's wrong?"
Jones looked across the small café table at her and managed a half smile, "Oh, nothing, I'm just trying to solve a puzzle, that's all."
"What kind of puzzle?"
Jones shrugged, "That's just it, I don't know."
He placed a forkful of cornetti in his mouth and continued to torture his mind trying to solve the conundrum whose solution seemed so close that he could almost taste it, just like the delicious Italian pastry that currently delighted his palate.
...Beneath the feet of the Goddess... the sacred waters of the Nile... Jones turned the words over and over...anoint those of us who worship her glory...laid to rest the power of the sun... he struggled to find some hidden meaning, some secret clue...but after a while he gave up, unable to find anything. Maybe it was something else, he thought, as he and Vadoma finished their breakfast and flagged down a taxi.
A few minutes later they were headed for the port complex at Ostia in the back seat of a taxi cab. They were hurtling down the Via delle Terme di Caracalla through the western outskirts of Rome at speeds that could at best be called 'excessive', and at worst 'dangerous'. Indiana Jones was bemused to think that he had yet to meet an Italian who could drive an automobile at anything less than breakneck speeds.
At this rate it would be a short ride Jones thought; though he hoped it wouldn't end in a hospital. Determining that ignorance might be the best way to deal with the situation, Indiana Jones laid his head on the seatback, pulled his fedora down low, and closed his eyes.
A moment later they sprang open.
"That's it!" He suddenly exclaimed.
"What's it?" Vadoma asked, startled.
It seemed that revelations in the back seats of taxi cabs were starting to become the norm for Indiana Jones.
"The words in the scroll!" Jones said excitedly, "the Temple of Isis! That's it!"
Vadoma narrowed her pretty eyes in confusion, "What is it Indy?"
Jones leaned forward and struggled to make himself understood to the cab driver in a mix of bad Italian and broken English. He succeeded, and a few moments later they were on their way back towards Rome... and the Stazione Termini.....
They had another train to catch.