Part IIThe Darkest Hour
The next morning dawned in brilliant, blinding sunlight. Lara packed her bags, checked out and picked up her rental four-wheel drive. She'd been too exhausted the previous evening to do anything. She'd fallen asleep after three hours of staring blankly at the badly functioning television set, listening to Al-Jazeera news with half an ear while trying to convince herself everything was just fine.
Her mood improved when she hit the road. After a good thirty minutes' drive Amman was nothing more than a blotch in the horizon behind her as she accelerated on the Amman-Suweilah road that wound itself across a vast area of desert between the two cities. It would be a good six hours' drive to Petra.
Traffic was frequent, but everyone kept a good pace and an even better distance, and Lara wound down the windows to enjoy the scorchingly hot wind.
When she would arrived in Petra she'd check into her hotel and pack her backpack. Then she would rent a horse which would enable her to skip the 45 minute walk through the canyon to the entrance of the city. She would spend the day looking into the first site, trying to avoid the prying eyes of guards. When evening approached, she would quietly hike a little further, leaving the hoardes of tourists behind, and find a place to put up her tent. Or perhaps she could spread her sleeping bag inside an empty tomb?
Only Jerusalem prevailed the ancient city in the number of mentions in the Bible. Petra had had a significant role in history for thousands of years, and now served as one of the most stunning tourist attractions in the Middle East.
Lara's interest focused in the Nabataean period, spanning seven centuries from 500 BC to 100 CE. First a mere group of tribes who took over the area from the Edomites, the Nabataeans had been a proud high-culture society to the habits of which numerous conquers had had very little effect. The city-state was threatened for centuries by the empires of the Seleucids and the Egyptians, whose decline allowed the developing of the Nabataean society into grandeur. Their territories were extended, and wealth great due to vibrant trade. Nabataean kings loathed Israelites and the inhabitants of Judah, but had a profound admiration for the culture of the Greeks, which strongly flavoured the architecture of Petra.
Petra had also been deeply woven into the petty squabbles between the Roman governors in the area, and even Cleopatrahad on numerous occasions favoured the biblically famous Herod over other Roman lords in terms of trade. Herod had been Nabatean-born.
Decades later Cleopatra's lover, Marc Anthony turned to Petra for aid in trying to defeat the two other warlords in his former triumvirate, Octavian and Lepidus. He arrived in Petra with several cohorts of soldiers, gold from Egypt and other provinces and promises of a lasting alliance if the Nabataeans offered him their support. It was not known for certain what their reply was, but as is widely known, Marc Anthony did not succeed in becoming the first Roman emperor.
The question was, what had happened to the gold and other tokens of bribery Anthony had brought with him?
The ride was uneventful save for when the road map Lara had placed on the seat next to her blew away in the draft from the windows and she had to pull over to rescue it.
She arrived in Petra late in the afternoon after stopping by at a peculiar sight just before the small tourist village before the Siqq: solid, carved cubic rocks on the roadside. They were several metres in breadth and some as high as six metres. In Arabic they were referred to as sahrij – the translation 'water-wells' being somewhat misleading. They were often situated near running water, hence the name, but not associated with it at all. Instead, they were the dwellings of ancient Nabataean spirit-guardians. Lara tried to climb the ragged surface of a smaller block but it was carved so smooth she could not find any sufficient handholds. Nevertheless, they were a peculiar sight, like modern sculptures in the middle of the barren desert.
The village of Wadi Musa had been swallowed by tourism and now served as the starting point of a winding path lined with hotels that lead up to the entrance to the Siqq – the canyon entrance.
She threw her bags into her reserved room in the Petra Forum Hotel, packed her things hastily, and set off.
It was easy to find a horse – the offers were plentiful. Most of the animals were quite small, and often she was offered donkeys or mules despite the fact that she had indeed requested after a horse, but in a few minutes she found an elderly man with several dark-coloured and muscled horses that were in good condition and energetic. Lara refused the offer for company, mounted her chosen steed – an almost black mare with a white mark the shape of a crescent moon on its forehead. She agreed to return the horse later that evening to its owner who would be waiting for her near the Street of Facades inside the city. From there she would hike further into the desert and find a place to sleep in.
The afternoon sun was warm and pleasant, but its effects were lost inside the Siqq. The 1,5 kilometres long gorge was not the only entrance to Petra, but by far the most spectacular and convenient one.
Inside the shadows were long and water dripped from tiny crevices in the dark yellow rock walls. Th sand was fine and white, and the footfalls of Lara's horse echoed several seconds. She could hear a group of tourists chattering and walking the same route behind her, but the sounds became quieter as she gained distance.
She also heard other echoes, as though Djinns or other spirits were wailing, trapped inside the stones, but it must've been the wind. Or perhaps water expanding and cracking the rock.
Far above, flocks of sparrows rose to the skies and settled into their nests or chased after insects. The highest parts of the gorge were illuminated by sunlight, the rock glowing with a rose-red shape which had made Petra so famous.
Lara was glad to be on horseback again. She'd learned to ride in her childhood as it was a common pastime for high-society children, and regretted that she did not often have the chance to use her skills. The steady rocking and the tense, moving muscles underneath her body gave an almost hypnotizing sensation. Lara almost felt sorry that she was not there just to marvel at the sights.
When did I stop just looking and wondering? When did my work become such a routine that I began to forget to really take note of my surroundings?
She had seen a good portion of the wonders of the world, but what first came to mind about each place where the discoveries she'd made there. She wondered in the Nabataeans themselves had realized what a magnificent place they'd created and lived in? Probably not.
Somewhere further away pebbles clinked down the gorge surface, sounding like shards of glass dropped on ice.
The Siqq ended and opened into a wider chasm and finally into open air.
Lara gasped. Beyond the Siqq she could suddenly see a magnificent sight – the Al-Khasneh Farun with its temple-like facade. It was pinkish rose-red and intricately carved, and rose out of the dust and sand like a temple floating on a cloud. The best-reserved monument in Petra, its name could be translated into 'Treasury of Pharaoh'. Quite a promising title considering what Lara was looking for, but it had been thoroughly searched and the title was but a nickname without a historical background. It had probably been a tomb of King Harith IV which had degenerated into a toll booth during the Roman times. It was possible that it had also served as a temple for the imported goddess Isis, or Al-Uzza in Nabataean.
The pillars were in Corinthian style and Lara admired the way the best attributes of Greek style had been fusioned with detailed, intricate Indoeuropeic carvings.
She continued further and went off the beaten path to find the Temple of the Winged Lions. Lions had been sacred to Al-Uzza, and the pillars adorning this recently discovered temple were so beautiful Lara took the time to quickly sketch them into her notepad. She left her horse tied to a next to a water well, and began her search for the first storage chamber.
After two hours of climbing up and down rocky surfaces Lara found a small crevice blocked by sand. It was in the direction she'd expected. She dug out her notes from the museum along with Evers' photocopies.
The stelae housed in the museum in Amman had been part of a frieze which seemed to be included in many of the buildings. It was a map of some sorts, a series of spheres with the main buildings marked down as symbols. The Lion Temple had naturally been signaled with a lion, but left of it which in nature would mean a few hundred meters, lay a small cave-like area marked with a scroll. It could have meant a library, but why build one in the outskirts of the city instead of the central parts?
Lara earned a mass of scrapes on her hands by removing the rubble blocking the entrance by hand.
Inside, she found a small room. Sunlight floated in from holes in the ceiling rock. It was completely empty, save for some carvings blackened by fire.
Lara inspected them as the sun slowly began setting. The first one was mostly destroyed, but she could make out the image of a fish of some sorts – a valuable import in a city in the middle of the desert.
The second one showed a woman carrying pots and urns and a small boy holding what seemed a pidgeon. There was a building in Petra titled The Columbarium which usually meant a housing for these birds, but in terms of archaeology it meant a set of niches for burial urns, and this was its likeliest explanation in Petra.
The last carving in a series of five still had some vibrant colours left, strenghtened by the red hue of the rock face. It showed an Asian-looking woman with a snake tiara laying down items of jewellery on a strangely shaped stone which looked like a heart.
Lara looked around but did not find such a stone. Could this be another interlinked carving – one she would find in most storage areas? She truly hoped so, as this woman could be no other than Cleopatra. The snake tiara was a good clue, and the African look an even better one. Cleopatra had been Greek, but the rumours and legends circulating the opposite shores of the Mediterranian had described her as an orient seductress, thus everyone had painted a mental picture of a dark beauty. She even had almost black skin in the engraving.
She made as thorough notes as she could, and then hurried to ride to the City Centre to meet her horseman. Perhaps she could arrange to ride the same horse the following day as well.
She found the Street of Facades fifteen minutes late. The sun cast its last rays as she patted her horse a gentle goodbye and turned her back to the Siqq, beginning her hike towards the Snake Monument.
After an hour it got completely dark, and Lara realized she must've walked off her route by a kilometre or two. Luckily there were more than enough tombs to go by, despite the fact that she was quite far from the main parts of Petra. She decided to leave worrying for the following day and enjoy a quiet meal outside before settling in for the night.
She made a fire into which she tossed every dry branch she could find, which was just enough to warm a can of peas and to revive an eish – a Jordanian flat bread that shared the same word as life in Arabic. It was as important to the Jordanians as rice was to Indians.
It wasn't exactly a gourmet meal, but would do to settle her complaining stomach. She was actually suprised to realize she was hungry.
Downside of doing field work, she thought grimly and swallowed down the last sticky peas with a gulp of lukewarm water from her bottle.
She sat on a rock in the moonshine for a long time, not so much lost in thought but feeling serene and blank for a change. She was tired in a healthy way, tired after a physically straining day and not as the result of having too much to think about.
On the other hand, her work for the day was done and now any stray uncomfortable thought could easily surface and begin to irk her.
She wondered what Winston was doing. She'd given him strict directions on how to handle reporters, relatives ad friends who probably were calling in on her all the time. One reason why she felt like being away from the house. She could always have left the answering to Winston and simply refused to talk to anyone, but she'd still hear the phone ringing, feeling the silent urge that surfaced when she just knew someone wanted something from her.
Here she was on her own and noone demanded anything of her.
Still, it would be nice to have someone talk to.
Where had that come from? Wasn't she here because she wished to be alone? And what could she probably wish to talk about?
Her father? Not by a long shot. Herself? Not much interest in that either.
Perhaps archaeology. Everyday things. Art.
Just talk.
True enough, she talked to Winston a lot when she was at home and on the phone when she was travelling, but they kept stricly to business. There was the exception of the night he'd stayed up to tell her that... she'd received the phonecall.
Still, the old saying that one should be careful of what one wished for came to mind. If she had someone to talk to who would that be. A friend? She had a few of those but most were business-based acquointances. A lover? She did not have one and the trouble she'd have to go through to find one felt horrendous as a project. She'd grown weary of such dating games ages ago.
A relative? There was Aunt Gillian, of course.
But none of these alternatives were available at the moment and where she was, sitting on a cool, red rock in the middle of the Greater Syrian Desert.
And she could never have believed that she could come across someone in this barren land.