Dourado

CHAPTER 21

Dane rubbed his eyes and fought to stay awake as the tour guide droned on. The guide was an American, and appeared to be in his early retirement years. A fringe of white hair showed at the back of his head beneath his tan pith helmet. The sun was apparently not agreeing with the man, as his burned, red face attested, but he did seem knowledgeable, if a bit dry.

“Petra was the stronghold and treasure city of an ancient Arabic people who were called the Nabataeans. It was situated near the points of intersection of great caravan routes from Gaza on the Mediterranean Sea, Damascus, Elath on the Red Sea, and the Persian Gulf. From the fourth century B.C. until the second century A.D., Petra was the capital of the Nabataean Kingdom. The Romans conquered it at the beginning of the second century A.D., and made it part of the Roman province of Arabia Petraea. The city continued to thrive in the second and third centuries, but later, when the rival city of Palmyra took away most of Petra's trade, its importance declined. It was conquered by the Muslims in the seventh century and captured by the Crusaders in the twelfth century. Afterward, it gradually fell into ruin.”

Dane looked at Kaylin, who was seated next to him. She was studiously making notes in a small journal book, despite the fact that they both already knew these things.

“The site of the ancient city was rediscovered in 1812 by the Swiss explorer Johann Burckhardt,” the guide continued.

Dane was tempted to ask him who was the first to excavate the city, but knew that he should not risk drawing that sort of attention to himself. He shifted in his seat, and exhaled loudly. Kaylin frowned at him and kept writing.

“Petra is known both for its natural beauty and for its magnificent monuments. You will see, when you approach the city, that it may be entered only through a chasm which is, in some places, no more than twelve feet wide. Along the ravine are the ancient structures carved out of the walls of solid rock, the most famous of which include the Khaznet Firaoun, a temple also known as the Treasury of the Pharaohs, and a semicircular theater capable of seating about three thousand persons. All along the rock face are rows of tombs hewn out of the solid stone. The remains of Petra bear witness to its former power, wealth, and prestige.”

Dane looked around. About twenty yards away, Bones sat in the midst of a different tour group, probably getting the same boring spiel. He wore a ridiculous looking wide-brimmed straw hat, wraparound shades, and an orange and yellow Hawaiian print shirt. He appeared to be amusing himself by constantly raising his hand and asking questions. Dane could not hear what his friend was asking, but judging by the look on the tour guide’s face and the snickers of the group’s other members, Bones was up to his usual foolishness. Next to Bones, looking annoyed, sat Admiral Meriwether.

Meriwether’s “deal” had been to make all of the arrangements for this trip to Petra, including false identities for the four of them and inspection-free transportation on a Navy plane, in exchange for Dane and the others allowing him to take part in the “adventure,” as he called it. Dane wondered if his old commanding officer were regretting his decision right about now.

The four of them were registered in separate tour groups for today. Beginning the next morning, they would be volunteering for one of the archaeological digs that were taking place within the ancient city. Dane hoped that they could slip away in time to find whatever lay at the coordinates the writing on the sword had pinpointed.

“If there are no questions, we’ll head down to Petra,” the guide said. He removed his hat and ran his fingers through the fringe of short, white hair. The look on his face indicated that he was not eager to field questions. Hearing none, he motioned for the group to follow him.

The track wound down the hill from the small village of Wady Musa, with its neatly terraced gardens and vineyards looking more like a model than reality. Upon entering the valley, Dane had his first impression of the strangeness of the place. Rocks weathered by time into rounded masses like domed towers stood above them. As they continued on, the facade of an occasional tomb showed in a side valley or recess. Everything was so different from what they had just left behind that Dane had the sensation of having wandered into another world. It felt nightmarishly surreal, like he was walking through the abode of the dead.

The valley narrowed. A sheer cliff in front seemed to offer little promise of further progress. Rounding a corner, a great dam built of carefully dressed blocks of stone filled the valley from side to side and confirmed the impression, but the guide led them through a narrow cleft in the cliff face just by the wall.

“So this is the road to Petra,” Dane said to himself. “A handful of men could hold it against an army.”

Kaylin nodded in agreement.

The path ran along a dry torrent bed, the sheer cliffs on either side rising higher and higher as they penetrated deeper into the heart of the mountains. Here it seemed to be perpetual twilight, with an occasional glint of sun on the cliff face high above. The pathway widened and narrowed intermittently. Dane looked above him and saw that, in places, the cliff tops nearly touched. There was little sound beyond the shuffling of feet and the occasional rustle of shrubbery in the faint breeze.

“This road is called the Siq,” the guide announced. “As you can see, on this side is a channel cut in the rock, which originally carried water to the inhabitants of Petra from the springs at Wady Musa.”

The road twisted and turned. At this point, Dane could only see a few yards ahead. The way became interminably slow, one featureless stretch giving way to another, then another. He was beginning to feel antsy when suddenly, startlingly, the end of the chasm appeared.

Framed in the cleft before them was the facade of a great tomb, dazzlingly bright in the sunlight. The change from the gloom of the Siq was so sudden that, for a moment, Dane felt dazed and bewildered. He glanced at Kaylin, who was squinting and shading her eyes.

Gradually their consciousness began to absorb the glowing beauty and perfect proportions of the sculpture, the subtle coloring of the rock, and the soft green foreground of oleanders.

“This tomb is called the Khazneh or Treasury, and the urn at the top carries the marks of many bullets which have been fired at it in the hope of shattering it and releasing the treasure which local tradition says is hidden there. The rock face in which it is carved is sheltered from winds and rain, and the Khazneh is in consequence the best preserved of all the monuments. Most others are badly weathered, for the soft sandstone quickly submits to the battering of wind-driven sand and rain, and the sharp lines of the sculpture are reduced to a vague outline. Even here the bases of the columns, where it is a softer strata of stone, have weathered somewhat.” The guide quickly led them through the open area.

Dane looked at his wrist, checking the GPS monitor that was made to look like an oversized watch. Meriwether had made certain that all four of them had one. They were not far from their target location.

Beyond this clearing, the gorge narrowed again, with great tombs on either side. A little farther on was a theatre cut out of the living rock. Apparently, in the course of cutting this theatre, many tombs were sliced in half, and their inner chambers now stood open to the sunlight.

Soon they came to a place where the hills fell back on either side, leaving an open space about a mile long and three- quarters of a mile wide.

“Here, on the slopes,” the guide said, “was the actual city, its temples, palaces, baths and private houses, with a fine paved street following the line of the stream, and bridges reaching across at intervals. This was the great capital of the Nabataeans, from which, at the height of their power, they ruled the country as far north as Damascus. There was an earlier Edomite town on the site, but of that, practically no traces now remain. The city was extensively occupied from about the fifth century B.C. to the fifth century A.D., and was at its heyday during that time.

“All the monuments and buildings now visible belong, however, to the Nabataean and Roman periods. The extreme softness of the sandstone prevented any finely detailed work being done, and the sculptors had to devise a style to suit their material. This they did very effectively, and it is a tribute to their skill in design that none of the tombs, however small, seems dwarfed by the great cliffs which tower above them. They all fit perfectly into the general picture, and do not in any way detract from the natural beauties of the site.

Dane looked around. From the open space of the town site, valleys went off in all directions. Thank goodness for the GPS units. Otherwise, they could spend hours wandering up and down these narrow ravines. The ravines appeared to be lined on both sides with houses and tombs, of infinite variety and size. Occasional flights of steps wound their way up the sides of the mountains. They were not straight channels, but winding courses, their depths hidden by twists and turns.

“Many of the tombs are occupied by Arabs. During the day, you will hear them herding their flocks of goats. After sunset, you will likely see their campfires, and perhaps hear occasional snatches of song.”

Dane was surprised at this bit of information. He had always been under the impression that the entirety of Petra was abandoned, like the cliff dwellings of Mesa Verde. At least the throngs of tourists and the many natives would make their searching around less noticeable.

The guide paused and motioned for everyone to circle around. He began describing some of the larger tombs, which were found in the northeast area of the city. Dane gradually worked his way to the back of the crowd. When he was out of sight of the tour guide, he consulted his GPS again, and then looked around to get his bearings. If his estimation was accurate, the location indicated in the writing on the sword lay to the northeast of where they stood. Looking in that direction, he saw that two narrow defiles snaked out of the canyon. Either could be the right one. Kaylin squeezed through the crush of the crowd, and sidled up next to him.

“Well, boyfriend,” she said the word with intentional irony, “what do you want to do first?” She had a pretty smile. More than pretty. Why hadn’t he noticed it before?

Dane ignored the boyfriend comment. Meriwether had suggested that the two of them pose as husband and wife. Dane had refused, but Kaylin took it in stride, though she seemed disappointed.

“The tour ends in an hour” he said, pushing away thoughts of her smile. “We don’t have to report for the dig until after lunch. Let’s see if we can ‘accidentally’ wander away from the group.”

She nodded her agreement, and reached out to take his hand. They walked slowly around the ring of tourists, pretending to take in the scenery. When they were certain that their guide’s attention was diverted, they strolled quickly but casually away from their group.

About fifty yards away, they blended into the fringes of another tour group. Bones and the Admiral were in this group, but the two pairs made a point to pretend that they did not know one another. Dane and Kaylin casually skirted these people in the same fashion that they had moved around their old group. When opportunity arose, they wandered away.

They were now very close to the two ravines that Dane had identified as likely candidates. Still pretending to gawk at the scenery, though in truth the gawking came easily in this magnificent setting, Dane pulled out his cell phone and called up Bone’s number. He felt a bit foolish calling someone who stood less than a hundred yards away, but it was the only way he could communicate with his friends without anyone seeing them talk to one another.

It took what seemed an interminably long time for the connection to be made, which was fine with Dane. Not that he believed anyone would realize that the two of them were talking to one another, but the delay did not hurt their ruse.

“Yep,” Bones answered.

“We’re headed northeast,” Dane said.

“East northeast,” Bones corrected, “I saw you pass by.”

“I can’t tell for certain where exactly the GPS is going to place us. We’ll take the ravine on the right. Let us get out of sight, then you and Meriwether take the defile on the left. I’m assuming the cliffs will block cell phone reception, so let’s get back into the open in one hour and call each other.”

“Do you really want us coming out of the clefts at the same time?” Bones asked.

“Negative. We’ll head out in fifty.”

“If I don’t hear from you, I’m coming after you,” his friend said.

“Same here,” Dane replied.

“Yes, Kemosabe,” Bones joked, and ended the connection.

Dane and Kaylin entered the narrow cut in the rock façade. Dane half expected to hear someone calling for them to rejoin the tour group, but apparently no one had noticed their departure. They came to a sharp bend in the rock, and behind them, the tour groups disappeared from sight.

The shade was even deeper in this constricted space. Faint sunlight bounded down the walls, casting a dull pink glow on the hard, sandy loam at their feet. Dane consulted his GPS. Fortunately, the unit was still receiving a strong signal. They were coming closer to their destination. He picked up the pace.

They made two more turns, eventually ending up at a blank rock face. Dane scanned the rocky ledges above, letting his sight gradually trail down the walls to the ground below. He saw nothing. He felt Kaylin tugging at his arm.

“I see something up there.” She pointed up and to the left, high up in the rocks.

Dane looked in the direction she indicated. Behind a small outcropping of scrub lay what appeared to be a small cave. In the half-light of the gorge, his eyes had passed right over it.

“How do we get there?” she asked. “Did they have hand trails like the Anasazi?”

The ancient settlers of the American southwest had built their cities in rock overhangs high in cliffs not entirely unlike these. The dwellings were accessible by hand and foot trails, which were little more than depressions chiseled in the wall.

“I don’t know,” Dane said. “But I believe the hand trails usually ran from the top of the cliff down to the overhang. Looks like we’ll have to free climb.”

Kaylin consulted her wrist unit.

“It’s in the right direction,” she said. “Ready for a climb, monkey man?”

“Sure,” Dane said, laughing, “send the scuba diver clambering up the precarious rock face.”

“Forgive me,” she said, grinning, “but doesn’t SEAL stand for ‘sea, air, land?’”

“No,” Dane replied with a straight face. “It stands for ‘seduce every attractive lady.’”

“I guess I should be offended, then,” Kaylin said. “You certainly haven’t tried to seduce me. “What’s the matter? Am I not pretty enough for you?”

Her tone was playful, but there was a questioning look in her eyes. Why did women always have to twist everything you say into a criticism of their physical appearance?

“I’m retired, remember?” Dane said, trying to lighten her mood a bit.

“Sorry, but you’re not using that line on me. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL. Now let’s check out that cave.”

Dane scanned the rock face from the ground up to the opening of the cave. He studied it carefully, selecting the cracks and outcroppings that would provide the best handholds. When he had planned his route, he set to climbing.

He made his way up the face of the rock at a steady pace. He looked neither up nor down, but kept his eyes just ahead of his hands, picking out the next hold. He trusted the route he had selected and allowed himself no second-guessing. Foot by foot, he scaled the wall. It was a strenuous climb, but not a particularly challenging one. The route he had chosen avoided sections in which the rock wall leaned out over the chasm. Without proper equipment, he would not have attempted to scale any of the more dangerous outcroppings.

After what felt like an hour, but was probably more like six or seven minutes, he hauled himself up onto the narrow ledge in front of the small cave. He turned and offered his hand to Kaylin, who shook her head and pulled herself up.

Dane felt a pang of disappointment when he looked at the cave. It was small: no more than five feet high, and about the same width. It ended in a blank wall about twelve feet back.

“Sorry,” Kaylin said, clearly disappointed. “All of that climbing for nothing.”

Dane checked his GPS and found that they were very close to the targeted spot. In fact, their targeted location was to the west of where they stood: either atop the plateau between the two ravines, or inside the mass of rock. He took a few steps into the cave, hunching so as not to hit his head on the ceiling. He could have sworn that he felt a gentle breeze on his face. He dug deep in his pocket and found the mini Mag Lite he always carried, flicked it on, and played the beam across the back wall.

“Kay, look at this!”

The cave did not end in a blank wall, but took a sharp turn to the left. Kaylin, her enthusiasm apparently renewed by this bit of good fortune, hurried to his side.

They turned the corner and found themselves in an even tighter passage. They could still walk side by side, but barely so. The ceiling gently rose to a height of over six feet, allowing Dane to stand up straight, though he still instinctively felt that he ought to duck down. About twenty paces in, he noticed goose bumps rising on his arms. The air had grown markedly cooler, and he could still feel the faint breeze on his face.

The tunnel snaked back to the right. The path began to slope gently downward, and was slightly moist. Dane put his hand out against the wall, and was surprised to feel that it was smooth to the touch. He halted and shone his light along the wall.

“Pictographs,” Kaylin whispered in awe.

There was no one around to hear their voices, but it somehow seemed appropriate to speak softly.

“Do you have your notebook with you?” Dan asked in an equally quiet tone.

“I’ve got my digital camera,” Kaylin replied. She produced a small camera from her fanny pack and began snapping pictures of the carvings.

The pictographs ran horizontally from left-to-right, just above Dane’s eye level, along the left wall in a single row for a distance of about eight feet. Below them was a row of characters that resembled writing. Dane could not decide if they looked more like runes or alphabetic figures. There was something vaguely familiar about them, but he was no scholar. He checked the opposite wall, and confirmed that it was bereft of any carving.

“Got them,” Kaylin said. She checked the display on the back of her camera, using the zoom feature to insure that she had gotten a clear picture of every part of the carving. Apparently satisfied with her work, she led them deeper down the tunnel.

Dane estimated that they had traveled about seventy yards, including the jog to the left. Measuring from the outside wall, he guessed they were about fifty yards deep into the massive stone plateau. Though he knew it was a futile attempt, he checked his wrist unit. Sure enough, the rock walls precluded any signal from reaching them.

As they progressed down the tunnel, Dane caught a faint whisper of sound, like wind rustling through tree branches. As the sound grew louder, he realized that he was hearing the sound of running water. Somewhere far beneath them was an underground stream. Was there a passage leading down?

The tunnel veered to the right and they came to an abrupt halt. A narrow crevice, no more than six inches wide, cut across the tunnel. A few feet beyond the crack, a massive rock fall blocked the tunnel. Most likely, some sort of seismic activity had caused both the fissure and the tunnel collapse. Dane stepped across the gap, and carefully inspected the pile of rocks and debris. There was no sign of any opening. He shone his light all over the pile, looking for a sign of empty space behind the wall, but he could see nothing. Even if he had believed that it might be possible to clear away some of the debris, he dared not risk another collapse. Based on his inspection, though, he was satisfied that the tunnel in front of them was impassable.

“There’s no way through?” Kaylin asked, her voice tinged with disappointment.

Dane shook his head as he turned. He knelt and shone his light down into the crevice. Kaylin added her brighter beam, and they peered into the depths of the ancient stone. The cut was incredibly deep. Dan thought he could make out a slight twinkle of light reflected on water, but he could not be certain. The sound of the underground stream was audible, and the cool breeze, though faint, was decidedly refreshing. They sat there for a moment, silently peering into the thin defile. Dane finally broke the silence.

“I guess we’d better head back. Bones will be looking for us if he can’t reach us by phone.”

Kaylin nodded, her face twisted in a disappointed frown. She said nothing, but Dane believed he could read her thoughts.

“We’re close,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I can feel it.”