The Temple Mount Code

13

Steam from the bath rose around Lourds as he lay back and tried to figure out what he was missing from the mysterious cavern and the scholar’s rocks left by the immigrants from Jiahu. Something was there, pulling at the edges of his thoughts but never quite manifesting.

It was maddening.

At least the monks hadn’t sworn off all creature comforts in the temple. They believed in bathing and bathing well. They’d carved baths from stone that were just deep enough for a man to sink down into. Shamar had said it was a trade-off with the outside world. People donated supplies to the temple more readily if they could get a warm bath and have private sleeping quarters. The meager guest quarters hadn’t been enough for the whole expedition. Even though Lourds hadn’t asked for special treatment, he certainly hadn’t turned it down when it was offered.

He luxuriated in the hot water. A stone oven in the center of the room provided heat. All he had to do was step out of the tub long enough to fill a copper kettle with water from the bath and reheat it. For the moment, the water was wonderful.

He took a breath and slid down into the tub till the water closed over his head. He closed his eyes and let the hot water soak into him. He felt sleepy and knew that he would do well to crawl into bed on the other side of the room when he got out. He was already feeling pruny, like he had spent far too much time in here …

And suddenly, just like that, it all made sense.

Lourds couldn’t see in the darkness. He opened the stone oven, burned his fingertips enough to smart, and fed in a few pieces of wood. The orange glow brightened and pushed back the darkness. He spotted his pants, went to them, and started pulling them on.

Once his boots were on, Lourds fisted his shirt and headed for the door. Out in the hallway, he trotted over to Hu’s quarters across the narrow stone hall. He rapped on the door. ‘David. It’s me. Time to get up.’ He rapped on the door again. ‘David.’

Hu’s door opened and the professor filled it, standing there in Hawaiian boxer briefs, bedhead, and a perplexed expression. ‘Thomas? What’s going on?

Lourds took a deep breath and tried to control the excitement that filled him. ‘We were wrong about the scholar’s rock room. I was wrong about it.’

‘What?’

‘The room. That’s what’s wrong. All of it. There’s no way those people went roaming about the countryside for those scholar’s rocks. And no way they could have smoothed them like that with hand tools. I should have thought of it sooner. My only excuse is that I was too tired to think properly. Grab some lights and help me wake the others. We’re going to need help.’

‘Mate, I hope you’re right about the big reveal. We’re wasting a lot of our generator fuel lighting this place.’ Rory didn’t look happy or convinced.

Lourds studied the room as the BBC production crew, Gelu and his Sherpas who had stayed to enjoy the respite, and the monks hung lights around the room. They’d put most of them on the east wall, where Lourds felt confident they would find the room’s secret.

‘Get your cameraman over here.’ Lourds ran his fingers through his hair and reseated his hat. ‘I only want to explain this once.’

One of the young monks pointed and whispered. ‘Cowboy.’

Lourds grinned at that and shot the young monk with a forefinger pistol.

The monk laughed, then quickly took one of the staging lights Gloria gave him and started climbing the wall. He went up the craggy surface so easily it looked like he’d switched off gravity and flowed up.

Gloria looked at Lourds with a confused expression.

The cameraman switched the device on. ‘Let’s roll.’

Lourds hit his spot, straightened his hat brim, and waited just a second. Then he waved at the 116 figures standing behind him. ‘Yesterday evening, when I first saw these scholar’s rocks depicting the migratory people who came here after Jiahu flooded, I was fooled. I thought those figures simply represented the struggles of those people to get to this place, the hardships they’d endured, and even the enemies they’d faced. I thought that was the whole story. I was wrong.’

Reaching out, Lourds directed the camera toward the figures.

‘What you see there is only part of the story. It relates the history, and we’ve found some of the same symbols on those scholar’s rocks. I thought that was the find, and I thought that was the vindication of those people. Then I started thinking, wondering why the tortoiseshell had been left behind at the grave.’

Lourds pulled the camera back to him and let his excitement show as it did when he was in the classroom.

‘The tortoiseshell had to have been left behind with someone that would mark the way for others of the tribe. He was probably a wise man, a shaman. We’ll know more when the archaeologists at the Jiahu site reveal their findings. Someone from this place had to return to Jiahu with the tortoise map.’

Lourds stepped back, allowing the cameraman to frame him and the cavern in the shot.

‘When the Yellow River overflowed its banks in the past, the floods have always been horrendous. I feel confident in saying that the floods that struck in 5800 BC were terrifying. Added to that, the people living there had drawn the ire of an enemy. Maybe it was just a predacious encroachment. Robbers taking what they could from a peaceful community. Maybe it was a more hostile intent. That community was in a good spot until the flood. Their developed fields alone would have been worth a war to another people that had been uprooted by another flood. We may never know.’

Taking a breath, Lourds pointed at the scholar’s rocks. The cameraman stayed locked on him, but Rory looked impatient.

‘Possibly the people who came here thought their respite would be brief. Instead, they became stuck here because there was no home to go back to, or because the travel was hard, and they didn’t want to chance it again if they could meet their needs here. We do know their lives were harsh while living here. But they concealed their greatest secret.’

As every eye in the chamber stared at him, Lourds hoped he was right. He’d piled on promises, and he was expected — like a magician — to pull a rabbit from his hat.

Now it was time to produce the rabbit.