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The Gutenberg Rubric

Twenty-Three

THEY COULDN’T TALK much on the ascent. It wasn’t steep, but it was slippery. Their gloved hands felt strange when they held them. They kept their heads down and trudged along.

Keith nearly stumbled into a massive stone head before they realized they had reached the terrace where the gods sat with men.

“Oh my…” Maddie began. “This is amazing. This head is taller than we are!”

“It’s only the head,” he said pointing. Beyond him on a platform above the terrace were the remains of five thrones with seated figures. If the heads were attached they would rise more than twenty feet above the platform, dwarfing everyone and everything else.

“In all of the classical sites that I can think of, there are only standing gods. These are all seated. I thought that was a convention that originated in the Renaissance.”

“There aren’t many websites that talk about this site and most of them have copied and pasted from the same source as far as I could tell,” Keith said. “I didn’t have time for extensive research, but I remember reading that when Antiochus was asked why the gods were seated, he responded that this was their home and there was no reason for them to stand.”

“It’s like being in the living room of the gods. What is this style?”

“A bit of a cross between Hellenic and Persian. Antiochus’s mother was descended from Alexander the Great. His father from the Persian emperor Darius,” Keith explained. “It’s the only place recorded where the two are equated and pictured as one.”

“Who is the big one in the middle? Zeus?”

“Yes. It starts with Antiochus, then the goddess Kommagene or Tyche. On the other side of Zeus are Apollo and Hermes. They all have Persian names as well. Antiochus claimed not only kinship but complete equality with the gods and instead of being called King Antiochus he was called Theos, or God Antiochus.”

“That’s an ego for you,” Maddie said. Keith turned in a slow circle to look out over the valley below.

“Look. That must be the village where Najat wants us to meet him.” It was scarcely a dozen houses clustered together beneath them.

“At least it doesn’t look too far away,” Maddie said. “I hope he can get there. I don’t think he likes me much, though.”

“He’s a chauvinist,” Keith agreed.

“Well, where do we start?”

“There.” Keith pointed.

She turned and looked up at the statues. Behind them rose the tumulus, 150 feet in the air and nearly 200 yards across. It was made of loose gravel. No one had ever found the burial chamber of the King.

“We have to climb that?”

“No. But on the other side is another terrace, pretty much the same as this one,” Keith said. “Gutenberg’s instructions were clear. The clues are on that side. According to the site map, there is a processional path that circles the tumulus.”

It took another half an hour for them to move to the eastern terrace on the narrow track around the huge mound of gravel. It was muddy and slippery with patches of ice. What they found on the eastern terrace mimicked the western with the seated gods surrounding a level area where worshipers participated in various festivals.

“Antiochus decreed that his birth and his ascension would be celebrated every month,” Keith told her. “So on the tenth and seventeenth of every month there were parades and feasts on each of the terraces.”

“Where’s the entrance?” Maddie asked.

“That’s the problem.”

“Don’t tell me we have to look around for an entrance that archaeologists haven’t found in fifty years of digging!” she said.

“Well, we have clues the archaeologists haven’t had,” he answered. “First I’m to stand beside the king.”

“Look, there are all kinds of kings and gods and what-have-you around here,” Maddie said. “Can we be any more specific?”

“Well, let’s start with Antiochus,” Keith said. “He was King of the Kommagene. Then we’ll try Zeus, King of the gods.”

“So what then?”

“I need to follow the symbols of initiation,” Keith said.

“That could be almost anything,” Maddie said. “Ancient religions had all kinds of symbols—any that could be used in initiation.” They paced around the area looking for symbols.

“But Gutenberg only created one set of initiation symbols. And he’s the one who wrote the instructions we are following.”

“Shield, crescent, lozenge, cross,” Maddie recited the basic shapes of the original printer’s marks. “Caduceus, pyramid, chalice, scroll.” They searched the ground and sides of the huge sculptures. “Sword, diamond, trefoil, star.” The climb to the terrace had been rigorous enough that they shed their heavy parkas while they walked, but by noon they had pulled them tight against themselves as the winds whipped in gusts around them and the sky darkened with the threat of a late-season snow. April was unpredictable at best and the two huddled together in the middle of the Western Terrace looking back toward the monuments.

“Antiochus seems to have been into words instead of symbols,” Maddie said. “We can’t possibly transcribe and read all the inscriptions on these monuments.”

“It follows that a shrine that evolved to protect the word would use a lot of words to do it,” Keith said. “But we are definitely looking for symbols.”

“What did it say exactly?”

“Stand beside the king and follow the symbols of initiation to the water’s edge. There you will find the path to enlightenment,” Keith recited.

“How about that king?” Maddie asked pointing a fallen figure. “You haven’t tried him yet.”

“You are brilliant, darling,” Keith said standing and moving directly to the massive stone lion, king of the beasts. Maddie followed more slowly, examining the ground as she approached.

“Keith, this won’t be right. This statue isn’t close to where it should be. They’ve been knocked down just like the heads were. On the western terrace, the lion was up next to the eagle and the thrones.”

“They were probably in something close to these positions when Gutenberg was here, though,” he said. “The monument is over 2,000 years old. He would have been here maybe 600 years ago.”

“Did early Christians knock down the statues as idols?”

“Christians or Moslems or bad weather and abandonment. But I don’t find any of the symbols on these statues. I don’t get it.”

“Does it have to be a statue?” she asked. In front of her was a lion relief on a slab of rock. “This one has stars on it.” Keith looked at the lion and became lost in thought. Of all the papers to which the third degree had access, the ritual itself was seen only by the person conducting the initiation, not by the initiate.

“Maddie, you’ve seen me naked,” he began.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” she laughed. “That’s an image I want to spend some time with.”

“Seriously. You said you couldn’t see the tattoo Frank put on your shoulder. But you’ve seen mine.”

“Of course. I saw it as soon as it was done in the ritual chamber.”

“I assumed that it would be completed with the compositor’s setting rule and three stars on the right-hand shield,” he said. “But it doesn’t feel right. What is the last symbol Frank created?”

“A crescent. Like a new moon. I wasn’t expecting a particular symbol there, so I just assumed Frank made them up as he went.”

“No. The basic shapes are defined as a starting point. Think now. You saw your grandfather’s tattoo. Did it have three stars on it?

“Yes,” she said. “That’s why I thought the tattoos were just elaborations of the printer’s marks. There are no stars on the Aldine printer’s mark that his tattoo and mine are based on.”

“Three stars and a crescent,” Keith repeated.

“There was no crescent,” Maddie said. “Just the dolphin and anchor with the three stars. Is that the symbol of the third degree?”

“Yes,” Keith said. “It must be. And your grandfather’s tattoo did have a crescent. The anchor is based on the crescent shape.” Keith pointed to the side of the lion, engraved with astrological symbols.

“If we stand here beside the lion, the three stars above his back line up with the crescent moon hanging from his neck. The symbols of initiation to the third degree,” Keith said. He fumbled in his pack for his binoculars and looked out parallel to the lion’s back into the distance. He stood there silently for a moment as he moved the glasses slightly from side to side along the horizon and then focused nearer in. He lowered the glasses and stepped aside, positioning Maddie where he was and handing her the binoculars. He watched as she discovered what he had seen. In a depression about three kilometers away was a lake.

“There are three paths that come up to the mound,” Keith said. “One from each of the terraces.” Keith pulled a topographical map from his pack and drew their position on it and the path they had taken. “We came up the processional path to the western terrace. That is where most of the contemporary approaches are because of the road. The path from the eastern terrace leads down on the other side. The east and west terraces are duplicates of each other, but the northern terrace was more of a social gathering place. It would be where the feasts were held. According to the topographic map, the path from the northern terrace leads to a spring.” Keith drew a line toward the water that followed close to the path before them.

“The water’s edge,” Maddie said. “That’s the beginning of the path to enlightenment.”

“That could be where we find the entrance.”

“Then let’s go.”

“The village is the other direction,” Keith said. “This is likely to be dangerous. We should wait until morning.”

“Down the slippery slope,” Maddie said. “It’s still early. We can get down there and call Najat to let him know we are camping. Lead on.”

This path, in fact, was slippery and difficult. It was used mostly by the summer archaeologists to transport water to their campsite. What was more difficult was that the snow had not melted as much from the northeastern slopes of the mountain and the path disappeared beneath the snowpack. Keith used his compass to keep them on a heading toward where he had spotted the spring, but after about half an hour of treacherous walking down the slope the clouds that had been threatening all afternoon finally let go with a snowstorm.

In the face of the wet stinging snow, they soon realized they were hopelessly off-course.

“Maddie, we have to get shelter,” Keith said. “It’s not going to be comfortable, but let’s set up our tent by that ridge. It should give us some protection from the storm.” Maddie silently nodded her acknowledgement and they trudged twenty yards further to an overhang where the wind was slightly less severe.

The tent they bought in Adana was not large. Keith had focused on economy of weight and space over luxury. It did have the convenience of springing into its tent shape from a small bundle without having to fit pieces together. Keith drove a stake into the icy ground at each corner with the side of his ice axe. They weren’t really secure, but with the added weight inside of the two people and their gear, the tent no longer felt like it would sail away. Inside the tent, there was barely enough room for the two of them, let alone for them to spread their sleeping bags and stow their packs. Keith had planned well enough to get sleeping bags that zipped together and the two were soon snuggled together in the comparable warmth. They had not counted on the spiciness of the dried lamb strips they had purchased and soon realized they would have to conserve their meager water supply.

As the wind whipped outside the tent, Maddie whispered in Keith’s ear.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Keith asked.

“That you conserve more body warmth in a sleeping bag if you are naked?” she asked.

“We can always test the theory,” Keith responded, unzipping her parka. It was true enough that the temperature in the tent went up a few degrees.

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