Cloud Five by Jimmy Brook - HTML preview

THE    CHARIOT

This is the strangest incident I have come across for a few years, and I have come across a few odd ones in my time. Part of my job I guess. I’m a claims investigator with an insurance company so we get to investigate all sorts of claims that seem out of the ordinary or a bit suspicious. When I look back, I’m still not sure if this series of events were logical or beyond our knowledge. It didn’t matter in the long run as no one would have believed it as other than a natural series of events.

In my younger days I was a very keen student of ancient history and languages. Particularly old ones. So when you looked at some Egyptian hieroglyphics, you probably saw a few animated characters that meant something or other but I saw the written history of that event just like reading a book. That probably helped in this case.

A quiet week as no one was stealing much or found to go fishing when they were supposed to be in traction at a clinic, until our biggest museum in the city, and a client, called us for help. The Science and History Museum is an institution that is prestigious and conservative, so it never made it to the media that a small artefact (two actually) had suddenly disappeared from an exhibit and they had gone into panic mode. Mostly out of embarrassment as the item that it was part of was on loan from an even more prestigious museum in Europe. No one knew how many days it had been missing and CCTV footage (can we use that term in our metric world?) could not help as the camera angle was elsewhere. I suppose you want to know what it is. It was the left and right hand grips on the sides of an ancient war chariot. All of a foot long and in well polished timber with some inscriptions. Now I ask, who would want to take these? In fact we tentatively suggested they were never there in the first place, but should have known such an institution would not make this mistake. Still there were a few ruffled feathers .

The police came and said missing handles off an old chariot would be hard to justify in terms in resources, but being such a museum and it wasn’t theirs to lose anyway, they would keep a look out. That’s how we came to be involved. Actually my employers were similarly minded but on looking at the premiums they paid us, gave me the job. I like it for it had two important ingredients. One was the challenge, even though I thought some kid had nicked them for his billy cart. The other was the chariot itself. It was really ancient and that stimulated my interest no end. Only two ever from this civilisation had been found in a recognisable state being buried completely by cave ins and so preserved. Earth tremors do have a good side. I just realised you do not know what civilisation or where it came from. Sorry about that. It was Hittite and had been dated at around 3,000 years old! Other civilisation used chariots but they were a little later. We know the great Egyptian kingdoms had them around the same time and a few have been recovered from tombs. In fact at the great battle of Kadesh in 1290 BC between these two superpowers, it would have been like modern tank warfare in head to head clashes. But a Hittite machine was a rare find.

Whilst I’m on my soapbox just a few odds and ends about these people that I remember from my uni days. The capital was Hattuša built somewhere in the middle of the Anatolian highlands, in central Turkey. It was the area where the civilisation of the Hittites flourished and inevitably disintegrated. There were many earlier societies before them though. The Hittites came from the north around 2000BC and settled here to grow and expand their territory through the Middle East to Syria and with their sights on Egypt. The civilisation was feudal with strict controls on its inhabitants and colonies. Historians feel they were the first to work with iron. Their language was definitely an Indo European base using those wedge shaped Cuneiform characters and words exist today in our European counterparts.

Now back to the present. This chariot was unearthed near the base of the Taurus Mountains to the south and had marks that suggested it was used by King Hattusilis III. Thus it was special and took a lot of negotiating to get to be on display here. So how does one start? I had an assistant, Julia, and she followed me around hoping to learn the ropes. What I didn’t tell her was that it never was the same each time and you winged it. The first thing was to inspect the scene. Nothing stood out there. The CCTV cameras had been adjusted for better coverage and the general museum security seemed appropriate. Looking like no handles to me in the first place but I plodded on.

We sat for an eternity in the security office and viewed the footage from the day it was set up, complete with a life size plaster horse I might add. Apologies to the Museum, for the handles were just discernible until sometime on the fourth day when there were lots of children and some adults milling around. Two kids did climb on to the roped off exhibit and a couple of adults moved in. One appeared to be the teacher but the other didn’t have much interaction with them, more like a close look at the exhibit. You couldn’t really see him, just a quick indistinct facial glimpse captured as he left. That most likely was the theft but who was he? When Julia mentioned they had tapes for everywhere in the Museum, it dawned on me that we might catch a glimpse at the front door or outside. With the time frame we now had, we got a better glimpse of his face as he left and the bonus was in the underground car park where his clothes gave him away to us as he got into a car. With enlargement we now had a registration number. Oh the wonders of modern science.

That explains why my trusty assistant and I were knocking on the door of this modest suburban brick veneer, hoping the articles mentioned would be mounted over the mantelpiece or such. An elderly lady said that Arnold, for that was the alleged culprit’s name, was not home but for us to come in and wait, as he should not be long. Eagle eyes failed to find the articles or even a mantelpiece but I did see something on a sideboard that took my interest. Sort of heart pounding interest for it was a smallish statue of some old deity that you would probably pick up in a market for a few dollars. I didn’t draw attention to this fact but instead led questions into the character of Arnold. His mother, for that was who she was, said he was quiet and had a new girlfriend but no job at the moment. In fact he hadn’t held any job down for long since he came back from overseas. He was not completely well yet but was getting there.

Julia asked the obvious and it was apparently some sort of breakdown after his trip to Turkey. He never wrote for two years nearly. Just sort of disappeared and it nearly finished his mum. The Embassy tried but no one had seen him. It was as if he just disappeared off the face of the earth. His brother even went to Turkey a few months later but all dead ends. Then one day Arnold was taken into a hospital in Ankara in a terrible mental and physical state. He was home a few weeks later when he could travel and his brother had paid the fare and his medical bills. She said he may tell us more as to what happened. It was all too distressing, to which I used the old eye signal to Julia to get her to do coffee. As Julia and the old lady disappeared into the kitchen, I moved quickly to the statue and knew this was no $2 factory piece. I had seen photos and read about it when studying. It was bronze and aged about the right texture for a couple of thousand years or more. This was of the god that was most revered by King Suppiluliumas and only one similar was known to exist in the British Museum. That one from memory was larger. On the coffee table was a note book and being one to investigate, I casually opened it and got a shock. The wedged shape characters leapt out at me. Several pages worth. What was a man keeping records of that needed to be written in Hittite? I knew about four characters at the most, enough to confirm it.

Then the coffee came and I made an excuse that I needed to get my mobile phone from the car. What I needed was my mini camera, useful tool of all sleuths. What I didn’t need was for Arnold to now turn up. Luck was on my side for the lady remembered a fresh cake and as she headed for the kitchen I was already clicking away at the pages as fast as I could. I did about six or seven and was just taking the statue when she returned. As my back was to her she didn’t seem to notice. Then the front door opened. All too close for comfort.

Arnold was average and as I remembered him from the security tapes. It was obvious from the introductions that he was withdrawn and still recovering from whatever had taken a toll of his mind and body. I just came out with it and said we were investigating a missing piece from the display and were asking anyone we could locate, if they could help. He hesitantly asked why we were asking him and I told him. He seemed to accept this and was silent for a while. He was thinking. I could see that. Would he open up was what I could not see.

Then with a shrug of his shoulders, he said he could not help and indicated our meeting was at an end. Reluctantly we left. It would have been nice to resolve all this for I had this funny feeling that what he would eventually tell me (I hope) would be unbelievable. We headed for the University for I had a golfing partner who worked there and just happened to be the head of archaeology. Well it’s nice to have connections and we did study ancient things together a long time ago. It was an hour cooling our heels and wandering about hallowed halls before we could get in but he was pleased to see me and Julia whom he had not met before. I downloaded the photos onto his upmarket computer and watched his eyes grow bigger by the second.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he said. “That image appears to be the real thing from what I see, as you indicate. Where did he get it?” I shrugged my shoulders for I didn’t really know but I was formulating an answer in the back of my brain which definitely was not for public hearing. The hieroglyphs amazed him. I knew he could read a few different languages from the past and Hittite was one that he had some working knowledge of.

“This is Hittite of course. Don’t know all the pictures and abstractions but it seems to be more modern. Not sure what that means. The feel and layout suggests one who lives in the 21st century, rather than thousands of years ago. Who today can write this stuff?”

“What does it say?”

“That’s it. Some things about fixing the house. A job. No. A job he is seeking. Chariot? A girl called….looks like Phenos and another on the last page that looks like Melody. All unreal. Can I have a copy?”

I shook my head. “When we have finalised this matter I’m on, you can. At the moment this information is just too delicate. Promise.”

We left. I was now fairly certain that what I had been anticipating would become a reality. The rules were about to go out the window. I dropped off Julia and headed back to see if I could have a heart to heart with our friend Arnold. He wasn’t there when I arrived and I didn’t know if to feel relieved or disappointed. Then he walked in the front gate as I had turned and he just stood looking at me. There then invited me in. We went through to back sunroom. It was small yet sort of spacious at the same time. He indicated a chair to me, sat opposite and straight away asked me what I knew of the Hittites because that was what this was all about. Then he stood up before I could answer and took a cloth covered item from the shelf behind him and opened it out on the small table. It was of course two polished timber handles, suitably inscribed.

Now I have a vivid imagination and a very accepting one. I wanted him to tell me but I would need to start him off. In my mind there could be one explanation which would be impossible and would never get into my report. Yet I would never shut myself off from any explanation. Society has locked us into defined paths and overlooked many others that are probably shaping our lives. So I bit the bullet. “I know where you have been Arnold. I have no doubt you were there. It’s difficult for me to accept it but I see no other explanation.” I could see the slight relaxing of his muscles and a sort of relief in his eyes. “Start, if you like, when you went to Turkey two or three years back. By the way I got honours in Ancient History.” I hadn’t really, just an A.

We talked for an hour. I learnt more about the world at that early time than I did at school or university. He didn’t have time to make it up. It just seemed to flow. My head was spinning with information  that men had been seeking for hundreds of years. I won’t bore you with pages of dialogue, just the basics. Arnold always had a fascination with old cultures. He lived and breathed his passion to the exclusion of other things in life that he should have enjoyed. The trip to Turkey was to be part of a wider journey taking in other parts of the near East including Syria and Jordan and then Iran. Not being able to get into Iraq was disappointing but maybe he could sneak in when the fighting was at a low. He never got past a week in Turkey. Somewhere on the outskirts of Ankara he was in an eating house off the tourist track when he was offered  a chance to explore a dig that was off limits and was known to contain Hittite artefacts. The food kept coming and the wine flowed and suddenly he just saw flashing lights and felt he was in a whirlpool. Then as he was sick, he just blacked out. When he awoke, he was dressed in a white tunic and in a strange world. It was like a stage set with attendants and ancient surroundings. When he did get to look out the stone opening he was sick for he saw a world that had not existed for thousands of years. It took three days before he stopped vomiting and feinting from the fear. The people who were looking after him were sort of upper class with servants or slaves. He could not tell. The language was impossible but the clay tablets they inscribed it into were familiar. When he was taken to a temple and saw the gods looking down on those who stood there, he knew where he was. His mind went and it took weeks to have the will to start feeling his way around. He was taken everywhere and shown things he only guessed what they might be. Slowly he regained his will to live never sure if he would wake up in his own time again. Two years or a bit was his estimate of the time he was with that family and their society. He became almost as one with the culture and met many people at all strata’s but never the king. Very few met the king.

Why they accepted him was easy. The priests had foretold of a stranger who would come into their midst and bring prosperity and a respite from the need to take to war to save their destiny. The world of Arnold almost disappeared from his immediate mind. They couldn’t say Arnold so he got Anad. The priests also told of the journey that could be taken by the magical powers contained in the king’s chariot, particularly the talisman effect of touching the sacred hand rests. By placing your hands on these or the objects on to one’s body, you would be able to see into the future and travel to the stars. But of course only the king could ride in his own chariot and thus experience these wonders. When it was learnt that the king was travelling with a vast retinue of a thousand bodyguards; servants and slaves to the neighbouring kingdom of Medes, he was taken to line the way on the great flagged entrance to the city where nobles and privileged ones would be near the power that kept the empire alive and so continue to serve him. Arnold and his family would be in the front row and be able to see the magical chariot and hopefully the sacred hand rests that guided the king always to victory.

Arnold said that it was the most mystical experience he had ever had. The shadow of that person had briefly fallen on him and he felt uplifted. He saw the hand as it rested on the polished handle and it seemed to glow with the colour of gold. That night he took more maize wine than he had become accustomed to and felt dizzy. When a lamp fell from the roof in front of him as he staggered outside, he felt outside himself and then in a shower of colours he just sunk to the earth. He staggered as he tried to get up but fell against the parapet hitting his head and passed out.

When he awoke he was feeling wretched, very sick and his skin was like nothing he had ever seen on himself before. What shocked him more was that he was in unfamiliar surroundings. An old stable or shed that looked and felt very unhealthy. Not that he cared much at that moment. Crawling outside he was in a back alley of some eastern city. There were people who avoided him and some motor vehicles and donkey carts who did the same. All of this passed into the recesses of his memory but he said that later when it got colder, a woman came out and yelled at him in some gibberish. Then she went away and shortly later returned with some one and a cart then he just lapsed into unconsciousness.

Arnold spent two weeks in a hospital or clinic. He knew that he was in Turkey and it was two years after he had first arrived. When he had entered the government clinic, he was clutching a small object wrapped in muslin. They left it with him perhaps to give him a clue as to where he had been. He knew where he had been but they just shook their heads when he tried to tell them, and gave him more pills. As for the statue, he knew about it and had seen it in the residence where he lived, but could not remember why he had it now. As his strength returned despite the meagre medicine and ghastly food, he finally requested a visit from his country’s consul and from there things happened as it seemed to him, slowly. Then home.

No one believed him but neither could anyone, including the Turkish police, offer an explanation of where he had been. There were no records and no trail. The doctors said amnesia. He could not handle it in the end and went into depression. Only now he was beginning to get himself together.

The handles? He saw the media display about the exhibit and felt drawn. When he saw the chariot, he new it was the one he had stood so close to. The one that had that enormous power and he realised he did not have a life here. Arnold needed to return to that time in which he had been taken. There was some destiny or prophecy that needed to be fulfilled. The theft was difficult but many visits and the freak opportunity when the children climbed under the rope barrier and onto the chariot gave him that split second insight and he grabbed it. With a large screwdriver he had kept up his sleeve, he pried them off. They came easily and were not large. Each day it became harder to face what he had done and what he wanted to do. Holding the handles did not have any affect yet he couldn’t tell others, not even his mother.

You may call it luck or it was just the right time, but when I came and sat down to talk, he could no longer hold it back. Now was a dilemma. I could think of no other credible explanation but definitely the world was not ready for someone who had been taken back in time. The floodgates would open up and I knew Arnold would not survive. Probably not me either. So I took a chance. Arnold looked pensive at my suggestion but finally agreed. I would take the handles and would tell the museum some kid had found them in bushes in the park opposite, and as I was asking questions in the area, gave them to me. To further help him, I would not mention anything in any report that involved Arnold or his time spent with the Hittites. Whatever report I put in to my company or the museum would be accepted. The suggestion to Arnold from me was that he had been privileged by the Universe to be chosen but it should remain with him. Society would not be kind if he wanted to talk about it.

As for the statue, he should keep it. It wasn’t stolen. It was his tangible souvenir from Turkey, purchased, as I suggested to him, from a bazaar.

I rang my eminent professor and told him unfortunately it was a bit of mess but the photos of the writing and the statue had been accidentally erased. I didn’t feel any guilt for I then did just that. Erased them. The statue? Gone, along with the book. We had lost track of the owner. Read my official report.

Julia and I sat down to our favourite drink, caramel lattes. I had checked my e-mails and found the one I hoped would come and now it was time to relax. After a couple of slow mouthfuls she asked what was the real story. She had seen the statue and the photographs. Was Arnold involved? Did he steal the handles? I felt she was entitled to some explanation, so I did something that was unplanned. I told her the truth! For yesterday I thought long and hard about the incident and suddenly realised how I could prove what had happened. Sitting here looking at the froth and bubbles, I realised it was time to finalise this most interesting case. “Arnold had gone to Hattuša in the ancient land of the Hittites and he did spend two years or so with that family millenniums ago.”

“But that is not possible? Or are there things scientists don’t tell us?” Julia sat there with her coffee in mid air.

“You need to think outside the square,” I told her. “I would be quite sure scientists don’t tell us everything, but as to the former, it did happen but all in Arnold’s mind.” Then I went on to explain how. Arnold was a keen student of the ancients, so keen in fact that he was living and breathing it. Hence the trip to the Middle East. When he had that night of drinking and whatever, I believe he suffered a minor stroke or something that not good for the brain cells. Probably brought on by the drink. It caused amnesia on such a scale that when he did wake up his mind was telling him he was in Hittite land. I don’t think he ever knew where he was in reality. Whatever he did from day to day, he saw it only in terms of the historical setting. And yes, her next question as I took a breath, was where was he for two years? For that I produced the e-mail I had been waiting on earlier.

“It is from a contact I have in our government who asked our embassy in Turkey to check on something and which turned out to be our answer. There are a few alternate societies or communes existing and whilst the police keep an eye on them for drug related offences, they rarely have trouble in that area. These are people who live a life of seeking and sharing mostly. Remember Turkey is not a fundamentalist state so lots of things are tolerated. In one such place there was a European that fits the description of Arnold, who just wandered in one day, apparently dropped off the back of a truck on to the road. They took him in and he stayed for a couple of years. Out of his mind they said, but benign. Kept talking about ancient times. The police never seemed to know he was there on their visits and that was that. One day he wandered off and they assumed he was moving on.”

“Must have ended up somewhere in a town and his brain decided to kick in. Who knows? The rest is as we know it.”

Julia looked worried. “But did he steal the handles? Did he do anything wrong?”

“No” I replied,” he didn’t steal them and he didn’t do anything wrong. I would say the case is ready to be tucked away in the archives.” I wasn’t lying. I believe that in taking the handles, he was not stealing them in the accepted sense. He was doing something far more important. I didn’t add anything more to my answer.

We filed the papers and left the room In my mind I still might have that doubt. Maybe he really did go to Hattuša. We will never know.

 The End

Jimmy Brook