“She’ll just have to get over it,” Robert insisted. Besides, she’ll want us to fix this because she just can’t bear to have things amiss. It was the only reason she agreed to allow the project to continue—to keep a watch on the history and defend the integrity of the Meridian we knew.”
“True, but suppose you start by convincing me—just in case we meet resistance because of the Kelly thing. Here, I’ll play devil’s advocate.” Paul folded his arms. “Why do we need to investigate this Rosetta Stone thing? You’re off the hook, Robert. We’ve already determined that your trip did nothing to cause the damage. Why push this?”
Nordhausen gave him a long look. He started to say something, then caught himself and reached for a pen and paper instead. Paul craned his neck to see what he was writing, but the professor waved him away until he was finished. He slid the paper across the table to Paul, a smug look on his face. “Remember that?” he challenged.
The page was covered with a few neatly drawn lines of the ancient Egyptian writing. “Cute,” said Paul.
“More than that, my friend. Those are the very same characters on that scroll I found in Rasil’s backpack.”
“How could you remember something like that?”
“How could I remember? What street do you live on, Paul?” The professor wore a miffed expression.
“Alright,” Paul conceded. “So you remembered what you saw. I’ll grant you that. But what’s the big deal?”
Nordhausen frowned. He leaned heavily on the table and pointed to each character in turn as he spoke. “Here follows the word of the Lord of Time… That’s this fellow here,” he said, pointing at a larger character he had drawn. “At the time of great struggle… Eternity lies in the shadow of the Wolf… The Wolf shall go forward and prey upon the bounty of the lord… Yet if he be slain for his misdeed… For his sin,” he corrected himself. “Then all will be overthrown. Therefore—That’s this line here, Paul, and now it reads: When the Old Man returns, the Lord’s Army shall come to the Gate of the West. The Temple Priest of Time proceeds with two eyes to the Lord of Eternity. That’s the literal translation, but I would paraphrase the bit about the eyes to mean ‘look’ or perhaps ‘meet.’ Let’s read it this way: The Priest of Time shall go forth and meet the Lord of Eternity.”
“The two eyes,” Paul nodded, suddenly absorbed in the translation Nordhausen was making. “You really can read these things.”
“I’ve been saying that all along. In fact, I may be the only person on earth in this milieu who can read them.”
“So you’ll live three weeks longer,” Paul teased.
“Well, are you telling me you aren’t curious about the references to time and eternity in those symbols?”
“Of course I am, but what does it all mean?”
“What does it mean? Think, man! You were the one sitting in Castle Massiaf. The Wolf was the nickname the Arabs gave to Reginald of Kerak. They called him Arnot—the Wolf, and his behavior made the handle quite appropriate. He raided the sultan’s caravan, capturing Saladin’s niece in the process. The sultan was so enraged that he invaded the Christian lands, which led to the great battle at the Horns of Hattin. Remember?”
Paul’s eyes had a distant look in them as he recalled the breathtaking sight of the host of Teki Ad Din riding down from the north. The sound of the horses hooves still beat in his mind, and he could see the sinuous line of the rider’s torches as they made their way through the valley. “Right…” He was piecing the message together with the history in his mind now, following the professor at last. “Reginald was a Primary Lever on that event. If he hadn’t looted that caravan—”
“Exactly!”
Nordhausen hurried along. “Now remember this bit here… ‘Yet if he be slain for his sin, then all will be overthrown.’ That sure sounds like a warning to the operatives in that castle to keep their bloody hands off Reginald.”
“Are you suggesting—”
“Of course I am! They’re using the hieroglyphics as a code. Maeve suggested it herself in the debriefing sessions, and I’m convinced of it now. Then I go off to look for some primary source material and when I get back none of you have even heard about the hieroglyphics. But I was in the Nexus this time. I know. I can read them, damnit, so the rest of you will just have to believe me on this.”
“Calm down, Robert. Nobody is questioning your take on this.”
“That’s encouraging. Then you can see why they wanted the stone damaged, right?”
Paul paused rolling his eyes, a look of recognition on his face. “It sure is a good way to preserve the secrecy of these message scrolls.”
“Yes! Rasil was carrying that scroll as a message. Didn’t you say this Kadi figure questioned you about it? You said they called you a Gray Walker on the eternal Hajj. How’s that for a nifty metaphor for a Time Traveler?”
“Yes! In fact they called me the Walker come from the Valley of the Moon.”
“That’s what the Arabs call Wadi Rumm.” Robert fanned the flames of Paul’s thinking, trying to build heat for his argument. “They expected Rasil, and they were supposed to get this message. The Wolf shall go forward and prey upon the bounty of the lord… Yet if he be slain for his sin, then all will be overthrown. It was a warning for them—a set of instructions, if you will. These guys were Assassins. It was warning them not to exact revenge upon Reginald!” The whites of his eyes added emphasis to his conclusion. “Therefore,” he pointed at his drawing again, “When the Old Man returns, the Lord’s Army shall come to the Gate of the West.”
“The Old man was Sinan,” said Paul. “The Gate of the West was the Horns of Hattin.”
“Precisely. Maeve and Kelly will both agree on that. They found it in the variance reports they ran during your inadvertent mission. So we have a warning, and consequence if that warning instruction is followed. It was an outcome favorable to the Arabs. The whole Christian army was slaughtered at Hattin and ninety years of Western occupation was ended in the holy lands. Rasil was carrying a message intended to make sure that happened.”
“It certainly seems that way,” Paul agreed.
“Why, there’s no question about it! Now then—” The professor clapped his hands, rubbing his palms together with anticipation. “The writer of that scroll would have to be from the future to be aware of the importance of Reginald in this matter.”
“Yes,” said Paul. “The scroll identified a Primary Lever and warned against contamination. It clearly predicted the outcome if the instruction was followed. But what’s that last bit you translated?”
Nordhausen looked at his drawing again. “Ah, yes. It reads: The Priest of Time shall go forth and see the Lord of Eternity. It could also read ‘to meet the Lord of Eternity. The Temple Priest was equated with the Old Man in this symbol.” He fingered his diagram. “The Lord of Eternity… Hummm, I wonder who that was?”
Paul took a deep breath. “Me,” he said glumly.
“Oh?” Nordhausen was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, eager to have his support for his interpretation.
“Sinan was on his way to the castle—probably to intervene in the quarrel between the Sami and the Kadi. That was why Jabr ali Sad smuggled me out of the castle and hid me away in the library. But he was also going to eyeball me, I’m sure of it. Word certainly reached him of my unaccountable arrival. He was coming to take a look for himself.”