Jess cleared her throat. For what its worth, I now believe that, in opposition to our accepted understanding, virtually all the representation on Moche ceramics and in their murals are essentially depictions of real events. Not just the sacrifice ceremony. All of them.
Dan stared at her. And what makes you think this?
The bone in the ankle at the Sorcerer.
Sorry?
You know it. El Brujo. The human bone, in the mural of the ankle?
Dan nodded.
Ah. Yes. And so?
I think its a clue. The Moche are telling us something. Think about it! You put a real human ankle bone in a representation of an ankle. What does that say?
They ran out of paint?
She didnt smile. It says this is all meant to be taken literally. When we show you something, we mean it.
Her lover looked distinctly unconvinced. OK. The bone. What else?
Flesh beetles. We see beetles and flies on pottery, dancing around skeletons and prisoners who are waiting to be killed. Now we have a staked-out prisoner, fed to beetles.
He shrugged. I suppose its just possible. But even if it was the case we cant know whether he was fed to them alive or dead.
Jess nodded, despite her frustration. She needed to stay lucid and plausible to persuade the world, beginning with the leader of TUMP. But, Dan, he was definitely in agony, right? He died in some great pain, judging by the skull, right? Which is odd, and telling.
Hmm.
OK, OK maybe its a question of interpretation. But look at it this way: even if we discount that example, there are so many others. Such as the other prisoner. Skeleton 1d. The one at the side of Tomb 1? Now think of the context the avian crania nearby.
Vulture skulls. Yeeeeees
They were positioned around the head of that victim, who was staked out. As if they had been there, pecking at him, as he died. The eyes. Just like this. She reached in her inside pocket, unfolded a printed photo of the pot from the Museo Casinelli, and held it out to him. Dan frowned and scrutinized the photo: of the bottle in the shape of a skeletal man, half-dead, half-flayed, and tied to a tree with his eye being pecked by a vulture.
You think he died like this?
Of course.
But this man is tied to a tree, Jess, not staked to the ground, and he could just as easily be a dream figure, symbolical, some mythological-
Jess shifted on her stool, repressing her impatience. But thats just it. Its our perceptions that are faulty, the evidence is actually pretty clear. Our fundamental approach is, I believe, just plain wrong, one hundred and eighty degrees wrong, Dan. Think about it. Whenever we find a new Moche symbol or picture and it shows something ghastly or deviant we conveniently presume, time after time, that it is part of their mysterious mythology, part of a folklore, nightmares of an underworld, who knows? But we cant just keep this up. The paradigm is cracking: it cant support the accumulating and contrary evidence. The evidence that they did most of this stuff!
I see.
How many times have we found human and animal remains that exactly match what the Moche show us on their pots? Think about it! How many pots show amputees? We now have endless skeletons with amputations. We also have hundreds of murals showing ritual dismemberment, arms and hands and feet chopped away from the living, then scattered. And thats what we are finding in the tombs, right? Dismembered bodies, people pulled apart as they struggled, literally chopped up alive. She was almost breathless now. And what about the people thrown off the mountain, as a sacrifice?
The sacrificed victims discovered at the bottom of the Huaca de La Luna? Yes, I suppose thats true. There may be something here. But its very ambitious and somewhat unsupported, I think we still need Steve Venturis verdict before we can go anywhere. We you need empirical data: we need the truth about the amputations. If you get that, then we can talk some more. He gazed right back at her. Of course, if your theory is in any way correct it means virtually all the erotic practices on the ceramicas, the ceramicas eroticas, must depict sexual acts the Moche actually performed. Rather incredible, no?
Not incredible. Thats my perception. They did it.
Not incredible. Thats my perception. They did it.
Sex with animals? Dan was half laughing, yet his expression was sickened. Women masturbating dying men, men who had been half-flayed? Sex with skeletons, foreplay with mutilated corpses? Christ.
Bestiality and necrophilia, in fervent variety. Yep. I reckon thats what they did.
Its hard to take, Jess. Hard to believe any society could be that sick. Unless you get Venturi to back you up on the amputations Im going to hang fire. And think some more. His gaze was troubled. However, even if we eventually accept that the Moche did some of this stuff, we still need an explanation why.
Sorry?
Well. Im wondering if it occurred, perhaps it was a reaction, to terrible societal pressure, possibly an El Nino event? His eyes were alive now, as he calculated and theorized. That makes sense, Jess. Doesnt it? We know El Nino ruined cultures around here. A bad El Nino might have traumatized an ordinary civilization into performing appalling acts. Yes. He smiled. Anyway, darling! Get me Venturi to confirm you on the amputation, then we can talk some more.
This time she ignored the darling. This time, in truth, she realized she quite liked it. Why not? They were going out, they were lovers. Maybe it was time to get over herself, and tell the world. This is me, and Im with Dan. Jessica excused herself to go to the washroom. She felt a rising elation as she did. So long as Venturi came through she had a chance at proving her Big Theory. Once they understood the Moche rites, they would be close to understanding Moche beliefs.
And yet there was still so much more to be unravelled and explained. Was it really El Nino that had caused all this? It seemed hard to credit; the sacrifices and tortures had been going on for centuries. They had not sprung into being after just one drought or flood, however apocalyptic. And then there were the ulluchus, the blood of the unknown god. Why was the god bleeding?
Jess dried her hands, and walked quickly towards the door but the last washroom mirror caught her attention. She lingered, examining herself. Her pale European face. Her blonde hair. Her lips. Her face. What did that face say? Was she really OK?
Jess gazed over her hands. The fine tremor had gone. Hadnt it? That sudden thought about her father was paranoia, surely. He had died of cancer. Thats what she knew. Thats what she had been told.
No. Yes. No.
She chastened herself for her hypochondria. Pushing the door to the washroom, she walked back down the long corridor to the main lab. Concentrating on science, not silly fears.
But a noise made her pause. Ten metres from the lab door.
Shouting.
What was this?
Someone was shouting in the lab. And it wasnt Dan. The voice was harsh, Spanish, probably Peruvian and the voice was angry, and brutally aggressive.
Where was Dan?
Jessica inched to the laboratory door, its tinted glass panel. If she got close, she could probably see through, without being seen herself.
There!
Stunned by what she had seen, Jessica flattened herself against the wall, her mind roiled by panic.
A strange dark tall man had Daniel Kossoy pinned by the window, next to the bone fridges. A gun was pressed so hard to Dans throat it had visibly whitened the skin of his neck.
The man was going to shoot. The finger on the trigger was squeezed with slow, delicious subtlety. About to kill her boss. About to kill her lover.
18
Rosslyn Chapel, Midlothian
Are you all right?
Adam extended a hand to Nina, and as they crossed the snowy car park of Rosslyn Chapel.
Its just a wee bit of snow! I grew up in the Borders, were used to snow.
He tried again. No, I meant, you know, coming back here to Rosslyn
Im OK! Cmon lets just get going.
They reached her car, chucked their coats on the back seat, and climbed in. Nina turned the key and they took the main road out of town, past the site of the crash. Adam stared out of the window.
A casual passer-by would never have guessed that this chilly stretch of urban road was the scene of a recent suicide or murder. Virtually all traces had been erased: just a few broken bricks in the snow-capped wall where Archibald McLintocks car had impacted told the story.
So. Her voice was firm, probably masking the emotion. What did that tell us?
Adam didnt know what to say. What had this visit to Rosslyn told them?
They knew, from her fathers receipts, which Nina had sorted into a time sequence, sealed in different noted envelopes, that her father had spent two days at Rosslyn. He had visited on two consecutive occasions before embarking on his long journey south to the Templar sites. But why?
Nina was swerving the car a diminutive Volkswagen on to the A1. The high road for the south.
Ach, she spat. Dammit.
More snow flurries had slowed the traffic to a maudlin crawl, behind gritting lorries which were spitting their loads into the fresh white snow, soiling it brown.
Take us six hours to get to Berwick, this rate. She gazed across the gear well at him. Come on, Adam. Talk to me. Mr Australian Journalist. Rosslyn. Tell me we found something.
Reaching in the damp pocket of his wax jacket, he took out his notebook. I did make some notes.
And?
Whatever he found in Rosslyn has to be mysterious. Your dad was an expert on the Templars and the Grail legends and medieval European history. In that light, what could Rosslyn have told him that he didnt know already? It must be something no one has solved
With you so far, Sherlock. What did he find?
Well What about under the floor of Rosslyn? The alleged vault?
She tutted. Puh-lease. The vault almost certainly doesnt exist. Da Vinci Code nonsense. Next?
Adam turned a page. OK, what about the Green Men? There are hundreds of Green Men stylized images of pagan fertility. One of them in Rosslyn seems to be dead. Is that interesting?
She shook her head as they overtook another gritting lorry, spewing its pebbledash into the settling snow. Green Men arent unique to Rosslyn, theyre a common motif in European architecture. Nope. Tell me another. There must be something. What did my father see in that chapel? He visited it two days running. He mustve found something.