Chapter 23

Twenty-Three

Eve padded down the grand staircase and across the worn stone of the hallway to drop her bag by the door.

“Lucien?”

Her voice echoed in the voluminous space. The chateau was silent but for the occasional creak and groan of its ancient wooden beams. She peered into the room to her right.

“Lucien, you in here?”

Silence. That was odd. She'd expected him to be waiting.

It was a sitting room of grand proportions. Large windows overlooked the estate’s sprawling grounds, currently covered in a glistening blanket of snow. Winter sunshine crept across the deep-pile rugs and refracted in the crystals of a chandelier.

She didn’t know what she’d expected from Lucien’s home from home, but somehow the immense age of the place suited him. It was beautiful and intricately layered with personality and art. She wandered deeper into the space, running her hand along an antique wooden dresser and admiring the tapestries and paintings that hung artfully on the walls. She examined one.

It looked old, maybe centuries so, originating somewhere in the Middle East, she guessed, and probably worth a fortune, judging by the rest of the place. Gold leaf glimmered in places on its surface. On closer inspection, she realized a man and woman were having sex in one corner. She shook her head and smiled. How very typical of Lucien.

She moved on to inspect a clay tablet propped up on an elegant side table. It seemed to be a fragment of something larger and specifically featured a couple copulating. Eve huffed out a laugh.

“Ah, you found my Babylonian clay.”

Eve looked up to see Lucien emerge from a door at the far end of the room.

“Do I detect a theme?” she asked, raising a wry eyebrow.

“I have a taste for erotic art,” he said, “but I like to collect many things. Come, I’ll show you,” he held out his hand.

He led her back to the room he’d come from.

The theme of erotic art continued. Elegantly framed paintings hung on oak paneling. Bookcases groaned with fancy-bound books. The space was softly lit and made cozy by a crackling fire. The smell of old leather from the armchairs that flanked it hung invitingly in the air.

Lucien led her along in front of the shelves. “I also have the complete works of Dickens and Hemingway if that makes you feel any better about me. First editions, of course,” he said. Eve ran her finger along a polished shelf, eyeing the titles.

“Doctor Faustus. I read that one at school.” She pulled it out and opened it carefully at the title page. It was the first edition.

“It’s not especially old, but I’ve always been rather fond of it.

Eve slid it back into position.

What can you tell about a man by the things he’s collected?

She looked at the other books and found his literary tastes to be broad. Leather-bound editions of Shakespeare lodged beside ‘The Three Magical Books of Solomon’, which had a complex golden rune embossed on its spine. Then beside that, ‘The Mystery of Deep Magik and Divine Symbols’.

Lucien noticed her examining them. “What I’d really like you to see is over here,” he said and led her to a tall glass-fronted display cabinet lit from within.

Three shelves displayed treasures of obvious immense age. In pride of place: a richly golden crown. A mass of flowers, whose metallic petals were interwoven, formed a broad ring above which a series of winged angels connected delicately to an upper cap of overlapping oak leaves. It was quite unlike any headdress that Eve had ever seen before. She bent to marvel at it.

Lucien opened the cabinet doors, and Eve scooped it up without invitation. She flexed at the weight of it, surprised to find that something so intricate was really quite heavy. Was it solid gold? Rounded gemstones, lodged at the centers of the flowers, softly reflecting the flickering light of the fire.

“The Crown of Ishtar,” Lucien breathed. His voice was rough and reverent.

Eve tore her gaze from the crown to find the same flames dancing in Lucien’s eyes. They burned with intensity. He was deeply proud of this greatest of prizes. The crown drew her back to examine its details.

“The Queen of Heaven, or so the Mesopotamians named her,” Eve said, remembering what she’d read in the book that Henry had lent her.

Holding the crown made Eve’s blood pulse a little harder. Her fingertips fizzed. Was it excitement? Certainly, she and Lucien had become immersed in the search for treasures for their exhibition, and this was a treasure beyond anything she’d seen so far. Yet somehow, it was more than that. The crown had a buzz about it that reminded her of the Venus dagger.

“I have a passion for the Assyrian empire and Ishtar in particular,” Lucien said. “She has an intriguing web of myths surrounding her.”

“I know a little bit about her. I borrowed some books from the museum’s library,” Eve replied.

“Is that so?” Lucien’s dark eyes crinkled in a smile.

Eve nodded, grateful to Henry for the research. “Well, I am your Egyptology expert.” She gave him a wink. “Although Mesopotamia is a bit out of my wheelhouse. So, a little research seemed in order.”

Lucien nodded, amused by Eve taking over his little speech and waved a hand for her to continue.

“Ishtar was a powerful female deity. Goddess of both love and war, she stood for conflict within the heart as much as without. There’s a Botticelli painting, Mars being conquered by Venus. War conquered by love. I expect you are familiar with it.”

“Well, yes.”

She ploughed on, trying to maintain her air of expertise. “Ishtar was both sides of the coin. A warrior for both justice and love.”

“It seems so in tune with the nature of humanity, does it not?” Lucien's eyes sparkled, watching her hands move animatedly as she spoke. He took a breath and cut her off. “I wonder if you’re familiar with the story of Elham.”

Eve screwed up her eyes and tried to remember. “Go on, it might come back to me.”

“The nature of humanity was Ishtar’s strength and her weakness. She watched the people of Babylonia and found that she identified with them more and more until one day she met a mortal man named Elham.” Lucien shrugged. “He was all the things the gods of Akkadia were not: modest, kind and giving, and utterly enamored with her.

“Elham inspired her to embrace the gentle side of her psyche and she fell in love with him. Of course she did. The supreme beings of the Akkadian council, however, did not appreciate the inevitability of it.

“They told Ishtar that she was not to sully the bloodline of the gods with any kind of physical interaction with a mortal man. The gods control. They do not surrender themselves to love, to physical union. To do so would risk relinquishing the supreme power and the council would never allow that. They demanded that she give up her lover and cease all contact immediately.”

“What did she do?” asked Eve.

Lucien ran a finger along Eve’s jawline and she felt a kind of electricity pass through her. “The force of love is hard to deny. The very opposite. Ishtar was a champion of free choice and love. She refused to be told what to do.”

Lucien’s face went stiff and his hand clenched into a fist. Eve’s stomach dropped and an irrational wave of fear rushed through her body. She could imagine how she’d feel if anyone told her to give Lucien up.

“The council’s patience was short. They quickly grew tired of Ishtar's insubordination and principalities were dispatched to Babylon to capture Elham and cast him down into the underworld for eternity.

“Ishtar learned of this when she was brought before the council. They attempted to convince her it was all for the best, compensating her for her pain with jewels and treasures. The trappings of the gods.” Lucien waved a dismissive hand. “They should have known that Ishtar would not take this well. The goddess of love stripped of Elham turned to all that was now left to her; war.

“She threw the gifts from the gods back at them in a fury and returned to Babylon to the house of Elham to find it ransacked and burned. The last unsullied thing: a single flower remained in the trampled garden. She plucked it and tucked it inside her tunic, to have something of him close to her heart. Then she attacked.

“Ishtar became a living storm of retribution. Her rage-fueled power tore through Babylon. She summoned dark clouds to veil the sky and swept the land with torrents of rain. She rampaged, destroying all in her path until eventually her torment led her to the gates of the underworld. But the Akkadians had anticipated this, and the gates were barred against her.

“She called to the planets, to her mother, Venus and to Shamash, the god of the sun, and bent them to her will. When the stars aligned, it channeled to her the power of her ancestry and Ishtar’s anger became unstoppable. Her sword danced through demons and angels alike, the sparks from her blade lighting up the darkness. Just the timbre of her voice shook the gates from their fixings, and she marched on Queen Ereshkigal and demanded Elham be returned to her.

Either Lucien believed this story entirely, or he was a really great actor. Viens popped at his temples as he recounted the tale and anger scored lines at his mouth. Eve wanted to step back away from him, but he held her there, ensnared.

“Ishtar, Queen of the Heavens, and Ereshkigal, Queen of the Underworld, were evenly matched, but Elham was brought up from the fiery depths to stand before them, just as Ishtar had requested. Ereshkigal was not about to let him go. Elham was bloodied and bruised and cried out in torment at the sight of Ishtar, but Ereshkigal would not permit them to be close enough to touch, nor would she let him hear her words.

“It was torture. Ishtar could not allow the mortal man she loved to take the punishment of the gods in her stead. She pleaded with Ereshkigal to let him go home, but Ereshkigal refused. She reasoned a mortal could not cross the boundary between the underworld and Babylon, only a god could do that, but, if Ishtar was willing to sacrifice her own power to do so, to give that power to Elham, Ereshkigal would make it possible for Elham to go home.

“Ishtar agreed to the deal. Elham would be saved, even if it meant she herself could not cross the boundary to the mortal world to be with him. Ereshkigal took a dagger from her belt and cut an eight-pointed star first into Elham's chest and then into Ishtar's, the symbol of Ishtar's power, then granted them one last embrace.

Lucien pressed his hand over Eve's heart, and she felt the wild thump of her pulse in her veins. He lowered his voice and spoke directly into her eyes.

“Ishtar and Elham threw their arms around each other and, rune to rune, the power of the gods passed between them. Then Elham was gone.”

Lucien let his hand fall, and Eve experienced a sudden, deep emptiness. She felt the absence of his touch all the way to her bones.

“Gone? She never saw him again?”

“Well, Ereshkigal went a little soft on her. Seeing how painful it all was, she relented to say that when the stars aligned again, she'd have her chance to visit Elham. What she didn't mention was; that was only once in every 243 years. The Transit of Venus across the sun might be regular, but it’s far from frequent.”

Lucien grinned and Eve spluttered out, “Bloody hell. Elham wasn’t going to be looking so good after that amount of time. I’m assuming he’d have been dead by then.”

Lucien laughed. “Well, quite, but this is where the story gets interesting. Ereshkigal promised that the essence of Elham would pass down through the firstborn males in his bloodline so that a version of him would exist for all time.”

Eve sighed. “That is kind of romantic, if you’re really, really patient.”

Lucien sighed. “Patience is a necessity, yes.”

They both lulled into a silence, lost in their own thoughts.

Lucien snapped out of it first. “So, on to my purpose, then. You hold in your hands the mythical Crown of Ishtar. I have many artefacts, collected over the years, but I don’t want to overwhelm the exhibition with my obsession. I’d like us to choose three pieces to go with the crown. What do you think?”

Eve turned to examine the cabinet. There were a lot of items to choose from.

“I tell you what, why don’t we free up your hands?” Lucien took the crown and placed it on Eve’s head. Immediately, her vision swam.

The firelight flickered and licked in her peripheral vision. Lucien’s form grew dark and out of focus, the light from the fire illuminating him from behind. An aura of darkness enveloped him and two figures large and unfocused formed at his back. No, on his back. Eve squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head. When she opened them again, Lucien was staring at her. He laughed.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” he said. He seemed quite normal to her now. “It’s a rare ability to be sensitive to its vibrations. You are special, Eve. I knew it the first time I met you.”

The crown vibrated slightly on her head; a faint buzz that made it feel like it wasn’t quite making contact. Light from the fire seemed to disappear into Lucien in a way she had never seen before. He absorbed it into a dark halo of nothingness that surrounded his entire body.

“Eve,” he said, and his words sounded in her ears like a gong, amplified and clarified by the crown. “We are meant to be together. I know you feel the power, too.” He touched her arm and electricity ran over her skin. She’d felt the sensation before. Sensuous and intensely pleasurable, it niggled for the recall of a memory just out of reach. Now, when she looked down at the spot, she could see concentric waves rippling out from it. Waves in a field of electric blue that stood half an inch proud of her skin. Wearing the crown had enabled her to see it. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Can you see this too?” she asked and ran her own hand along her arm. Her own fingers cut through the blue as it if were mist.

“You’re something special, Eve. Someone extraordinary. You are sealed by magic. Protected. Kept from me. Like Ishtar and her Elham.” He stepped forward, so much of his body almost touching hers that she buzzed all over.

Her head swam, and she took a step backward. Lucien’s expression fell as she pulled the crown from her head. Blinking away the fuzzy sensation and trying to catch her breath. She handed it back to him and shook her head. “That’s quite an item.”

Lucien set it down. “You connected with it. I hoped you would. We have a bond beyond the ordinary. I’m even more convinced of it now.”

Eve’s heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to run, to get out of that stifling room.

“Come and look at some of the other items. Choose three more things for the exhibition.”

He was so calm, like nothing had just happened. Eve stared at him, looking for an explanation of the darkness she’d seen. Instead, she found his olive skin with a sweep of stubble. Gently waving hair flopped to his forehead in a dark sweep.

“Are you OK?” He brushed his hand down her arm and goosebumps rippled from his touch. Deep inside her body craved him.

What the actual fuck?

“Eve?” He took her hand. The buzz she’d felt from his touch moments earlier was not so obvious now.

“I, I’m fine.” It was madness. “I think I’m seeing things.” She laughed, and Lucien tipped his head questioningly. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Just tired I think.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “Come and look,” he said.

Not knowing what else to do, she stepped forward to examine the shelves. The rarest of treasures sat on display. An eclectic array of ornate ceremonial masks, finely crafted necklaces, and other grave goods. From their cuneiform inscriptions, Eve could tell they were Mesopotamian. Each was egg-yolk-yellow gold, the deep color a sign of purity. The contents of the cabinet must have been worth a fortune, yet somehow, Eve found them repellent. The crown, so fascinating in its intricacy, would not be enhanced by any of these.

It was a small clay bowl that caught Eve’s eye. A swirling design of words from a language she could not translate on its surface. It drew her in.

“The bowl’s interesting,” she said. “Aramaic?” She was delighted to be able to recognize an aspect of it. Lucien looked taken aback, like he wanted to talk her out of it.

“The bowl is,” he searched for his words, “rather plain.”

Eve reached in to pick it up. It didn’t give her any of the buzz she’d experienced from the crown. “I like that about it. The other end of the scale. Juxtaposition.”

Lucien took it from her. “As you wish. I’ll get it wrapped. It might be plain but it’s still sixth century.” He quickly put it down on the shelf. He didn’t seem happy that she’d chosen it.

Eve bit at her lip. Perhaps she shouldn’t just randomly pick things up. Her head was still fuzzy. Clasping her hands behind her back, she stepped away from the cabinet, and crossed the room to the bookshelves, trying to take a hold of herself. She’d noticed some interesting items among the books and made a beeline for a brassy metal disc whose surface was inlaid with a series of other notched rings. She reached out to take it and then thought better of doing so without asking. “May I?” she said.

“The astrolabe? Yes. I like that idea much better. I’d thought about including it myself. You know what it is?”

Eve shrugged. “I’ve heard of them but never seen one in reality. It’s for calculating the position of the stars, isn’t it?”

“And for our purposes, predicting when Venus will be in transit across the sun.”

Eve squinted at him. “So that Ishtar can visit her Elham?”

Lucien nodded. “There are star charts too.”

“The perfect combination.”

“Then we have our three.” Lucien took an ornate silver tube from the shelf. Through its filigreed surface she could see a map of the stars, rolled to fit inside.

Eve was starting to feel that this astrological event was going to be important for her too.

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