Quest for Babylon's Soul: The Epic Search For The Gold Statue Of God Marduk

By Sonador Snow

The chase is on for the greatest archaeological discovery of the 21st century.

Two thousand years ago, a greedy Persian general and his seneschal march through the dunes, leaving behind rivers of blood. Two millennia later, the dark side of NATO’s presence in Iraq pushes a local woman to flee into the night, clutching a golden vase to her chest.

Fast forward to today, where American archaeologist Diane Ryan discovers a mass grave in the hot sands of Syria. After calling English historian Geoff Symons for assistance with the dig, the two unearth an ancient clay plate.

Discover how the timeframes intertwine and how echoes of the past reach the present. In the end, who will reach the gold statue of God Marduk?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Feb 16, 2022

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Quest for Babylon's Soul

Sonador Snow

Copyright (C) 2014 Sonador Snow

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2019 by Next Chapter

Published 2019 by Next Chapter

Cover art by http://www.thecovercollection.com/

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

One

Friday, July 25th 2014.

Lincoln University, Great Britain.

Professor Geoff Symons, a tall man in his mid-thirties, walked slowly towards the main building of the university, entirely spellbound by his thoughts. Raindrops rolled down over the umbrella under which he sheltered. As his father always used to say, The weather in England is rainy, until hard evidence proves the opposite, and on this day it wasn't even fit to send the cat out.

A couple of minutes later, he reached the entrance. He gave the soaked brolly to the doorman with a smile, and headed to the lecture hall at the end of the corridor on the first floor. Entering the spacious room, he looked at his watch and smiled. 14:14 – exactly one minute until the beginning of his lecture. He looked around with approval; the study room was filled with over a hundred young men and women, all hungry for knowledge.

Professor Symons walked to the mahogany desk, nodding to several students who greeted him, left his bag on the chair, and when the big clock over his head showed 14:15, he switched on the microphone and with a captivating smile said, Welcome, colleagues. I'm happy to see that the rain outside hasn't washed away your enthusiasm to be present for our first lecture of the second semester. A giggle spread around the room. So, who will remind us of the last thing we talked about before the holidays? Nikol?

Good day, Professor Symons, the black girl sitting on the second row answered. Our last lecture was about the upsurge of the Persian Empire during the reign of Xerxes.

Thank you, Nikol. Absolutely right, as always. He winked at her, then continued. So, colleagues – any questions about that particular part of ancient history?

Yes, Professor. Came a voice from the first row.

What is it, Gregg? He looked at the young blond man sitting, as always, right in front of his desk.

I just want to ask about some aspects of the Battle of Thermopylae.

I'm all ears. Geoff Symons smiled and leaned forward.

Two hours later, the doors of the study room opened and the students poured out into the corridors, which were already teeming with other students. Professor Symons has just begun to pack his materials away, when one of his most intelligent students, Thomas, stopped in front of his desk. He held the hand of his girlfriend, Lin.

Yes, Thomas, how can I help you?

Professor, as you know, my topic for the final ancient history exam is Herodotus. Geoff Symons smiled and nodded at the black-haired boy and his Chinese girlfriend. Last week, I spent a lot of time in the library gathering materials, and I found something interesting. Something you didn't mention either in the lecture on Babylon, or in the lecture about Xerxes and the Persian Empire.

Okay, you've piqued my curiosity. Go ahead.

Well, in one of the Herodotus texts I examined, I found a detailed description of a colossal statue of the supreme Babylonian god, king of all gods and mortals, Marduk.

Ah, the mythical statue of pure gold. Professor Symons smiled.

Yes. According to Herodotus, there was a massive, twenty-four-ton gold statue in the main temple of Marduk, in the Esagila complex in Babylon. In the text, he says that in 485 BC, Xerxes marched with his army of millions against Egypt, and the Babylonians used that to organize a revolt.

Geoff Symons listened carefully to his student, although he was familiar with the contents of the document Thomas was talking about.

The boy continued. Herodotus says that in a rage, Xerxes sent back his most trusted general, with a part of his army, to crush the rebellion. Herodotus also mentions that he ordered that general to remove the golden statue of the god Marduk from Babylon, because according to tradition, every Babylonian who wanted to govern the city first had to offer a sacrifice to the gods and hold the hands of the statue. So, Xerxes wanted to prevent future revolts by the proud Babylonians. Thomas paused, looked at his teacher, then added, And that's all. The text doesn't say where the statue was taken, or what its destiny from there on was.

Very good, Professor Symons answered. Firstly, as you know, we can completely trust Herodotus' stories a hundred percent only about facts confirmed by other trustful sources. All we know for sure is that there was a golden statue of the god Marduk in Babylon.

That's right. Thomas responded. It's mentioned in at least two earlier documents I found in the library.

Three, for certain. Geoff smiled at him and continued. But the curious fact is that only Herodotus talks about colossal sizes and a twenty-four-ton weight. It's true, none of the other ancient texts cast aside this description, but nor do any of them confirm it. Don't you think that if the statue was really that big, we would have more breathtaking descriptions of it, and not just the one Herodotus left us with?

Well, yeah, but this statue had been part of the landscape of Babylon for centuries, and all the other texts which mention it are Babylonian. I think it's normal for them not to feel awed by it. Lin, joined the conversation, which reminded Geoff why they'd been a couple since their first year at university.

An excellent thought, but let's stick to the known facts. After all, we're historians, not conspiracy theorists. What else do we know for sure?

That in 485 BC there was a revolt in Babylon against the Persian occupation, Thomas said. Xerxes sent his trusted general to suppress it, and to remove the statue from the temple in Esagila complex. All this is clearly described by the Persian historians of the time.

Exactly, the Persian historians. Geoff smiled. Not a single one of them left us with a description of the monumental effort that would have been required to move such a statue. Not to mention that if Herodotus's words are true, it would have been worth a fortune, even in those days. But at the end of the day… he concluded, whilst we don't have any proof confirming the description of the Greek historian, neither do we have any to deny it. We can say that this is one of the hitherto undiscovered mysteries of ancient history.

Can I find the other texts mentioning the gold statue in the university's library, Professor? Thomas asked.

Yes, you'll find them all in the History of Babylon section.

Thanks for your time. I'll see you at our next lecture. Have a nice day. Thomas said.

And a nice weekend, Lin added.

You have a nice weekend, too, and keep up with your inquisitiveness. Don't forget, history is not always about undisputable facts. See you next week. Geoff's eyes followed his two students as they walked out of the hall.

* * *

Geoff Symons was the youngest professor at Lincoln University. At thirty-seven years of age, he had over two years of experience as a professor and had spent almost eight years in the historical faculty. The attractive blond bachelor had an excellent reputation among international academic circles. He took part in many conferences and had read lectures in almost every corner of the world. So he wasn't surprised as he walked towards his third floor office to have a call coming in on the satellite phone. Someone looking for his professional opinion perhaps, or issuing an invitation to lecture somewhere in the world. He answered on the fourth ring. Professor Symons.

Hiya, Geoff. A resonant, soft woman's voice responded.

Diane, is that you? He'd met the beautiful American archaeology professor, Diane Ryan, more than a year ago. Since then, they'd seen each other at three conferences in the past eight months.

Look at you, guessed right first time. Obviously not many admirers ring you. How are you, ninny?

For sure, not many call me 'ninny'. Geoff chuckled, and heard Diane giggle at the other end of the line. How can I help you?

A personal invite to dinner would be nice, but unfortunately, I need your help with something much more boring and I'm not in town. Guess where I am?

Knowing you, somebody's accidentally given you permission to make excavations on the Moon or Mars.

Oh, don't worry, one day I'll make it to both, she answered cheerily. But for now, I'm looking to stay closer to you, at least until another woman steals you away.

Well, he said, not certain how to respond.

Well, what?

Where are you? Because I can keep guessing until tomorrow Geoff said, opening the door to his office.

I'm half naked, in a very hot place. She paused, and when he didn't respond, explained further. I'm on the outskirts of As-Suwayda in Syria, very close to the Jabal al-Druze peak on the border with Jordan.

Since Bashar al-Assad had been removed from his post several months ago, and the rebels formed a new government, visiting Syria had almost become a non-suicidal proposition. But if you asked anyone with the slightest bit of horse sense, they'd say you'd be crazy to do it. Geoff knew, Diane was definitely as crazy as he was.

What are you doing there? he asked, settling on the chair at his book-covered desk.

Digging holes. Diane's ringing laughter was music to his ears. But the important thing is what I'm finding in them.

And I guess you called just to gloat.

Oh, how smart you are. Are you interested in a big pile of human bones? Diane questioned.

What are you talking about? Geoff leaned forward in his chair. He knew she wouldn't be calling via satphone just to joke with him.

A week ago, we found a huge vault with over five thousand human skeletons in it.

Where exactly? he demanded impatiently.

At the foot of the rock formations, right next to As-Suwayda, you imp. Anyway, what I can tell you for sure is that over ninety percent of the skeletons are men and, according to the tools and weapons we found in the vault, they were Persian soldiers. First dating suggests around 500 BC.

During Xerxes, Geoff said.

Look how smart you are! Listen, my university has already approved finances for a more extensive excavation and detailed descriptions of the discoveries, so I'm looking for a historian for the job. I decided to contact the most handsome option, rather than the best. She giggled at her own humor.

Oh, thanks for adoring my physical charms, but I hope I've got enough brains in my head to help you out.

Mmmm, we'll see about that. Diane's ringing laughter again filtered through the phone. Well, are you interested?

Definitely. How can I call you back?

I'll call you, it's much easier. By the way, bring a few students. The first indications of the scale of this discovery suggest as much help as possible will be needed. So when do you want me to call again?

Geoff thought for a moment. Monday will be great.

Okay.

And how exactly do we get to you?

You'll have to fly to Damascus and I'll send transport to fetch you from there. Don't worry, the situation in Syria is reasonably safe these days – as long as you don't plan to spend more than twelve hours in Damascus, that is. She laughed again and Geoff shook his head. Diane was a livewire with her sense of humor.

Thanks, Diane. I'm flattered that you called me first.

I hope you'll think of a good way to thank me by the time you arrive. I already have something in mind. I'll call you on Monday, bye for now.

Bye. He just managed the response before the connection ended.

Geoff sat back in his chair, took half a dozen deep breaths to calm his excitement, and then hurried out of his office. He almost ran to the off of the Department of History's director excited by the prospect of this unexpected adventure.

Two

December 2011.

Somewhere in the poorest suburbs of Basra, Iraq.

The so called 'pacifying' NATO mission in Iraq was almost over. After killing lots of 'enemies', plus thousands of civilians and leaving the country without a united government or clear idea of its future, NATO's gaze turned slowly towards Afghanistan and Syria. After all, the USA, biggest arms trader in the world, needed new orders to keep its economy running. Every day, thousands of soldiers were returning home to be reunited with their families and friends. That's why in the last weeks of the Iraq mission, there was a shortage of men in the NATO base, and the local officers allowed different nationalities to pair up on patrol.

There weren't a lot of people on the dusty streets at this time of day. A bunch of nippers were chasing a ragged ball under the scorching afternoon sun. If there was one thing which hadn't changed in the last two thousand five hundred years, it was the heat and the drought. The two heavily armed men hiding behind bullet-proof vests were sweating like hell, while slowly walking the route of their daily patrol. They were only two because their perimeter wasn't big. Also, in this neighborhood of Basra, not once during the 'pacifying' mission had an accident or assault happened, so it was logical that at the end of their unwelcome stay, NATO's military attention was minimal.

The two commandos were of differing nationalities; a Frenchman and an American. They were walking slowly down the middle of the dusty, unpaved street, observing the one story mud houses. They were watching for any hint of ambush organized by the local terrorist groups, who had grown more powerful with every passing day since Saddam was killed. Despite the fact that there hadn't been a terrorist attack in Basra for months, they couldn't forget their lost friends.

They'd almost reached the end of the street and were about to turn left, when a woman wearing a traditional yashmak to cover her head and face, ran out of one of the miserable, ruined houses on the corner. She headed towards them, waving her hands and shouting. The soldiers instinctively lifted their guns and pointed them at her as a precaution.

Stop where you are! the American shouted at the woman, but she kept running towards them, continuing to shout. Stop where you are. Now! The trained-to-kill soldier repeated his words in Iraqi and released the safety catch on his machine gun.

Wait a minute. The French soldier placed his hand over the weapon of his colleague. I think she's asking for help. Let's listen to what she wants.

The American nodded, but the muzzle of his gun remained focused on the woman, ready to take her life in a second if she proved to be a threat.

The Iraqi woman was now within three feet of them, and despite the yashmak, they could clearly see that she was crying. She reached them and threw herself onto the dusty ground, in front of their feet. In reasonable English, she begged, Help me, please, help me. My husband is dying. Please, help us. We don't have any money or medication and he's dying.

The two soldiers glanced at each other, puzzled, as the woman continued her fervent appeals. Please, please!

What's wrong with him? the American asked.

Six days ago, he cut himself badly while working on one of the restoration constructions in the center. I've tried to clean and dress the wound, but it became rotten from the heat two days ago. Since then, he's had a high fever and is delirious almost all the time. We haven't had anything to eat in the last three days, which has weakened him even more. Please, help me. Tears brimmed against her red-rimmed eyes once again. I beg you, ask one of your doctors to come and examine him.

The two soldiers stood in the middle of the street with the woman at their feet, trying to decide what to do. The Frenchman finally put his radio to his mouth, gave the base their coordinates and asked for a doctor to be provided, to examine a local resident.

The woman got to her feet and beckoned them towards her house. They followed her, but refused to enter the building, electing to stay outside to wait for reinforcements and the promised doctor. The woman shrugged her shoulders and disappeared inside, to check on her husband.

Within twenty minutes, two military jeeps bearing the NATO insignia stopped in front of the house. An American doctor and seven soldiers stepped out of them. Once the newly arrived troops had secured the perimeter, the two patrolling soldiers, their commanding officer and the doctor entered the small dwelling.

The woman welcomed them in the narrow, dimly-lit corridor, and invited them into a very small and modestly furnished room. On the bed, a bearded man of Arabic origin lay with his eyes closed. He was emaciated and clearly in a bad way. His lips were cracked and his lank, greasy hair hung limply on the dirty white pillow.

The woman went to the bed and lifted the sheet away from her