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James cast the torch’s light on the wall, displaying a mass of symbols and markings engraved into the ancient stone; too scattershot to be a message, but at the same time too organised to be a simple design choice. Howard was already flipping through his journal, stopping at a page filled with matching markings.
‘You’re certain that the tomb is here?’ James asked.
Howard looked up from his journal. ‘Positive. Why?’
‘Because it could be another trap. We haven’t exactly been having the best track record with this place, in case you haven’t noticed.’
'Ah, you’re just being paranoid.’ Howard replied, going back to flipping through the book.
‘Tell that to Sloane. I didn’t even know someone could bleed that much.’ James shuddered at the memory.
‘Quiet. I need to focus.’
Reciting something under his breath, Howard began to slide the markings around – it was a puzzle. Meanwhile James flattened himself against the opposite wall, waiting for some centuries-old mechanism to steal away the floor from beneath his feet or embed an arrow in his skull.
‘Almost…’ Howard slid the last panel into place with an encouraging clunk. The result was what appeared to be an upside-down pyramid with what could only be described as a flock of eyes circling overhead. The newly-formed mural began to shake. James braced himself for yet another death trap before the mural withdrew into the wall and slid aside, leaving a large doorway in its place. He shone his torch into the darkness, but it was too deep for the beam to penetrate.
Howard slipped his journal back into his bag and turned to James. ‘You ready?’
‘Honestly? No, not really. You?’
‘Nope. You ready?’
‘Let’s do it.’
The two of them headed inside.
Howard had barely crossed the threshold when a flame burst into life, startling them both. The flame was followed by another, then another, until the entire room was lit – with the new light, James could see that the flames came from torches at equal intervals across all four walls.
He could also see that the room was otherwise completely empty.
James sighed, his shoulders sagging. ‘Great. Another dead end.’
‘Uh, not necessarily.’ Howard said. ‘Shine your torch over there.’ He pointed to the wall on their left.
James obliged. The extra light revealed another bunch of markings, but this lot was different; they were evenly spaced along five rows.
‘A message?’ James muttered to himself.
‘Looks that way.’ Howard replied with a grin, journal already in hand. ‘This is it, Jim boy. I can feel it. The jackpot. The one that’ll be in the history books.’
James laughed. ‘Maybe. But let’s see what it actually means before we start posing for photos, okay?’
‘Okay. Just a second.’ Howard’s hands were trembling as he opened the journal and began to translate. ‘“One... two...”’ He trailed off. The grin remained on his face, but wavered ever so slightly.
‘Everything okay?’ James asked him.
‘...Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine, I just need to... make sure I’m getting this right... “one, two... buckle my shoe...’
James’ heart nearly skipped a beat.
Howard continued. ‘“Three, four... knock on the door...”’
The beam of light began to jitter as the torch shook in James’ hand.
By this point Howard looked as if he was reading the order for his own execution. His eyes darted between the markings and the journal, desperate to find a mistake, a missed letter, anything.
“‘Five, six, pick up sticks. Seven, eight, shut the gate-”’
Howard jumped as the torch fell from James’ hand and shattered on the floor, cutting him off. In spite of everything, James started to snigger. The sniggering became a chuckle, until he was laughing at the top of his lungs, the high-pitched laughter of a man who is laughing because he simply has no other option.
‘James?’ Howard said eventually. ‘Are you–‘
‘Okay?’ James cut him off, still giggling. ‘I’ve been better!’
‘…Is there anything I can do to–‘
‘Don’t you get it, Howard?!’ James yelled. ‘I’m fucked! I’ve spent the past eight years just trying to find this place, and all I have to show for it is a fucking nursery rhyme!’
‘Hey, it’s not just a nursery rhyme.’ Howard protested. ‘It’s a… well, it’s an insight into… you know, the... parenting methods of a…’ He trailed off.
‘Exactly my point.’ James put his head in his hands. ‘Fuck…’
The two archaeologists stood in silence, aside from the low flickering of the torches. For a second, James entertained the thought of checking the rest of the room for other hidden messages. But what would he find? The alphabet? Graffiti? An ancient “live, laugh, love” message?
But then came an idea.
‘Hey Howard?’
Howard almost jumped at the new noise. ‘…Yeah?’
‘…Those symbols… nobody else knows what they mean, right?’
Howard’s eyes narrowed. ‘What are you getting at?’
‘I’m just saying… as far as anyone else knows, that–‘ He gestured to the symbols, ‘Could mean something a little more… you know…’
‘Profound?’
‘I was thinking “marketable,” but profound works too.’
For a moment Howard was too dumbfounded to speak. Then that moment passed.
‘You’re suggesting that we fake this message, that we lie about what we found, go against EVERYTHING we’ve worked for, just to get fifteen minutes of fame and a fat stack of cash?’
Silence.
‘…Yes?’
‘So what did you have in mind?’
Now it was James who was stunned into silence. ‘You’re actually fine with this?’
‘I’ve spent pretty much every waking moment of my life searching for this place; I’m not going down in history because of a bloody nursery rhyme. Now come on, any ideas?’
‘Oh, right. Yes. Okay, um…’ James paced back and forth. ‘How about: “how many roads must a man walk down? And how does he know when he’s reached his destination?” How’s that?’
Howard frowned. ‘Bit preachy, but not bad.’
‘Okay, maybe: “birds can fly while we can’t because they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings.”’
‘That sounds stolen.’
‘Does it matter if it is?’
‘Kind of! People can’t go accusing this ancient race of plagiarism.’
‘Well, I’m open to suggestions if you’ve got anything better.’
‘I dunno… something like… “the youngest wolf comes to the water, but weeps, for it knows not how to drink.’”
‘…The fuck does that mean?’
‘No idea. For all we know, something was lost in translation.’
‘I like the way you think. Shouldn’t you write that down?’
‘Good idea.’ Howard opened his journal to a blank page and scribbled down the false translation.
James watched him. ‘Nobody can know about that.’
Howard finished writing, shut the journal and slipped it back into his bag. ‘The journal?’
‘The notes. The dead language which has supposedly been lost to time. If anyone finds out that we lied about this, then we’ll go down in history for all the wrong reasons. So for the love of God, keep that thing safe.’
Howard nodded. ‘Okay.’
‘Good. Now let’s get out of here. I think we’ve got a report to write.’