The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Blood Moon Rising

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  Angry thunderclouds had long past when Treston and Ishtar reached the summit where an ancient building stood. As they watched the late afternoon sun blaze in its summer splendor across the wide plain below, Treston grunted with satisfaction. “A person can see the whole world from this spot. At one time, the blue waters of the Aegean were visible from here.”

  Ishtar looked around at the broken columns and other rubble. “What was this place? I don’t recall any such building.”

  Treston turned his gaze from the horizon, quickly scanning the ruins. “That, my dear, is what they call ‘Saint John’s Basilica’. It was constructed some time after our passing.”

  Ishtar puzzled. “St. John’s? You mean our John…the John who asked me riddles and told me bedtime stories…the John my uncle would joke and carry on with?”

  Treston nodded. “Yep…that John.”

  “Impossible!” Ishtar exclaimed. “He would never permit such a thing to happen.”

  “Couldn’t help it...” Treston off-handedly replied. “Seems that after he died, a whole bunch of people went to revering him. They venerated…no, almost worshipped him... even offered prayers up to him.” He shook his head. “Funny, isn’t it? All his life, John fought against worshiping idols. After he was gone, the very people he helped built this great temple to him. He still gets frustrated when telling about it.”

  The idea of John being deified was too difficult for the girl to accept. She spoke incredulously, “What fools would do such a thing? Why didn’t they know better?”

  Treston extended his hand, cautioning, “Careful, now... Many an innocent has done damnable things.” He moved closer. “Dogma! Yep, dogma... That’s what gets ‘em all.” Then he offered explanation. “The way I see it is this: A man - or men - sit down and decipher some idea or other from some holy book. It really doesn’t matter which one they use. After a bunch of squabbling and debate, sometimes at the point of a sword or such, all the men agree what that holy book is really saying. Then they tell everyone else what it means, sometimes at the point of a blade or by other persuasions.”

  “Well, the people who are told what it means aren’t allowed to investigate things for themselves because they’re not considered smart enough, or not close enough to God, or just plain stupid. After ‘while, these same people start believing they’re not smart enough, or not close enough to God, or just plain stupid. So they take up accepting every piece of drivel passed along to them from these so-called leaders. To keep the people believing just how close to God all these leaders are, they have to continue coming up with new holy rules and regulations. These rules keep the people in line, but only as long as the people think the rules are from God. So these leaders call these rules ‘dogma’.”

  Treston patted Ishtar’s arm. “My dear, we all lived by dogma. I feared so many things - rulers, gods, goddesses, the sky, the earth, everything. That’s why the words your uncle taught appealed to so many. He was simple in his speech and nonjudgmental in his instructions. He showed us that we could love God without living in morbid fear of displeasing him. What he said made sense. That’s why the leaders hated him.”

  Ishtar could easily understand Treston’s logic, but the aspect of demonstrating blind faith in doing the bidding of another man was difficult for her to comprehend. Treston reasoned this way, “When you were a little girl, did you believe what your father told you?”

  “Of course!” She fired back, somewhat offended.

  “Why?” He asked.

  The girl thought a moment. “He was always so good to me and took good care of me. I trusted him.”

  Treston asked another question. “Did he ever warn you with threats?”

  Ishtar soured and shook her head. “Never!”

  Treston raised an eyebrow. “Really…?”

  The girl thought a moment, and then confessed, “He did tell me about the great snake that lived in the harbor and how it would eat little girls who got too close to the water. Then there were the lurking ghosts that haunted the night outside our home after dark…”

  Treston interrupted. “Did you believe him?”

  “I was a little girl!” Ishtar complained. “What’d you expect me to do? I didn’t know any better.” A shocked look crossed her face as she began to see the comparison between being a trusting child and a trusting adult. People believed the leaders they trusted. If their leaders used threats of death and damnation to keep the people in line, most would obey without question. It was this childlike quality of fear and trust that kept them in silent bondage. And whether done with knowledge or unwittingly, the leaders maintained their power by playing on those fears.

  Treston smiled his acknowledgment of Ishtar’s revelation, concluding, “The day to judge our fellow man has not yet arrived. They must first be enlightened to the reality of all matters. That, my dear, will not come at our hands. Another will do it. Our responsibility is to win the coming war so that day may arrive.”

  He turned the girl around and, standing behind her, extended his arm out, away from her. “Look at the land and the lay of the hills. Do they appear familiar?”

  Ishtar scanned the horizon, the hills, outcroppings and ruins. From this distance, she began to see shapes and sights still recognizable. She sang out with excited delight when a new reminder was spotted. For some time, the two jabbered on about the many old and wondrous delights they were continually rediscovering. By the time they finished, the girl’s sadness from her earlier experiences had nearly vanished.

  Treston looked at the sky. The afternoon was fast escaping the day. “There’s still another place we need to visit.” He took the girl’s hand. “Come on, it may close soon.” With Treston leading the way, the two hurried down the hill, south, to the museum. Its doors were still opened and Treston pulled Ishtar into the cool shade of the interior rooms. He pointed down the long rows of ancient artifacts, either secured behind glass or cordoned off with braided ropes. In hushed excitement, he began, “Lowenah told me not to miss this place. She said if your road chosen was through the stadium gate, and should you come to an understanding with the vision shown, your deliverance here would provide you a key to wisdom and contentment.”

  Ishtar wrinkled up her nose in disbelief. “What is this musty old place anyway? And what can be found in here that would interest me, let alone bring me contentment?”

  Treston wagged a finger in her face and offered a kindly reprimand. “You may act uppity with the things I speak of, but Lowenah does not tease her children with worthless riddles. She has gone to great effort for us to stand in this spot at this hour. There certainly must be a purpose to our deliverance here.” He reached down and patted her hand. “This place is what people call a ‘museum’. In your… our day...we would go to a library to search for the many things we will find in this building. Things that have been buried in the ruins for many years can be found in a museum. Maybe Lowenah knows of some important or precious item located here that may offer pleasant memories or will be dear to you or me and may have some real import.”

  Ishtar mumbled in agreement, but wondered how there could be anything of any interest to her. She saw nothing but rows of old broken junk! Still, it was not long before the girl was fully absorbed in the strange and varied objects she was discovering.

  They had been wandering for some time when Ishtar suddenly froze. “Look at this!” she squealed, as she pressed her nose against a glass case. Treston pushed up close to see what had caught the girl’s attention. “There! There!” She pointed at the broken remains of a jade hair comb. Treston stared at it. Ishtar excitedly chimed, “My father traded and sold hair pieces like this. I remember him allowing me to wear one at times when I played in his shop.” She looked closer and cried out, “Look! Look at the markings on the one end, a seven feathered crested fan carved in the jade.”

  Ishtar looked up at Treston, a h
uge grin on her face and tears welling up in her eyes. “My father had purchased several dozen of these, or at least just like these, a few weeks before he got sick. He said that a merchant traveling from a land far to the east was passing through the city in the hopes of finding a ship that would take him to a place called, uh, Sardinia.”

  Ishtar stood up, wide-eyed and began gesturing exuberantly as she went on with her story. “My father said the man had fallen into some misfortune. I recall he mentioned something about women and gambling. Anyway, the man needed some money to board a ship leaving that morning. Father bought the entire collection from the man.”

  Treston was pleased to see Ishtar so happy. Sure thing, Lowenah knew how to lift a person’s spirits. He then cautiously asked, “Can you be sure that comb is one of your father’s? After all, there were thousands of stylish combs worn as ornaments for the women of Ephesus.”

  Ishtar vehemently disagreed, arguing. “No! This must be one of his. I remember it like yesterday. He gave me one to have. I wore it for years…” The girl’s face clouded and her voice trailed away. “I wore it the rest of my life. I had it with me the day I was arrested.”

  Treston said nothing, but he started to recall a comb of similar appearance from sometime in his past. He then apologized. “I should not have questioned you and brought back unpleasant memories that are still burning wounds within you.”

  The sadness passed from the Ishtar’s face. She patted Treston’s arm reassuringly. “You did no harm. My father was a wonderful man. The thought that part of him still remains in existence is so thrilling to my soul. It’s a beautiful memory I will not soon forget.”

  She lingered at the glass, looking at the broken comb, wondering if it might have been her comb. Treston tired and wandered further down the display. Suddenly he whistled with surprise and ran his hand back through his hair, exclaiming, “Oh, my god!”

  The girl looked up to see the astonishment on the man’s face. Filled with nervous curiosity, she quietly asked. “What is it?”

  Treston wildly motioned. “Here! Come here quickly!”

  Ishtar became anxious, fearing the thing he had found would bring some painful memory back to her mind. She moved with halting steps toward the new mystery hiding behind thick glass. Treston became more fidgety and frustrated with the girl’s pace. By the time she reached him, he could hardly contain himself.

  “Look! What do you see?!” As Treston turned back to the glass, he bumped it with his forehead, letting out a cry of surprise.

  Ishtar turned to see what had caused Treston’s wild excitement. Her eyes glanced around the different items -shards of glass, some beads, a few pins, a brooch… a brooch! Suddenly she let out a gasp so loud that other visitors in the museum stopped to see what the commotion was all about. “Th… th… that’s mine!!” She cried, carrying on so excitedly, she caught the attention of one of the museum’s personnel. The woman quietly strolled over and politely asked if the colonel and his lady friend needed some assistance.

  Treston found it difficult to quiet Ishtar. Through her wiggling and frantic jabbering, he explained to the woman, “We have only been married recently. As a wedding gift my bride’s great, great, aunt gave her a brooch just like this one here, telling her it was very old.” He glanced back toward the case. “We didn’t think it was this old.”

  The woman folded her hands and smiled. “Well, if it is just like this one, it would be very, very old…and very strange and valuable.”

  Ishtar was quieting somewhat in her excitement, and the other visitors had gone back to their quiet perusing. Treston asked, “Why do you say strange?”

  The woman explained, “Strange, because no one knows where it was made or what exactly it is made of. Take a look.” She pointed at the brooch. “It looks like silver and newly made without a scratch or any corrosion on it, but it was buried in the ground for nearly two thousand years…at least that’s what the archeologists believe it to be. That’s how it looked when they found it near the temple.”

  “What’s an ‘archeologists’?” Ishtar innocently asked, still eyeing the brooch.

  The woman stared at Ishtar, the girl showing a total lack of understanding. As the disbelief grew on the woman’s face, Treston again jumped in to try to save the day. Clutching Ishtar’s arm, Treston apologized. “My…wife…lost her scarf in the wind today and, being without it in the sun gave her a terrible headache. A kind man offered us some medicine to ease the pain. It has helped, but she says her heads spins a little now.” He bent down and spoke in Ishtar’s ear. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

  Ishtar gave the woman a silly grin, nodding. She then turned and again glued her face to the glass that the brooch was secured behind. Treston had no idea what an archeologists was either, but he realized it unwise to tell this woman so. He looked back at the case and then at the woman and asked, “Were these things found here?” He pointed to toward the city.

  The woman cautiously replied, suspicion growing in her speech, “No, they were discovered at an ancient temple that was recently found. Or, at least, that’s what the archeologists who discovered it believe it to be.”

  ‘Archeologists’? Discovered it? Buried in the ground? Treston concluded an archeologists must be a person who digs up old things, or maybe he was a construction leader over a group of diggers. Whatever the case, this archeologists dug up something very important and Treston wanted to know more. He apologized again. “I’m sorry. We are strangers to this place, but we were told if we came by this way, to stop and take a tour of this city.”

  Ishtar spoke up. “It’s not pretty like it was when I was little. The streets and shops were fun places to go.”

  The woman glanced at Ishtar, whose face was still pasted to the glass, and then she looked back at Treston. A little bead of sweat was forming on his forehead. “Colonel,” The woman began, “did you ask the kind man what the medicine was?”

  “My wife will be fine. It’s all this traveling and excitement of the…the…” Treston looked around the room as if he was embarrassed and afraid others might hear. He bent forward and whispered, “You know…all the excitement…and…and…” He rubbed his stomach and looked at Ishtar.

  The woman put her hand to her mouth and her face turned red. “Oh, oh yes.” She whispered. “I understand.”

  Treston returned to the subject of the brooch. “What temple do you speak of? I thought the temples were all in this city.”

  The woman relaxed. “The temple is newly found, maybe twenty years ago, some distance north of here. A storm brought it to light, or at least one of the building stones, or possibly a monument or sorts, and a cemetery. The things in the glass case were discovered there. It’s believed that the people buried there were priests and priestesses of the goddess Artemis. They were going to do more excavating of the sight, but the war started. No one has shown much interest in it since then.”

  Treston was nearly shaking with excitement. He struggled with those feelings as he turned to look again in the case, attempting to appear casual. “Well, we must tell our great, great aunt of the possible treasure she has handed us.” He took Ishtar’s arm and whispered something in her ear. She looked up at him and smiled and then did the same to the woman. Treston thanked the woman for all her concern, kindness and patience. When they left the museum, he deposited two gold coins found in his pocket in a reception tin near the door.

  As they hurried east along the road to the café, Ishtar started complaining, “Why didn’t you ask to buy my brooch? It would have made such a nice wedding gift, my dear.”

  Treston grumbled, “They don’t sell things in museums. I’d had to have stolen it to get it. I don’t know what they do to thieves in this land, and I’m not going to risk finding out. Besides, I feel bad enough already, lying and all to cover for you.”

  Ishtar spouted in offence, “What’d I do? You didn’t see me stealing anyt
hing. I only asked a question, ‘What’s an archeologists?’”

  “Well, it almost got us in trouble! Did you see the woman’s face? I thought she was going to call somebody for help - maybe a real officer. I had to talk fast, so I told her you were pregnant and all.”

  Ishtar shouted, “Pregnant and all?! And all what?! That is, if pregnant wasn’t bad enough!” She gave him a sour rebuff. “Especially if it was with your brat!”

  Treston’s head snapped around as he glowered. “Hey! There were lots of women…” He gave a jab back, “a whole lot smarter and prettier than you who wished me to be a father to one of their children.”

  Ishtar struck again. “So you went after married women, then?! What’d you do, wait ‘til papa went to work?!”

  Treston shut up. He was flustered with this little firestorm but felt he deserved it. He well remembered the remarks he angrily shouted at Perk that day in the prison so long ago, ‘Do you think I would follow the likes of a shit like you?’ To the child, those words would have been spoken only months ago. Shame enveloped him. “I’m sorry.” They quietly trudged toward the café.

  Ishtar immediately noticed Treston’s sullen silence. She did not intend to hurt him and now felt bad thinking she had. The girl reached out and took his hand and gently squeezed it. The two walked on in silence.