Gupta
hadn’t stolen it! - and with the slim packet now tucked into his loincloth
under his tunic, Alex shared a breakfast of porridge with the others. Sparrows
twittered and bounced along the wall-top fringing blue sky, hoping later to
descend and peck bowls clean before the mad serving woman could hum the bowls
away.
‘Are
you going to Marduk’s temple?’ Deborah asked Alex.
‘No.’
Yet the precincts of a temple were precisely where he had thought of hiding the
tape. ‘Yes. Maybe.’
‘Let
me be your guide,’ offered Gupta. ‘Yours too, fair lady.’
‘We’ll
go alone,’ said Alex.
Deborah
cocked an eyebrow. ‘We will?’
If
Deborah was with him, how could he hide the tape successfully? Damn the tape!
This business was becoming obsessional. Witness his hallucination that Gupta
had been eating the tape, performing an intestinal Indian rope trick with it.
But until he had deposited the thing somewhere secret, he couldn’t relax.
Had
Gupta somehow made him see what he
imagined he saw?
If
Alex went on his own to the temple, Gupta would contrive to be Deborah’s guide
for the day; of that he felt sure. What might Deborah inadvertently reveal to
Gupta about Alex’s secret, and hers? About their mutual bond?
Courage, he thought. Victory.
‘Sorry, Deb,’ he said. ‘I guess a
guy has to pray alone. Can we meet up afterwards? Take in lunch; see some
sights? We could meet. .He had no idea where.
‘At
the main exit from the temple on to the river road,’ Gupta suggested helpfully.
‘Yes.
There.’ Alex rose.
‘When?’
asked Deborah; which was a good omen. ‘Don’t forget,’ said Gupta, ‘that much of
the city takes a siesta in the early afternoon.’
Looking pointedly at Deborah, not
Gupta, Alex named the hour of rendezvous.
Nabu
rubbed a porridge smear from his lower lip and stood up too. ‘I’ll walk along
with you, Alex.’
‘No,
don’t bother. I’ll find the temple.’
‘Suit
yourself, friend. Suit your own sweet self.’ Offended, the sunbelt Nubian
stomped off.
The
route, described by the doorkeeper of the inn, was easy. Alex forged south
through minor streets - of leather-workers and mat-makers, coppersmiths and
confectioners - till he struck the main crossthoroughfare, Marduk Street . This was a vast paved boulevard mainly
lined with high windowless houses. As he strode along, with the sun at his
back, the shining bulk of Babel Tower ahead seemed to tug at him once more as
though the great spiral structure was indeed distorting the geometry of the
city, building more space in its heart, just as the sides of a whirlpool open
up extra surface space in the waters which the whirlpool perturbs.
The
turbaned, stick-twirling Babylonians who were strolling along - upper-crust
people for the most part - hardly gave Babel a glance, but it was almost with difficulty
that Alex himself finally veered off southwards along the Processional Way . This he followed until he reached the long
approach road leading west to the temple of the god of victory.
Vaulted bazaars opened off either
side, thronged hives of commerce where sacks of corn and sesame seeds, boxes of
dried fish, bundles of reeds, skins and wool and cheeses were changing hands.
Porters rushed to and fro, cursed by merchants and factors. Several auctions
were simultaneously in full swing, in addition to the individual business of
bargaining. So much complex bustle deterred Alex from wandering under the
vaults and soon he arrived in the temple forecourt, hoping
hadn’t stolen it! - and with the slim packet now tucked into his loincloth
under his tunic, Alex shared a breakfast of porridge with the others. Sparrows
twittered and bounced along the wall-top fringing blue sky, hoping later to
descend and peck bowls clean before the mad serving woman could hum the bowls
away.
‘Are
you going to Marduk’s temple?’ Deborah asked Alex.
‘No.’
Yet the precincts of a temple were precisely where he had thought of hiding the
tape. ‘Yes. Maybe.’
‘Let
me be your guide,’ offered Gupta. ‘Yours too, fair lady.’
‘We’ll
go alone,’ said Alex.
Deborah
cocked an eyebrow. ‘We will?’
If
Deborah was with him, how could he hide the tape successfully? Damn the tape!
This business was becoming obsessional. Witness his hallucination that Gupta
had been eating the tape, performing an intestinal Indian rope trick with it.
But until he had deposited the thing somewhere secret, he couldn’t relax.
Had
Gupta somehow made him see what he
imagined he saw?
If
Alex went on his own to the temple, Gupta would contrive to be Deborah’s guide
for the day; of that he felt sure. What might Deborah inadvertently reveal to
Gupta about Alex’s secret, and hers? About their mutual bond?
Courage, he thought. Victory.
‘Sorry, Deb,’ he said. ‘I guess a
guy has to pray alone. Can we meet up afterwards? Take in lunch; see some
sights? We could meet. .He had no idea where.
‘At
the main exit from the temple on to the river road,’ Gupta suggested helpfully.
‘Yes.
There.’ Alex rose.
‘When?’
asked Deborah; which was a good omen. ‘Don’t forget,’ said Gupta, ‘that much of
the city takes a siesta in the early afternoon.’
Looking pointedly at Deborah, not
Gupta, Alex named the hour of rendezvous.
Nabu
rubbed a porridge smear from his lower lip and stood up too. ‘I’ll walk along
with you, Alex.’
‘No,
don’t bother. I’ll find the temple.’
‘Suit
yourself, friend. Suit your own sweet self.’ Offended, the sunbelt Nubian
stomped off.
The
route, described by the doorkeeper of the inn, was easy. Alex forged south
through minor streets - of leather-workers and mat-makers, coppersmiths and
confectioners - till he struck the main crossthoroughfare, Marduk Street . This was a vast paved boulevard mainly
lined with high windowless houses. As he strode along, with the sun at his
back, the shining bulk of Babel Tower ahead seemed to tug at him once more as
though the great spiral structure was indeed distorting the geometry of the
city, building more space in its heart, just as the sides of a whirlpool open
up extra surface space in the waters which the whirlpool perturbs.
The
turbaned, stick-twirling Babylonians who were strolling along - upper-crust
people for the most part - hardly gave Babel a glance, but it was almost with difficulty
that Alex himself finally veered off southwards along the Processional Way . This he followed until he reached the long
approach road leading west to the temple of the god of victory.
Vaulted bazaars opened off either
side, thronged hives of commerce where sacks of corn and sesame seeds, boxes of
dried fish, bundles of reeds, skins and wool and cheeses were changing hands.
Porters rushed to and fro, cursed by merchants and factors. Several auctions
were simultaneously in full swing, in addition to the individual business of
bargaining. So much complex bustle deterred Alex from wandering under the
vaults and soon he arrived in the temple forecourt, hoping
Similar Books
