The Iranian Conspiracy
Описание книги
When archaeologist Andrew Thorpe hears about the chance discovery of a new Latin inscription at a remote volcano in southern Syria, he is drawn into a web of intrigue rooted in one of the greatest mysteries of the ancient world. Andrew realises that he has stumbled across evidence for the location of the lost tomb of Iran’s most famous emperor, Shapur the Great, and, after the sudden and violent death of a long-time colleague in Damascus, he becomes determined to uncover the secrets embedded in the inscription to prevent a sinister and shadowy Iranian nationalist group, the Sons of Cyrus, from reaching their goal. Together with help from Rachel Campion, a journalist who has had her own brush with the Sons of Cyrus, and Rachel’s brother Jack, a British diplomat, Andrew embarks on a quest which takes him to some of the most secretive and spectacular archaeological sites of the Middle East. From the forgotten city of Madain Salih in Saudi Arabia to the rose-red Syrian city of Palmyra, and from abandoned Roman fortresses on the Euphrates to the ancient church of Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, Andrew and Rachel battle unseen forces to prevent an international catastrophe which threatens to destroy the prospects for peace in the Middle East once and for all. Greg Fisher is Assistant Professor of Greek and Roman Studies, Carleton University, Ottawa, Canada. He is the author of Between Empires. Arabs, Romans, and Sasanians in Late Antiquity (Oxford University Press, 2011). The Iranian Conspiracy is his first novel.
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For Paola and Amanda
In the third campaign, when we advanced against Carrhae and Edessa and were besieging Carrhae and Edessa, the Roman Caesar Valerian marched against us. He had a force of 70,000… and at Edessa we joined a magnificent battle with Caesar Valerian. We made prisoner, through our own hands, Caesar Valerian, as well as all the others, the leaders of that army, the praetorian prefect, and the senators. We took all of them as prisoners, and transported them to Persia.
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It was close to dawn when he heard the noise which they all dreaded. A thin pall of dust hung in the sky, and the sound of hooves came with it. Bassianus, his watch over, had attempted to get some more rest but had given up, and now sat up straight like a spear – ‘Christ! They’re on to us’, he whispered hurriedly to Quintus, but Quintus was already awake and stirring his companions to action. Quickly they realised that the odds which they faced were too great – at least a hundred heavily-armed horsemen came out of the gloom towards them, circling, whooping, laughing, and then the first arrow sliced out of the whirlwind and took Quintus in the neck, the heavy shaft snapping his spine and dropping him to the floor. Bassianus was terrified, but rallied the other five men to face death. And then, for the second time in the space of a day and a night, he was struck over the head, and fell to the ground. The last thing he remembered before he lost consciousness was the surprised look on Quintus’ face and the clouded, vacant eyes.
This time they had him. Taken east, far east, with the other five. For days they were dragged over the dusty ground, fed just enough; Bassianus drank filthy water, and on the third day had a high fever, and was racked with powerful cramps which emptied his bowels and enfeebled him. He kept going; he was determined to survive, knowing that if he fell out he would surely die, his eyes picked out by the women who taunted their ragged column and stood ready with curved knives and hooks. On the fourth day they stopped while their captors handed them over to a new group of horsemen, who took them on with a larger group of Roman captives which they had rounded up elsewhere. The respite was welcome; slowly Bassianus gained strength, and the food improved slightly, although Marcianus, one of Quintus’ men, died that afternoon on the road. Bassianus kept his head straight and walked by Marcianus’ corpse, ignoring the stares of one of the horsemen who dared him to stop and pay his respects. Bassianus said a silent prayer for Marcianus and his soul, and his family, if he had one. He refused to take the challenge from the guard, his eyes daring any of the captives to stop for a fellow Roman, an act which he was sure would get him killed. He walked on.
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