Alex Mitchell - The 13th Tablet

‘What sort of smell was it?’ asked Daniel.

‘It’s difficult to describe. Wait a minute,’ he searched his pockets and retrieved the shard of the vial he had picked up after the fight at the British Museum. He handed it to Daniel.

‘I know this smell,’ said Daniel.

‘You do?’ asked Jack, genuinely impressed.

‘Yes, it’s oil,’ replied Daniel, feverishly, his eyes lit up.

‘Duh. Thanks Daniel, I’d never have guessed.’

‘No, it’s the oil,’ Daniel whispered. ‘It’s temple oil, Abramelin’s oil, whatever you want to call it.’

‘What’s wrong with the two of you,’ said Jack, looking at Mina and Daniel. ‘Don’t you ever speak English?’

‘I’m pretty lost myself,’ admitted Mina.

‘OK,’ said Daniel, ‘I’m sure you’ve seen countless images of witches stirring weird magical potions in large cauldrons, right?’

‘Yes,’ replied Jack.

‘Well Abramelin’s oil is the ultimate potion. I’m no expert in this, as I’m interested in ancient magical texts, but The Book of Abramelin is a treatise on magic. It was given by an Egyptian magus, Abra-Melin, to Abraham of Worms, a German Jew who lived in the early 15th century. It was used in the last century by people like Alistair Crowley and his secretive followers. According to some scholars, the text itself might have been the invention of another German Jewish Talmudist, Rabbi Yaakov Moelin, who also lived in the early 15th century.’

‘So what?’ asked Jack, impatiently.

‘All in good time,’ said Mina, smiling at Daniel to continue.

‘What else can you expect from an action hero?’ Daniel answered.

Jack scowled at him for a moment, then laughed along with them.

‘So, the oil?’ prompted Jack, gently.

‘Well, as far as I understand it, Abramelin oil is a version of the holy temple oil, as described in Exodus 30. Its ingredients are practically the same.’

He picked up a bible from his father’s library. He searched for the exact passage and then read out loud, ‘It’s in Exodus 30:22–29. The Lord said to Moses, ‘Take the finest spices: five hundred shekels of free-flowing myrrh; half that amount, that is, two hundred and fifty shekels, of fragrant cinnamon; two hundred and fifty shekels of fragrant cane; five hundred shekels of cassia-all according to the standard of the sanctuary shekel; together with a hin of olive oil; and blend them into sacred anointing oil, perfumed ointment expertly prepared. With this sacred anointing oil you shall anoint the meeting tent and the ark of the commandments, the table and all its appurtenances, the lamp stand and its appurtenances, the altar of incense and the altar of holocausts with all its appurtenances, and the laver with its base. When you have consecrated them, they shall be most sacred; whatever touches them shall be sacred. ’

‘Those are all very strong fragrances and this oil could well be it,’ said Mina as she took another whiff of the vial.

Jack was mighty impressed by the young Cambridge scholar. ‘I think you’re right,’ he said to Daniel.

‘If these men managed to perform the so-called Abramelin operation, it means they know how to use it for magical purposes.’

‘Like what? Flying carpets?’ asked Jack.

‘…Like becoming invisible for a few hours,’ replied Daniel.

They all went silent.

‘Is that even possible?’ said Jack.

‘Who knows what is or isn’t possible?’ said Daniel. ‘They believe it is possible and that should tell you a lot about them.’

‘Yeah. They’re out of their fucking minds,’ said Jack.

‘We should all be extra careful from now on’ said Daniel. ‘If Mina is right, and they took a fake tablet of some sort, they might return.’

‘They might,’ agreed Jack, ‘I think you should stay here with your father tonight.’

‘He’s right,’ said Mina.

‘Alright,’ said Daniel.

Around midnight, Jack and Mina returned to the fields with torches and shovels. The weather had taken a turn for the worse. With the force of the wind, the rain was falling almost horizontally.

‘I wonder if this is such a great idea,’ said Jack.

‘We must try,’ Mina answered, shivering under her umbrella. When they reached the tree, Jack dropped the shovels and straightened his raincoat.

‘Where should I start digging?’ he asked Mina.

‘Right here, a few paces from the tree.’

Half an hour later, Jack hit against some stones. He wanted to use the pickaxe to pull them out, but Mina showed him how, in standard archaeological fashion, to dig along the edges of the subterranean wall.

‘We must follow the wall, to find the corners,’ she said.

Jack was sweating profusely under his raincoat, as he laboured in the mud. From time to time, he looked down below at the riverbank, at the waters rising by the minute. After a while, he had uncovered the remains of a tiny stone walled room. On the room’s ground level, below the vestiges of the roofing, which had caved in centuries ago, they found dozens of neatly arranged skeletons.

‘I feel terrible doing this at night, in these conditions’ said Mina.

‘You’re not the one digging,’ Jack reminded her.

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘I know what you meant. Whatever we find, I’ll cover the bodies when we’ve finished.’

‘Thanks Jack,’ she replied.

‘Hey, what’s that?’ Jack said suddenly.

‘What?’

‘There, in the inner corner, one of the skeletons seems to be sitting upright, holding some rotting wood.’

Mina stepped down into the room, to examine the wooden remains more closely. She started digging between the skeleton’s legs, and found a small metal box.

‘The box must have been encased in wood,’ she said to Jack.

‘Well, pick it up!’

Jack held the umbrella above her, as she climbed out of the room, carrying the box. She pried it open with a screwdriver and to Jack and Mina’s boundless joy, there it was: a baked clay tablet, covered with cuneiform writing.

Dark clothed men had been watching Mina and Jack all along. The time had now come for them to act. They crept slowly up towards the mound, but out of the corner of his eye Jack suddenly caught sight of their shapes moving below.

‘Down, Mina,’ he bellowed, ‘get down! They’re here.’

One of the men shouted from below, ‘Miss Osman, Major, hand over the tablet and you will not be harmed.’

‘You mean like Eli in Safed?’ said Jack as he reached for the guy tucked into his waistband and tried to figure out through the pounding rain where they were.

‘Hand over the tablet,’ the man shouted again.

Jack assessed their situation. He was at the top of a tiny hill in the middle of fields. They had no escape route.

‘Mina,’ he hissed, ‘take a photograph of the tablet, quickly.’

She was petrified.

‘Mina!’ he repeated.

‘My camera’s flash doesn’t work. What should I do?’ she asked.

‘Don’t you have your notebook?’ he muttered.

‘Yes.’

‘Well get on with it,’ Jack replied instantly ‘while I think of something.’

Mina started copying the signs on the tablet as fast as she could, but it was hard work, writing while holding an umbrella at the same time.

‘Hand it over,’ yelled the man from below, ‘and you have our word you won’t be harmed. We’re only interested in the tablet.’

‘So you work for Shobai?’ shouted Jack. ‘He doesn’t mind murdering old men?’

‘That was a mistake, our brother shouldn’t have killed the old man in Safed. All we want is the tablet.’

By this time, the river had broken its banks and overflowed into the fields, which were so flat the water quickly reached the lower part of the mound. Jack looked at Mina, scribbling away feverishly in her notebook. He had to gain more time. He heard the man shouting something from below.