He didn’t seem surprised by her comment. “Some of the recent DNA evidence suggests that the Minoans originally came from Anatolia. They would have brought their sacred objects with them. The bucranium is a very old symbol. It may have existed as far back as the Paleolithic era.”
“And it’s a good example of why we’re here,” Fred interjected. “The overlord explanation is that the people of Catal Huyuk worshipped bulls while all the goddess statues they found scattered around were simply fertility figures.”
“How could they tell the horns belong to a bull anyway?” Cassie wondered. “I mean you can’t tell gender from looking at its head.”
“The horns from a bull might be slightly larger,” Ozgur said, “but among the wild aurochs there was much overlap in the size of cow and bull horns.”
“What’s an aurochs?”
“It’s a cow,” Erik answered. “Only a lot bigger and meaner than your average Holstein. Aurochs were never domesticated, and now they’re extinct. The last one died somewhere in Poland in the 1600s.”
“But as far as overlord archaeologists are concerned, it’s all bull,” Fred quipped.
Everyone laughed.
“We have uncovered a mural in this building that may do much to overturn the thinking that all the cattle horns are representations of a male deity. Follow me, and I will show you.”
The trove keeper stepped down into the site and Cassie was about to follow him when Erik grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back.
“Do I need to put you on a leash?” he cautioned through gritted teeth.
“Try it, and you’ll lose body parts,” she hissed over her shoulder. Spinning around, she asked, “What is the big deal about me walking down there anyway?”
“The bodies,” Griffin said nervously.
“What bodies?” Cassie looked around mystified.
“The bodies under the floor,” the scrivener added.
“What?” She stood anchored to the spot, staring at her two companions as if they’d lost their minds. “You mean like John Wayne Gacy crawlspace bodies?”
“Oh, Mr. Ozgur,” Griffin called out to stop their host. “Mightn’t we find another way round? It may not be the best idea to have Ms. Forsythe walking through the dig.”
Ozgur turned to look up at his guests. It took several seconds before recognition dawned. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry not to have realized. Please come this way instead.” He climbed up to the rim and led the party around its perimeter to the other side.
“What bodies?” Cassie persisted.
“It was common for the people of Catal Huyuk to bury their dead beneath the house,” Griffin explained. “In fact, some of these raised platforms you see along the floor probably contain skeletons.”
“Their houses must have reeked. I mean rotting corpses underfoot. Yuck!”
“They didn’t let them decompose inside,” Erik corrected. “You know about excarnation, right?”
“I remember Griffin telling me about it,” Cassie recalled. “The bodies were exposed on a platform outside for vultures and owls to feed on.” She shuddered. “Still sounds disgusting to me.”
“Once the flesh was removed, the bones would be cleaned and prepared for burial. It was all quite sanitary, I assure you.” Griffin seemed to feel the need to defend the practice.
By now they had made their way around to the spot where Ozgur stood.
He waited until they clustered around him. “I do apologize, Miss Cassie. It was thoughtless of me.”
The pythia shrugged. “I probably would have been OK.”
The trove keeper gave a humorless smile. “There is a legend about this place. The local farmers have never tried tilling the mound of Catal Huyuk or disturbing it in any way because they always believed there are ghosts here. The people of this ancient culture buried their ancestors as guardian spirits to watch over them. Apparently, those spirits took their duties seriously and hover around the place to this day. I would not wish to tax one as sensitive as the pythia by having her encounter a whole city of the dead. They may not approve of our presence in their homes.”
“Better safe than sorry.” Griffin sounded apologetic.
“OK, guys, I get it.” Cassie conceded. “No touchie, no walkie. Now, what was it you wanted to show us, Mr. Ozgur?”
“Ah yes.” The old man tapped his walking stick on a portion of wall directly below them. “I would direct your attention just here. We were speaking of the sacred bucranium. How a cow or bull head could be viewed as a symbol of the regenerative power of the goddess.”
Fred jumped down into the dig site and stood by the wall. “It’s pretty interesting. I don’t know how mainstream archaeologists can explain it.”
They all peered over the edge at the remains of a painting. It showed several stylized female figures in seated positions. An odd shape appeared in the anatomical place where a uterus and fallopian tubes should be. A cow’s head and horns.
Cassie let out a low whistle. “I said it before in Crete, and I’ll say it again. Holy cow!”
“Good one,” Erik laughed approvingly. “I must have missed it the first time.”
“That was back in the day when you thought babysitting the new pythia was tedious work, so you ditched us,” she reminded him.
“Babysitting the new pythia might be a lot of things, but I learned it’s never tedious.”
The pythia examined the layout of the room where the mural was painted. Opposite the picture were three horns of consecration set into the floor. On the wall directly beside the painting was an odd sculpture that she couldn’t identify. “What’s that supposed to be?” She asked the trove keeper.
“It is a frog goddess. She is most frequently associated with the act of giving birth because of the posture she assumes. Observe the object below her.” He pointed with his walking stick.
“It’s a bull’s head,” Cassie said then corrected herself. “Or maybe a cow’s head.”
“The position of the bucranium directly below the goddess is another image of regeneration.”
“What does all this mean
