Her teammates stared vacantly at the stone in the ground.
When neither one of them spoke, she continued. “Remember how the direction the lily was pointing made a difference when we were in Africa? Well, this one is pointing toward the doorway.”
Griffin consulted his compass. “You’re right. The top of the lily is pointing west. West is symbolically associated with autumn just as east is associated with spring.”
“So that means the Minoans wanted us to pay attention to the autumn equinox,” Erik remarked.
“That would appear to be the case,” the scrivener concurred.
“It’s great that we figured out which equinox is important but what’s that got to do with the riddle?” Cassie countered.
Only half-listening, Griffin repeated mechanically, “On an island tower she alights to drink, biding til her kindred fill the jaws of the lion.”
“Let’s recap,” the pythia said. “So far we’ve found the island tower. Score one point for us. The bird stops here to drink. Lots of water around, at least during monsoon season in the summer. Check. Then she waits.”
“Yes, she waits,” Griffin echoed. “Perhaps the lily carved into the floor indicates the interval she must wait.” His eyes gleamed. “That’s it. Given that the lily points west, that must mean the interval between the fall and spring equinox. The dove must wait here from September twenty-third until March twenty-first.” His joy ebbed when the implication of his words struck him. “Oh, dear. A six-month hiatus.”
“We’ve gotten around problems like this before,” Cassie objected. “All we have to do is figure out the reason why she’s supposed to wait.”
“She must wait until her kindred fill the jaws of the lion,” Griffin replied simply.
“And that means what exactly?” the pythia prodded in frustration.
“Haven’t the foggiest,” Griffin admitted.
Erik rubbed his eyes irritably. “Time out. Stop and think about this for a minute. Every riddle we’ve cracked so far had something to do with astronomy, right? We’re standing in the middle of a big honking observatory. Call me crazy, but I’d say the riddle has something to do with constellations.”
Griffin gave him a dazed look. “You’re right, of course. I’ve been racking my brain over this conundrum for so long that I’ve completely lost my perspective. I failed to see the most obvious function of this room. In addition to being a solar calendar, it’s also a place to watch the stars.”
“Good! Now we’re getting somewhere,” Cassie encouraged. “So what constellations would be important in this part of the world around the spring and fall equinox?”
“We’re dealing with agricultural civilizations,” the scrivener said, thinking out loud. “They used calendars to mark planting and harvest cycles.”
“Like spring and fall,” Cassie added helpfully.
“Like spring and fall.” Griffin nodded. His eyes glazed over briefly as a thought struck him. “Oh, good grief!” Without explanation, he removed his own backpack and rooted through its contents to retrieve some photos.
Cassie and Erik huddled closer to watch over his shoulder. He was studying images of the golden bull artifact.
After several moments his face took on an incredulous expression. “It was staring at us all the time.”
“What!” Both Cassie and Erik shouted in unison.
“The artifact itself is a clue to solving the riddle.” Griffin handed each of them a photo of the golden bull. “In ancient times, Taurus The Bull was the principal constellation which symbolized the arrival of spring. Of course, by the time the Minoans arrived here the actual equinoctial point had already shifted to Aries due to precession but the mythological association with Taurus remained.”
Cassie squinted hard at the image. “What about the blue stones around the bull’s neck? If we know this figurine is the Taurus constellation, do the sapphires mean something astronomical too?’
“That’s brilliant, Cassie! Bloody brilliant!” Griffin beamed at her. “Seven sapphires. Seven sisters. The gems must represent the Pleiades. The Pleiades is a star cluster decorating the shoulder of Taurus. Of course, there are more than seven stars in the cluster, but only the brightest can be seen by the naked eye—” Griffin stopped speaking abruptly.
His two companions exchanged dubious glances. Erik shrugged and muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
The scrivener gathered his thoughts. “I seem to recall a reference. Yes, I’m quite sure of it. The ancient Greeks referred to the Pleiades not as sisters but as a flock of doves. In all probability, they appropriated that bit of mythology from the Minoans who preceded them.”
“Doves!” Cassie exclaimed. “As in the ‘kindred’ of the dove from our African riddle?”
“The very same, unless I miss my guess,” Griffin said triumphantly. “I’m sure that line of the puzzle hinges on an astronomical phenomenon associated with the Pleiades. We need to get back to Bhuj as soon as possible. I must consult the reference materials I left at the hotel.”
“Bet you’d kill for a decent internet connection right about now,” Erik said dryly.
Griffin gave him a wry smile.
As the other two exited through the doorway of the observatory, Cassie waved at the tyro standing on the other side of the citadel to get his attention. He gave a shy wave of acknowledgment in return, knowing it was time for him to secure the carving to the calendar stone beneath. The flower had disclosed its mysteries to the trio. Now it would wait until Daniel and his henchman arrived. Cassie glanced nervously at the etching one last time. Hopefully, the Arkana still had a good enough lead before the Minoan lily was forced to confess its secrets for a second time.
Chapter 26—Unstrung
As a general rule, Leroy Hunt hated mornings. Sunlight blasting him in the eye and the sound of chirping birds usually gave him an uncontrollable urge to dive for his pistol. But this morning when the alarm clock buzzed, he sprang out of bed with an unusual surge of energy. He had big plans for this day. As he brushed his teeth, he couldn’t help feeling that the tide
