The Lost Queen

As my Uber crunched to a halt on the driveway, I saw Euphrates House for the first time. It was not visible from the main road, and after cruising for an age through gardens and woodland, I understood why. It would be unfitting for a house of this stature to be situated roadside where familiarity would demote it to nothing more than a motoring landmark. With its marble frescos, looming colonnades and humbling size, Euphrates needed to be glimpsed, admired, and fondly recalled. Anything more felt like theft.

It was with a sense of disappointment that I was greeted at the door by Lady Verity Hugo and not the aloof, aging butler that popular culture conditioned me to expect. She stared at me with impatience.

“Yes?”

“I’m Felicity Carter – from the university.” I said, suddenly unsure. Had I imagined the video call last week where Lady Hugo had insisted that I was the perfect person for her job?

"Yes, I know. Well, don’t just stand there.” She turned and disappeared inside. After a few moments of uncertainty, I followed her.

I gasped; the entrance hall was bigger than the entire three storey house I shared with six other post-grads. Such extravagant wealth could only be Old Money. I bet Lady Verity didn’t have a bathroom rota or have to draw a line on her milk cartons to catch thieving housemates.

She seemed to be in her late seventies, although it was hard to tell; she could have been a decade older or younger. She wore no makeup, and no jewellery aside from an ornate golden locket which gave a slight rattle as she walked. She was a slender woman, but her gait implied that under her jodhpurs and padded gilet was the physique of someone in excellent shape. She walked fast, and I had to quicken my step to keep up.

“Your professor tells me you are truly gifted when it comes to reading Ancient Sumerian. No-one better apparently. Have you ever been?” She stopped walking and turned to face me.

“Where?” I asked.

"Sumer,” she said, a hint of irritation in her voice. “Have you done any archaeological investigations in Iraq?”

"No.” I suddenly felt like a fraud. “I hoped to go to Ur next year, but getting the funding is...” I stopped. I didn’t want to appear as though I was looking for a handout.

“All that time immersed in the culture and language of Sumer, yet you have never been!”

“One day,” I said hopefully. Lady Hugo had the tanned face of someone for whom international travel was as straightforward as catching a bus. How could she understand what life was like for a penniless student?

The truth is, I longed to travel to Iraq, to walk on the same ground as the Ancient Sumerians and climb the Ziggurat of Ur like the high priests of antiquity. But I had bills, rent, and a car that needed a new carburettor. And with all artefacts and texts digitised and available online, who could justify the expense?

“Your professor also informs me that you have had some run-ins with the police,” Lady Hugo said. I couldn’t discern her expression, and her tone was frustratingly neutral. “Chaining yourself to the Chinese embassy to highlight the plight of the Uyghur Muslims. Organising a sit-in in Primark to protest the use of modern-day slavery. And all that time wasted working with Amnesty.”

“I wouldn’t call it a waste,” I replied.

“I would. You’ve clearly got a gifted mind, so why squander it? Do you think that one person can free the world from slavery?”

“Probably not,” I said. “But why not try?”

Lady Hugo gave me another indecipherable look that could have been anything from approval to disdain. She continued to walk, and I followed her down a carpet-lined corridor until we reached a large room filled with display cases, each containing a Sumerian artefact of such rare beauty that my feet refused to carry the rest of my body out of the room. I stood and stared open mouthed at the treasures around me.

“Are these...all real?”

“I should certainly hope so!” she laughed.

There were clay tablets inscribed in Sumerian Cuneiform, golden necklaces, and an array of painted jugs and vases. But of all the treasures, my eye was drawn to the bust of a woman on whose head sat an ornate headdress made of golden leaves and lapis lazuli stones.

“That looks just like... but it can’t be...” I stepped closer, pressing my nose against the glass.

“Queen Puabi’s headdress, First Dynasty of Ur. And yes, it is real.”

“But...”

“The one in the Penn Museum is a fake. A good one mind.” Lady Hugo looked at the bust. “Did you know that when she died, seventy-four slaves, mostly women, were buried with her? They were bludgeoned to death so that they could serve her in the afterlife.”

“That’s one theory,” I said.

Lady Hugo gave me that indecipherable look again. She walked across the room and beckoned me to follow. “I didn’t hire you so that you could play museums. I hired you as an interpreter. This way.”

“Translator,” I corrected.

“Pardon?”

“You need me to read some Sumerian text, right? That’s translating. Interpreting is translating real-time, while the conversation is happening.”

Lady Hugo paused at a large metal door. She reached inside her gilet for a heavy iron key; as she unlocked the door, she turned and gave me a smile I didn’t quite trust.

I followed her into a windowless room with bare stone walls. It was cold, and the only illumination came from a buzzing strip light. The room was empty but for a plinth upon which sat a rectangular clay block the size of a house brick. Even from the door, I could tell that the block was covered in the dense lines and triangles of Sumerian cuneiform.

Lady Hugo gestured to the block. “Go ahead. Have a look.”

I walked towards the plinth and bent closer. The cuneiform text looked almost new, as though it had been chiselled out only yesterday. It was straightforward to translate – I wouldn’t even need to refer to the electronic dictionary on my phone.

“I don’t understand,” I said, stepping back.

“Is there a problem? You can’t translate it?”

“No, it’s not that.” I paused. “Why did you bring me here? You could have sent photos of this artefact to any University with a Sumerian specialist, and they could have replied with a translation within an hour. Why do you need me?”

“I need an interpreter.”

“A translator,” I corrected again.

“I know what I said.” Lady Hugo stepped forward and ran her finger across the first line of cuneiform on the top of the block. “Read this first bit, out loud.”

I sighed, and then looked back at the block. “It says, um... ‘Within this box’ – no - ‘within this casket lies a great treasure. But be warned a... terrible choice is to be made.”

“Good. Now read it in Sumerian. Not English.”

“I can try, but it will only be a close approximation. There is a lot of debate as to what the language actually sounded like, no-one living has ever...”

“Just do it.”

I looked at Lady Hugo and reminded myself that she was paying me the equivalent of a month’s tuition to be here today. No harm in humouring her. I read the line again, this time in my best attempt at Ancient Sumerian. “Within this casket lies a great treasure. But be warned – a terrible choice is to be made.”

Suddenly, the florescent light buzzed and flickered. The clay block began to glow and out of it rose the translucent form of a human figure that slowly coalesced into a ghostly woman wearing an ornate headdress of gold leaves and lapis lazuli.

“Who are you? Who awakens Queen Puabi?” I stumbled backwards. Sumerian – she spoke Sumerian!

Lady Hugo stepped forward and placed her hands on my shoulders. “I told you I needed an interpreter. Now what did she just say?”

“It’s… she says she is Queen Puabi.” I stared at the apparition in front of me.

“Well, I know that,” said Lady Hugo. “But what does she want?”

I ignored her question and stepped forward, tentatively reaching a hand towards the Queen; it passed straight through her torso like mist. She looked at me with some annoyance but didn’t speak. This Queen did not have the pale skin and delicate features of her textbook depictions. She was stocky, dark skinned and with a face that one might generously call ‘handsome’. This was a hardy, desert Queen, forged in sand and heat.

“This must be a trick. A projection or something,” I said. I walked around the plinth, examining it from every angle. I lifted the block and rolled it over in my hands. It was solid clay. I looked at the ceiling, the walls, the floor. There was no sign anywhere of any electrical device, lens, or camera. I turned to face Lady Hugo. “How are you doing this?”

“I assure you, I am doing nothing,” she said. “Now please, tell me what she wants.”

I looked at the Queen. This couldn’t be real, could it? Then I quickly remembered that I was here under Lady Hugo’s employ. I had a job to do.

I bowed my head towards the Queen and spoke in Sumerian. “Oh, wondrous Queen, I am here to serve. What is it that you require?” The words fell fluently from my lips as though I had been speaking them my whole life.

“Raise your head. You are not my slave.” The Queen’s voice was filled with authority, but it was not unkind. “However, you may be able to assist me.”

Without taking my eyes off the Queen, I translated for Lady Hugo. “She needs our help.”

“Ask her about the jewel.”

“The jewel?” I tuned to Lady Hugo. Her face was more animated than I had seen before; there was a desire there. Greed.

“Just ask her,” she urged.

I turned to Queen Puabi. “She wants to know about the jewel,” I asked in Sumerian.

The Queen sighed; her head lowered. “The jewel. Of course.” She paused. “I shall tell you everything, but please, listen to all I say before you make your choice.”

I summarised for Lady Hugo. “She says that we have to make a choice, but to listen to her story first.”

"Fine,” she said. “But when she is done, you make whatever choice gets me the jewel.”

 “What is this jewel?” I asked Lady Hugo. “Look, I’ve read practically every Ancient Sumerian text that has been uncovered, and I’ve never read anything about a jewel.” I gestured to the patiently waiting Queen Puabi. “Or ghosts!”

“You’ve not read the texts in my private collection,” she replied with a hint of a smile. “Writings that tell of a clay box that will lead to a jewel beyond value. If you can help, I’ll give you a cut.”

“How much?” The words left my mouth before I could stop them. Who knew I was such a mercenary?

“20%. If the texts are correct, that 20% could be millions of pounds Felicity.”

Millions. Life changing money. I could pay off my debts, buy a new car, fund an expedition to Iraq...

I spoke to the Queen in Sumerian. “Gracious Queen, we wish to hear your story.”

The Queen bowed her head, then began.

“I am Queen Puabi of Ur, a magnificent and prosperous city. A mighty beacon glowing amidst the scorched sand of the desert.

“When I became Queen, I was young and Ur seemed ancient, as though it had always existed. But it was an illusion. Under the rule of my forebears and the corrupt priesthood, Ur had grown too quickly. Within a generation we had gone from being farmers to merchants – to enslavers. Ur was built on the backs of slaves, and it was they who constructed the Ziggurat under the whips of the priests.

“My hands are not free from their blood. Under my reign, the city grew, and growth demands labour. The priests justified it all; this was the will of the Goddess Inanna. The slaves had been created for the sole purpose of expanding the glory of Ur. Even the bricks of my own palace were sealed with their blood.

She paused, her eyes downcast.

“It was when I had my own children that I finally saw. I looked into their eyes, and within I saw the faces of all the people who had died in my name. The love I had for my own children expanded to all my people, and my heart ached for those trapped in bondage.

“I called for the high priest and issued a royal decree – slavery was to end, immediately. The priest bowed and said that he would make the arrangements. But his every word dripped with deceit. Without the slaves, the priests would lose their power. It was slaves who built the temples, and slaves who serviced the needs of the priests within.

“That night, I was poisoned, and died in my sleep. My people wept for me. My children wept. But I did not descend to the underworld to begin my afterlife. The high priest feared that I would form an army of the dead and come seek revenge, so he used a powerful incantation to bind me in this half-life, my soul enslaved in the living world unable to move on. The same fate he also meted out to seventy-four of my most loyal servants, murdered and buried with me in my tomb. This served to reinforce the priests’ position – some are born to rule, and others to serve; for even our beloved Queen Puabi approves of slavery, even unto the next life.

“But the high priest was not heartless. He allowed some possibility of escape. “She gestured to the clay block. “My soul was trapped within this block. To free me, all you must do is destroy it. Throw it to the ground, and as it cracks, my soul will be free. I can be with my people – with my children – in the underworld. The box will be nothing more than ancient clay and dust.”

“But there’s a catch isn’t there?” I said.

The Queen smiled. “Of course. On the base is an incantation. Read it aloud, and the block becomes a box. Inside will be the largest, most wonderous jewel you will ever see, its value incalculable.”

“And your soul?” I asked.

“Trapped inside the jewel – for eternity.”

“So that’s the choice,” I said, lifting the clay block. “Free someone in bondage or profit from their enslavement.”

“The high priest was certain that all people would choose the latter.” The Queen gestured to Lady Hugo, who stood anxiously by waiting for me to translate. “I wonder if he may have been right.”

I looked at Queen Puabi, but I no longer saw a Queen. I saw a lonely leader, exiled from her people. I saw a mother, desperately longing to see her children again. In her eyes was the same yearning for freedom that first drew me groups like Amnesty; to protest on behalf of the voiceless.

“Enough!” Lady Hugo said. “Tell me what she said. Now!”

I turned the clay block over in my hands. The incantation carved on the base was faded, easy to miss. I thought of the money. Incalculable is what Puabi had said. The things I could do with that money. I just had to say the words…

“Well?” Lady Hugo was waiting.

 “20% was your offer, right?” I said.

“Yes.” She paused. “So, how do we get to the jewel?”

“It’s simple,” I paused. “You just have to smash the box open.” I handed the box to Lady Hugo. She raised an eyebrow and passed it back to me.

“You do it.”

“Gladly.” I lifted the block high above my head, and with all the force I could muster, I threw it to the ground. It cracked, splitting into two halves.

I waited.

Nothing happened. Queen Puabi remained hovering just above the ground. I felt a hand upon my shoulder and turned to see Lady Hugo. She was smiling; the first genuine emotion I had seen from her.

“Well done, Felicity,” she said.

“What…?”

Lady Hugo spoke to Queen Puabi. “I knew she’d do it.” Fluent Sumerian!

“What’s going on?” I shouted, pushing her hand off my shoulder.

“We apologise for the deception, but we had to make sure.”

“You lied to me.”

“No lies.” Queen Puabi floated towards me. “Everything we told you was true. But the block is just clay. It is not where my soul is trapped.”

“So where…?”

Lady Hugo lifted the heavy gold locket around her neck. As it moved, I could hear the rattle of a large jewel inside.

“All I need do is destroy this locket and jewel,” Lady Hugo said, “and Queen Puabi is free.”

“Then do it!” I shouted. My head was spinning.

“Not yet,” the Queen said softly. “Not while so many of my people are still enslaved.”

Lady Hugo gestured to the locket. “There are seventy-four more of these, one for each of the servants. We’ve found and freed twenty or so, but I’m not getting any younger, and there is still work to be done. We need someone who can read and speak Sumerian, who knows the culture and history, but most importantly…”

“…someone who can be trusted to make the right decision.” The Queen smiled at me.

“Seventy-four souls,” I said.

I already knew what decision I would make; I could see the path of my life spread out in front of me. Global travel, museum archives, desert excavations, private auctions. And most importantly, bringing liberation to the voiceless. “Do you really think we can save them all?”

“Probably not,” Lady Hugo said with a smile. “But why not try?”