The Lost Empire of Atlantis Read online

  There was just one last enigma I had to solve to my own satisfaction, while I was still in Egypt. It was a small detail that took me back to the walls of Thera and to one tiny little American tobacco beetle that had been worrying me ever since.

  In 1992 a well-respected pathologist, Dr Svetlana Balabanova, decided on an experiment. She took samples of hair, bone and soft tissue from nine Egyptian mummies and in a one-page article in the German publication Naturwissenschaften reported her astonishing findings of cocaine and hashish usage in all of the mummies. A further eight showed the use of nicotine.

  Her findings were immediately attacked, on the grounds that two of the substances found – inside a mummy nearly 3,000 years old – were derived from indigenous American plants; cocaine from Erythroxylon coca and nicotine from Nicotiana tabacum. Tobacco, which contains nicotine, is an American plant. The idea that there could have been any transatlantic contact between America and Egypt – not just before Columbus, but even before the birth of Christ – was obviously so ridiculous that the experts felt that actual scientific enquiry could be ignored.

  Balabanova’s team stuck to their guns. As she said, ‘. . . the results open up an entirely new field of research which unravels aspects of past human lifestyle far beyond basic biological reconstruction . . .’.

  Since 1992 Dr Balabanova has tested a number of mummies from ancient Egypt. Nicotine showed up everywhere – for instance in three samples from Manchester Museum’s collection and fourteen samples taken directly from an archaeological dig near Cairo.

  The pathologist’s results show that American tobacco was taken by ancient Egyptians as a matter of course. So who brought it to them?

  I well remember one particular tomb on Crete. It’s known as the Hagia Triada sarcophagus, a small limestone coffin of the Late Bronze Age (see second colour plate section). It is unlike most Cretan sarcophagi, in that it tells its own story. The tomb is decorated with a fascinating narrative scene, done on plaster. The painted frieze shows a sacred ceremony: a rite. It is intriguing that no similar painted sarcophagi have been found in excavations elsewhere on Crete. The joyful, pleasure-loving Minoans usually seem to have reserved fresco painting for the pleasure of the living, not of the dead. This may therefore be the tomb of someone who had travelled and was aware of customs elsewhere – especially in Egypt, with its tradition of painting tombs.

  The puzzle is one that teases art historians greatly. The tomb shows, quite clearly, a man being carried off to his grave. As he is carried off, he is shown smoking a complicated pipe. (Some have interpreted it as a musical instrument, but I think this is unlikely.) It is clear to me at least that he has been either smoking tobacco or taking drugs, perhaps as part of a ritual, or more probably to dull the pain of whatever it was that ailed him.

  I felt this was an enjoyable little coda to my revealing exploration of Egypt. Dr Svetlana Balabanova had proved that high-born Egyptians were fond of American tobacco; the tobacco beetle found in the ruins of Thera’s buried city strongly suggests that the Minoans were the ones to provide it. In turn, they were given special status in Egypt. Perhaps some of them lived out most of their lives in a foreign land, adopting local customs, wearing local dress and generally ‘going native’. Perhaps for the man on the Hagia Triada sarcophagus, this even meant adopting the Egyptians’ special habit of drug-taking, before returning home to Crete to die.

  The Hagia Triada sarcophagus has recently been redated to around 1370–1320 BC – to the time around the end of Egypt’s 18th Dynasty.

  CHAPTER 14

  RICH, EXOTIC LANDS

  I am on my way to Mari, a hugely important former trading city on the western bank of the Euphrates. I am touring the eastern Mediterranean in search of the evidence – trade goods, vases, or even, should needs be, drugs – that will tell me more about the Minoans’ influence in this region. Today this is an ordinary enough town on the Syrian border, named Tell Hariri. Once it was the site of King Zimri-Lim’s exotic capital, an ancient Sumerian city finally destroyed by the powerful Hammurabi, king of the city-state of Babylon.

  Mari was rich. Its position between Babylon, Ebla and Aleppo gave it control of key trade routes between the East and the West. The city collected taxes on all of the goods that travelled along the River Euphrates between Syria and Mesopotamia. The Old Assyrian traders paid taxes to the local rulers to try and protect their donkey caravans. In return, the rulers had to ensure that they would not be robbed along the way; if they failed they would give the merchants some recompense for the loss. Mari was also a key point on the land route that crossed the desert from northern Mesopotamia to southern Syria.

  When Hammurabi attacked, Zimri-Lim disappeared from the record: we assume that he must have been killed. Over the centuries Mari itself was totally forgotten about and Zimri-Lim’s rich and tremendous palaces were razed to the ground.

  Nevertheless, at the beginning of the 2nd millennium BC Mari’s magnificence was renowned throughout Mesopotamia. I am here to see a painting that shows the throne room at Mari, a scene which has remarkable parallels with the frescoes of Crete, including one in which a priest leads a bull to be sacrificed.

  Mesopotamia’s lost city was finally rediscovered when a large, headless statue was unearthed at Tell Hariri, on the west bank of the River Euphrates. The initial excavator of Mari, a French archaeologist named André Parrot, began by unearthing a large number of alabaster statues. He was convinced that what he was unearthing from the ground had strong connections to Crete. He particularly compared the painted stone imitations he’d found to those painted on dados from Knossos: perhaps the world’s first examples of the technique of trompe l’oeil.20 While a lot of the original frescoes are now in Paris at the Louvre, the whole southern façade of the ‘Court of the Palms’ of Zimri-Lim’s 2.5-hectare (6-acre) palace, with its 260 rooms, has been reconstructed at the Deir ez-Zor Museum in Syria and is fascinating to see.21

  Letters from the Mari archives give us countless examples of international intrigue and diplomacy: of diplomats, agents and spies who travelled extensively through the Bronze Age.

  For now, I had decided to follow in King Zimri-Lim’s footsteps and take a royal diplomat’s view of the age. He had put a great emphasis on diplomacy, marrying off as many of his eight daughters as he could to regional rulers, in order to secure his networks of influence. Mari’s official records, found in the 1930s and translated by French archaeologists, also give us the only detailed historical account in the world of a Middle Eastern diplomatic mission – or at least one that took place in the Bronze Age.

  The records of Zimri-Lim’s remarkable journey show how vital a role trade played in promoting the art and science of the time. Taking with him an enormous retinue of more than 4,000 men and coffers of gifts and tin ingots, the likable bon viveur travelled for six months. The records show that the king was an avid collector of Minoan art and pottery. Three months after setting forth, Zimri-Lim reached Ugarit on the Mediterranean coast, a scene of Minoan influence, where he stopped for a month, striking up a friendship with a local danseuse – not so different to today’s Saudi princes in Beirut!

  I will be following his trail and also tracking down many of the finds from Mari, which have ended up in the museums at Aleppo and Damascus.

  Zimri-Lim’s journey started at the beginning of the twelfth month of the Mari calendar, probably in mid April. As the king progressed north up the Euphrates he distributed gifts to the local rulers. Tin was the most sought-after commodity.

  My own journey will last just a week but I expect to see some of the same sights (excluding the dancers . . . ) as in Zimri-Lim’s day, nearly 4,000 years ago. On the way, I re-read Jack M. Sasson’s account of that Bronze Age world:22

  The terms ‘global’ and ‘multicultural’ are often applied to contemporary society, which has just stepped out of the 2nd millennium AD. Remarkably, such concepts were relevant as well to the 2nd millennium BC, when building upon the momentous developments o
f prior millennia – the origin of cities and the invention of writing. An expanding social elite required bronze and demanded exotic luxury goods from distant lands. These needs fostered the creation of an era of intense foreign contacts, with new technological breakthroughs such as the invention of glass and a revolution in travel.

  This global culture was astounding. Sasson’s research reveals a world in which kings exchanged gifts of extraordinary beauty and elaboration; salt cellars in the shape of lions and calves; drinking bottles in the shape of a horse, inlaid with gold eagles and lapis lazuli; even, as in the Uluburun wreck, a golden chalice fit for a hero.

  Mari’s official records show just how full and sophisticated a trader’s life could be. As well as trading in basic goods – livestock, grain, oil and wine and raw materials such as wool, leather, wood, reeds, semi-precious stones and metal – they dealt in exotics – models of Cretan ships, desert truffles, rare wild animals including bears, elephants and wild cats. Of equal importance to the devel- opment of civilisation, countries of the eastern Mediterranean and Mesopotamia exchanged intellectual ideas: concepts in philosophy, science and religion.

  In this cultured environment, anyone who had a valued, specialist skill could move freely from place to place – astronomers, physicians, translators, gymnasts, cooks and seamstresses. Travelling artists were especially prized. Musicians came from Qatna, Aleppo and Carchemish.

  Cowries from the Maldives were used for currency. How did these cowries get to Mari when the Maldives are deep in the Indian Ocean? Jewellery was made from lapis lazuli from Afghanistan and turquoise, jadeite, cornelian and quartz from India. By 2680 BC cedar was imported from the Lebanon and glass beads in their thousands from Indian rivers. Perhaps the best-known treasures from Mari are the proud bronze lions, now in the Louvre.

  Most of all, the Minoans drove the process of international development – they had the ships and they brought the essential raw materials upon which the crack pace of Bronze Age civilisation relied – copper and tin.

  Travel across Mesopotamia was for the most part by river. The River Euphrates Zimri-Lim would have known teemed with boats, barges and rafts, perhaps even more than it does today. Levantine cities put on concerts with varied and colourful programmes – men belched fire and swallowed swords; jugglers, wrestlers, and acrobats performed for the public; as did actors and actresses in masques and plays. New ideas and inventions travelled up and down this vital causeway. I settled back to enjoy the ride.

  Next stop, Beirut. Before the civil war of the 1970s and 1980s, the Beirut I knew was an enchanting city, with its backdrop of cedar-clad mountains. It used to be a haven for Saudi businessmen. Here they could escape the pressure of commercial life in Saudi Arabia: they could gamble in lush casinos, eat pigeon libanaise in the glitzy restaurants which lined the corniche and have their pick of the local dancing girls for a night. You could ski on the placid seas and on the mountain snow on one and the same day.

  Today’s Beirut, sadly, remains partly ruined. Happy memories have gone. I cannot get out of the city fast enough, so I haggle with minibus drivers to take me across the mountains to Damascus. The price is usually halved by evening. That way the driver can return with a van load of vegetables from the Bekaa valley, in time to sell at dawn in Beirut’s markets.

  Like the Lebanese, the Minoans were master traders. I thought about that principle – if you travel one way carrying human cargo, when you return you maximise your assets by bringing something else back with you. Perhaps the Minoans did the same.

  At the Syrian border, Ahmad, our driver, plonked our passports in front of the Syrian customs officer. Fat, agitated and energetic, Ahmad ate continuously. His side pocket bulged with seeds, which he nibbled.

  There was something odd about this minibus. Perhaps that explained why the customs officer is not being obliging enough. Ahmad pulls out a wodge of Syrian pound notes which the customs officer pockets without a trace of emotion, or thanks or receipt; now we can set off again. Once in no man’s land Ahmad stops to collect eight full black plastic bags which he hides in the spare tyre bay. I hope these are not drugs. If not, we should have a clear run.

  Damascus claims to be the oldest city in the world – a title also fought over by Samarkand, Bukhara, Aleppo and Cairo, among others. From late November to early March, the River Barada carries rainwater down to the plain, creating a large, rich oasis named ‘the Ghouta’. The city not only has a beautiful climate, rich soil and abundant water but was at the crossroads of ancient trade routes (see map). One route led north from Egypt up the fertile crescent through Damascus and on to Mesopotamia. Coming from the opposite direction, a merchant from the East landing from India in the Euphrates estuary could travel upriver through Mesopotamia then turn south through fertile land, by-passing the mountains all the way to Egypt. I intended to explore the museums, to get a snapshot of the trade and civilisation of 5,000 years ago.

  For thousands of years Damascus has been famed for her crafts- men, masters of inlay on wood – pearl inlaid on rose, walnut or apricot – her women and her precious damasks. Yet Damascus Museum – possessing probably the finest collection of sumptuous Mesopotamian art in the world, stretching back over five millennia – is still a disappointment, with little information to be had and still less scope for research. The few guidebooks are sycophantic to the point of hilarity. One introduction reads: ‘To President Al Assad, whose march of correctionism is an inspiration and a stimulus’!

  Although I had found plenty to interest me, I hoped to find more accurate information about Bronze Age artefacts at Aleppo. At the bus station, a stunning Syrian girl seems to be expecting me. ‘Sit down – I will get you a ticket.’ She takes my money and touts around the buses to find one which will take me for 200 Syrian pounds, then pockets the change. Soon we are rolling northeast in a comfortable Mercedes 403. The road is on a dividing line. To the west the mountains and the sea, to the east a lush plain watered by the Barada River.

  Seven hours out of Damascus the bus pulls up in central Aleppo opposite Baron Street. There are four hours of daylight left – just enough to visit the souk. I dump my bags in Baron’s Hotel and hurry to the marketplace, a vast space that still, today, eventually leads to a copper market. What an amazing experience – little has changed for 5,000 years. It is covered by great stone archways for some 18 miles (30 kilometres). The first line of stalls is for butchers who sell sheep’s testicles (at a cost of 90p each) and nothing else. They are huge, each the size of a squashed orange. The butchers, I notice, all specialise in different parts of the animal: the first in the pancreas, then the liver . . . a group of the next few stalls are selling hooves and tails. I have walked for a mile and have only seen bits of sheep! I explored the place solidly for four hours: there must have been 50 miles (80 kilometres) of vaults and stalls. The organised commercial districts are known as Khans. At Khan al Nahasin (the Khan of the coppersmiths) is Aleppo’s oldest continuously inhabited house, which has been kept almost exactly as it was four centuries ago. It was once lived in by a man called Adolphe Poche, whose parentage was both Venetian and Belgian. Poche was born in this house and yet became Belgian consul to Syria in 1937. Appropriate for Aleppo, I suppose: for thousands of years it’s been one of the most important trading cities in the world. Only a few hundred kilometres away from the Mediterranean, this ancient city is the meeting point of the two oldest land trade routes known to man.

  Baron’s Hotel was founded in 1909 as a lodge for Mr Baron to relax in after duck shooting. Little has been altered since then; perhaps not even the bedclothes. It is a delight to be here. Slightly foxed posters in the rather louche bar – a mix of 1970s high stools and what looks like 1940s everything else – advertise the inaugural Orient Express train journey to Aleppo. Mounted above the bar is Lawrence of Arabia’s bill – extravagantly high, at £72.09. A young female French archaeologist and I are the only guests.

  The crime writer Agatha Christie and her archaeologist husband Pr
ofessor Mallowan stayed here for months. Professor Mallowan had left the hotel a hand-drawn map. Stretching away in an arc to the east of Aleppo, it showed the mass of extraordinary archaeological sites of the middle and upper Euphrates. There are between fifty and a hundred sites, going back 5,000 years. In the very early dawning of the Bronze Age this area was the most heavily populated in the world.

  Breakfast is at dawn. The French archaeologist, a dark young woman with a pinched face, offers me her boiled egg and cheese provided I do not talk to her.

  Then we set off into the rising sun in Ahmad’s battered minivan. The land is flat as a pancake; the horizon flirts with infinity. On the outskirts of Aleppo the figs and apricots are ripening. Further out come poplar plantations, then the endless vista of rich, cultivated land. Red earth under plough, bilious green rice, thin winter barley and dark ochre stubble where the last of the cotton has been harvested.

  Cotton stalks are piled high beside the farmhouses for winter kindling. Flocks of fat-tailed sheep and slim black turkeys scavenge the fields. Each house has its own pigeon loft. Skeins of duck, high in the sky, migrate south. No one is shooting them now. I suspect that there is much more to discover about Aleppo, but I am happy with what I found in the museum, including some cuneiform slates about Mari that were originally discovered by Max Mallowan. Mounds of quinces and watermelons lie beside the road.

  CHAPTER 15

  PROUD NINEVEH

  Nineveh, at the centre of what was Babylonia, is less than a day’s travel and my final destination before I return to Beirut. I was here, again following in the wake of the Minoans, because this great city was once the epicentre of world knowledge. It was here that the Minoans could have pursued their understanding of the heavens to sacred levels. This time, I was on the trail of some sacred omens; omens written down by trusted Babylonian priests during the Old Babylonian period (1950–1651 BC). This would have been hard-won information, collected for generations and then written on clay.