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Hammurabi's Code

The artifacts were priceless, but also cursed

By Angel WhelanPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 24 min read
8

It was Jimmy’s idea. None of the rest of us would’ve had the gumption to come up with it.

He swaggered into the Three Ducks and tossed 2 shiny florins down on the counter, cool as you like.

“Beers all round Gov,” he said with that lopsided grin of his that made my heart race. “And keep the change for yourself.”

“Blimey, you’re flush tonight,” Bob said, nudging him in the ribs. “Had a flutter on the ponies?”

“Nope,” Jimmy took a long sip of his stout, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “This is honest wages, mate. You should try it sometime.”

We all laughed. Nobody in the Three Ducks was a stranger to the grift.

We lived hard in those days. Crammed a dozen to a room in the squalid back streets of the docklands, we took what work we could, and when there was none to be had we got resourceful. There’s a reason the cart drivers avoid the alleys and lanes down our way. We’d flog the goods we pilfered down the market, where they didn’t ask questions of provenance. Some days we went to bed with our bellies full of eel pie and mushy peas, to dream of feather quilts and dry boots. On other days the hunger gnawed at our guts, and sleep evaded us as we listened to the scrabbling of the rats in the walls.

“Go on then, Jimmy, I’ll bite,” I said. “What’s this grand job you’ve gone and got yourself?”

“I was skulking around the dockyard, trying to find a crew to muck in with. Then I sees this Yank gentleman, moustache like a ruddy walrus, you had to see it to believe it. I headed over to see if he had any errands he needed running, and he only bloody hired me then and there!”

“Cor, you lucky bugger!” Bob exclaimed. “What’d he want you to do for him?”

“That’s where it gets interesting, see. Turns out he’s a bigwig Professor at some University across the pond. He’s been off on an archaeological dig to god knows where, got a collection of ‘priceless antiquities’ as he called ‘em. He’s got himself in a right pickle – the ship he booked passage with is in the dry docks getting repairs. So he needs some strong lads to help him out, get the crates safely to Southampton .”

“And he picked a skinny wharf rat like you?” Bob scoffed. “You’re barely 100 lbs soaking wet!”

“Yeah yeah, well we can’t all be lardy pie eaters like you, Bob. And no, he’s got some dockers doing the heavy lifting. He’s hired yours truly as security detail!”

The whole gang erupted into laughter. Jimmy tried to look indignant.

“What? You don’t think I can be trusted with a job like that?”

“Jimmy, mate – I wouldn’t trust you not to sell your own Granny!” Bob chortled.

“Well, that’s as maybe. But this is the real deal, lads. Our big opportunity! We’re gonna get out of the slum at last, ride this golden ticket all the way to America. Now listen close while I explain how it’ll go down…”

He talked non-stop for the next hour and a half, plotting and planning every last detail. I barely heard one word in three. I was too distracted by the warmth of his leg pressed against my thigh. Besides, he had no need to persuade me – I’d have followed him into the gates of Hell if he had a mind to go.

***

The next night we gathered at the pub. Every secret hiding place was ransacked – the holey sock full of coppers under the squeaky floorboards, the hollowed-out mouldy potato in the back of the coal bin. We poured out our life savings in a meagre pile in the centre of the table. And it was nowhere near enough.

“This lot would barely cover a jolly to the Isle of Wight.” Jimmy slammed his hand down on the table, sending coins everywhere. “We need 12 quid to pay for a 2nd class ticket, and we need it by the end of March. The whole thing falls apart if we don’t have a lookout to watch the Professor.”

“Well, we’ve got 4 pounds, 8 shillings and sixpence. And Bob’s stinky old sock.” I joked, but Jimmy wasn’t in the mood.

“We’re going to have to think of something to make up the shortfall.”

“I have an idea,” Glenn chimed in.

He’s a quiet one, Glenn is. So we all turned and stared at him as he slowly found his words.

“My old man’s been real sick. Ma said he’s unlikely to last a fortnight. It’s his heart, see.” He closed his mouth and looked expectantly at us.

“Sorry to hear that, Glenn. But I’m not sure we catch your meaning,” I prodded gently.

“Oh. Right. Well, what if we put the cash into a life insurance thingamy? It’d pay out tenfold. Enough for the ticket and to bribe a few of the sailors if needs be. With a bit left over for my old Ma.”

“Excellent thinking!” Jimmy smiled. “Let’s all raise a glass to Glenn’s old Dad. We might actually pull this off yet.”

***

It was March 20th when the insurance money came through. By then everything was in motion. I’d been voted as lookout, since I scrubbed up well. As Jimmy used to say, ‘You’re a pretty one, Sam, and no mistake.’ He said it jokingly, but it made my cheeks burn.

Anyhow, when the cash was in our hands, we headed down the market to find me some togs. No way I was going to go unnoticed in my unwashed rags.

“There’s an undertaker’s wife that sometimes sells fancy clothes,” Bob told us.

“What… like dead people clothes?” I was horrified.

“Yeah, it’s kind of funny really. Imagine all those fancy bank clerks and solicitors being buried in the altogether.” Bob sniggered. “She might even have a pocket watch and dress shoes for you.”

“I don’t want to get haunted by a bunch of dead men,” I whined. “Can’t we just rob a laundry or something?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Sam. It’s not like they were sweating in them or anything. Just be grateful for some proper clothes.” Glenn looked enviously at the stall. His big toe poked out the end of his boot, which he stuffed with newspaper to keep the rain out.

“Fine.” I tried on a tweed jacket, the elbows patched with corduroy. “How do I look?”

“Excuse me, fine Sir, have you seen my mate Sam?” Jimmy asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Seriously though, you look like a proper toff. Nobody’d guess you were one of us at all.”

I tucked the compliment inside my heart, with every other tiny gesture of affection he threw my way.

***

April came around and it was time to meet the Professor. I’d figured out my cover story, and booked a berth under the name of James Stanley. I sat nervously outside a café on Grant Street, opposite the old book shop. Jimmy had promised to bring the Professor along, and Bob had staged some books on archaeology that he could stumble across for our introduction. If all went to plan I’d be his new best friend in no time.

I wasn’t used to the long con. My palms were clammy and the tweed jacket itched my skin. I’d smoothed my hair down with oil, and grown in a narrow moustache of my own, so we’d have something in common. I was as ready as I’d ever be.

Jimmy turned the corner, alongside a stout man who did indeed bear an incredible resemblance to a walrus. I headed on over to the bookstore, taking up my place among the musty tomes. I didn’t have to wait long.

“Oh, hullo there,” he said jovially, gesturing to the book I was holding. “I see we have similar tastes. That’s a good book you’ve got there, I’ve worked with Koldeway myself, you know. I’m Professor John Sterling, from the University of Pennsylvania. Nice to meet you.” He held out a chubby hand.

That was surprisingly easy. I tucked the book under my arm, pumping his hand enthusiastically.

“James Stanley. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” I was glad the others weren’t nearby to hear my ridiculous toff’s voice.

“It’s a surprise to see anyone around here familiar with the Mesopotamian digs. These days all you hear about is Egypt, Egypt, Egypt.” He twirled his bushy grey moustache around his finger.

“Oh, I’m not very knowledgeable I’m afraid. I’m just looking for some interesting reading material for my travels next week.”

“Where are you going?” The Professor asked.

“I’m headed over to your neck of the woods actually,” I baited my hook. “Off to New York on that new ship, the Titanic.”

I could see the excitement in his eyes. “That’s incredible! I’m booked for that voyage too! We should go grab a coffee, it’d be nice to know someone on board. I’m not used to traveling without my team.”

“I know just the place,” I told him, as we walked to the front of the shop with our purchases. “There’s a café just over the road, they do a delightful afternoon tea.”

And just like that, we had him hooked.

***

By the morning of the 10th We were all set. The Prof had even requested a cabin change so we could bunk up together – he seemed delighted to have someone to tell all about his adventures across the Middle East. His college paid for two third class tickets for Jimmy and Bob, as security detail. Glenn opted to stay home with his Ma, taking over the small farm his Dad had left to him. So it was just the three of us, heading off to the New World and a life of ease the likes of which we’d never known before. The thought sent me giddy with delight, but my stomach was in knots when we walked up the gangplank and boarded the ship.

“She’s bigger than I expected,” I said to the Prof, taking in her shining black hull and the rows of portholes on her side.

“That’s a good thing, makes for a smoother crossing,” he assured me. “I’ve travelled through storms in skiffs that would make your knees quake… the Titanic is majestic in comparison. Trust me, you’ll barely feel her move.”

I carried our cases along the corridor until I found our cabin. We had a twin room, an upgrade from the 4 berth I’d originally booked. It would make it far easier to keep an eye on him without others there to cause trouble.

The Prof sat on the bed, muttering about the firmness of the mattress. I couldn’t help but break into a grin. A proper bed, all to myself, with sheets and blanket and everything. No rats crawling over my face here – and no bad odors of mould and damp. Everything smelled new and fresh. I was going to savor every moment.

We set sail for France, and by the time we reached Ireland I was over the worst of my sea sickness. I felt able to leave the cabin and join the professor for breakfast.

kippers, kedgeree, eggs… I sat at the table with the slack-jaw of a child in front of a toyshop window. Toast in little silver racks on the table, and butter and thick-cut marmalade to slather all over it. I’d never had such a breakfast before. The Prof thought it was hilarious.

“You must be half-starved, man! I don’t know how a slim drink like yourself can put away so much food. I guess the sea air is getting to you.”

I nodded, my mouth filled with tangy orange marmalade. So this was what heaven was like. I could get used to it.

“I think I’d better go check on my crates while the ship docks this afternoon. I want to make sure those sailors aren’t piling anything on top of them…” He dabbed at his mouth with a white napkin.

“Oh… oh, yes!” This was the chance I needed. “Might I join you? I’d love to see some of the items you speak so highly of. The… cunny-thorn tablets and the… obelicks?” The words came out tangled and clumsy.

“Cuneiform tablets and obelisks,” He corrected me. “Why of course, I guess it won’t do any harm to have my men open the crates while we’re docked. Give me a chance to check they’re wrapped well enough. Sure, come with me. I’ll take you on a tour of the wonders of Babylon.”

***

Down in the ship’s lower levels things were less shiny. The corridors were plain and the cabin doors closer together. I passed rooms with 12 berths, whole families thrown together - crying babies, restless kiddies and all. It made me homesick for the back alleys, but not for long. The smell of boiled cabbage and vomit hung in the air.

Bob and Jimmy joined us in the hold. They stood guard beside the door to the section where the Professor’s crates were stored. Bob looked decidedly green around the gills, but Jimmy seemed in good form. His golden hair was windswept and falling into his grey eyes. I longed to run my fingers through it. He winked at me and gave my hand a squeeze when the Prof’s back was turned. I could feel my ears turning pink.

“Any trouble down here, lads?” The Prof gestured his walking stick towards the crates. “Any shifting I should know about?”

“No Sir, everything’s well tied down, and we’ve checked it regular, like you wanted.”

“Good, good. Well, how about you open up this one here for me?” He gestured to a smaller crate with FRAGILE written all over it.

Bob took the back of a hammer and yanked out the nails holding the top in place. We all held our breath as the Prof reached into the hay-filled insides and gently lifted out the artifact.

“This, my friends, is the Code of Hammurabi. Isn’t it glorious?”

He held in his hands a black stone obelisk, with a gilded bull carved in blue stone on the top. The sides were marked all over with scratches like bird feet, all lines and triangles. It was the strangest thing I had ever seen.

“What does it mean?” I asked in a hushed voice.

“Hammurabi was a great king. This is the record of his laws for his people – it is absolutely incredible. He believed he was chosen by the gods to rule over man and create rules for them to live by, so that the strong would not prey on the weak.” He held it cradled like a baby, stroking his fingers over the indentations. “It was Hammurabi who said 'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.' His laws were mostly just and fair, though sometimes violent and uncompromising. He just wanted everyone to be held accountable for their own actions, and to live good, honest lives.”

“It says all that in just those tiny markings?” Jimmy asked incredulously.

“Oh yes, and much more besides. We don’t understand it all yet, but when I get it back home I mean to make it my life’s work to figure it out.”

“What is it worth, something like that?” Bob asked, and Jimmy elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

“Worth? Oh, well, it’s priceless really. One of a kind. Certainly, more than I’ll ever earn in my lifetime. But I dare say a private collector would pay a fortune for it if it fell into the wrong hands.” He laughed. “But more fool the man who tried it, though. This bit at the bottom, you see, here? It says he wishes good fortune on those that follow his code, but calls down the wrath of the gods on any who disobey his pronouncements. I wouldn’t want that kind of curse on my hands. Would you?” He placed the statue back into the safety of the crate.

“No, I wouldn’t.” A shiver run down my spine, and suddenly I wanted to be as far away from the crate as possible. “Let’s go back up now – there’s trifle for lunch and I’ve never tried it before.”

***

Over the following two days Jimmy and Bob were busy. I didn’t see them myself, I stuck constantly by the side of the Professor, shadowing his every move. At night I laced his hot toddy with a sleeping draught, to ensure he didn’t sneak out while I slept. If he checked the crates again then the whole plan would be scuppered. Luckily the good weather and heavy meals made him disinclined to go visit the hold again.

Bob’s job was carrying the goods from the packing cases up to the promenade deck. There, he lowered them carefully into one of the lifeboats, making sure to cover them deep beneath the tarps so no prying eyes could see them. It was dangerous work, and the risk of being spotted was high. Jimmy, being the most cock-sure of all of us, was tasked with distracting the sailors. It wasn’t too difficult – he plied them with whiskey and kept them chatting late into the night. He even volunteered to help patrol the hold when they were too inebriated. Everything was going off seamlessly. With any luck we would be able to launch the lifeboat in a couple of days when we neared the harbor, and then we’d be set up for life. I dared to imagine a world where Jimmy and I shared an apartment overlooking Central Park, a place where we could finally be ourselves, free from the confines of society. It was a beautiful dream.

Until the iceberg.

I don’t want to get into all that – everyone knows the story by now. Suffice it to say, it was awful. Far, far worse than you can ever imagine. The screaming of hysterical women, wailing babies, the shouts of desperate men as they pleaded with the crew for a place on one of the lifeboats… those sounds will haunt me till the day I die.

But for me, the true horror was what it did to Jimmy. I hurried out into the frigid night air when the ship first started to list. The Prof was snoring away, his moustache carefully tucked into its protective net. I thought about trying to wake him, but first I had to find Jimmy. Amidst all the terror and uncertainty that night, he was the only thing that mattered to me. I’m ashamed to say I was blind to all the other little tragedies playing out around me. Only Jimmy, my golden-haired angel, the one I loved above all others, the one I secretly yearned for with every ounce of my being… only he mattered. Where was he?

I tried to get down to the third class quarters, but metal gates barred my way, locked at night to avoid the need for a watch. Young women clawed at me through the wrought iron, and I looked around for something to try and prise it open, but it was no use. I pulled free of their grasping fingers and fled towards the lifeboats, hoping to see his face among the crowd.

The boat was creaking and tipping at a steep angle when I finally saw him. Bob was with him, struggling with one of the lifeboats on the rising side. Most of the other boats over there were gone already, and the high angle made it too risky. Yet they struggled with the cover, Bob battling with the ropes and mechanisms while Jimmy climbed down into the boat itself.

“Jimmy!” I cried out to him, dragging my way slowly along the handrails. “What are you doing? We have to go now!”

His eyes were wild as he glanced up at me. He looked half crazed.

“Help me, Sam! Help me. This is all my fault! We have to take it back, we have to make it right!”

Bob gave me a helpless look. “I don’t know what to do. He’s been raving about the curse ever since it happened. He thinks we caused all this.”

“Of course we did! Don’t you see?” Spittle flew from his lips as he searched frantically for the obelisk. “We stole his code, we broke his laws! We weren’t being honest, and now he wants his revenge!” His voice broke, as he grabbed at the statue, lifting it out of the boat and holding it above his head.

“Jimmy, come out of there! You’re going to fall and get yourself killed!” I pleaded with him, holding out my hand to help him.

“No, no… take this, Sam! Take the code back to the crates, put it back! Please, Oh God, please! We have to put it back!”

“That’s madness! The hold must be full of water by now. We’ll never make it,” Bob yelled. “Can’t you feel the weight of it all, dragging the ship down? We’ve got to leave, pronto!”

“I can’t! I have to take it back. I have to! People are dying, Bob! They’re dying because of me!” He tried to press the obelisk into my hand.

The hull creaked again, this time jolting us impossibly upwards, and the statue fell from Jimmy’s grasp. Down, down it tumbled, crashing into the black waters below.

“Noooooooooooooo!” He wailed.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I can’t do this.” Bob backed away, hauling himself along the railings towards the lower part of the deck, heading towards the crowd. “I don’t want to die.”

I understood. He didn’t feel the way I felt about Jimmy, didn’t know the same anguish of watching his mind disintegrate in front of us. My beautiful Jimmy, he was broken. I’d give anything to fix him.

“Take my hand, Jimmy, please, PLEASE! Maybe there’s still some good we can do.”

He looked up at me for a long moment, and then his eyes seemed to focus again.

“Yes! Yes, Sam, you always know what to do. We can fix this, we can, I know it!” He gripped my wrist and I pulled with a strength I never knew I possessed. Somehow I yanked him over the barrier and into my arms.

“Oh God Jimmy, we’re going to die.” I sobbed, cradling his head against my chest, holding him the way I had always imagined. Pouring all my love into that embrace. Our first. Our last.

“No. No! An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. We'll make it right.” He sounded strengthened, determined somehow despite our bleak situation. “Where’s the Professor? Maybe he can help fix this.”

“He’s in the berth, fast asleep. I dosed him up, he’s out for the count.”

“You left him there?” Jimmy seemed shocked.

“I had no choice! I had to find you, oh Jimmy… I had to see your face…”

His gaze softened. “Yes, yes. I know.” He grasped my hand, lacing his fingers in mine. “I’ve always known, Sam. I was just too scared to admit it. And there's so much I wanted to say…” The ship lurched again.

He pulled away. “But not now. Go, go find a way to live! Quickly, there’s so little time. Go!”

He shoved me and I stumbled, falling a few steps down the slanting deck.

“Where are you going?” I asked him, as he turned and headed for the stairwell.

“To find the Professor…” and then he was gone.

***

I don’t remember much of what happened after that. Everything was darkness and maddening crashing, grinding noise. I hit the ocean and was dragged under, the icy water burning like hell itself.

Then came the silence. For a long, long time. Or maybe just a moment – I can’t be sure. I wanted only to die. I didn’t call out for help, didn’t try to swim towards the distant lifeboats with their tiny lights. All I knew was pain, and I wanted it to end. If Jimmy was gone, then I would follow.

Except I didn’t. I remember something hard and wooden whacking my head – an oar. One of the sailors had found me. I was heaved on board, the little dinghy barely half full, just a handful of shivering women and children staring at me with fearful eyes. One of them handed me a blanket. The rough wool didn’t bother me the way it once would have. I felt nothing at all.

***

Over the next few weeks I waited in anguish. The lists of the missing and dead were updated daily, as people were identified and stories shared. Bob’s name was in the missing lists. So was Jimmy’s.

I allowed a family of Irish immigrants to take me with them to a cramped rooming house much like the squalor of our beloved docklands back home. I ate when they told me to, rarely spoke. I wished only for the comfort of sleep, where dreams of Jimmy woke me, drenched in sweat and screaming into the night.

I think I lost my mind for a while. I couldn’t even cry. It was as though the ice of the water had penetrated my heart – leaving me frozen inside.

Then, in late May, the Professor came to find me.

“Thank God you’re alive!” He said, gripping my hands, his moustache bobbing around in excitement. “I was afraid you’d perished – your name was on the list of the missing.”

Of course. In my confusion, I had given my real name to the rescuers. I'd forgotten all about James Stanley.

“Do you have a place to stay? Money? Work?” He asked.

I shrugged. “I lost everything, everything that matters.”

“I understand.” His eyes were watery. “I lost my life’s work too – all those precious items… so much knowledge I could have shared with the world. Heartbreaking.”

It wasn’t the same. And yet it was. His work was all he had. And we had stolen it from him.

“Listen,” he said. “I can’t stay here any longer. I need to get back out to the dig sites. Go find new wonders… maybe there's another, greater discovery out there waiting to be found. I can’t just sit here dwelling on everything that happened. Why don’t you come with me? The university will hire you as my assistant. You can learn the trade… what do you think?”

I didn’t think much, truth be told. I was too broken to think. I let the question hang in the air.

“Maybe we can find a new code out there,” he said hopefully. “There must be other copies.”

Jimmy would have liked that. Suddenly a question popped into my head. I turned towards the Professor, hardly daring to voice it.

“How did you get out?” I asked.

He stroked his moustache. “It was the strangest thing,” he said. “I was asleep – so exhausted I could barely move. I used to be a light sleeper, but I slept like a log that whole voyage. Anyhow, I was woken up by an angel… I think it was an angel. He had golden hair, and he lifted me up from the berth and dragged me through the water that flooded the cabin. Next thing I knew I was in a lifeboat, and he was gone. Sounds crazy, saying it out loud. Yet I really felt like it was some kind of miracle. After all, why save me? Why a crusty old college professor, when so many other young souls perished?”

I knew why. And though tears were finally rolling down my cheeks, and would be for weeks to come, I suddenly knew where I belonged.

“Yes,” I told him.

“Yes…?” He looked puzzled, not quite understanding what I meant.

“Yes. Let’s do it. Let’s go to Mesopotamia and find another copy of Hammurabi’s code. Let’s make things right. It's what Jimmy would've wanted.”

Short Story
8

About the Creator

Angel Whelan

Angel Whelan writes the kind of stories that once had her checking her closet each night, afraid to switch off the light.

Finalist in the Vocal Plus and Return of The Night Owl challenges.

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insights

  1. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

  2. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

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