Middle Eastern Antiquities

On the second trip to Paris we went to the Louvre again, and again we went to the Middle Eastern antiquities section.

Hannah was looking at the enormous bas-relief statues of Assyrian gods and kings - giant bull bodied unicorns with eagles wings, and proud faces under tall crowns. For the moment the crowds had flowed away and Hannah was the only person in the room, alone with the statues. She noticed that the statue she stood next to didn't look as proud as the others - in fact it had such a deeply sad expression on her face that it made her heart sink to look at it.

As she looked at the statue's face a giant tear formed on the statue's face and fell to the ground at her feet with a disty splash.

"What's wrong?" said Hannah. "Are you sad to be locked up in here?"

"No" said the statue in a deep, sad voice. "I'm with the other gods and kings here, just as I wish to be. This is my place and I am sure those who come to see me have come to worship me, just as it was in my homeland."

"Then what's wrong?" said Hannah.

Its voice catching, as if it was trying not to cry, the statue said "But what is a king without his crown?".

Hannah noticed for the first time that this statue was not complete - that a section of its headdress had been knocked off, leaving a section of rough stone at the top of its head.

"Oh that's terrible!" she said. "How did you lose your crown?"

"I was broken when they removed me from my home temple. No one noticed the missing piece and I was nailed up in a crate and sent to Paris."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she said.

The statue was silent.

Hannah could feel that the statue was holding back, so she spoke again. "Anything?"

The statue hesitated, and then said "Exhibit #463" and then refused to speak again.

Hannah left the room and began to search through the gallery. She found a small section, far from the major exhibits, where dozens of minor fragments of statues sat on series of small shelves built into the wall of the building. Beside one was a label saying "Exhibit #463. Assyrian bas-relief fragment, possibly headdress or crown."

She looked around to see if anyone was watching, then grabbed the fragment from its niche in the wall. As she picked it up there was a tiny click and a distant bell began ringing - the security alarm. She stuck the stony fragment under her coat and began hurrying towards the statue's room. In the distance she could see two security guards hurrying down the corridor towards the room she'd just been in. They looked determined and upset, and one of them looked at her suspiciously.

She ran up to the statue and cried "What do I do now? The guards are coming!"

"Throw it!" said the statue. "Throw it!"

She threw the fragment of stone high into the air, towards the statue's head. It clicked firmly into place, like two magnets coming together. And there was not the faintest sign of a seam, not the tiniest crack in the perfect stone head.

A guard stuck his head into the room and saw nothing but a small girl standing, looking up at a statue.

The guards never found fragment #463. They never notice that one of the great statues had been repaired. And they never noticed that it now had a totally different expression on its face.

Lost in Paris

On our next trip to Paris, Hannah was a little older, and a bit more confident.

One day all three of us were out shopping. It had been a long and tiring day, and we decided we wanted to get back to the flat, take our shoes off, and get a pot of tea on the go. Hannah begged to be allowed to keep on walking and window shopping, and we reluctantly agreed, after first checking that she had our address and my mobile number on a slip of paper in her pocket.

Things went well until it got late and Hannah realised she'd turned a few corners too many and the sun was almost down. It wasn't a disaster, as she had our address and phone numbers, but nevertheless it felt a bit scary. From close to her she heard a rough voice say "Mamselle - vous etes perdu?".

She looked around, but there was no one near. There was however, a cat sitting on a garbage bin. It was the biggest, blackest, roughest cat she had ever seen, the size of a dog, with one ear torn away in a fight and a great scar across its nose. It was looking directly at her. Feeling a little foolish to be talking to a cat in any language, let alone French, she said "Oui - un peu".

The cat nodded, took a mobile phone from an unseen pocket, and dialed:

"C'est moi - Albert. Je l'ai trouve."

"Oui"

 "Oui - certainment. Au'voir."

The cat turned to her said "Suivez moi" and headed off off down the street, not looking behind. Hannah followed it through a maze of backstreets and alleys, once walking right through a cheap cafe and out the back, and once climbing a low fence. Everywhere they went there were cats, sitting on street corners, on balconies and in windows. As they saw her and Albert they nodded to the black cat and then relaxed, curling up in a ball or wandering off to chase scraps of paper.

Eventually they turned a corner and were next to her apartment. There was an extremely well groomed white cat waiting for them, with a red velvet collar around its neck. After a brief murmered conversation with the white cat, Albert muttered "a bientot" and wandered off.

The white cat, which rather sheepishly gave its name as "Mr. Buttons" spoke perfect English, and explained to her that since Hannah had taken such exemplary care of her cat Colin when he was recovering from having his back legs run over by a car, the Conseil International des Chats had awarded her the status of Virtuous Human, and that this was recorded in the log books held in all the great cities of the world. When the local cats had noticed that Hannah was late getting home they had raised a city wide alarm.

Hannah thanked Mr. Buttons and went inside for a cup of tea.