The Padre shook his head. "No, that's a Muslim minar — a prayer tower. The Iron Pillar stands in the courtyard of the Qutab Mosque."
"I thought the Iron Pillar predated Islam by hundreds of years."
"You are correct, madam," Chadwick supplied. "The Qutab Minar wasn't completed until the thirteenth century. But the Iron Pillar has always been very important to Delhi, so when a Muslim general conquered the city it must have seemed the natural place to build the first mosque. Sort of like planting your flag in the enemy’s front lawn."
The road from Palam to Mehrauli seemed to orbit around the tower, curving first to the south and moving in an out of populated areas as it wended back north. Chadwick finally pulled off the main road and navigated the narrow streets until arriving at the offices of the Indian Archaeological Survey, a white colonial-style building that lay conspicuously in the shadow cast by the enormous tower that stood, perhaps only a few hundred yards, to the west. Several rickshaws were parked in front of the building and even before Chadwick was out of the car, he was swarmed by a crowd of young boys offering souvenirs or guided tours of the site. The officer barely seemed to notice them, shooing them away like they were flies, as he opened the rear door to let his passengers out.
They were met on the steps by a middle-aged Indian man wearing a dark gray suit complete with a waistcoat, seemingly in defiance of the heat. Chadwick introduced him as Dr. Chandra Pradesh.
"Delighted to make your acquaintance." Pradesh spoke with a lilting, almost sing-song voice, but his accent was indistinguishable from that of the other subjects of the Crown Molly had met. "Colonel Chadwick tells me you are interested in the Iron Pillar."
"We are," Hobbs answered. "May we see it now?"
Pradesh's brow creased. "I had hoped to persuade you to sit for tea."
"Brilliant!" Winterbourne declared. "Consider me persuaded, sir."
As eager as she was to unravel the mystery of the metal pillars, Molly was inclined to agree. It had been several days since she'd had anything like a formal meal; they had been more or less subsisting on tinned food and stale rolls since leaving New York. Even in London, they had barely taken the time to catch their breath.
Perhaps sensing her weariness, Hobbs assented and they followed Pradesh inside. The interior of the building was like a combination of a history museum with the lobby of a luxury hotel. Several ceiling fans beat the air above their heads, helping alleviate some of the heat and humidity. Their host guided them to a long table where a jovial looking Englishman in an immaculate white linen suit, rose to greet them.
"We are fortunate to have many guests today," Pradesh intoned. "This is Mr. Steven Savile from the Royal Geographical Society."
Savile's round face was beaming like the moon as he inclined his bald head to them. "Sirs and M'lady. I should correct Dr. Pradesh, however. I am not an official representative of the RGS. I am just a humble writer, doing a piece for their journal."
Molly noticed Hurricane studying Savile, searching his expression for any hint that he might be like one of the poor devil's that had attacked them and the New York museum and again at Winterbourne's flat. To her chagrin, she realized she had done the same thing and immediately felt guilty for having done so. It seemed her capacity for trust, for faith in the essential humanity of her fellow man, had also been a casualty of this life into which she had been drawn.
Though he held her chair for her, Hurley did not sit. "If it's all the same, Doc, I think I'd like to stretch these long legs. I feel like I've been sitting for a dog's age."
He cast a wink and a smile to the serving girl — a young woman in a vivid blue sari, carrying an ornate silver tea service — which earned him an infatuated giggle and then he was gone. Molly wasn't fooled by his manner. She knew he was about to go on a reconnaissance patrol, familiarizing himself with their surroundings, as if surveying a potential battlefield.
Hobbs moved right to the business at hand, seemingly unaware of the refreshments set out for them. "Are you an expert on the Pillar, Dr. Pradesh?"
Their host gave a wry smile. "You tempt me to be immodest, sir. But yes, I am fairly well versed in the history of our namesake relic."
"Namesake?" Molly mumbled through a mouthful of cucumber sandwich.
"Many believe our city owes its name to the Pillar. We say 'Dhilli,' which is a Hindi word that means 'loose.' The story goes that the Iron Pillar originally had a loose foundation and had to be replaced." Pradesh spread his hands equivocally. "That story is from the fourth century, in the time of the Tuar Rajput and is but one of many. People have lived here for more than two thousand years, but the name Dhilli first came to be used around the same period that the Iron Pillar is first mentioned."
Hobbs asked, "What of the Pillar's origins?"
"Ah, that also is the subject of many stories, but it is generally accepted that the Pillar was fashioned as a tribute to King Chandragupta II — there's an inscription to that effect on the Pillar itself. But it may be that it was already in existence prior to that and that the inscription merely represented a re-dedication.
"We know that the Pillar stood in a Jain temple — one of twenty-seven that occupied this site for many centuries prior to the Islamic conquest."
"Jain?"
Hobbs answered Molly's question. "An ancient ascetic faith, similar to Hinduism in many respects."
"The Jainists so abhor any sort of violence," Winterbourne intoned, "that their monks will sweep the way ahead of them so as not to crush an insect."
Pradesh nodded. "Although their numbers are few today, Jain beliefs have certainly shaped the culture of India. In ancient times, Jain practitioners were the intellectuals and keepers of knowledge."
Hobbs tried to steer the discussion back to the matter at hand. "Did the Jains venerate the Pillar?"
Pradesh smiled, with just a hint of condescension. "Not in the way that Christians venerate icons. Rather, it stands as an enduring testimony to their advancement of knowledge. You are aware, I am sure of its remarkable properties; it is cast iron, yet it has not a spot of rust. It is an unparalleled achievement for its time and even more remarkable if, as some have suggested, it is older than the time of Chandragupta II.
"It may also have served another purpose," the archaeologist continued. "The Pillar originally stood on a hill called Vishnupadagiri, 'the hill with the footprint of Vishnu.' Vishnupadagiri is located exactly on the Tropic of Capricorn, near present day Bhilsa. The original purpose of the Pillar was to serve as a sort of solar calendar and on the summer solstice, the morning shadow cast by the Pillar would have touched the foot of one of the aspects of Vishnu. That site dates back to the first century BC. So, not only is the Pillar a metallurgical marvel, but also an astronomical one."
No coincidences, Molly thought. "The Pillar was moved?"
Her father shot her a warning look and she realized that she had almost tipped their hand. She glanced over at Savile, who was following the conversation with rapt attention. He noticed her look and chuckled. "I suppose I should be writing some of this down."
Pradesh nodded sagely. "There are a great many such wonders here."
The journalist took the cue to join the conversation. "So this Iron Pillar is one of a kind?"
"There are many pillars throughout India, dating back to the reign of the Mauryan Emperor Ashoka in the third century BC. Ashoka embraced Buddhism and commissioned the carving of pillars bearing his edicts throughout the realm. The style and proportions are similar, but they are all carved of sandstone, not metal. It seems evident that the artisans who crafted the Iron Pillar were imitating the style of the Ashoka pillars, if not their purpose."
"But it could be the other way around, right?" Savile asked. "For all we know, that Pillar has been around since the dawn of time and all the others were modeled after it."