by Dave Bartell
Emelio clicked another link. Three people stood in a much larger tube, judging from their shrunken size. The two men wore Australian bush hats, and the tube glowed orange from whatever ores made up its walls.
“This is the Undara lava tube in Australia. The first one is in California. Here, have a look. I’ve got lots of them bookmarked,” said Emelio, getting up as Darwin swung into the chair.
10
Some time later Emelio walked back into the dining room and found Darwin looking at the map. He had gone outside to water the flowers while Darwin surfed lava tube photos.
“How did you make this map?” Darwin asked.
“The scrolls tell how Martinus, the guy who wrote the letter, and Agrippa mapped a network of tunnels—lava tubes—across the Italian peninsula. The most extensive of these ran up to Rome and connected to Montecerboli, modern-day Larderello, a caldera network here.” Emelio pointed.
“Listen to this letter,” said Emelio.
Agrippa, my friend.
Congratulations on your marriage to Sabina. She is a beautiful woman. These last few years have been challenging. I miss our adventures.
I am intrigued by your claims. If true, then the Empire is interested. This letter is carried by a man bearing my seal. He will see your works and report back. Trust him as you would trust me.
Yours in friendship,
Nero
“You’re kidding,” said Darwin.
Emelio picked up another scroll and continued reading.
Citizen A. Cicero:
You are commanded to continue your work and to communicate with no one besides me. Herewith are 1,600 gold pieces to support the project. Accept Minucius Macrinus as a trusted assistant.
Take care and fare well,
Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus
“Holy crap, you’re holding an original document written by Emperor Nero.”
“These are priceless,” said Emelio.
“What about the coins with the centurion?” asked Darwin, referring to coins that Emelio had emptied from a pouch in the Box. Emelio removed a separate envelope from the Box and slid out the coins.
“These were with the letter from Mason,” he said, handing the coins to Darwin, “and I found these in the Box.” He pointed to a leather pouch.
Emelio retrieved a jeweler’s loupe and compared the coins. “I’m not an expert, but I’d say the same die struck these,” he said.
“Look at this,” said Darwin, holding out his iPhone.
“Is that the coin the guy showed you in the London BT tunnel?”
“Yeah. It has the same marks.” Darwin zoomed in on the photo.
Darwin borrowed the loupe and examined the coin. One side was stamped with the profile of a helmeted centurion. The reverse side was a bird with its wings spread. Lines connected five tiny starbursts—one in the tail, one in each wing, and two in the head and beak.
“What’s the symbol on the back?” asked Darwin.
“As best I can tell it’s the constellation Aquila in the northern sky between Aquarius, Sagittarius, and Hercules. The Aquila, or eagle, was the most powerful icon of the Roman military. Each legion carried it mounted on a staff and would go to extraordinary measures to protect it,” said Emelio.
“What were these for?”
“The scroll isn’t definitive, but the coins seem to be tokens exchanged to gain entry to a tube. The scroll also mentions a pass phrase punishable by death if forgotten,” said Emelio.
“Brutal. Did you show these to any collectors?” he said.
“Sure. I always carried one when I travelled. Not one of them had ever seen the type before. Most suspected it was some kind of forgery. Ancient and superb, but still fake.”
The phone rang and Emelio wandered into the kitchen to answer it. Darwin sorted through the contents of the box and his grandfather’s inventory list. Something was not right. If Darwin counted right and could figure out the differences between scrolls, letters, and other scraps, then some documents were missing. He looked again and could not find the scroll labeled “European Tunnels.”
When Emelio walked back in after the call, Darwin asked him about the missing contents.
“Your father sold them.”
11
“I forgave him long ago, Darwin,” said Emelio.
“How could he be so stupid?”
“It was my fault,” said Emelio with a pained expression.
“How? He was the one… He… Shit, these scrolls are exceedingly valuable.”
“That’s not it, Darwin. I… How do I start?” Emelio squeezed his cheekbones between his thumb and fingers and closed his eyes. After a long moment, he continued. “I became possessed with finding the tubes. I spent all my waking energy searching. I squandered family vacations visiting dull cities while I scoured libraries for references. I once spent a whole summer around the volcanoes in central France, looking for caves. I figured the discovery would make me famous.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Everything. I lost sight of my family and failed as a husband and father. Your grand-mère never complained... well, not much. Neither did your father, but it was clear later on that I had ignored him and had never been there for him.”
“You took him with you to Paris when you presented your paper,” said Darwin.
“It was another of my selfish ventures. I figured that if he saw how people responded to the idea and opened up to what the discovery could mean he would understand what I was doing. Instead, I was a fool.”
“How?” said Darwin.
“I wasn’t prepared. My research wasn’t rigorous enough, and I couldn’t defend my theories. There was no hard evidence. Worst of all, I didn’t even see it myself. Your father sat there and watched people around him shake their heads. Any shred of respect he had for me vanished.”
“Still, I don’t get why people rejected your research. Nero is a key historical figure in first-century Rome,” said Darwin.
“Academia is too rigid, and every idea must have multiple corroborating sources. Most of them have no imagination. There’s too much cynicism. Not enough balls,” said Emelio.
“I’m finding that out,” said Darwin.
They sat silent for a while, before Darwin added, “I don’t know what to say, Grand-Père.”
“There’s nothing to say. I’ve made peace with it.”
“Is this why you never shared the Box with me?”
“Yes. I promised your grand-mère I wouldn’t ruin your life too.”
“Papa’s life wasn’t ruined.”
“You know what I mean. Get you distracted in a treasure hunt that leads nowhere,” said Emelio.
“When did Papa sell the scroll?”
“It was in the first year after the Sorbonne conference. Some guy named Van Rooyen who read the papers from the symposium contacted me. I never answered him. Your father must have found the letter.”
“Why did he do it? Papa, I mean?”
“Anger. Attention. I don’t know. Can you explain why you did things when you were seventeen?”
12
The next morning Darwin ran around the harbor. “I brought you something,” he said upon returning.
“Shall I guess?” Emelio asked as he looked up from his coffee and morning paper.
“Turkish apricots. Your favorite, right?” He handed the bag to Emelio, who opened the paper and breathed in.
“Mmmm, perfect,” he said, splitting one in half.
Darwin drank a glass of water and poured a cup of coffee. He began a series of stretches in the kitchen. “So, where do we start? I have to admit, I’m still getting my head around the lava tubes. I messaged my friend Zac in California last night. He works for the US Geological Survey and said they exist.”
“You didn’t tell him what we found!” said Emelio, putting the apricots in a basket.
“No, just said I came across some research that mentioned a lava tube near a volcano. I’m sure he’s f
orgotten about it,” said Darwin.
“I laid everything out in the dining room by the timeline to see how Agrippa moved around the Empire. If we can also map key Roman events to these places, it might give us other clues and places to search.”
“Sounds good.”
“But you need to shower first.”
Darwin sniffed his running shirt and decided his grand-père was right.
After showering, he bounced down the stairs and stopped at the dining room opening. Emelio had spread notes and copies of the scrolls on the long polished table. He stuck some chart paper and Post-It notes on the walls. It looked like some corporate consulting session taking place in a nineteenth-century dining room.
The family only used the formal dining room on holidays and large dinner parties. It was on the backside of the house and reminded Darwin of an old, tall-masted ship because the relative who built the house wanted the feel of being at sea. The Lacroix family had a reputation for being eclectic.
“Impressive,” said Darwin.
“I thought I’d create our own war room.”
“What do we have?”
“The first scroll begins in fifty-seven AD. I’m sure they worked before that time, but Agrippa writes that he first asked Nero to fund the explorations in fifty-seven. It’s not clear, but I think there was a family connection that got Agrippa access to the emperor,” began Emelio.
“Okay,” replied Darwin.
“The next two years, up to fifty-nine AD, Agrippa mapped the lava tubes from Vesuvius up to and around Rome. He describes Nero’s desire to have secret routes in and out of the capital. They got as far north as Larderello, but he describes the tubes as too hot.”
“Larderello is where the Italians have that big geothermal plant. Up near Pisa,” said Darwin.
“Right. Here’s where it gets interesting,” Emelio said as he stepped over to the large map of Europe. “Agrippa then writes that they followed a tube ‘west.’ Remember, the Romans didn’t have a traditional compass. He said they travelled a long tube that brought them above ground again in Massilia, modern-day Marseilles,” said Emelio.
“Wait. What? That’s, like, four hundred kilometers from Pisa to Marseilles. All that distance in a lava tube? What about food?” said Darwin.
“I suppose they carried everything. He wrote that they spent time aboveground to resupply and then followed the tube north to Lugdunum—”
“Lyon,” added Darwin.
“Correct. Then they stopped at Augustonemetum, now Clermont-Ferrand, where Amelie lives. Agrippa described this area as a big intersection of tubes and writes that he went back to Rome and reported his findings.”
“When was that?” asked Darwin.
“Probably late fifty-nine,” said Emelio.
“And Agrippa came back?”
“Let’s see.” Emelio consulted his notebook. “Agrippa returned to Augustonemetum in the spring of sixty with a larger party. He wrote that Nero assigned a general to take charge of the tube system. Agrippa was not happy with this move as he described the military men as ‘illiterate fools.’”
Darwin walked to the window and gazed at the back garden. After half a minute, he turned around and said, “I’m beginning to understand why people thought your paper was crazy. My head hurts imagining tunnels this long, let alone traveling those distances underground in ancient times.”
“I know. But what if it’s true?” said Emelio, smiling like a child going to the zoo.
Darwin thought his father’s embarrassment must have stemmed from Emelio’s unbridled enthusiasm.
Over the next two days, they placed Agrippa at the various locations by date. The scrolls contained a lot of material on Londinium, but modern London was so built up that the ancient sites were far below the surface.
Augustonemetum was the only location with a specific lead: Amelie. “What if she agrees to open her grand-père’s notes, and it’s a dead end?” asked Darwin.
“That’s why it’s called the Lacroix curse. Clues lead to dead ends, but you keep going. You can’t stop looking,” said Emelio.
Emelio retrieved the letter that Amelie had written. Darwin followed the instruction to email her grandson Marc who would arrange the get-together. Marc replied that they would have to meet before Saturday as he was leaving for a month long holiday in Vietnam. Darwin arranged to meet in two days and booked a morning flight to Clermont-Ferrand.
13
Clermont-Ferrand, France
Darwin jerked awake thinking he missed his appointment, then relaxed when he saw it was only a few minutes past 1:00 p.m. He had been reviewing the scrolls when the combination of lingering jet-lag and the warmth of late spring lulled him to sleep. He splashed water on his face, shrugged on a sport coat and walked to the cafe on Rue Monlosier.
“Bonjour. Marc?” Darwin asked a young-looking man.
“Bonjour. Darwin?”
“Yes, I’m pleased to meet you,” said Darwin, extending his hand. Darwin ordered his customary three-shot cappuccino.
Marc raised an eyebrow on hearing Darwin’s order and asked for an espresso. “Just a single,” he added.
They sat at a sidewalk table and talked. Marc was a junior executive at the Michelin Company, whose headquarters remained in Clermont-Ferrand long after the manufacturing had moved to cheaper locations.
“What do you expect to learn from Grand-Mère?” asked Marc.
“I’m not sure,” answered Darwin. “She mentioned papers or letters she had, but never wanted to send them or make copies.”
“And you think these papers can help your research?”
“I hope so. Much of what we are trying to find is buried and long forgotten.”
After finishing coffee, they walked to Amelie’s building on Rue Saint-Hérem in the old section of the city. It was four stories tall with a hardware shop and dress boutique on the ground floor. The general lack of concern about the facade and the graffiti on the side street wall suggested the neighborhood was on a downward arc.
“The income is good, and it’s safe,” said Marc as if sensing a question from Darwin.
“It’s nice. She owns the whole building?”
“Yes, she lives in the top corner flat,” Marc said as he unlocked the residents’ entrance and led the way up the stairs.
Darwin followed him past a pram, their footsteps echoing in the circular stairwell. It smelled of roasting chicken and reminded him of a favorite Moroccan restaurant in East London. On the top floor Marc knocked on a door with a small brass nameplate: Giraud.
“Marc!” said an enthusiastic voice.
“Grand-Mère, comment ça va?” he asked as they kissed.
“Je suis bien,” she replied. “Come in.”
“Grand-Mère, this is Darwin Lacroix, the young man who wrote you the letters,” said Marc.
“Je suis heureux de vous rencontrer. I’m pleased to meet you, Madame Giraud,” said Darwin.
“Pleased to meet you too, Monsieur Lacroix,” she said, extending her hand.
“Please call me Darwin.”
“I thought you would be much older, dear,” said Amelie Giraud. She was tall and stood straight for her ninety-four years. Her thick white hair was shoulder length and well styled. Time had thinned her features, but not her bright blue eyes and engaging smile.
“You must be thinking of my grandfather,” said Darwin. “He wrote you the letters.”
“Yes, I remember. I meant that other man from Nice. Please come in. Would you like coffee?” she said, leading them to a round table in the corner.
“Thank you. That would be lovely,” replied Darwin, wondering what she meant by the other man. He almost said Emelio was from Corsica, but thought it best not to confuse her. They walked in the main room to a table set with a plate of petits fours and coffee for three. A blue and yellow Provençal tablecloth and a vase of fresh sunflowers completed the setting.
“Are you English, dear?”
“No, Je suis Corse, I’m Cors
ican, but I lived many years in England.”
“That’s nice. Marc, please help me with the cafetière. My old hands don’t have the strength.”
“Oui, Grand-Mère.”
The apartment was clean, handsomely decorated, and contained a mix of furniture that Darwin thought had grown antique in this building. They enjoyed coffee and petits fours while Amelie talked about the changing life in this section of the city. She and Marc also exchanged updates on the family members.
Translucent drapes danced in a breeze from the open doors and Darwin gazed out across the rooftops. He thought of the different pace of life in America where everyone hurried to “get things done.” He enjoyed the social informality in California, but afternoon coffee at someone’s home never happened.
“You are wondering who all these people are and if we’ll ever get to my grand-père’s notes,” chuckled Amelia.
“Oh no, take your time. I am enjoying your beautiful view of the city,” said Darwin.
“Ba!” She waved her hand. “It’s just buildings. Marc says you are only in town for a couple days. Let me show you what you came for.”
She stood and walked into the back of the apartment.
Fifty years of waiting, thought Darwin. He smiled.
“She’s having a good day,” said Marc.
Amelie returned with a leather-bound notebook that bulged with papers, many of them torn and bent on the edges. She set it down in front of Darwin and nodded as if to say Open it. He untied the lanyard and opened the cover.
Vulcan Studies of the Auvergne Region, including Puy de Dôme
and Arrondissement de Clermont-Ferrand
by
Rene Michel Giraud
