by Lee Lamond
Austin approached the pile of stones that at one time had been the side of one of the monastery buildings. He pulled two large stones free to better reveal the piece of marble Madeline was now photographing.
“Okay,” said Austin. “What am I supposed to make of this? There are pieces of broken marble all over the place.”
“It is the first three words.”
“First three words?” He still didn’t understand what she meant.
“It is the first three words in the banner that was on the painting of the church,” said Madeline.
“You mean that ‘well of the Lord’ thing?”
“Yes. It’s the same.”
Austin again approached the pile of debris that was perhaps six feet tall and began removing more of the stones to reveal more of the message and any structure that might be underneath. Two trees had grown on one side of the pile, and the roots were intertwined with the debris, making the task difficult. In about two hours, the full message was revealed, but it was not until about five in the afternoon that the structure, which had been buried for hundreds of years, was exposed. Austin climbed to the top and looked down.
“It’s a well,” said Austin. “It’s a well!”
“Are you sure?” said Madeline, now caught up in the excitement.
“No, I am not sure, but I am willing to bet that it’s a well.”
“Be careful you do not fall in. I could never get you out,” said a concerned Madeline.
“There is something on the top, under these broken clay roof tiles, that looks like metal plates. Come here a minute. Somebody has put a cover on the well, and there is a lock. My goodness, the lock looks like it’s hundreds of years old.”
Austin continued to remove more of the bits and pieces that covered the metal plates, to reveal a metal cover that spanned the top of the well.
“The metal plates are all pitted. I think they are made from iron. See the little door here? If you want to get water, you open this door to put your bucket down, but you cannot fall in, and the cover must keep dirt and leaves and other things from falling in.”
Austin gathered some small rocks, opened the small door, and began dropping the rocks into the well, listening for a splash. There was no splash, just the sound of stones hitting the dry bottom.
“I have a flashlight in the car,” he said. “Let’s go back to the car.”
Austin and Madeline walked down the road they had found, hopefully toward the highway and the car. Austin was energized again, and even Madeline was excited. The road had become an obstacle course of ruts and large stones, and at one point metal spikes that were part of an old gate protruded from the ground. The path did intersect the highway, but the end of the path at the road was not obvious. Austin found his flashlight and then drove back up to the monastery. The drive required a few adjustments to get around the metal spikes and the trees that had grown in the road, but getting the car to the top was not that difficult. Austin grabbed the flashlight and hurried back to the well.
He leaned over the edge of the well and opened the small door on the top of the iron plates.
“What do you see?” asked Madeline, who was as interested as Austin.
“A couple of buckets and …”
“And what?”
“And a bunch of pots.”
“And?”
“The pots are too organized. I mean, they are in rows or something. I need to get the plates off.”
A very old padlock was in place, and Austin looked for a means to defeat it. Around the well, pieces of wrought-iron fence lay on the ground. Austin pulled a single metal bar free and then placed the bar through the lock and began to use the bar as a lever in an effort to twist and break the lock. Age had reduced the strength of the metal, which snapped with ease. With the lock gone, Austin stood on the edge of the well and lifted the heavy plate that was hinged in the middle, exposing the depths of the well. With the improved view, Austin and Madeline studied the interior with his flashlight.
“See the pots, or jars, or whatever they are, down on the bottom? Madeline, they’re too organized to not have been placed there on purpose. I mean, no one dropped the pots into the well and got them so well organized.”
“How are you going to get down there?” asked Madeline.
“Me? I was going to lower you,” said Austin with a smile.
“I am not going down there for all of the gold in the world. There are bugs and snakes and creepy things down there,” said Madeline with a shiver.
“I don’t know how I am getting down there. A ladder would be nice—an elevator would be better. I’ll figure out something. Do you see the wooden rings that hold out the stones on the side of the well? Apparently they were afraid that the stones might give way. There are even little handholds or footholds in the rock so that someone could climb down if they had to. My guess is that someone lowered the pots with a rope that might have had a metal hook on the end. Once the pot was on the bottom, they could just unhook the rope and pull it back up. It is kind of cool. If you want to make a withdrawal, you just lower your hook and pull up a pot. Maybe we should try that first.”
“Why is there no water in the well?” asked Madeline.
“Great question. There are a few wet spots on the side, but there is no water in the bottom. It looks very dry around here. I do not think it has rained very much in weeks. Perhaps during the rainy season, if there is one, it has more water. The well is only about thirty feet deep—perhaps they didn’t dig it deep enough. Maybe it has just dried up. I’m not complaining.”
“So what are we going to do now?”
“I have to think. Do you have anything to write with?”
Madeline went to the car and found some paper and a pen.
“Okay, let’s make a list. I want to get in and get out. I do not want to be here when a bunch of kids show up to get drunk. The right side of the well looks like it is going to collapse, and I don’t want to be down there when it decides to go. So let’s put a bunch of stuff on the list. Let’s get some rope and some metal hooks, and if I can get the pots out by fishing them out, that will be great. I suspect that they might be glued in with mud. Let’s get some gloves, some rope, some lumber, a hammer, nails, some wire cutters, a saw, a few more lights—including a headband light—a rope ladder or something like that, a couple of shovels, some pulleys, some plastic sheeting, a bunch of those canvas bags that people go shopping with, and let’s see if I can get something to reinforce the side wall of the well. Madeline, do you remember that home center store just south of Bergamo?”
“Maybe. I am not sure.”
“We are going to go get the right tools to do this job.”
Madeline looked up at the sky. “It may have been dry around here, but now it looks like rain, it looks like it is going to rain a lot.”
“Well, then, let’s hurry, and we will get some rain gear too.
Austin and Madeline carefully drove down the dirt road, avoiding large rocks and metal spikes. It took thirty minutes to drive back to Bergamo. At the home center, Austin and Madeline worked their way through the store, finding the things on the list and a few extra things as well, including a waterproof work jacket and a plastic construction helmet for Madeline. Within an hour they were out of the store, in the rain, and on their way back to the monastery. Driving down the road, Austin looked over at Madeline, who was reading a book.
“Madeline, aren’t you excited?”
Madeline looked up from her book and said, “Sure.”
“Then why are you reading a book? My goodness, my heart is pounding, and you are reading a book.”
“Austin, this is a very good book, and it is getting to a very exciting part. I was reading it last night while you were sleeping, and I had hoped to finish it, but I fell asleep. I’m almost done.”
Austin looked at the darkening sky.
“Madeline, if that rain doesn’t hold off, you and your book are going to get wet.”
Being an engi
neer, Austin rigged up the necessary pulley arrangement using the tree next to the well and a few pieces of the wrought-iron fence. It took him more time than he’d planned to fabricate his rope ladder and to arrange the pulleys he would need to pull the pots to the surface. The rain had continued, and now it was raining hard, and it was almost dark in the shadow of the ruins. After throwing his homemade rope ladder over the side of the well, he was over the side with his headband flashlight and shovel, with Madeline standing at the ready, wearing her yellow helmet and her new rain jacket.
It was dark and raining hard when he began his descent, and it became darker the deeper he went. With the light on his headband, he became aware of items like spiders and snakes and the moss that covered most of the well’s interior. As a boy he used to play with snakes, and unlike a famed Hollywood archeologist, snakes were not an issue for him, but he was not crazy about spiders. As he continued down, he realized the wooden rings that reinforced the sides of the well were dry-rotted and easily crumbled. Some of the metal steps that someone had put into the side of the well over five hundred years ago crumbled when he tested them by putting some of his weight on them. About halfway down he came to a section where the side of the well was protruding inward. He tested the integrity of the wall by pulling on a stone, and it came free readily and slipped from his wet hand. When he reached the bottom, he was careful where he stepped, so that he would not damage any of the pots.
Madeline had sent down an electric lantern on the rope. Carefully he knelt down to inspect one of the pots. It was a simple clay pot with a matching lid. Each had a brass handle, and if these pots had been placed by Maetan, they had survived the last five hundred years very well. Austin reached down and tried to remove the lid from one of the pots. He laughed to himself, thinking, Wouldn’t it be funny if each pot was full of baked beans that someone had made for the monks’ annual picnic and just forgot they were there? The lid was covered with mud, and removing it was not as easy as he had hoped. Austin tapped the lid of one pot with the handle of his shovel, and suddenly it broke free. He reached down and lifted the lid, and inside were gold coins submerged in a broth of water and mud. He reached in and pulled out a few, placed them in a cloth bag, and attached it to one end of a rope. Without comment, he signaled to Madeline to pull up the rope.
From his subterranean location, he heard her response. “Oh my God! Oh my God! Austin, you found it. How much is there, Austin?”
“A lot.”
Suddenly a rock fell from somewhere above, missing Austin by about a foot. A stream of water entered the well and descended onto Austin’s head. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the bulge in the side of the well now looked bigger. If he were to get both the gold and himself out of the well, then he had to stop and reinforce the bulge. Carefully he climbed up the rope ladder and emerged, wet and covered with dirt.
“What’s the problem?” asked Madeline, concerned.
“Madeline, after five hundred years, this old well is thinking about collapsing. If I do not stop it, both the gold and something much more valuable might be lost.”
“Is there something move valuable than gold in the well?” said Madeline, thinking that Austin might have found diamonds or other treasure.
“Madeline, that something of great value is me! Please go to the car and get me the saw and two pieces of the lumber we bought.”
The rain was now pouring down in torrents. Even though she was wearing the rain jacket that Austin had bought her, Madeline was soaked. Austin made some rough guesses on lumber dimensions, made the cuts, and then descended into the well again. Madeline carefully lowered the cut pieces of lumber down into the well, following Austin’s direction. The walls were now slippery, and placing the lumber in the right locations was proving difficult. Austin had cut one length of lumber a little longer than the diameter of the well at the bulge. He’d made a good guess at the size, and he positioned the lumber between a shorter piece he had placed against the bulge and a large rock on the opposite side. Using the hammer, he pounded the cross brace into position. It wasn’t perfect, but it should work. He gave the hammer back to Madeline and continued to descend into the well. There was now about a foot of water in the bottom, and the flow from the sides of the well was increasing. Austin was now working by feel. The biggest problem was to free the first pot, and then the rest would be easier. Over the years, the pots had been encased in mud that now held them securely. Within about fifteen minutes the first pot was free and Madeline had pulled it to the surface. Within the same fifteen minutes, the water had risen three inches. With the first pot out, the remaining pots were freed in an orderly fashion, but Austin took his time and was very careful not to break any pots, carefully placing each one in a cloth shopping bag. Madeline lifted them one by one using the rope and pulley, which was no simple task, since each pot weighted about thirty pounds. Perhaps it was adrenalin, but Madeline did fine.
Austin shouted instructions to Madeline. “When a bag comes up, put it right into the car! And make sure to spread them around, with some in the trunk and some in the back seat, and maybe some in the front! Okay?”
“Okay.”
The water was now up to two feet and rising quickly. Austin’s environment was now full of floating bottles, with broken glass in the bottom of the well. There had been twenty pots, and by his count, he had four more to go, but now the water was pouring in. He shined the light upward and saw two things. The first was Madeline’s face and her yellow helmet at the edge of the well, and the second was the water flowing around his bracing, possibly eroding the tight fit he had made.
Without hesitation, he put the next pot into the canvas bag attached to Madeline’s rope and gave the signal. As jug nineteen headed skyward, suddenly rocks started to head down into the well, again missing Austin by inches. He looked up to see where the rocks were coming from, but it could have been anywhere, because water was pouring in everywhere. For a second he laughed. Perhaps when I bought the tools, I should have purchased a second helmet and a life jacket, he thought to himself. Madeline lowered the rope again, and soon the last pot was headed up. It was four-thirty in the morning.
“Madeline, that was the last pot!” Austin shouted.
Austin waited for an answer, but there was none.
“Madeline! Madeline!”
Austin was sure she was busy arranging the pots or putting the tools back into the car. There was nothing more to be done at the bottom of the well, but he did not want to leave anything behind, including the lights. Madeline still had not appeared at the top of the well, and now Austin was getting concerned. As he climbed up the wet rope ladder, a thought entered his mind: The bitch has skipped with the gold. It was a thought that he would not let himself believe, but it was his thought. He continued to climb, with the extra weight of the two lights and the shovel attached to his belt. As he passed the brace, he was careful not to disturb the lumber. It did not matter much now, but he didn’t need any more excitement.
“Madeline!” Austin shouted. “Madeline!” he repeated, but no one answered.
Then suddenly Austin heard a voice.
“Monsieur Clay, so nice to see you.”
It was Simon!
“I am sorry to say that we are now in a hurry, and we must go. I hope that you do not catch a chill.”
“Where is Madeline?” Austin shouted as he hung onto the rope ladder.
“Oh, she is currently taking a little nap. Austin, unfortunately we do not have the time to talk with you any more. Have a nice day.” And with that, Simon took out a large folding knife with a brass and wood handle and began to cut the heavy rope ladder.
Austin looked down; he had only a second or two to find a landing spot. Suddenly one side of the rope ladder was cut, and the ladder became a single strand of folded steps. Austin quickly lowered himself to the cross brace, carefully placing his feet on the higher side. The rope ladder fell free, and Austin caught it as it fell, but the light on his head fell off and landed at th
e bottom of the well, where it floated in the rising water. In the darkness of the well, with Austin positioned under one of the large metal plates that formed the top of the well, it appeared that he had fallen. Simon reappeared at the top of the well and started to drop large rocks into the well, aiming for the light in the bottom. The fourth rock hit the light, and it was safe to assume that it had hit Austin’s skull. If any of the large rocks had hit the wooden brace, Austin would have fallen to the bottom. Simon closed the metal lid.
Austin’s position was precarious, and he was very much in the dark. He was standing on a wet piece of lumber that was wedged between two sides of the well, his hands on a moss-covered wall; he wondered what had happened to Madeline. He reached for the light on his belt and turned it on to better see his predicament. The light was dim and fading quickly. With the metal handle of the light in his mouth, he spotted one of the bolts that had been used to install the now-rotted wooden ring that kept the walls from collapsing. One of his hands was up against the wall, holding the rope ladder. He took the belt from his pants and put it through the top of the rope ladder, making a leather loop. Looking upward, he hooked the ladder to the bolt and then prayed. Slowly he transferred his weight to the ladder, and the bolt held, at least for now. He climbed up to just under the heavy metal cover.
