“Ah. Indeed. Then your information is as fresh as my own. The lad's out of the woods and will recover. Many bones broken and it's all going to take some time, but at least he's conscious and talking. I'm to be allowed to fetch him home tomorrow.”
“We look forward to seeing George on our return,” said Letty warmly. “This is truly good news. And if we all stop gossiping, roll up our sleeves, and get busy, we may well have something worth reporting to him. Let's dedicate the day's digging to George!” She handed Theodore a pick. “Here you are, Mr. Russell, you can take the first swing. Aristidis will show you where to aim it.”
Archaeological zeal overwhelmed his desire for any further social skirmishing. He went off by himself to the spot his sharp eyes and experience had already identified as the place to make the first incision. They trooped after him. He paused before he swung the pick to smile mischievously at Letty.
“Well, it seems we're about to wake the King of the Gods! Got your kisses ready, Laetitia?” he said, reminding her of Stewart's taunt.
“Honed to perfection. I've been practising all week,” she replied, easily.
One by one, the limestone blocks were prised off. As soon as the hole was big enough to admit the broad shoulders of Aristidis, he checked the depth of the void and lowered himself down into it. They caught the glimmer of his flashlight as he moved about, along with an occasional low whistle and muttered oath. After what seemed an interminable time, he returned, looking up at them, his excitement only just held in check.
“It's a burial chamber,” he announced. “Untouched, I'd say, since the last lamp went out thousands of years ago. Problem is going to be access. It's carved out of the rock—possibly a natural cave that's been extended. We could get in through what you might call the front door—through the wall of the tholos…”
“No! You can't do that,” said Gunning anxiously. “The whole structure would collapse.”
“I thought you'd say that. Nothing for it, then, but to strip off the roof covering. Might be possible. Come down and take a look.”
Aristidis moved aside to make room for Gunning, and five minutes later two grinning faces appeared again.
“Well, man? Come on! Let's have your evaluation!” said Theodore.
“It's not just a grave shaft. More in the nature of a miniature temple! Sturdily built, and they've left carved stone columns in place as supports. Traces of wooden beams, rotted away, but the stone slabs they've covered it over with have settled into an accommodation with the hillside and they've done their work perfectly. There's no sign of masonry collapse that I can see. If we can get the slabs off without causing havoc, we won't have much clearance to do at all. It's going to take some muscle power, though. You may find yourself lending a hand, Theo!”
The remaining blocks were taken up, carted off, and stacked to one side. Men heaved on levers and pulled on ropes. Theodore rolled up his shirtsleeves and cracked his mighty muscles, giving a hand whenever the gang appeared to flag. Letty watched as the void below the surface was, foot by foot, exposed.
No one spoke. The silence was broken only by the grunts of the diggers and their occasional sharp instructions and exhortations to each other.
The morning's steady work had revealed the side chamber Gunning had predicted. It lay at their feet, untouched since the day the body had been sealed inside and the wall of the tholos built up above it. The last rites had been to sacrifice the horse and the bull whose bones lay sanctifying and guarding the entrance. Perhaps grave goods had been set out on the floor of the beehive, but these had long ago been found and taken away by tomb robbers. But no robber had intruded here and Letty gazed, at a loss for words, as the significance of what she was seeing silenced her.
On quiet instructions from Aristidis, two men let themselves down onto the floor of the tomb and carefully swept up the clods of earth and lumps of masonry dislodged during the excavation, placing them into baskets. They looked around them, satisfying themselves that the ground was clear and uncontaminated, and climbed back out again, waiting.
Theodore spoke. “So! First impressions of the side chamber. Hewn from the rock and the blocks used to build up the tholos alongside. Seven foot deep, ten foot square. Built for single occupancy. And there's the single occupant. In the centre, lying east to west. Bearing bodily ornaments. Surrounded by grave goods of various kinds. A rich burial. From a first look at the important (and intact) pot I see at the corpse's elbow, I'd hazard: Neopalatial period. Between 1700 and 1450 B.C.”
Letty gazed down at “the occupant.” No god, this. The body had been stretched out on limestone blocks on the floor and over the centuries the flesh and sinews had melted away. What little remained had hardened and calcified until it was one with the same colourless rock. She could just make out the shadowy form of the limbs and the defenceless round shape of the skull, all that was left of a head that had lain turned onto its left cheek. The grey eggshell was still pitifully encircled by a diadem of glinting gold pieces; the threads that had held it together were long gone, but the lozenges themselves were annealed in place, defying decay, announcing to the world that here lay a person of vast importance.
The urn by its side was spilling over with jewellery. The gold still gleamed, gemstones still winked in the sunshine, lapis, glass, paste, rock crystal. Other metal, blackened by age, might have been silver. The body was overlaid by other jewels that would give clues to the identity of the body. Certainly the bronze rings she saw where the fingers had once curled would tell their tale. Her eye was caught by a trail of small glinting ornaments from where the waist would have been and on down to the ankles, and Letty was puzzled.
She looked again at the head with its curious turn to the left. She saw the dull oval object a few inches to the side of the face in line with the eye sockets and stared in surprise. Had anyone else noticed? Over the void, Aristidis exclaimed as he reached the same startling conclusion.
Avoiding Theodore's obstructing hand and deaf to Gunning's warning shout, Letty grasped her skirts about the knee in one hand and, putting the other on the lip of the tomb, she jumped down into it. She tiptoed, mesmerised, around the body and knelt at its side. Taking her digging knife from her belt, she slid it gently underneath the oval shape. It came free at once. She lifted it and held it to her own face and stared into the looking glass, her lips moving as she spoke words she was unconscious of speaking. She saw in the dusty bronze depths a ghost of an outline, a large-eyed, lovely, and questioning face.
One voice from above broke through her spell. Aristidis. “Do you see her, Miss Laetitia?”
She shook her head. “No, only myself. I missed her. By about three and a half thousand years.”
“Good lord! What are you saying, Letty?” Gunning said urgently. “That this is a woman? We're looking at a female burial?”
“Yes, I'd say so, wouldn't you? I'm quite sure Cretan males, cockerels all—and vain—might have cast the odd admiring glance at themselves in a polished bronze mirror, but I doubt they would have been buried with one alongside. And this lady would have been worth looking at! Do you see these necklaces still on her bosom? Amethysts? Could that be amber? Gold of the most exquisite workmanship! This one's been beaten into whisper-thin flower petals…” The rush of words ceased as, peering closely, she absorbed the significance of a second gold ornament. A broad pendant, intricately worked, this one showed, framed by arching palm branches, a goddess with arms spread out in a wide gesture. A dove settled on each wrist, and at her feet sprawled protectively two wild creatures that Letty took to be lions.
Letty looked up at her audience, ready at last to speak. “I think we've found a deity. A Nature Goddess. The Mistress of the Animals? Or her priestess—this could be a Royal Priestess…the Ariadne of her day? And look here—have you noticed these?” She pointed to the rows of gold beads trailing below the waist. “Back home, on the ballroom dancing floor, we'd call these sequins. They were sewn onto a garment. And if you count the rows—”
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“Already have,” came Theo's dry voice. “Seven! All that's left of a flounced skirt. Outlining each tier. Care to give us another sewing lesson, miss?”
He could restrain himself no longer. “Get the girl out of there!” he said firmly to no one in particular. “Camera, William? We must record this before the scene gets trampled by any more boots. I especially want a striking shot of that clay larnax over there in the corner. Had you seen? It bears a picture of a bull, tied by the heels and being sacrificed on an altar. Fresh as the day it was painted! There will be a huge amount of information on that! I may find myself having to rewrite chapter eleven…what do you say, William? Aristidis—remove the men from the scene now, will you? I'd like to have the place to myself for a bit. Surely you've got something to occupy them over at the temple? I thought I saw a row of underground cists they could well be taking a stab at.”
Aristidis put out a brawny arm and hauled Letty out of the tomb. As he steadied her on her feet by him she could feel his tension. If ever the man did lose his iron control, she decided she would not want to be standing next to him. The six diggers had taken a step back, beginning to mutter to each other, looking to their Kapitan for a lead. Poised, she thought, to down tools and stalk off. They'd done it once before; she sensed they would take grim pleasure in doing it again.
It was Gunning who defused the gathering bad feeling. He lowered himself into the pit Letty had just vacated and, holding up his hands and turning around with the confidence of a showman or a priest, gathered everyone's attention. Then, shielding his eyes with his right hand from the glare of the sun, knuckles to his forehead, he advanced on the regal remains.
He stood at the calcified feet and made up a prayer:
“Hail, Goddess! Lady Mother,
Mistress of Animals, Eldest of Beings!
Sister and wife of loud-thundering Zeus,
You are blessed and revered in these hills.
Happy is the man it pleases you to honour,
For he will have all good things in abundance:
Wine, honey, flocks, and fair women.”
He moved forward to kneel where Letty had knelt, looking tenderly at the bony skull. He leaned over and solemnly kissed the vestige of face where the lips might once have been. Then he stood, saluted again, and scrambled, with the help of many offered hands, out of the tomb.
The men had fallen silent, but were smiling and nodding approval at Gunning. Proper respect had been shown. This was not their deity, but it was the goddess of their ancestors, a priestess or a princess, and due reverence was to be expected. Some were crossing themselves and peering, fascinated, at the remains below. Demetrios, defiantly smiling, essayed a Minoan salute in imitation of Gunning. Aristidis seemed to have calmed himself.
The newfound peace was disturbed by a slow hand-clapping from Theodore. “Good gracious, man! Whatever do you do for an encore? The fairy song from Iolanthe?”
The men looked at each other, hands clenching, not understanding the words but hearing the unmistakable sneer. Letty threw caution and convention to the winds. She stalked over to Russell, took up a stand an uncomfortable hand-span away from him, and looked him in the eye. What he saw there made him take a step back.
“The lady has slept in solitary state for too long. Perhaps we should offer up a companion? Like the royal burials at Ur of the Chaldees. How do you measure up, Theodore? Are you volunteering to lie alongside or shall we chuck you in?”
Not pausing for a reply, she seized Gunning by the arm and walked off to the goat sheds to help him collect his tripod and photographic gear, still fuming. She suddenly realised that the arm she held so tightly was quivering. He was stifling a laugh.
“Not a bad idea, Letty! But why contaminate such a good site? Let's stuff him in one of those cists when we've got them opened up. Nobody's ever going to find him there.”
They stood together in the sudden dark of the goat shed workroom, gathering clipboards, notebooks, rolls of film, and photographic plates into a pile on the workbench, each understanding the other's working methods, not needing to comment or question.
“Are you ready?”
“Ready. Oh, no. Hang on a minute! Just move into the light, will you, William?” She took hold of his chin and turned his head, peering into his face. “Oh, good! For a minute I thought you were growing a moustache again. But I see it's just goddess dust. A fine film of it on your top lip. Here, let me see to it.”
She took his handkerchief from his pocket and as he turned a smiling and obliging face to her, she suddenly regretted her intimate gesture. “The life you lead, William, it's a wonder to me that you manage to keep your hankies so crisp,” she said nervously. She rubbed and dusted until satisfied, surprised that he was suffering her ministrations without resistance.
“There. You'll do. That's a nice mouth. It looks firm and honest. The goddess is probably counting herself fortunate indeed that there was such a handsome chap on hand to greet her. That grating noise we heard—it was the sound of her bony toes curling in ecstasy.” She was talking nonsense into the silence, hardly aware of what she was saying, confused by his closeness. For the first time, no mask of indifference or scorn was being raised in defence, his eyes were showing humour and…and…well, affection was as far as she was prepared to go. Until he kissed her.
“There. That's the second goddess I've kissed in ten minutes. I must say I prefer the warm, willing lips. I love you, Letty. Always have. And I think you've always known it.”
“No. You're wrong. I held no such hopes last night. You were quite ready to push me over the cliff.”
“It was a storm we had to weather. And we're not through it yet. There are squalls ahead still, I'm afraid. I'm not quite sure I'm standing here, holding you…I didn't understand until a few moments ago that you might really care for me. When you rounded on Theo…you didn't say much but you did something to shake him. I've never seen him give an inch before to anyone, certainly not recoil from a woman.”
“I looked a curse at him! It's very primitive, the urge to protect someone you love.”
“Someone you love,” he repeated softly, taking in her meaning. “Are you sure I'm worth a declaration of war, Letty? Because that's how Theo will interpret your challenge—all the more demeaning to him for being delivered in front of the men.”
“Let him! He knows now that if he harms you in any way, he'll have me to reckon with.” She pushed her arms inside his jacket, sighing upwards into another kiss.
“The diggers, William? They'll be waiting for us. We've been here uninterrupted for ten minutes. I've been expecting the sound of clumping boots every second. They're not even whistling in a marked manner.”
“Ah. That's because I notice Aristidis is standing guard on the path. He won't let anyone approach.”
“What!” Letty looked about anxiously. “You mean he knows?”
“Seems to have guessed. In fact he's offered to kidnap you.”
“Kidnap? Me? What on earth are you saying?”
“That's what they do here in Crete. If a girl is willing, her young man arranges with his friend—his best man, if you wish—to snatch her, like Persephone, away from her friends and family and deliver her, sobbing and distraught, to the church. Quite a few Europeans, witnessing such scenes, have been taken in by the high standard of performance by the principal actors and have intervened on the girl's behalf. Skulls have been cracked, backs belaboured with walking canes, only for the girl in the case to have turned on her would-be saviours for spoiling her fun.”
“I'm sorry, William. If this is a proposal you're making, it's a very odd one and I shall have to decline. Weeping and wailing and being dragged along, you say?” She shook her head. “I would stride happily down the aisle with a nauseating grin of triumph on my face!”
“Well, if ever we get that far, there's just one small thing I must insist on. That your wedding getup doesn't include a digging knife.”
He broke away for a moment to sli
de the belt at her waist around a few inches, moving the knife to the small of her back. “Ouf! Thank God for that! Didn't like to mention it earlier. Could have broken the spell.”
With Gunning's presence being demanded at the burial pit by Theodore, Letty went over to the temple site with Aristidis, dreamy, radiating good humour. She was even content to sit on a stone and watch while they set about their work. A parasol would have come into its own, she thought, at this moment, to hide her pink, self-satisfied, and totally betraying face.
Aristidis went straight to work, directing three men to reveal and tidy up the storage room to the west, a room lined with large pithoi that must have contained olive oil, wheat, honey, wine—all the gifts destined to honour what she now had to assume was the Mother Goddess, the same one worshipped in palaces all over the island. Was Theodore disappointed when his theory—that the all-conquering young god of the mainland Greeks had lived, died, and been buried on this windy mountainside—was shot to pieces by the presence in the burial pit of a woman?
She didn't hesitate to answer her own question. Yes! He would have made much of a King of the Gods figure resurfacing to the world's attention. With his own forceful features on the front page of all the newspapers, dark-eyed, bearded like a Mycenaean warrior, aggressively masculine, people would have been entranced. They would have seen the rightness of it. They would have flocked in their thousands to the site. And Arthur Evans's star would have been eclipsed.
An excited shout broke through her daydreams. She recognised the voice of Demetrios and sat up, instantly attentive. Every crew seems to have one—a lead hound who runs ahead of the others, a finder by luck or instinct. She had learned to pay attention whenever Demetrios gave tongue. He was busy in the central room of the temple, opening up the row of cists. Large, underground stone coffers, they sometimes still contained remnants of a shrine's treasures. The snake goddesses had been found in one such at Knossos. But, Letty was aware, more often than not they had been broken open and the contents removed. She was holding herself back from a fevered anticipation.
The Tomb of Zeus Page 29
