by K. L. Nelson
The stone was embedded about six feet within the earth.
Six feet; the exact distance into the world beyond, Skye thought.
“It’s beautiful,” she commented.
“It’s beautiful?” Lindsay Green said in an excited voice beside her. “We discover this, this stone and all you can say is ‘it’s beautiful’?”
The girl was one of Skye’s Master’s Degree students. She had boundless energy and a captivatingly perky appearance. Her long blonde hair was usually pulled back tightly into a ponytail. Because of her beauty many assumed Lindsay not especially bright, but they were wrong. She was consistently at the top of her class, and her work impressed Skye. She was a natural choice for the team, even though her attractiveness could very well mean trouble on an expedition like this.
Without waiting for Skye’s response, Lindsay jumped into the open pit with Mert. Grinning, she flung her gold hair over her shoulder and stooped to squint at the stone. Glove in hand; she started to finish Mert’s work for him by brushing gently to clear away the soil. “Just jump right in there Green,” Mert quipped as he gave her room. He turned to Professor McAlister. “Just remember who found it.”
“Yeah,” Lindsay replied. “Just remember who was lucky.”
The twin brothers on the team, Andrew and Sebastian, would have joined in on the cajoling but they held off and let Mert and Lindsay trade blows. With Skye, they watched intently as Lindsay worked to uncover the writing. Soon they could make out a phrase:
DEI GRATIA, CONVERSATI SUMUS CHRISTO
“In the grace of God, we have conversed with Christ,” Skye translated.
Hearts thrilled as she read the words of a man centuries gone. How long had the stone been buried there?
There was more on another partial line below the first:
FUNDATA EST ABBATIA
“The foundation, or founding, of the abbey…”
Mert spoke. “So, if we find the other parts of this stone, it may give us the year of the founding of this abbey. That’s huge!”
“It would be,” Professor McAlister agreed. “But you have all missed something that would make dating the abbey insignificant.”
All eyes stared in to take a better look at the stone. Adjacent to the Latin text were intricately carved designs that seemed to be some kind of decorative border. Small flowers drawn inside triangles that could only be roses with thorns were the most decipherable feature of this border. Another symbol looked like the handle of a tool with the blade just projecting out of it before stopping at the jagged edge.
“It’s Pictish text,” Sebastian said first.
“Correct,” the professor said. “Anyone else?”
“Um…Professor,” Mert began slowly, “how many texts have been found containing both Latin and Pictish?”
Skye smiled. “Exactly one to date,” she replied. “And we are looking at it.”
The team erupted in a cheer when they realized they had just uncovered part of something that may decipher a lost language. They were all heroes, at least to other archaeologists. Nothing could quell the excitement they felt the rest of the day as they continued their work.
Though the Pictish language was currently being analyzed scientifically, the only way it could ever be accurately deciphered was the discovery of a translation stone. Like the Rosetta Stone discovered in 1799 that unlocked the ancient Egyptian language, a translation stone includes at least two languages in parallel orientation. If one of the languages is unknown and the other known, it becomes possible to decipher the dead language from the living one by comparing texts. If the stone that her team had just discovered was such a find, it would set the archeological world on its ear.
“We need to keep digging,” Skye prompted her team members. “The rest of that stone is likely somewhere on this site.”
They needed no further prompting. They worked relentlessly until the daylight was gone. The fragment they’d found seemed to be all the earth was willing to surrender for the day, but it was enough. The team left the site with renewed zeal to continue the next day. As they passed the open gate on the way out, they all thought the same thing: Thank goodness the Society was out of their way.
Back at the room, the team sat in the commons and debated a befitting name for their finding. It was as if they’d all just made a baby together, thought Skye with a smile. In actuality, she could have arrogated the right to choose a name herself since she was the ranking authority on the project. But it wasn’t her style. She hovered in the next room and listened to what they would come up with. If they decided on something acceptable, she would go with it. That they were so interested in naming it as a team meant they were invested in the project, and to Skye that was worth more than choosing the name herself.
“Rosette,” Lindsay suggested, pointing out the rose symbol on the stone.
“And have everyone get it confused with the Rosetta Stone?” Mert asked in disagreement. “Let’s just call it the Ruin Stone.”
There were groans at Mert’s suggestion.
The naming went on for more than an hour. Skye almost had to speak up a few times when some particularly awful names presented themselves. But in the end, they decided on a perfectly fitting name.
They named it after the nearest village.
They would call it “The Marnoch Stone.”
With that settled, they called in to the professor who was reading on her bed by lamp light. “It’s a wonderful name,” she replied smiling. “The Marnoch Stone it is.”
Long after her team went to their rooms, Skye sat on her bed staring at the stone in the images she’d taken. The carvings were so precise that it spoke of a stable hand and sophisticated tools. The Pict language was long disappeared but the Pictish stones endured; they were a visible legacy to this lost warrior race. This one was particularly unique and beautiful. It entranced Skye long into the night.
She fell asleep a little before dawn thinking of roses and scythes.
***
Overnight, snow settled on the Scottish Highlands.
The snow came in a blast from the North Sea. Skye would have thought it was a reaction from the gods keeping watch over the Marnoch Stone in the earth, if she were the superstitious type. The weather the day before was mild, but Skye had noticed a chill in the air. It seemed odd that such a sunny day could feel so cold, but the events of the day overshadowed any thought of the weather. Today there would be no ignoring it. The wind howled against her window, and there wasn’t a single soul outside willing to brave the icy storm.
Their dig for the remaining part of the stone would have to wait. The road leading to the ruin was treacherous enough when dry. Under several inches of snow it would be impassable. Even if they could navigate the road, clearing away the snow just to reach muddy soil would make their work impractical.
Such is the life of an archaeologist: Long months of boredom highlighted by moments of jubilation.
Turning away from the window, Skye picked up her phone on the bed and dialed a number.
Damien picked up on the first ring.
“Did you see the picture?” she asked without preamble.
“Yes, I did. It is just beautiful,” he said.
“That’s just what I said!” Skye exclaimed.
“I knew you would,” Damien replied with a laugh.
Skye couldn’t help the smile that came to her face. Damien was another student that made the cut. Of them all, he was the true archaeologist at heart. He saw the beauty of any relic and wanted to preserve it at all cost with a concomitant urge to find its true history. In that way he was like Skye. And that was why she still regretted that he couldn’t make it to the excavation because of an appendicitis surgery. He would be joining them as soon as the doctor declared him fit enough.
Damien was younger by seven years at twenty-six, but he was the rare kind of young guy that knew what he wanted and went for it. Skye knew he wanted her. The impropriety of professor-student relationships meant little
to the young man. He would be graduating soon anyway, he reasoned.
But Skye had no time for a relationship. It was too soon after a messy divorce to think about trying again. At least for the time being, Skye was married to archaeology.
“Listen, I ran it through the press, I hope you don’t mind,” Damien said in a hesitant voice.
Skye sighed. She had no intention of sharing her finding with the world right now. Though the discovery of the stone was exactly her dream, she couldn’t bear the thought of dealing with the press. It was just another distraction that got in the way of her true purpose.
“Are you there?” Damien asked.
“Yes, I am. The deed is done, is it not?” she snapped.
“Ouch. Somebody is grouchy today,” Damien replied.
She knew that it was their original plan that while Damien was still in the U.S. he would be handling the publicity of their findings. But she couldn’t help the annoyance that crept into her voice. She was immediately contrite.
“I’m sorry for snapping. It is just that we were all so excited to continue digging today for the remaining fragment but we’re getting some weather here.” It was an acceptable excuse.
“Ooh, I hate when that happens,” Damien sympathized. “Look, the reporter Samuel Barnes wants to have a phone interview with you about the stone. What should I tell him?”
Skye made her decision. Better to get it over and done with.
“Have him call me now,” she said. “I’m not doing anything under three inches of snow anyway.”
In another five minutes, she was on the phone with the reporter from The Daily Trust. He was allocated to the team but for some reason which Skye could not understand, he pleaded absence for the first week of excavation. He’d promised to cover the story as much as he could from his base in London.
“Are you certain of your finding, Miss McAlister?” the reporter asked skeptically.
Skye brushed a wisp of errant red hair away from her face with a finger. She hated reporters. They had a special way of getting on her nerves by asking the dumbest of questions.
“Of course Mr. Barnes, I know that we have found a Pictish stone and we believe that this discovery will serve as the first stage in understanding the Pictish language; something akin to that found in 1799 that unlocked the ancient Egyptian language, if you will. Once the other fragments are found, the Pict tongue will be as good as found too.” Skye detested having to bring the uninitiated up to speed. She wished reporters actually researched what they were reporting on. It would save her a lot of effort.
“I will be there first thing tomorrow morning,” he said as if he couldn’t quite believe her and would like to see for himself.
Samuel Barnes believed that he was right next to God and the next best gift to females after pants. He was arrogant, conceited, and way too handsome for his own good.
“You will be most welcome whenever you do,” Skye said barely hiding the sarcasm in her voice. She was afraid she would never see eye to eye with the man. Not since he ran the report about her marriage. Not since she was forced to make a choice.
She hung up, groaning for ever having agreed to permit such a provocatively ostentatious man allocated to her team.
***
The snow let up around midday. At first light the following morning, the team members were good to go. Their finding hit the evening news the previous night and by the morning the media was having a circus trying to get more. Many reporters from various news outlets were waiting for Skye and her team when they arrived at the Buccaneer Ruin.
“Woah!” Mert said in astonishment at the sight that welcomed them. He was driving the SUV with Skye riding shotgun and Lindsay in back. The truck containing the twins and the equipment came to a halt behind him as he suddenly stopped the car.
Something else caught Skye’s attention. It wasn’t the reporters that besieged the ruin or the yellow caution tape around the site. It wasn’t the huge notification that all further activities were thereby banned by the law. Nor was it the three police cars that were parked in front of the ruins, lights flashing.
It was the crane. It was set up right next to the pit where they’d uncovered the Marnoch Stone. The sight gave Skye a headache.
“Professor, don’t!” Lindsay breathed as Skye hurried out of the car.
Skye was furious. She had no doubt that the Scottish Historical Society was behind this.
How dare they do this to her. She had all the papers to prove the justification of her dig. Where on earth do these people get off telling her what to do and what not to do? And weren’t the police supposed to be helping her?
The paparazzi descended on Skye with the tenacity of bull dogs.
“Why do you think the site was sealed?”
“Do you think you really have found something equivalent to the Rosetta Stone?”
“How do you propose to proceed with this new development?”
“Miss McAlister - do you think the site was sealed because of your team’s incompetency?”
Skye pushed through them and made it to the police cars with Mert trotting fast behind her.
“What’s going on here guys?” Skye demanded.
Two officers turned to receive her while another man suddenly stepped out of the car to confront her. He was wearing a black suit and stood straight as if he thought highly of himself. Skye could tell this man was the source of her problem. His knuckles tightened as he stepped forward.
“Miss McAlister, I am Henry Hertford,” he said displaying his identification. “The ruin has been sealed off by the British government and all artifacts hereby confiscated.”
Skye just stared at the man in disbelief. Henry Hertford seemed to think he had the power to do anything he wanted.
Beyond where they were standing, a crew of men was lifting the Marnoch Stone out of the earth with great difficulty.
“Be careful with that!” Mert cried. “You can’t do that!” He was terrified as the priceless artifact dangled.
Their nemesis only smiled down at him and brought out his phone from his breast pocket. He seemed to be checking some information from it.
“Mr. Mert Hampton is it not?” he asked. “Your father is currently serving time in prison after a plea bargain that excluded his only son from the trial. Now, that was a long time ago but I could just imagine why you were part of the trial in the first place.”
Skye glanced at Mert and noticed that he had suddenly frozen. His sky-high shoulders folded together as he groaned pitifully. She had to say something.
“The stone belongs to my team and me until we finish our study. I am a professional archaeologist and I have all the necessary permission to excavate that ruin.”
“We have seen your resume, Miss McAlister. We have also done some background digging,” Henry interrupted. “Apart from Mr. Hampton, you have three other students who have done really well for themselves academically. We wouldn’t want to dash their hopes by revealing their sordid criminal pasts too.”
Skye could feel her anger swell. Why was the British government using her team to get her to back down? They didn’t even have the guts to come at her legally. Something wasn’t right. She took a breath and thought.
Henry stepped towards her. “You have recorded good success in your career so far. Don’t give the press the wrong impression. I am sure they are already curious what the long discussion over here is all about…”
The press! Skye had forgotten about them. She glanced behind her shoulder and noticed that a line of officers was keeping them at bay. The frantic reporters were busily taking pictures and shouting questions. They no doubt intended to fill their reports with whatever version of the story that suited their political bias, true or not.
When Skye glanced back at Henry, she imagined how easy it would be to just tell him where to go. But perhaps there was a better way.
“Very well,” Skye said calmly as she opened her fists at her side. “Thank you for extracting my stone from t
he ground. Any damage done to it while it is in your charge will be cataloged and billed to the British Government. I have your name. I wish you the best of luck handling the priceless historical artifact until I come for it.” She turned and walked away.
“Good,” Henry whispered, suddenly unsure what exactly he’d gotten himself into.
As Skye walked away, she still found it difficult to understand how Henry understood the significance of the stone.
Without saying another word, Henry strolled back to the car and signaled to the rest. Skye didn’t wait to see what was going to happen next. She grabbed Mert and marched back towards the SUV. She had her phone pressed to her ear, already making her moves before she got to the vehicle. Along the way she found a familiar face in the sea of reporters. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him along with her. If he wanted a story, she would give him one.
“Alright Sam,” Skye hissed. “Make sure your paper gets every detail of this.”
A startled Samuel Barnes raced to keep up. Trotting beside the determined woman, he simply brought out his recorder and hit the button. Skye was in charge now.
Sometimes, the media can be used to the best of advantages.
***
A few meters away, unnoticed as he leaned motionless against a tree, a lone man stood watching the scene. He focused on the woman Skye McAlister and let out a long, slow sigh. He could tell she was going to be trouble. The pretty ones always were.
Chapter Four
Fidach, Kingdom of the Picts
627 A.D.
The weather was perfect as the men worked.
From where he stood, Vuradech could see the sun as it gracefully descended in the sky to be swallowed by the distant green hills. Rays of hazy yellow filled the sky, confusing onlookers with the appearance of a brilliant dawn. A soft breeze accompanied the decline of the sun, overwhelming the afternoon warmth. Before the horizons, the green of the endless lawns that filled the entire hectares of land appeared in various dark shades. They mirrored the gradually rising shadow in the sky, refusing to be left out from nature’s masterpiece.
