A roar of rage from her side had her instinctively swing the hammer back, the satisfying sound of bone crunching as it made impact allowing a slight smile to emerge as her attacker’s growl turned to a cry of agony, the distinct sound of him falling giving her a surge of hope.
As she peered into the darkness she couldn’t see beyond the snouts of their saviors as they struggled valiantly against impossible odds. With each rotation of the wheels they put more and more distance between them and their attackers and the poor, valiant Labeo and Flora’s husband, whose name escaped her.
Suddenly the horses stopped, and no amount of urging would send them forward. A gust of wind cleared the ash enough for her to see a cart blocking their path, one of its rear wheels askew, and no room in the narrow streets to go around it. Her shoulders sank as she realized there was no way they would be able to proceed. Twisting around, she pushed her head through the blankets.
“Let’s go! We'll have to walk from here!”
The children scrambled forward and she pulled them through, helping each to the ground. Flora handed the water and food forward, along with several blankets, then crawled out herself. Avita was the last to jump down and she was about to unhook the poor horses so they might have a chance to survive, when an enraged man’s voice overwhelmed the din around them.
“Forget them!” cried Flora, tugging at Avita’s arm, urging her forward. Avita reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled along as she said a silent goodbye to the terrified animals that had done their best to save their masters.
As they pushed forward, the ash so high the children were barely visible, she suddenly realized they were only moments from being separated. “Everybody join hands!” she ordered as she grabbed her two youngest by the hands, pulling them in her wake as she followed Flora who held the oldest.
Suddenly the entire ground shook harder than it had since this calamity had begun, knocking them all off their feet.
“By the gods!” cried Flora as she pointed to the horizon. A massive plume of red hot flame was spewing from the top of the mountain, thousands of feet into the air.
We're going to die if we stay out here!
Over Eritrean Airspace
Present Day, One day before the crash
Night was fast approaching as their helicopter raced across the arid landscape. It had been a whirlwind of activity once they had agreed to go with Reese and Wangari, and despite the fact the impression was left they had little choice, they would have gone regardless. It was one of the many things they had in common.
A drive to discover.
And if there were thousands of bars of ancient Roman gold in Eritrea, the mystery begged to be solved.
It was supposed to be a quick in and out operation. Simply verify the find as genuine, tell those on the ground what they needed to do to preserve the find according to international antiquities laws, then leave.
“Look!” exclaimed Laura, pointing out the window. Acton leaned over his fiancée and peered through the small round window of the large transport chopper, it brimming with personnel and equipment. There had been no time for introductions, and Acton had the distinct impression that the vast majority were military, yet there wasn’t a gun in sight.
Below he could see the winding Tekezé River, then in the distance a massive area bathed in bright lights, illuminating the entire scene as if it were under the midday sun.
“That must be it,” he observed as he leaned back in his seat. He pulled out his phone and activated the Maps app, showing their location to Laura. “The border to Ethiopia is just across the river.”
“Isn’t this disputed land?” she asked.
“It has been,” said one of the men sitting across from them. Pleasantly plump, he smiled, revealing deep dimples as he extended his hand. “Charles Tucker, UN,” he said, shaking both their hands, the professors introducing themselves. Tucker motioned out the window. “Eritrea and Ethiopia fought a two year war over this area about fifteen years ago. Before that they fought a civil war over the area, Eritrea gaining its independence. That one lasted the better part of thirty years. And before that? Well, let’s just say British colonialism isn’t the only colonialism to have screwed up this country.”
“Ottoman, Italian then British, wasn’t it?” asked Acton, who knew the answer full well, but was enjoying having someone informed to talk to.
“Indeed. You know your history well, Professor.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re not an historian, are you?”
“In a manner of speaking,” replied Acton. He nodded toward Laura. “We’re both archeologists.”
“Then I’ve been showing off to experts!” laughed Tucker, his cheeks flushing. “I apologize if I came off as arrogant!”
Acton laughed, shaking his head. “Not at all, not at all. Once you get to know me, you’ll realize I’m always sharing my infinite wisdom, whether people want to hear it or not!”
“Tell me about it!” said Laura with a wink and a smile.
Acton elbowed her gently in the ribs.
Tucker motioned to the engagement ring on Laura’s hand. “You two wouldn’t happen to be…” He let the question trail off, his eyebrows climbing inquisitively.
Laura held up the ring, beaming. “We’re engaged.”
Tucker smiled, holding up his left hand, revealing a gold wedding band. “Fifteen years next week.” He frowned. “I’m afraid I might miss it if what they have here is the real deal.”
“What have they told you?” asked Acton.
Tucker shrugged. “Not much beyond a hoard of Ancient Roman gold bars found on a buried shipwreck. The Eritreans threatened to melt it down and sell it on the open market if we didn’t negotiate. If the estimates are correct, there’s enough gold there to be equivalent to over a quarter, possibly half their GDP. It could completely destabilize their domestic economy, and depending on what they decided to do with the money, which we suspect is purchase weapons, could trigger another war with Ethiopia. There’s also a lot of tension with the Sudanese, what with the ongoing Muslim on Christian violence. Anything that tips the balance in this region is never a good thing.”
This was more information than Acton had been expecting. “What did they agree to?”
“Essentially we agreed to pay them double what the raw find would be worth, but over a ten year period.”
“They agreed to that?” asked Laura, her surprise clear.
“Once we told them we’d delist any exchange that agreed to buy the gold, they really had no choice.”
Acton’s head bobbed. “Ruthless.”
“You should see me negotiate with my teenage daughter.”
Acton’s smile spread up his left cheek. “You lose every time, don’t you?”
Tucker tossed his head back, roaring in laughter. “You’re absolutely right! I can negotiate favorable deals with foreign nations, but my daughter’s bedtime keeps creeping up!”
The helicopter suddenly began to bank, the large lit area now viewable to everyone through the windows.
“Looks like you were right,” whispered Laura in Acton’s ear.
Acton nodded, his stomach tightening slightly as he surveyed the site, it clear there were at least hundreds of armed soldiers everywhere.
“There’s trouble,” said Tucker.
“What?”
“On the other side of the river.”
Acton leaned forward and noticed a large number of lights were aimed at the opposite bank of the river.
Revealing what appeared to be hundreds of troops accompanied by dozens of armored vehicles.
“I think our jobs just got much more urgent,” he muttered.
“Indeed,” agreed Tucker. “This will continue to escalate. If the Eritreans can’t maintain the balance, the Ethiopians will cross that river and snatch the gold before we have a chance to get it out.”
Acton exchanged a concerned glance with Laura, taking her hand and squeezing it.
Perhaps agreeing so readily wasn’t such a g
ood idea after all.
Lucius Valerius Corvus Residence, Pompeii, Roman Empire
August 24th, 79 AD
Costa sat in a corner, eating some chicken with grapes, a goblet of wine sitting on the floor next to him. The room was quiet save the constant stories Plinius regaled them with. He knew it was in an attempt to calm everyone, and to his surprise, it was working. The man had led an extraordinary life, and Costa found himself riveted by almost every word, occasionally even able to tear his eyes away from the massive pile of gold in the center of the room.
A steady stream of soldiers was now at work, the fleet having arrived almost an hour ago. Word had arrived that the wind was not cooperating, and there was no way to set sail away from the coast, but they were hopeful in the morning the winds would turn. Plinius seemed unconcerned, indicating that until the gold was loaded aboard, the winds could do as they will.
Soldiers continued to hand bars of gold from the basement, up the stairs and into the chamber in which they all sat, but now instead of adding to the pile, a double line of troops continued handing the newly arriving gold, and the already stacked gold, out of the house and down to the shore. Costa was impressed with how efficiently it was working, the amount of gold being moved remarkable. Those outside would switch to the resting room after fifteen minutes, with those inside moving outside, and those resting, resuming work on the inside. Those battling the ash on the roof and on the path were also switching off, the initial troops who had done battle still resting in another chamber, many quite sick from what they had inhaled.
Plinius suddenly stood, his story over. “Now I shall sleep. Wake me in the morning.”
“My lord!” exclaimed Valerius as he jumped to his feet, quickly rushing to Plinius’ side. “The fires! They grow closer and larger! Should we not at least stay on the boats until the treasure is loaded?”
Plinius batted his hand at the air. “Never mind the fires, they’re merely from the untended hearths of panicked farmers.” He gripped Valerius by the shoulder. “Don’t worry, my friend, all will be fine.” He walked briskly out of the room and toward a guest room that had survived the collapse, ending the conversation. Costa was relieved to find he wasn’t the only one shocked at this pronouncement, the dropped jaws and wide eyes of the few that remained revealing what he was thinking.
How could you possibly sleep at a time like this?
As if to punctuate the idiocy, the ground rumbled once again, more plaster dust shaking from overhead as the entire structure of the house continued to weaken, the marble floor cracking and heaving before finally settling. Valerius’ head was shaking in his own disbelief before he finally caught himself and turned to those who remained.
“We’ll remain in this room, it is safest. Costa, have pillows and blankets brought and have the staff get some rest. We will need our energy in the morning.”
Costa nodded, motioning to one of the slaves to fulfill the order then another to pass on the message that all should rest in the main hall. Within minutes bedding was provided to everyone, all but a few torches were put out, and the only sounds were that of the chaos outside and the grunting of the soldiers as they continued to move the treasure.
A treasure that Costa lay facing, his eyes wide as they caught every glint of the precious metal.
Outside Omhajer, Eritrea
Present Day, One day before the crash
Professor James Acton was on his stomach, lying in the dirt as he wiggled his way as deep as he could into the hold of the ancient vessel. The level of preservation was remarkable, most likely aided by the dry, arid conditions, and the protection from the elements provided by a healthy covering of sand deposited over millennia.
He felt Laura’s hand on his leg and a harness around his waist should there be a collapse. He knew she was disappointed at not being the first in, and was hiding it well from the others. But he knew her. Better than he had ever known a woman. They were alike in many ways, different in all the right ways. But in the pursuit of their chosen professions, they were identical, and both wanted to plunge head first into the mysterious tunnel, to jump down the rope into the unknown cavern. They lived for the thrill of discovery, no matter what the pace, whether it was crawling into the hold of a ship that could collapse at any second if some idiot drove a truck over the berm it was resting against, or whether it was simply brushing the dust off a piece of earthenware jar at a staked out dig site, the adrenaline rush was always there.
Who had used that jar? And for what? Had they made it themselves? Or traded at a market for it? What had they traded? Why had they left it behind? This was what so many people outside of his profession didn’t think of. When we move, we pack up our belongings in a truck and move to our new residence, unpacking all of our old stuff. Sometimes we leave things behind, but someone either takes over using them, sells them, or throws them in the garbage.
The same was true thousands of years ago. In today’s throwaway society, it’s so easy to simply toss out things and repurchase them at the new destination, but before the twentieth century, belongings were far fewer and far more precious. Things were only abandoned or left behind for a reason, and those reasons were rarely good.
War, famine, pestilence, natural disaster. People forced to abandon their villages due to war, it burned to the ground by the marauders, the villagers never returning. That was a common reason found in their digs. Some natural phenomenon such as landslides, earthquakes or volcanos, forcing a rapid escape, or worse, the calamity creating a tomb not only for their possessions, but themselves.
Pompeii popped into his mind as he reached the first of the gold bars, the brand of Emperor Vespasian, who died only weeks before the eruption of Vesuvius, clearly marked on the bar by the assayer two millennia ago. The eruption had been violent, catastrophic, and when the end finally came, so devastatingly swift, the city was essentially abandoned, it impossible to salvage anything after the destruction wrought by the sleeping giant that was Vesuvius.
Over the ensuing centuries Pompeii, and the neighboring town of Herculaneum, were forgotten to history, life moving on as an empire collapsed. It wasn’t until 1738 that the lost city was rediscovered, and even then it took decades before any real excavations began. Now thousands of tourists roam the streets of the nearly perfectly preserved ancient city, flash-heated in time.
Acton peered deeper into the hold then held up his cellphone, snapping a rapid series of pictures in panorama mode. As the flash snapped, he spotted a partial skeleton at the far end, and said a silent prayer for their soul. It was a common misconception that the bodies famously preserved in Pompeii were the actual hardened or petrified remains of people. Instead, they were actually plaster casts of the voids created by the bodies of the victims. When the final disaster struck, super-heated air rolled down the mountain and through the city, instantly “cooking” everything. The heat was so intense it caused many of the victims’ muscles to contract, which resulted in many dying in the fetal position, as opposed to actually having already been in the position when the final blow came. These bodies were then buried in tons of ash that solidified over the centuries, and as the bodies decomposed to nothing, voids were created in the ash.
When archeologists began to excavate, they came upon these voids, and curious, one decided to fill one of them with a plaster of Paris mixture. After it solidified, they carefully removed the ash from around the now solid void, and were shocked at their discovery. Over one hundred bodies to date have managed to be preserved, their death throes now on display for all to see, from man, woman, child and beast.
But not here, not today. He had no doubt they might find more skeletons, but nothing preserved like the human voids in the ashes of Pompeii. Examining the skeletons, however, might give some indication as to how they died, and at least some of their uniforms might have survived, which could answer another important question. Was this vessel from the time of Vespasian, or was it from much later, merely transporting gold minted in Vespasian’s t
ime?
“Coming out!” he yelled as he began to shuffle backward. He felt a gentle tug on his harness as the slack was pulled out along with him, and within moments he was back outside, lying on his back, gasping in the fresh air. He held up his phone to the crowd circling him, all looking down with expectant expressions on their face. “I took a panorama of the inside.”
Laura grinned, grabbing the phone as Tucker pulled Acton to his feet. They all rushed to what had been identified earlier as the Command Tent, it containing computers hooked into a diesel generator available for the gathered to use. Laura hooked the phone into her computer, sending the image to a large display for all to see.
Gasps filled the tent.
For as far as the eye could see into the hold, which was at least several dozen feet deep, sat stacks of gold bars. The estimate of thousands definitely correct, tens of thousands most likely so. As Laura zoomed in on the gold, the assayer’s brands of the Vespasian seal were obvious.
“It appears that all of the gold is from Emperor Vespasian’s rule,” she said for those who weren’t familiar with the history. “He ruled from about 69 AD until 79 AD.”
Acton looked at the picture, standing only a couple of feet from the television, off to the side. A quick glance at the gathered throng suggested they weren’t very impressed by the historical significance of Vespasian. “Fun fact,” he said to the room. “Vespasian built the Coliseum in Rome.” A round of “Ahhhs!” had him satisfied they were sufficiently engaged. He turned to Laura. “I saw a partial skeleton, farther down the left side. “Can you zoom in on it?”
She nodded and manipulated the image. Soon they were looking at the enlarged skeleton, the bones mostly collapsed into a pile. “What’s that?” asked somebody in the crowd, stepping forward and pointing at a round disk sitting to the right. Laura zoomed in some more, and Acton’s heart raced.
Pompeii's Ghosts (A James Acton Thriller, #9) Page 8
