“Wow, that’s a grim statistic,” the pythia observed morosely.
“It’s much like what happened to the steppe nomads of Eurasia. Subsistence agriculture was replaced by an economy of raiding and warfare. A man’s wealth was measured in horses. The new culture revolved around exploiting neighboring tribes. Some tribes abandoned farming altogether and became nomadic. Consequently, the role of women dwindled. The speed of the horse and the tactical advantage it gave was too great a temptation for the men. Power corrupts.”
“But that didn’t happen here among the Haudenosanuee,” Cassie said in wonderment.
While they were speaking, Grace had quietly returned and resumed her seat. Picking up the thread of the conversation, she said, “Oh, it happened here eventually but not because of horses. It happened because of Quakers and Handsome Lake.”
Cassie turned to peer at her. “What? There’s a nice-looking pond around here that made women lose their rights?”
Her listeners both laughed.
Grace explained. “Handsome Lake isn’t a place. It’s a man. He was a prophet of the tribe, and he lived at the beginning of the nineteenth century. He spent the first part of his life as a drunkard but eventually got religion and started having visions. I think he meant well. He was trying to find a way for our people to survive alongside the Europeans. The Quakers also meant well and wanted the same thing. Since Haudenosaunee men had lost their traditional role as warriors, the Europeans thought they could keep them from causing trouble by encouraging them to become farmers. That had been a time-honored female role. It was believed that only women could make crops grow. The government decided to even the odds by giving men plows.”
“And they squeezed women out of their place in society,” Cassie concluded.
“Handsome Lake did more than tell the men to become farmers. He also preached that the basic family unit should be a man, his wife, and their children. It was an attack on clan structure and on the position of the grandmothers. In fact, he accused many old women of witchcraft and wanted them executed.”
“It must be a universal trait that whenever some patriarchal type wants to attack a little old lady, he accuses her of being a witch.” Cassie rolled her eyes. “I guess the Inquisition in Spain wasn’t all that unique.”
“Only a few female elders were harmed but, in the long run, Handsome Lake’s influence seriously affected the social balance of the People of the Longhouse.” Grace sighed in exasperation. “The United States government had never acknowledged the legal position of the clan mothers, and it finished the job in the nineteenth century when it denied the authority of the jigonsaseh—the clan mother of the entire league. A big part of my job for the Arkana is reconstructing the history of the women who held that title. They’ve been erased from the official record, of course.”
Grace glanced contritely at her listeners. “But you didn’t come all this way to hear me rant about overlord colonialism. You said you wanted to talk about a lost artifact?”
“That’s right,” Griffin agreed. “We think it may have been left with the Haudenosaunee centuries ago, and we’re trying desperately to find it.”
The trove keeper stood up once more and walked to the tent entrance. She leaned outside to glance at the sky. It was beginning to drizzle. “Can’t do much more here today. It’s almost sunset now. Let me tell the crew to call it quits. Maybe there’s something in the field notes back at the trove.” She asked Griffin, “Do you know the way there?”
The scrivener nodded. “I’ve been there a few times. I believe I can steer Cassie in the right direction. Should we plan on meeting you in half an hour?”
Grace nodded. “You got it.”
Cassie couldn’t hide her elation. “We’re going to see a trove!” She thought it was about time.
Chapter 37 – What’s in a Name?
Daniel parked his car in front of the Malta Public Library. The building was a two-story square edifice of grey stone blocks and arched windows. He knew very little about architecture, guessing that the style might best be described as Romanesque. Or was it Baroque? It hardly mattered. He’d already spent far too many days scrutinizing structures made of stone. He’d combed every ancient tomb and temple on both Malta and Gozo hunting for the elusive lily symbol but had found nothing.
His search was interrupted only by the unavoidable phone conversations with his father. The diviner apparently didn’t feel he could communicate intimidation effectively enough via email. Thus far, Daniel’s accounts of his progress had been a disappointment. No, he hadn’t found any promising leads yet. No, he wasn’t dawdling. Yes, he would call the diviner immediately if anything important turned up. Click.
The scion knew he was running out of time. Despite his protests to his father, he had, in fact, been dawdling. He liked this island nation. It was a world away from the oppressive atmosphere of the compound. Strange that he had never known his home was oppressive until he’d spent some time in the world of the Fallen. He made a mental note to stop calling them that. “Fallen” sounded disrespectful to him now.
He glanced up briefly at the stone facade confronting him. This really was his last hope. It had occurred to him that the library might contain ancient records which he couldn’t access on the internet. Perhaps some musty old document would hold a clue to point him in the right direction. He prayed that it might or else he would have to go home. The thought gave him no comfort.
As he was about to enter the building, his attention was diverted by an odd-looking orange car that swerved into the parking space next to his rented vehicle. An even odder-looking woman got out. She wore thick glasses which made her eyes seem enormous. Oblivious to his presence, she was muttering to herself as she approached the entrance.
He held the door open for her. She gave him a vague nod of thanks, never suspending the flow of babble issuing from her mouth. “It’s absurd that I didn’t realize it sooner. Of course, they would have taken it to her mountain. I should have advised them about that.” Daniel couldn’t make any sense out of her words, and thankfully she was out of earshot within a few moments.
The scion went looking for the reference librarian. Thanks to his friend David, he’d become adept at understanding the way in which libraries were organized. He assumed the one on Malta would be no different. He requested access to the earliest records associated with the island. Not merely the megaliths, but the history of the island itself. The reference librarian collected some materials for him and showed him into a separate reading room. He was cautioned that nothing could be removed from the library and was instructed to put on a pair of gauzy cotton gloves before touching any of the documents.
It was the middle of the day and the middle of the week which meant that the library wasn’t particularly busy. The room was all his. He looked at the clock—noon. Daniel immersed himself in the history of the island and became lost in the past. He didn’t look up again until the clock read four. With a start, he realized he’d spent the last several hours uncovering nothing. He began to flip through documents more rapidly—scanning for any reference to Minoan trade routes or journals documenting their contact with the archipelago. Absently, his hand turned over what appeared to be a map. He wasn’t quite sure why it was included in the stack of papers he’d marked for review. He paused long enough to scrutinize it carefully because something about it was tugging at the edges of his consciousness.
The map was a reproduction of Roman-occupied territories around the Mediterranean. At one time, their armies had conquered all the lands that surrounded the sea. His eyes, for no apparent reason, fastened on their province known as Hiberia. By the shape of the land mass, he recognized it as Spain. And then he saw it. A river named Iberus. He repeated the word aloud. It sounded vaguely like...
He flipped through his notebook for the exact wording of the riddle. “Let Eurus fill the sails twelve days.” He thought he’d already done that by journeying to Malta but what if he’d miscal
culated and twelve days would have taken him farther west? What if it would have taken him all the way to Spain? “Then follow Eberos where it climbs to the sky.” Could it be the Eberos of the riddle and the Iberus River of the Romans were one and the same? The difference might be a simple spelling variation. Rivers ran from higher ground down to the sea. Could the riddle be telling him to follow the river to its headwaters somewhere in a mountainous region? The later reference to a Spinner’s Peak suggested exactly that.
Daniel’s pulse began to race. He felt that he was on the right track at last. He asked the reference librarian to make him a copy of the map. After that, he would call his father. For once, he would have some good news to impart. The best news of all, at least from his perspective, was that he could delay his homeward journey for a long, long while.
Chapter 38 – Tipped Off
Leroy Hunt stood in front of a familiar red brick building with white columns. He felt nothing but aggravation. How hard could it be to find one little country bumpkin lost in the city? He’d come full circle. None of his other leads had panned out, and he’d just gotten the bum’s rush from Miz Wilma at the Home for Unwed Mothers.
“I said I’d call you if she contacted us,” was her waspish reply to his inquiries. “Did you receive a phone call from me?”
He admitted he hadn’t. With that, she gave him the air and showed him the door.
Leroy fantasized about plugging her right between the eyes. Although it might relieve his feelings a tad, it wouldn’t move his investigation any farther along. He shuffled despondently up the street, thinking a short walk would clear his head. One block up, he came to a busy intersection. His attention was drawn to an elderly woman climbing into a yellow cab. The sight gave him an idea. It was a long shot, but he had a hunch. Cabbies usually cruised around the same taxi stands. If little Miss Hannah had any money on her, she might have used a cab to stage her getaway. Maybe somebody would remember her.
He crossed the intersection and stationed himself under the cab sign. Within a few minutes, a taxi appeared. He bent low to peer into the front window.
“Sorry to bother you but I’m lookin’ for somebody.” He flashed both his fake detective ID and the half picture of Hannah. “Any chance you might of drove her someplace?”
The cabbie shook his head and pulled away from the curb. Leroy went through the same monotonous charade half a dozen times before he struck pay dirt.
A cabbie with a stained shirt and a surly attitude nodded. “Yeah, I remember that chick. She came across like she’d never been off the farm before and then stiffed me on my tip. A real smart ass! She said she didn’t know what a tip was! Can you believe it?”
Leroy tried to suppress his elation at the news. “I don’t suppose y’all recollect where you dropped her off.”
“Yeah, I do,” the cabbie replied. “She made my day if you get my drift. I don’t remember the address, but I know the street. I can take you there if you want.”
“Oh, I surely do,” Hunt said, climbing into the back seat. “And don’t you worry yourself none about the tip. You just earned yourself a fat one.”
***
When the taxi dropped him off in front of the antique shop, Leroy couldn’t believe his eyes. It had been dark the last time he was here, but he’d bet his soul it was the same place. He squinted up at the sign above the door. This development raised a whole new set of questions. How in the hell did little Miss Hannah find out about the granite key? He didn’t think old Abe would be stupid enough to confide in his wife about that business. She must have found out some other way. Daniel? Did he even know where the antique shop was? If he did, why would he tell her?
Hunt rubbed his forehead. This Hannah was smarter or more devious than he’d given her credit for being. He hesitated for a moment before entering. Was there anybody inside who might recognize him? He didn’t think so. That shopkeeper was all alone the night she had her unfortunate accident.
The bell above the door tinkled as he entered.
A plump, forty-something woman was standing behind the counter. Upon seeing Leroy, a dazed look crossed her face and then she blinked a few times before putting on a smile. “Good afternoon. Is there something I can help you with?”
“I hope so, ma’am.” Leroy went into his act about being a detective tracing a runaway from down state. He showed her his fake ID and the photo.
The woman stared at the girl’s image until it seemed like her eyes were going to burn a hole in the picture. Then she looked back at him and blinked a few more times. “Yes, I do remember her.”
Hunt leaned forward eagerly. “That’s gladsome tidings. Her folks will be real happy to know that.”
A frown crossed the face of the shopkeeper. “She came to ask about the sister of my late business partner. A girl named Cassie. She said they were chums at school.” Without waiting for a response, the woman continued. “My partner’s name was Sybil. She died recently.” She stared hard at Leroy. “It was a botched robbery attempt. A terrible accident. Did you hear anything about it? It was in all the papers.”
Leroy backed away from the counter a few paces. “No, ma’am. Where I come from we don’t get the big city news. I’m sorry to hear about the lady. But gettin’ back to this little gal. Did you send her on to her friend Cassie?”
The woman’s expression turned stony. “I couldn’t. Cassie has been missing for some time now. She took a trip to Crete about six months ago and disappeared. Nobody has seen her since.”
“Well, that’s too bad.” Leroy tried to look mournful.
“Yes, it is,” the shopkeeper agreed. “A tragedy for the entire family.”
“You got any idea where Miss Hannah might of gone after she left here?” Leroy asked bleakly, already knowing the answer.
The shopkeeper shrugged, seemingly baffled. “I told her just what I told you and sent her on her way.” Her jaw tightened. “I have no idea where she is now.”
Hunt’s eyes narrowed. He tried to read any sign that she was lying. If she was, she would have made one hell of a poker player. He couldn’t find a tell to save his life.
At that moment, his cell phone rang. The sound made them both flinch. Leroy checked the number. It was Abe. “Excuse me, ma’am. I’ve got to take this.”
***
Leroy stepped outside the shop. “Yes, sir, what can I do you for?”
“Prepare to leave the country immediately. Daniel has found something at last. I’ll send someone to your apartment with your itinerary and plane ticket.”
“What about the search for your Missus?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line, then a sigh. “I’ll assign that duty to someone else. Your skills are needed to retrieve the next artifact.”
“You got it, chief. On my way.”
Leroy paced back and forth on the sidewalk, impaled on the horns of a dilemma. He couldn’t help but grimace at the irony. He’d originally pitched a fit about searching for Hannah instead of tagging along with Daniel. Now, the last thing he wanted to do was drop her trail. That little gal was a loose end that begged to be snipped off.
It was some consolation to know there was no chance she would turn up before Leroy got back. If she was smart enough to give Hunt the slip, none of Abe’s minions was going to have any better luck in tracking her down. He eyed the storefront suspiciously. How the hell had she found her way here? The question buzzed around his head like an angry gnat. He swatted it away. This problem would have to wait. He had a doodad to dig up.
Chapter 39 – Lost and Found
“Well, that was a crash course in native history,” Cassie said as the car bumped its way back across the rutted dirt road to the highway. “My head is still spinning.”
“Perhaps I should give Erik a call to see how he’s faring,” Griffin suggested. He took out his phone but then thought better of it. “No reception here. I’ll call him after we finish up at the trove.”
&nbs
p; “A trove,” Cassie exhaled the word reverently. “I’m so excited. You know I’ve only seen the Minoan trove so far.”
Griffin gave a mysterious smile. “You certainly won’t be disappointed with what you’re about to behold today.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” she asked suspiciously.
“You’ll see.”
They traveled along in silence except for Griffin’s periodic directions to “turn here” or “slow down.”
Eventually, they were travelling down a narrow asphalt road through dense woods.
“Yes, I believe this is it,” Griffin announced.
Cassie slapped on the brakes. “What’s it? There’s nothing here.”
“Make a right turn just ahead.”
She did as instructed and came to what appeared to be a gravel driveway that opened into a small parking lot. They parked and got out of the vehicle.
Cassie turned to survey the area. Dense forest on all sides. Railroad ties divided the parking area from the woods beyond. A footpath covered in cedar chips led farther into the trees. “This way?” she asked incredulously.
“Yes,” Griffin replied evenly.
They followed the path until they came to a wall of rock densely covered with ferns and undergrowth. A darker shadow in the rock wall revealed the entrance to a cave.
“Just in here,” Griffin said, indicating that Cassie should enter the cleft in the rock.
After looking at him askance, she climbed through the portal. Inside she could hear water. It wasn’t a soft trickle but a loud rushing sound. There were lights strung at intervals along the rock walls. At the far end of the chamber, Cassie could see a waterfall emptying into a pool which ran off into the depths of the cavern.
The Arkana Mysteries Boxed Set Page 74
