During the ride, she couldn’t think of anything else. His possessiveness seemed to imply he wanted something more from her than a one-night stand. She certainly did, if this thing was going to happen. The prospect terrified her, but she had to acknowledge, after the previous night, that she probably didn’t have an ounce of resistance left in her. Still, she couldn’t just tell him that.
By the time they got to their trench, she had decided to reassure him ... a little. Rummaging through a toolbox for a trowel, she said, “Domenico isn’t my type.”
She could feel him look at her, but she wouldn’t return his gaze.
“Indeed?” He sounded amused. “What is your type?”
Brainy young Brits, apparently. She shot a smirk at him and looked away quickly, afraid to give him more. Grabbing her trowel, she moved into the archway. “Maybe our trench will end up the most important one now. We’d better get moving if we want to explore the interior.”
“Hmm, I do want to explore the interior.” The cheeky tone was back.
She refused to respond or look at him, but she could feel him watching her. Goosebumps rose on her arms. She stooped down and started digging.
After a moment, he joined her. They worked in silence.
While they cleared out the little building, the tight quarters meant they often brushed up against each other. Just touching him or being close enough to feel his body heat was tantalizing. As the morning wore on, she found herself less and less willing to move away.
By mid-morning, they had exposed most of the wall opposite the doorway, revealing a painted seaside scene. Stepping back to take it in, she studied the colonnaded buildings, graceful sailing ships and arched docks decorated with statues on tall pedestals. “What a beautiful scene.”
Excavating further, they learned that the tiled floor dropped away at one end of the room, indicating the presence of a pit of some kind.
“This could be a well for sacred water,” Chaz said, shoveling faster. His efforts paid off when he uncovered a small broken pot, followed shortly by three crusty coins.
Next, she came across a metal container with a handle and lid. Carefully, she picked at the soil around it, then brushed it off to get a better look. “I have another bronze container – kind of like a little kettle.”
He moved next to her, his shoulder grazing hers. “That is a situla. Isis was often shown carrying one filled with sacred water from the Nile. Situlae were sometimes left as offerings to her, too.”
“Another tally mark for Isis. Sorry, Bellona.” She recorded the location then eased it out of the ground and placed it in the finds tray.
“Any structural damage in here?” a male voice with an Italian accent asked from the doorway. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She turned around to see a man dressed in black with slicked-back hair and mirrored aviator sunglasses – the structural engineer, if she wasn’t mistaken.
Chaz glanced around the room. “The building looks remarkably intact to me, but I’m no engineer.”
The man glanced around, not bothering to remove his shades. “Certo.”
He nodded to them and left.
Chaz shot her a wry look. “Certo, the building is intact, or certo, I’m no engineer?”
“Both, maybe.” She laughed. “Now I know what you meant when you said that guy looked dodgy.”
“Normally, I’d reserve judgment, but if he’s the one who braced the downstairs wall in the temple, it makes you wonder.”
“I’ll ask Dunk about it when we see him.”
A little later, Jack ducked his head through the door and looked around. “Hey, you have a fresco in here.”
“We sure do.” She stood up, brushing off her hands. “Things are heating up now that most of the lapilli is cleared.”
“We’ll do an update in here, but it’ll probably have to wait till tomorrow.” He stepped inside and examined the painting more closely. “After lunch, I’m moving everyone over to the lodging. In fact, I’d like you to come check it out now.”
“You’re moving everyone?” The news disappointed her. She’d grown attached to the purgatorium, and frankly, to the relative isolation with Chaz. “Why? It’s safe here. And we’re coming up with some interesting finds.
“Not as interesting as lost texts from antiquity would be.” He grinned. “Will has found a carrying case for scrolls over there. It’s empty, but there could be others.”
She and Chaz looked at each other in surprise. Turning back to Jack, she said, “We’ll be right over.”
“Excellent. With a little luck, we’ll make quick progress, and you can be back here first thing tomorrow.”
Only after he left did it occur to her that changing trenches also meant having to work alongside Farber. He was the last person she wanted to see, but putting off facing him would only make matters worse, anyway. Might as well get it over with.
Chaz tore off a length of bubble wrap and wound it around the pot he’d found. “It’s odd that the case they found was empty. You don’t suppose Giampiero pinched the scrolls from it?”
“I hope not. But maybe the real reason Jack and Dunk want everyone over there is to keep an eye on things.”
They finished packing up and made their way to the lodging. Up until then, she’d avoided her boss’s trench, so she took a good look around as they walked down a dirt ramp into an excavated room. Partly obscured by soil, the walls featured more paintings of landscapes and architectural scenes, some smudged with belts of charring. In one corner, a stairway led down to a lower level. Jack stood by the top with a half-full wheelbarrow of lapilli.
As they entered, the Rentinos climbed the stairs and each dumped a bucket of soil into the wheelbarrow. Domenico grinned at Winnie. “Even I am getting my hands dirty today.”
A voice from below drew their attention back downstairs. “We have something!” Dunk shouted up to them.
“What is it, Duncan?” Domenico called down the stairs.
“We’ve broken through to a room that’s clear of lapilli. There’s plenty of space! Come on down. But bring torches. It’s dark.”
The Rentinos dropped their buckets and rushed back down the stairs with Jack at their heels. Winnie and Chaz grabbed flashlights and followed them into a narrow tunnel braced haphazardly with wooden beams. The space got more cramped as they moved downward.
She switched on her flashlight and flitted the beam around on the walls. “Really? We’re still bracing a hallway like this after the collapse of the room under the temple?”
“I’ll order further excavation and reinforcement,” Jack said to her over his shoulder. “Anyone who feels unsafe should turn back now without shame. Hell, if the room they’ve found looks like this, I’m turning back.”
“Turn around, Enza,” Domenico told his daughter. “I can’t risk your getting hurt.”
She pouted. “Not before I see the room.”
His expression steeled. “Wait upstairs. When the tunnel has been properly braced, you can come down.”
She scowled at him but retreated, barely squeezing past the rest of them on her way out. Even Winnie felt a little sorry for her, being the only one excluded from the excitement.
The rest of the party funneled through into a room so large that she gasped when she saw it. Painted garlands, hovering angels, cherubs and disembodied theater masks decked the red-and-white walls. In the center stood a marble-top table with ornate legs. Ancient metal fittings – nails, braces, hinges, drawer pulls and locks – lay scattered around the floor. Two open doorways led to additional dark rooms.
Hank focused his camera and spotlight on Dunk and Farber, who both stooped by a crate, pulling out battery-operated lanterns, lighting them and placing them around the room. Father Giampiero stood staring into one of the smaller rooms. Amara scribbled on a clipboard.
Jack ran a hand over the table. “Nice piece of furniture. Masonry supports with a marble top and marble accents.”
Domenico looked d
own at the fittings by his feet. “Why is all this hardware on the floor? Was this a workshop?”
“That is what’s left of furniture after the wood decomposes,” Jack said. “These fittings were parts of chests, cabinets or shelves. But it appears they held organic matter that decomposed – or items that were cleared out before the eruption.”
Winnie shined her light into one of the other rooms and saw that it was much smaller. On the floor, along with more fittings, lay a knife, a bucket, ceramic bowls, finger cymbals and a sistrum rattle.
Chaz looked in over her shoulder. “Ritual objects. The rattle was used in the worship of goddesses that the Romans adopted from Egypt.”
“Ah,” she said. “The score is looking better and better for Isis.”
Dunk turned toward the other room, now faintly lit from inside. He directed his beam through the doorway and stepped within. “Jackpot.”
She stretched to see around him and made out a stack of nine cylindrical leather cases in tatters. One lay apart from the others. Father Giampiero and Dunk stood beside them.
Jack peered in, too. “Crikey! A whole stack of capsae – scroll cases, that is.”
“Yes, but these are empty, too,” Giampiero said.
Realizing that the priest had been in the room alone for several minutes, she felt a tug of suspicion, but the two millennia’s worth of dust around the capsae looked undisturbed, and he couldn’t possibly have removed and hidden dozens of scrolls in so little time.
Jack stepped into the room, and Hank followed with the camera. Chaz squeezed in behind him, while Winnie, Domenico and Amara all crowded in the doorway.
Squatting next to the pile of artifacts, Jack used the tip of a trowel to lift the closest one. The ease he had picking it up made it clear the case was empty. “These cases were used for transporting scrolls. If texts were stored in this building, it appears the ancients moved them out before or during the eruption.”
Dunk shifted closer to the one that lay apart from the others. Bending down, he pulled the end cap open. The leather flap broke off in his hand, revealing several scrolls inside. “This one has something in it!”
“Careful with that, Dunk!” Jack flew to his side. “Let me remove the papyri using gloves.”
He pulled a pair of white cotton gloves out of his breast pocket and squeezed into them. Carefully, he removed one of the delicate scrolls from the case and gently unraveled it. The edges were crumbly, and the papyrus had browned, but the Latin text stood out clear against it.
Dunk let out a laugh. “Winnie, can you read it?”
She squeezed in beside Jack and studied the document. “ ‘Salve, parens rerum omnium Natura, teque nobis Quiritium solis celebratam esse numeris omnibus tuis fave.’ It translates to something along the lines of, ‘Hail, Nature, mother of all, and show favor to the only one who has celebrated you in all ways.’ ”
Chaz rubbed his chin. “I’ve heard that before.”
She nodded. “It’s from Pliny the Elder’s Natural History. You read it in my Latin Lit class.”
Dunk’s shoulders slumped. “Then it’s not a lost work. What about the others in the case?”
“Hold your horses.” Jack took his time rolling up the first scroll, then pulled a second one out of the case and gently unfurled it.
She skimmed over the first few lines of text. “More of the same work.”
“Bloody hell.” Dunk got down on his hands and knees and crawled over to the other cases. “There must be something else here.”
He picked one up, glanced inside, then tossed it aside.
She cringed.
“Oi, be careful with those!” Jack yelled as his colleague grabbed another one. “The leather is very fragile. These cases are a rare find themselves, scrolls or not.”
He moved over and carefully lifted a case, gently opening the end. It was empty.
Dunk slowed his pace but persisted in the attack until he and Jack had looked in all of the cases. “They’re all empty. But we still could have a library on this site.” He pressed into his forehead, then shot a look at Domenico. “Dom, we have only one day left. You must let us open up another trench and dig aggressively.”
The Italian opened his mouth to respond, but a feminine voice from the doorway cut him off.
“Oh, yes, Papa!” Enza rushed up to her father, taking his hand. “We could uncover the archaeological find of the century. Please let us expand.”
Her dark eyes glittered with excitement, but not a trace of emotion flickered across his face. “I told you to wait outside, Enza. There will be no expansion. The potential for finding munitions on the estate makes enlarging the dig impossible.”
She dropped his hand. “Any World War II munitions that were here must have all been found by now.”
“Our neighbor came across grenades on his property just last summer.” His firm tone made it clear he left no room for argument. “We can bring in explosives experts and dig more on another occasion, but it’s not feasible to check the site thoroughly by tomorrow.”
“Not even a small area?”
He shook his head. “No, not properly.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.
Watching her, Dunk frowned. He got up and glanced around at the walls and floor. “If only there were another door or stairway in this apartment that we could pursue. We’re so close to a history-making find that I can taste it.”
Jack rose, too. “We already have plenty of finds in these rooms that need cataloging.” He put a hand on his colleague’s shoulder, but Dunk shrugged it off.
“There’s also more excavating to be done at the purgatorium,” Winnie said.
“But there won’t be scrolls in a purgatorium,” Dunk snapped at her.
His testiness startled her. What had happened to Mr. Congeniality?
She must have looked shocked, because when he saw her reaction, his expression softened. “I’m sorry, Winnie. The stakes are high, and it’s getting to me, but that’s no excuse for my lack of courtesy. Pardon me, everyone.”
Looking uncharacteristically meek, he exited.
Hank panned the camera around the room. When the lens pointed toward her, Winnie tried to not to show any emotion.
Jack stepped into the shot. Without looking at the camera, he addressed the group in general. “Let’s break for lunch. The engineer and some volunteers can finish clearing the tunnel while we eat. Then we’ll catalog these rooms and decide where to concentrate next.”
Amara slipped in and snapped the clapboard in front of him. “Cut.”
Hank took the camera off his shoulder, and everyone filed out.
DICIOTTO
WINNIE MADE A beeline for the catering tent, planning to grab some food and take it somewhere out of the way to avoid eating near Farber.
As she picked up a panino from a banquet table, Chaz stepped up beside her. “I’ve found a great spot for lunch – a semi-secluded, little patch of shade with some toppled building-stones that will make perfect seats. Care to join me?”
A smile pulled at her mouth. He sounded like he was asking her out on a date. She couldn’t resist. It was only lunch, after all. “I’d love to.”
They managed to reach the spot without anyone else tagging along. Though it lay apart from the designated eating area, it wasn’t entirely secluded, either. A sporadic stream of workers plodded by, pushing wheelbarrows or carrying shovels and buckets.
Winnie and Chaz talked about the new rooms in the lodging, then when no one was within earshot he said, “Dunk shouting at you was uncalled for. With the threat of the show going off the air, he seems to be losing the plot.”
“His snapping at me isn’t important, but the way he tore into those scroll cases is another matter.” She paused for a sip of water. “Now, he wants to open more trenches, when this dig has already produced an embarrassment of riches. I can understand him trying to spice up the archaeology for laypeople, but is he always so bent on pushing the limits of s
ound science?”
“His behavior surprises me, too. I never imagined he was quite so much of a sensationalist.”
The disappointment in his voice made her sad. “I hope you’re not too disillusioned. You don’t regret doing the show, do you?”
“Not a chance.” He looked up at her. “But I don’t suppose you can say the same, after a night of drug-induced hallucinations.”
She laughed. “I only had a couple of hallucinations. I consider last night a learning experience. Now I know all about the curious effects of wheat fungi.”
“That’ll come in handy next time someone offers you purple beer.”
“Right.” She thought about the statuette burning, and a little shiver ran down her spine. “You didn’t see anything weird last night?”
“No, but I didn’t quite feel normal, either. I had this overwhelming sense of ... inertia.” He stared off into the distance. “First, I didn’t want to leave that dirty tarp we were sitting on outside the temple, even after Dr. Farber made it rather unpleasant to stay. And when we got to your room, well, it’s a good thing you wanted company, because I wasn’t going anywhere. The whole experience felt very ... intense.”
“Tell me about it.” Things still did feel intense. She looked down into her drink. “I really appreciate your staying with me and putting up with that awful cot.”
“Well, I don’t mind it once, but next time I’m sleeping in the big bed.”
Her gaze shot to meet his. She tried smirking at him but couldn’t quite pull it off – or look away. Both of their expressions grew serious.
“Your head is clear now, right?” he asked her.
The question hung heavily in the air, the portent of something momentous. The kiss he’d promised her? If so, she wanted it too much to hold back any longer. And it was just a kiss. She would do it.
The decision lifted a weight from her. “Yes.”
He smiled faintly. His focus dropped to her mouth. He moved toward her ...
“Winifred!” Farber’s voice made them both jump. He stormed into their space. “I’ve been looking for you. Why aren’t you eating with the rest of us?”
The Five-Day Dig Page 18
