Gold of the Ancients

by Graham Warren

  Alex picked up both swords. “Shall we fight or pray?”

  “Idiot … you know I’m not religious.”

  “Good, as I would rather die fighting than praying!” He held out a sword to Kate which she snatched out of his hand.

  “Just one point to remember for the future, if we have one,” Kate looked at Alex and scowled. “When somebody is holding two lethal weapons, it might not be the best idea in the world to call that person an idiot.”

  “Anybody else, point taken, when it is you holding the swords, it is the natural thing to do!”

  Alex could not immediately work out if he had just been insulted again, as many of their words had been lost on the wind. Knowing Kate as he did he thought that he probably had. He was too intently watching a single soldier approach from some distance along the flat clear path which formed this section of the upper battlements, to give Kate another thought. The soldier moved in fits and starts towards them; approaching from the walkway to their right he alternated from one side to the other every few metres. Now he was standing on the right with his back to them. He was in clear view, but Alex was sure that the soldier thought he was hiding.

  “What does that idiot think he is doing?”

  “A fellow idiot, I must go and welcome him,” and with that said Alex calmly walked towards the soldier, sword held down by his side.

  Kate stood watching in amazement as Alex walked right up to the soldier, turned and stood almost back to back with him. She now understood that the soldier was moving through rooms in the ancient lighthouse that were very real to him, though non-existent to them. However, she could not resist the roll of her eyes as Alex gave her a thumb up as if he was some naughty school boy about to play a trick on his teacher.

  Chapter 30

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  Kate’s Worst Fear

  Kate decided to walk over to Alex. If the soldier could not see him, he would not be able to see her. Well, that was her theory. Unfortunately, the young – if an ancient could be called young – soldier turned his head as though he were looking through a doorway. Upon seeing Kate, he screamed and ran back the way he had come, colliding with several things, walls most likely, which were totally invisible to her and Alex.

  “They can’t see us from down there.”

  “What?”

  “The ancients, Kate. They can’t see us up here.”

  “Of course they can!”

  “No, they cannot. Otherwise, why would they send that boy soldier up if they could see us? They need to know why their soldiers have not returned. They need to know if we are still here. I think I can get out of here.”

  “How?” Kate asked as she searched the sky for Cairo.

  “Can’t explain right now, must run.”

  “But you run like a girl.”

  Alex shouted back, “Girls win gold medals!”

  “What about me?”

  “I promise I will save you.”

  The distance between them was increasing quickly. Kate had to really shout this time. “What if you can’t save me?”

  Alex stopped abruptly against the wall of the corner tower, turned, and shouted back. “Then I will arrange for a good funeral.” He disappeared inside the tower, but not before shouting, “Trust me, stay where you are. I am not losing you again.”

  Kate, despite everything which told her she would not survive this, knew that Alex would be back. He was not the sporting type, he was not even the physical type, but he was the type who kept his promises. He promised to be back, so he would be back.

  She turned full circle. There was no sign of Cairo, though the courtyard was filling up with tourists. Many more appeared to be arriving than leaving. Kate wondered if they had heard about the ‘show’ that was being put on.

  “Where the hell is he going?” she thought as Alex suddenly burst out of the tower and ran into the courtyard. He was headed for the only exit. Having lost his sword, he was being chased by the young soldier, chased right into the hands of Cleopatra’s elite soldiers. Kate screamed, cried and she did collapse to the ground before sobbing her heart out. The soldiers had been upon Alex within seconds. They made no attempt to apprehend him, they went in for the kill. Tourists screamed, after which there was a moment of uncertainty, before it turned into applause and whoops of joy.

  Kate’s thoughts were unprintable. Her friend, her one true friend had been brutally killed right in front of tourists and they were applauding. What was wrong with these people?

  She opened her eyes, brushed away the tears and saw the soldiers taking a bow. They had already cleared the area of Alex’s body and were making it out as if this was a thrilling set piece. The audience were certainly taken in.

  Kate used her feet to push herself back to a merlon. Any soldier who dared to come towards her had a better than fifty-fifty chance of leaving the fort for the sea below. She would take out as many as she could, and if she went over with one then so be it. Not seeing Alex on her own terms, yet knowing that he was just a phone call away, was entirely different to him never, ever, being there again for her.

  It had been a difficult friendship, but it was a friendship they had both needed. At least she thought that they had both needed it. Too late to ask Alex now. Kate pulled her knees up and hugged them as she sunk her head down and sobbed. Her anger had turned to despair. The sword was beside her, but right now Cleopatra’s entire army could have approached her and she would not have heard them.

  “I think I should leave now, before the guard comes in,” Emmy said as she searched the sea above for Cairo’s signal.

  “We agreed,” said Rose, who obviously remained in great discomfort, “we agreed that you would not leave until Cairo sent his plate back down.”

  “What if he sent it down and we missed it?”

  “A solid gold plate dropping down from above with the sun streaming down. I don’t believe for one second that we would miss that, do you?”

  “Not really, but I’m worried about Cairo.”

  “We all are, but you saw what happened. He really struggled up there and then all of a sudden he was gone.” Rose was struggling to stay upright. “Please, Emmy, we don’t know what is up there. It may be a trap.” Rose stopped talking and slid down the wall.

  “Here, Rose,” Quentin said as he did his best to put what few items they had, anything that could be used as padding, behind her. The wall was incredibly hard to sit against and so was the floor, which was even more uncomfortable now that pieces of broken plaster and grit covered it.

  Earlier Rose had noticed irregularities in the wall that could only be seen by pressing right up against it. The rippling light did the rest. Obviously the builders of this ancient Greek palace, which would have been Egyptian labourers, used methods not dissimilar to those still in use today. Today, long lengths of wood, no more than ten centimetres square, and used so often that they were virtually round, would be inserted between blocks on opposite sides of a room during construction. These would then be used by the builders as a scaffold as they built, no ladders needed. The walls would be plastered whilst the wood remained in place. After this the walls would be painted from the top down. One by one the wood scaffold would be removed as they worked down the walls. Almost dry plaster, making it really weak, used to fill the holes they left. It was these which Rose had noticed. Ancients used the same procedure, she just hoped that they also used weak plaster to fill the holes as they would make perfect footholds.

  Using the forks and spoons supplied with their food, and with Rose’s guidance, it did not take long to create a wall they could walk up. Once at the top, a final intake of air was to be taken and the buoyancy of the water would do the rest … or so they had thought.

  “Look!” said Emmy as she pointed up. Her hand extending into the water. It quickly came back as she almost had her fingers taken off by a passing something. It certainly had lots of teeth and it was big! Emmy had been clinging on towards the top of the wall ever since Cairo had left. Despite repeate
d requests from both Rose and Quentin to come down, she had stayed put. Her argument was that should the guard suddenly open the door, she was well out of his reach and would be off to the surface.

  They all looked up. It was not a gold plate, but one after another items which would have been used on a fishing boat were floating down towards them. Items that would not naturally be discarded.

  Obviously Cairo had lost the gold plate and was doing whatever he could to send a signal down. Both Rose and Quentin spoke over each other as they told Emmy to go.

  Having taken as large a gulp of air as she could, Emmy headed for the surface. She remembered, as Rose had instructed her, to let out a little air all the time during her ascent. Cairo had been told the same. They really had no idea just how deep down they were, but this action would stop any possibility of them suffering from the bends. It was advice which turned out to be unnecessary. As suspected, they were not that far below the surface, though more than far enough when you could not breathe.

  Cairo was an angel. The moment Emmy surfaced he had thrown himself into the water, got a rope around her and she was soon pulling herself towards the little fishing boat. He even helped her, as best as he could from the water, to get up and into it. She immediately moved to the opposite side of the boat and pulled on Cairo’s rope. He was soon coughing and spluttering beside her. Despite the extreme movement she hugged him and gave him the biggest kiss he had ever had. He smiled, really smiled, then he coughed and spluttered again.

  “We were worried about you. Are you hurt?”

  “I hungry.” He could not say anymore as Emmy hugged him again, almost smothered him.

  “You are hungry,” she eventually said. “You must be okay if you are hungry. I was so worried. We all were!”

  They were soon rolling around in the bottom of the little boat and laughing hysterically. They had escaped.

  A few minutes passed before their laughing abruptly stopped. The little fishing boat, without warning, suddenly rocked far more violently. So much so that a small amount of sea water came in over the sides. Pulling themselves up and clinging onto the gunwale they watched an overpowered speedboat head out into deeper water before turning. Its wake had piled an added anger onto the waves.

  The fact that anyone would attempt to take a sports boat out in sea like this was crazy enough, the fact that it had been driven by one of Cleopatra’s soldiers was beyond belief.

  “Can’t be looking for us if he went past that fast.”

  “Not looking us. Not ancient!”

  Emmy turned to Cairo, gave him a quizzical, slightly confused look, though said nothing before turning back to watch the speedboat.

  “You new to this.”

  She turned back to Cairo, “Not that new anymore. I know ancients can’t use anything not of their time, but that one was!” Emmy turned to watch the speedboat and then back to Cairo, “Wish we had a motor like that to get us ashore.” Emmy’s confidence in the boat they were in had increased, now that she was aware that it would cope with far worse weather than their bodies ever could.

  “We never get there.” Cairo was pointing to the closest point of the shoreline with one hand, whilst holding on hard with the other. “Ten, fifteen minutes in calm, perhaps with this little motor. Today never, and I hungry, really hungry.” Cairo turned back and watched the speedboat plough through the waves. “That no ancient.”

  Chapter 31

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  Lovely Boating Weather

  Cairo was right, absolutely right, it was no ancient.

  This time Alex wondered if he had bitten off more than he could chew. Stealing – borrowing would be his chosen definition – a speedboat in order to rescue Kate, had on the face of it seemed like a good idea, especially as this was no ordinary speedboat. It was rigged with a vastly oversized motor, an electric winch, hundreds of metres of cable and a parachute. Paragliding was very popular with tourists.

  The craft had a long pointy end protruding well out in front of the open cockpit where Alex sat. He was no sailor so it was not the bow, it was the pointy end, just as much as the back was not the stern, it was the blunt end. Behind him the raised cover of the massive, extremely noisy, inboard engine vibrated excessively. It allowed for only the narrowest of walkways down each side. Behind this, at the blunt end, the all-important winch was fitted high above the boat. A heavily chromed frame bolted to the transom, which was already showing early signs of corrosion, supported this. The over engineered metal, the massive bolts … everywhere … had assured Alex of its robustness. The only way the winch could leave the boat was if it took the boat with it!

  A dark tinted windscreen travelled the full width of the boat and curved as it dropped down to nothing beside Alex’s seat. It was the same on the opposite side, and altogether it offered little by way protection from the sea. Oh, it looked the part, it certainly looked cool, but it was nothing more than useless decoration. His single white plastic seat, raised ridiculously high, had the effect of making the windscreen even more ineffectual. As the pointy end dipped, rose, and submerged, upon wave after wave, the spray was diverted by the screen to hit Alex directly in the face. He was thankful for the large steering wheel, because without having that to hold onto he would have slipped off his seat and crashed down onto the deck by now: wet plastic seats were as slippery as ice. It was not even a real seat, not by Alex’s standards. It had no back. It reminded him of a flattened plastic football, which some horrid bully had thrown at him at school when he had not been looking. He quickly discarded both the memory and the bully.

  His escape from the fort had worked like a dream. He was even proud of himself for taking down the ancient soldier he had been chasing after – even if that soldier had been so panicked by hearing Alex behind him that he had ran straight into a wall. A wall which had come as a complete surprise to Alex. One second the soldier had been running, the next he had been on the floor. Alex had seen no wall, because there had been no wall there for at least the last two thousand years, and when that wall had been there it had been in the lighthouse, not the fort.

  Alex had then quickly changed clothes with the semi-conscious boy. Once Alex had been satisfied that he looked significantly like a soldier, and for the purposes of this little piece of subterfuge, that the young ancient soldier had looked enough like him, he had waved the sword above his head and screamed. Alex had actually felt a little sorry for the young lad.

  Shocked, in fear, and still half dazed, the lad had run straight into a vicious onslaught. Alex’s run had stuttered at the sight. He had been horrified at the barbarous way the soldiers had hacked at him. Being an ancient Alex knew that the young soldier would be okay … ish!

  The soldiers at the only exit had been looking at Alex, wondering why he was running, but as far as they had been concerned ‘Alex’ had already been caught and dealt with. At that point in time they had only been interested in apprehending the girl, Kate. Alex’s skimpy soldier uniform had proved beyond doubt that he most certainly was not a girl, even if he ran like one!

  The soldiers had nodded to each other, then basically ignored him. After he was safely away he had the thought that, being so young, they had most likely thought him to have been the messenger, off to report the news. Whatever the reason, he had been free to steal … sorry … borrow the boat he had seen from the fort.

  The wind was well on its way to being gale force, the waves rolled in with disjointed angry whitecaps, and neither showed any sign of abating. The sun was high in the sky, a sky which was far too blue and peaceful for weather such as this.

  Alex had been left with no option except to head out to sea further than he had wanted to, in order to circumnavigate a manmade groin. Now he was heading back towards the fort, heading back much faster than he wished to. He pulled back on the accelerator, but as he did the craft became unmanageable: it bobbed like a cork and the steering became ineffective. Pushing the hand throttle forward, the engine kicked in with a shudder and then a roar. He re
gained control with the throttle set at slightly less than half.

  Going out against the wind it had been full throttle all the way. The dials and gauges in front of him had thrown out warnings all over the dashboard. There had been flashing lights of green, orange, red and blue. All the gauges had pushed their needles much too far to the right, all except for the fuel. That had dropped almost as quickly as the engine heat gauge had risen.

  Now there was nothing else he could do if he was to keep control of the boat. He had to power on towards the fort, directly towards the fort, then spin the wheel much later and much closer to the jagged rocks than was prudent to do so; then max out the power before unlocking the winch and thereby releasing the parachute on its hundreds of metres of cable.

  He ran his plan through in his mind. His conclusion was that it should work … with luck, and on a day with a perfect sea, and with somebody else available to release the winch. Why on earth were the only controls for the winch right back there at the blunt end? He needed to be able to release the parachute from where he was sitting. The boat owner had added customised decals, so many flags – most of which had already been torn away in the last half hour, with the remainder no more than strands of annoying nylon – loads of bling, and even cleats in the shape of mermaids, but a useful, a necessary remote winch release, oh no, that was far too practical to spend money on.