Carver's Quest Page 40

  ‘That is true but then what would we do? Retrace our steps to Meteora? Bury the secret of the treasure in Agios Andreas once more?’ Rallis waved his hand dismissively at the thought. ‘Euphorion is telling us where the tomb of Philip of Macedon is to be found. I believe that we should listen to him. If we do not, then others eventually will.’

  Behind them came the sudden sound of voices and shouting. The professor had returned to the campfire and was calling to Adam.

  ‘We should go back,’ Rallis said. ‘The professor has allowed us these moments of discussion, I think, but he is anxious to know what we propose to do. Shall we tell him that we travel with him?’

  Adam needed little time to make a decision. As the Greek said, and as Fields had known, there were few alternatives.

  ‘Onward to Macedonia then,’ he said, and strode back towards the fire.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Much more of this digging and they’ll be measuring me up for a wooden suit,’ Quint said bitterly, throwing aside his spade.

  ‘Fear not, Quint. Those bones of yours will never be laid to rest so far from London.’

  Adam’s manservant was not listening to him. He had crouched to the ground and was scrabbling amidst the earth he had just upturned. He pulled something from the soil and held it up.

  ‘What’s this, do you reckon?’ He sounded momentarily excited, as if he had chanced upon something new, but his voice soon fell. ‘It’s just another coin of some sort, ain’t it?’

  ‘We have found enough of those, have we not? And the villagers probably dig them up by the thousands when they plough.’ Adam took the dirt-encrusted object out of Quint’s hands and held it up to the light, angling it so that the sun would fall on its face. He brushed some of the soil from it. ‘It has a figure on it. Heracles, I think.’

  ‘He’s ’itting something,’ Quint said, standing and peering at the coin.

  ‘Heracles spent much of his career hitting things. It was his special skill.’

  ‘It’s a lion. ’E’s ’itting a lion.’

  ‘The Nemean lion. The first of his labours. Heracles was forced to club the lion to death when his arrows failed to kill it. He stunned it and then strangled it.’

  Quint whistled. ‘’E must ’ave been stronger than the Great Sam-soni,’ he said, with a note of respect in his voice.

  ‘The Great Samsoni?’

  ‘Cove I saw in a circus once down Lambeth way. ’E lifted an ’orse above his ’ead.’

  ‘A horse? Are you sure, Quint?’

  ‘A small ’orse,’ Quint admitted.

  ‘Well, there are no records of Heracles juggling horses above his head. At least none of which I am aware. But lions he could slaughter with ease. Once the Nemean lion was dead, he used its own claws to strip it of its pelt.’

  Adam pocketed the coin. For a moment, it seemed as if Quint might protest as his master took possession of an object he had found but he decided against it. Instead, he picked up the spade from where he had thrown it. The two men began to dig again.

  * * * * *

  Two weeks had passed since the night by the campfire when Professor Fields had revealed the theft of the Euphorion manuscript. Adam still felt very angry over the deception Fields had practised upon him. Indeed, in his darker moments, he regarded the professor’s behaviour as tantamount to a betrayal of their friendship. Yet he had reined in his feelings. He had deemed it politic not to take issue with Fields. He had not even informed him that he now knew of his apparent association with Creech. What, he told himself, were the choices before him? They were either going to find the treasure of which Euphorion had written or they were not. Either way, it would be best to wait upon developments. Fields clearly had some agenda of his own, and he would no doubt pursue it regardless of Adam’s opinions on the ethics of doing so. And the young man was still unsure of Rallis. Were the Greek lawyer’s revelations about Fields and Creech and their role in smuggling works of art out of the country entirely to be trusted? Adam remained unconvinced that his former tutor would involve himself in such basely mercantile transactions. The man was, first and foremost, a scholar. Although nothing, of course, was certain: the more he saw of Fields on this expedition, Adam had to admit, the more he felt that he did not really know the professor and never had done.

  As for Quint’s involvement in the theft of the manuscript, this matter was at least more straightforward. Adam’s initial anger and outrage towards his manservant had soon dissipated. Quint had explained at great, even tedious, length that he had only done what he had done because he had thought it the best course of action. No servant, he had maintained with a look of injured innocence, had ever been more attentive to his master’s needs than he and look at the thanks he got. Adam had taken his protestations of good faith with a pinch of salt but he had come to accept Quint’s blunt arguments about the Euphorion manuscript: the theft of the book, however injurious to the monks of Agios Andreas and however ungrateful in the light of their hospitality, was a fait accompli.

  They had made their way northwards by a circuitous route. In the first week, they had circled the city of Larissa, admiring from afar its minarets glittering in the noonday sun. They had moved on and, a day later, entered the Vale of Tempe. Cliffs had towered above them on either side of the ravine, surmounted by the ruins of two ancient fortresses which had once commanded the pass. For a further day they had journeyed through the valley. As they rode, Fields had explained what he had discovered in the pages of the volume he had stolen from Agios Andreas. On two occasions, he had even allowed Adam and Rallis to take the manuscript from him and read it themselves. The ancient Greek geographer had not only known that a treasure existed in the Macedonian hills. He had travelled in those same hills a few centuries after it had been buried there with the remains of the Macedonian kings. He had spoken to the peasants who lived there and listened to their legends of what lay beneath the tumuli in their native land. He had noted with remarkable precision the site which they claimed held the gold of the ancients.

  ‘How can we know that he was writing the truth?’ Adam had wanted to know, as the travellers had emerged from the Vale of Tempe and led the mules over a stone bridge across a meandering stream. ‘How can we know that his informants had any real idea of what was buried? Perhaps the treasure was dug up long ago and long since disappeared? Although can we even be certain that Philip was able to get his hands on gold?’

  Fields had handed the reins of his mule to Quint and crouched by the little bridge, peering closely at its stones.

  ‘Probably a work of the ancient Macedonians,’ he had said, making no immediate response to Adam’s remarks. ‘We have just ridden over stones that were in place when Alexander departed for Asia.’

  He had then risen to his feet. ‘There can be no doubt that the ancient rulers of this land had access to gold,’ he had continued. ‘There were rivers in Macedonia from which alluvial gold could be obtained. And Diodorus Siculus, for one, speaks about the mines Philip controlled. His mints were striking gold coins by the thousands, probably. The coins were even known as philippeioi.’

  ‘So the Macedonians had gold in plenty,’ Adam had acknowledged. ‘But we cannot know that it is buried where Euphorion says it is. The villagers were reporting their myths to him, not what we would recognise as their history.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ the professor had conceded. ‘As you say, we cannot know for certain. But it is a risk worth taking, is it not? To believe Euphorion? The worst that can happen is that we waste a few weeks of our life in fruitless digging. But, if the man was right, we will make the greatest discovery of the century. Layard and his exacavations at Nineveh will seem like little more than idle scrabblings in the dust of Mesopotamia.’

  ‘When the villagers learn we are digging,’ Rallis had said, ‘they will assume we are looking for treasure.’ The Athenian had seemed uncharacteristically anxious. ‘They will either chase us from the land or they will rob us of what we find.’


  ‘We have our papers,’ Fields had said. ‘I made certain of them before we left Athens. They will not dare touch us when we have a letter from a minister of the Porte.’

  ‘Maybe so.’ The Greek had looked unreassured. ‘Maybe not so. This is a long way from Constantinople.’

  But the professor had proved correct. A week later, they had arrived at a site near Koutles. The ground was uncultivated and was covered in tumuli for hundreds of yards in all direction. Fields had pointed with confidence towards the largest of these and announced that this was the spot that Euphorion had identified as the place to dig.

  ‘His Greek is, for once, blessedly clear and correct on the point,’ Fields had said. ‘Many of the rest of his geographical descriptions are marred by the infelicities of his prose but of this one there can be no doubt. He writes quite unambiguously of the largest amongst a hundred mounds.’

  The party had wasted no time before setting up their camp. The headman of the village, with whom Adam had been acquainted on his previous visit, had come to inspect the excavation the day they had begun digging, surrounded by a band of villainous-looking supporters. At first, they had shouted and raged at the travellers but they had regarded the firman Fields bore with an almost religious awe. Only the headman had proved literate but he had read the letter aloud to his comrades and all had been impressed. The document had been returned to the professor with much bowing of the head and the deputation had soon departed. From that first day, they had been little troubled by the villagers. Occasionally, small grubby boys had appeared on the crest of the hill overlooking the mound in which Fields had chosen to dig. They would stand and stare until their presence was noted. Then they would turn tail and disappear. Now the presence of the foreigners in the vicinity seemed scarcely to be acknowledged.

  All the digging the foreigners had undertaken, however, had as yet unearthed little of interest. On the seventh morning, all of the party had stripped to their shirtsleeves and laboured in the earth with spade and pick. They had been standing in one of the deep trenches they had dug on the sloping bank of the largest tumulus for miles around. This, Fields had announced, was undoubtedly the one that Euphorion had singled out in his ancient text. Dig deep enough, he had said, and they would inevitably strike the vast stone slabs which made up the vaults of the Macedonian tombs. Inside these, indescribable treasures would lie. So far, they had come across little of any value at all. The digging had become a routine, a monotonous toil in the heat that all of them had grown to dislike.

  This morning, however, the routine had been broken by the arrival of three visitors. They had not approached the trench but had stood close to where the travellers had pitched camp and shouted. They had sounded angry. Rallis, who had just climbed out of the diggings to fetch water, had been the only one who could see them.

  ‘What is all the noise, Rallis?’ Adam had asked, looking up from the earthwork. ‘Whose voices can we hear?’

  ‘It appears to be men from the village. The headman, I think.’

  ‘What the devil do they want?’

  ‘I do not know. They are waving their arms,’ the lawyer had reported. ‘They wave them towards the north.’

  ‘Go talk to them, Rallis,’ Fields had said. ‘Point out to them that they cannot come here whenever they choose to do so. Tell them that our work is too important to be disturbed. Speak to them again of the firman, if necessary.’

  The Athenian had looked down at Fields as if he was minded to disobey his instructions. Then he had turned and begun to walk back towards the camp. The others, scrambling out of the trench, had watched him as he neared the villagers. As he had come closer, the headman and his companions had increased the volume of their cries and the energy of their gestures. Rallis had made soothing movements with his hands as he approached. The men from the village had however refused to be soothed and an animated conversation ensued. After several minutes had passed, the lawyer had begun to make his way back to the group now standing awkwardly by the trench.

  ‘What is it?’ Adam had called when Rallis was still twenty yards from them.

  ‘They have news that disturbs them,’ the lawyer had replied, quickening his pace to join his fellow diggers. ‘There is another party of strangers riding towards their village. From the north.’

  ‘Are they so unused to outsiders that they panic at the very thought of more arriving?’ Fields had asked, his voice thick with contempt for the Greek villagers. ‘Perhaps they believe that the visitors are tax collectors come to squeeze more from them.’

  ‘No, that is not what they fear, Professor.’

  ‘I find it difficult to care greatly what they fear.’ Fields had shrugged and made as if to turn back to the diggings. ‘And I cannot believe that it is any of our concern. You have told them to depart and leave us in peace, I presume.’

  ‘They will not do so. The riders, they say, are like you and Adam. They are Franks. They are your friends, they think.’

  Fields sighed in exasperation.

  ‘Do they believe that every European in the land is our friend? Who are these riders?’

  ‘I do not know. But the headman has had word from his uncle who lives in a village further to the north. The party rested there last night. One of the Franks calls himself Garland.’

  ‘Garland!’ Adam was astonished. ‘What on earth is Garland doing out here in the wilds?’

  ‘That is not all, Adam. The headman says that one of the riders is a woman.’

  ‘Emily!’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Fields had said sharply. ‘That young woman will be safely home with her mother in Salonika. I cannot understand why Garland, if it is he, should be here. But, assuming that he is, he must be travelling with some doxy he picked up in Athens. He has a reputation, I believe.’

  ‘We must make our way to meet them.’

  ‘That is what the headman wishes,’ Rallis had said. ‘He will allow us the use of the only horses in the village. He wants us to confront the visitors. And tell them to turn back.’

  ‘I will set out immediately,’ Adam had said.

  ‘Not you, Adam. The headman is of the opinion that only the old man, as he calls the professor, will have the authority to persuade Mr Garland to return to Salonika. Ever since he saw the writing from the minister in Constantinople, the headman has been of the opinion that the professor is a man of power and reputation.’

  ‘One of that idle scoundrel’s few opinions of any worth,’ Fields had said complacently. ‘But I cannot drop what I am doing here on a mere whim of his. Someone else must go to meet Garland and his party.’

  ‘I tell you, Rallis,’ Adam had declared, ‘I shall set off northwards. Perhaps it is Emily.’

  Adam had felt his heart leap at the prospect of seeing the young woman again. He had begun to make his way towards the camp where the three men from the village had still been standing. As he had moved past Rallis, the Greek lawyer had held out an arm to halt him.

  ‘The villagers will not allow you to go, Adam, I can assure you. I have already spoken to them about it. They have two horses only. One is for the professor. On that point they are adamant.’

  ‘I will take the other.’ Adam had made as if to brush aside the Greek’s arm but Rallis had still held him.

  ‘No, I must go with the professor. That is what they wish. They know that I can understand both English and the Greek spoken here. That I will be able to assist Fields in conveying their message.’

  ‘Garland will not listen to either of you,’ Adam had said, wresting his arm from the lawyer’s grasp. ‘If he wishes to visit us here, he will do so.’

  Rallis had shrugged. ‘I suspect that you are right, Adam, but I think that we must do as the village headman asks. We must do all we can to remain on terms with him.’

  Adam had looked towards the villagers and then back towards the trench. He had thought of continuing the argument. He had wanted very much to ride out of the camp, to see if it was, in truth, Emily who approached from the nort
h. But he had known that Rallis was correct. They depended on the goodwill of the men of Koutles. He could not force the headman to provide him with a horse. He must contain his impatience and stay by the diggings.

  ‘But if you meet Garland and he insists on coming back with you?’ he had asked eventually.

  The Greek had shrugged again. ‘That is a bridge to cross only when we must.’

  Rallis had then turned to his servant and spoken a few words. The giant Greek had nodded and strode towards the headman and his two companions. Rallis had turned back to the others.

  ‘Come, Professor,’ he had said. ‘Andros will accompany us. He can move as fast on foot as a trotting horse.’

  Fields had been staring unblinkingly into the middle distance during the debate between Adam and Rallis. Like a man emerging from a trance at the snap of a hypnotist’s fingers, he had jolted into life.

  ‘It is confoundedly inconvenient,’ he had snapped, ‘but I can see no viable course of action save to do what this wretched head man demands.’

  He had begun to follow Andros. After he had gone a dozen yards, he had turned and called back to the others.

  ‘I will speak to this man Garland. I will persuade him to leave us in peace. We cannot be disturbed by anyone at so crucial a moment in our digging.’

  Adam had watched as the professor had made his way to join the Greek villagers. There had been a good deal of shouting and gesticulating as he did so. The young man had looked at Rallis.

  ‘Well,’ he had said, ‘this is an unexpected turn of events. I do not think anyone, least of all the professor, will prevent Mr Garland joining us here if he decides to do so. He is a determined man.’

  ‘Perhaps his arrival will benefit us, Adam.’