by Adrien Leduc
Chapter Ten
A CHANCE DISCOVERY
“You dug up the foundations of a building?”
Josh looks confused.
“We dug up the foundations of a building,” Uncle Marty repeats cheerfully.
“What’s it the foundation of? What kind of building?” I ask, watching the green and golden coloured fields whip by as we speed along the highway.
“Presumably a church or a monastery...but that’s what we’re hoping to find out today.”
“Dr. Rondeau’s supervising the excavation as we speak,” Troy adds, sounding pleased.
“That’s cool.”
“Cool is an understatement! We might just find the Dumnonian Hoard today!”
Troy’s so hot when he’s all enthusiastic about something.
“That’d be pretty awesome. Any sign of Saint Budoc? I mean...a statue or whatever of Saint Budoc?”
Uncle Marty, concentrating on the road, shakes his head. “No. Not yet.”
Josh shifts in his seat and leans forward. “What happens if we find the Dumnonian Hoard today, Uncle Marty?”
Uncle Marty chuckles. “Well, I suppose we’d make the evening news.”
Josh grins. “You’d be famous.”
“I had thought of that...and I’m not entirely opposed,” says Uncle Marty with another chuckle.
I glance at my brother to see if he’s got something else to say since he seems to be pondering something. “I still don’t think that it’s fair we can’t keep any treasure...not even a little piece...if we find it.”
Uncle Marty clicks his tongue. “That’s just the way it is, Joshua.”
“Well...I think that sucks.”
Uncle Marty looks at us through the rear view mirror. “Like I said, that’s just the way it is.”
“On the bright side,” says Troy, “you’ll be making history.”
“Yeah...but I won’t be making money.”
I look at Josh. “Is that all you care about?”
“Sarah.” Uncle Marty’s tone is threatening.
“I’m just saying...”
“Well, don’t. I’m looking forward to us having a peaceful, productive day and I’m not going to see you two start arguing.”
“I’m not arguing.”
“Sarah.”
Oh my god...
“There it is...” says Troy.
“There’s what?” I ask, sitting up and looking out the window.
Troy points. “The dig site. You can see the peaks of the tents...those white things.”
My eyes follow his instruction. “Tents? Why are there tents?”
“For the archaeological team,” Troy answers.
“There are quite a number of people involved in this project,” Uncle Marty adds, clearing his throat in that annoying way people do when they’re halfway through a sentence. “You’ve got Dr. Rondeau and his team from the Museum of Brittany, three or four members of the French Archaeological Society, and a local excavation crew operating all the equipment.
“Really? So that’s like...” I perform a quick estimate in my head. “Thirty people?”
Troy laughs. “No, not quite. That would be too many for a site like this.”
“It’s more like half that,” says Uncle Marty, glancing at me in the rear view mirror.
“So like fifteen?”
Uncle Marty nods. “Thereabouts.”
The car is quiet for a moment. Uncle Marty’s concentrating on the road, Troy’s looking something up in the book on his lap, and Josh is back to playing his video game.
“Do Josh and I get to help dig stuff up?”
Uncle Marty chuckles. “No, sadly not, Sarah. This stuff is serious business, you know.”
“I know. But can’t we at least help? Like, hold the shovels and stuff?”
Now instead of laughing, Uncle Marty and Troy exchange a humorous look - that annoying look adults exchange when a kid asks them a question and they think it’s dumb.
“What’s so funny?”
Uncle Marty lets out a small sigh. “Sarah, archaeology is one of those things where you just can’t have people who don’t know what they’re doing involved. We’re working with thousand year old artifacts and all it takes is someone to stick a shovel in the ground where they’re not supposed to and something gets ruined.”
“But I won’t just stick a shovel in the ground!”
Uncle Marty sighs a second time, but says nothing.
“There’ll be lots to watch, Sarah,” says Troy, his tone a little too patronizing for my taste.
“Oh, whoop dee doo. I can stand around all day and watch you guys dig in the dirt.”
“Sarah.”
“Uncle Marty.”
“Sarah. I’m warning you. I’ll turn this car around right now and take you back to the Duguays’.”
Hmph.
“Well, do we have to stay the whole time then?”
“You have to stay as long as Troy and I stay.”
“But...what are we supposed to do?”
“Sarah. You wanted to come to the dig site. This is how it works.”
“But...I didn’t know I’d have to stand around and do nothing all day!”
Uncle Marty looks at me through the rear view mirror, his expression unsympathetically sympathetic.
“Fine then,” I mutter.
This is so stupid.
I feel the car decelerate and look up to see Uncle Marty preparing to make a turn onto a narrow dirt road.
“Are we there?” asks Josh, setting down his Nintendo DS and looking out the window like a dog excited about a walk.
“Yep,” comes Uncle Marty’s simple reply.
In the distance I can see the ocean, blue and shimmering and beautiful.
“Are we spending the whole day here?”
“Sarah already asked that question, Joshua.”
I feel my brother’s eyes on me. “Really?”
“Yes, really. As usual you were too busy playing your video game to notice anything else.”
“Sarah.”
“Well it’s true.”
“What are Sarah and I going to do?”
“That’s up to you,” says Uncle Marty, pulling into an open space beside a blue van and throwing the car into park.
“Can we at least go down to the beach?” I ask, as the salty ocean breeze and the cries of seagulls awaken my senses.
“No, you cannot. Not without my supervision.”
Troy and Uncle Marty unbuckle their seatbelts at the same time and open their doors.
“But...Uncle Marty! The ocean’s like right there!” I point an open hand at the water and stare, pleadingly, as my uncle as he climbs out of the car.
“Yes, and the ocean can also be dangerous if you’re not careful.” He hitches up his pants, performs an arm stretch, groans, and then shuts his car door.
“Oh my god. This is so lame. Even dad isn’t this boring!”
I’m just going to sit in the car. What a stupid holiday this is turning out to be. Holiday...psssh. It’s like detention...
I watch as Josh unbuckles his seat belt, sets his Nintendo DS under the seat, and climbs out of the car. He shuts his door and I suddenly feel very alone, listening to their chatter and with the sun glistening overhead. It’s like everything is supposed to be fun, should be fun, but it’s not fun.
Stupid Uncle Marty...
They take a minute to get stuff out of the trunk. I can hear them rummaging around and I can hear Uncle Marty buckling his fanny pack. The trunk slams shut and they walk past.
“Sarah. Are you coming?”
No...well...since it is you asking Troy...even though you keep taking my uncle’s side...
“Yeah...in a minute,” I groan, unbuckling my seatbelt and climbing out of the car.
I glare at Uncle Marty as I slam my door shut.
He pretends not to notice.
“Looks like Dr. Rondeau’s here,” Troy muses as we start up the dirt road that leads to th
e top of the hill.
On either side of us, a number of vehicles sit idle and temporarily abandoned, their owners and occupants off digging in the dirt somewhere over the hill I presume.
“Why? Which one’s his?” I ask, motioning toward the variety of cars, trucks, and SUVs.
“The white Ranger.”
“The white Ranger?” I look around, feeling dumb. “I’m really bad with cars,” I add, feeling myself blush.
“That one there. The one with the Museum of Brittany logo on the door.”
“Ohhhhh, now I see it.”
Troy looks at me as we ascend the hill, grinning and nodding as though I’m “special”.
“Hey!”
He laughs. “Are you up yet? Need me to dump a bucket of cold water on your head?”
I feel my face grow redder. “No!”
“I can’t wait to see what Dr. Rondeau’s got to show us,” says Uncle Marty as we crest the hill and find ourselves overlooking a dig site the size of a soccer field. “He mentioned in his e-mail to me last night that they’d made an important discovery.”
“What kind of discovery?” asks Josh, his attention fixed rather attentively on the goings on of the dig site below.
Uncle Marty shakes his head. “I’ve no clue. That’s what we’re going to find out.”
You know when the way you imagine something to be turns out exactly how you pictured it?
Well, the dig site is exactly how I pictured it. As we descend the hill, I spy about a dozen people scattered across the dig site. They’re all wearing white and grey and blue pants and shirts and visors and they’re all grouped together in little clusters of three and four. One group seems to be discussing something on the ground at their feet. Another group stands over a table inside a tent, poring over a large white sheet of paper I can only guess is some kind of map.
“It’s going to be a hot one,” Troy muses, looking up at the sky.
“I hope you two put sunscreen on,” says Uncle Marty, glancing back at Josh and I.
“I did,” says Josh.
“Sarah? Did you put on sunscreen?”
“Uh...yeah.”
“Sarah...”
“No.”
He stops, opens the zipper on his bag, reaches inside, and produces a white bottle with a blue lid. “Put some on, please.”
“But...then I won’t tan.”
“You would rather burn?”
“No.”
“Well. Put some on. Come on, this isn’t up for discussion.”
“Oh my god! Uncle Marty! I’m fifteen!”
“Sarah...” Uncle Marty shakes his head in annoyance, replaces the sunscreen, and zips his bag shut. “Don’t complain to me when your skin’s all burnt and peeling.”
“I won’t.”
Troy gives me a sympathetic look and we continue on.
I linger a moment, hoping for some distance between Uncle Marty and I. Resting my hands on my hips, I inhale deeply and gaze out at the shining sea.
At least the view is nice...
A short distance away stands a large white tent under which a man watches our approach. He smiles and steps out of the shade of his tent.
“Dr. Rosenberg,” he calls.
“Dr. Rondeau,” Uncle Marty replies, slinging his bag over his shoulder and shaking hands with the handsome man.
Dr. Rondeau lifts the sunglasses from his face to inspect Josh and I. “These must be the niece and nephew you’ve told me so much about.” He extends his hand to me. “Fabrice Rondeau. And you are?”
“Sarah...” I answer, somewhat taken aback by his forwardness.
“Sarah. What a nice name. I knew a women from England once whose name was Sarah.” He gives me a nod and a smile before switching his gaze to my brother.
“I’m Josh. I’m going to find the Dumnonian Hoard!”
Dr. Rondeau emits a small laugh and shakes his hand. “Well, Josh, I’m glad you’re on our team!”
I glance at my brother and watch (with annoyance) as he nods and beams and acts all proud of himself.
“And that’s great your uncle has already explained you about the Dumnonian Hoard.”
I notice Dr. Rondeau’s English isn’t perfect - nowhere near as the Duguays’ - but pretty good. Plus his French accent is pretty awesome.
“Yeah. He told us all about Saint Budoc and the Scroll of Isca and how the Dumnonians - I mean, the Dumnonii - moved from England to France because the West Saxons were attacking them!” He stops and takes a deep breath as Uncle Marty, Troy, and Dr. Rondeau all break out in laughter.
“Wow! That is incredible!” Dr. Rondeau’s face is aglow and he looks at my uncle with a satisfied expression on his face. “You have a very smart nephew! Bravo.”
“Oh, he’s smart when he wants to be.”
“You mean he’s not smart always?” Dr. Rondeau grins and presses a fist into Uncle Marty’s shoulder.
Uncle Marty chuckles and moves away from Dr. Rondeau. “No. Quite the opposite actually.” He inhales, draws himself up, and hooks his thumbs through the belt loops on his waistband. “But, we’re working on it,” he says, his eyes on my brother. “Aren’t we, Joshua.”
Josh nods. “Yeah...”
He doesn’t get it.
“He doesn’t even know what you mean, Uncle Marty. You’re talking way over his head right now.”
“He’s not talking over my head!” comes Josh’s angry reply.
“Sarah, are you going to be difficult today? Because if you are, tell me now so I can plan the day accordingly. And be warned, if I do end up planning the day, you won’t be happy with the outcome.”
“I’m not being difficult, Uncle Marty. I’m just saying, you’re talking over his head.”
“Anyway,” says Dr. Rondeau, clapping his hands together, “I have something I must show you, Dr. Rosenberg. We uncovered it yesterday evening shortly after you’d left and we worked all through the night.”
“Wow...you must be tired.”
Dr. Rondeau smiles. “Tired, yes. Excited, more.” He claps a hand on Uncle Marty’s shoulder as he looks at the rest of us. “Come. Let me show you what we have found. You will be quite amazed, I am sure.”
“What is it? Can you tell us?” I ask jogging to keep up with Dr. Rondeau as his long legs lead us to another section of the dig site.
“I can do better. I can show you.”
“Yes, but...tell me now...”
“Sarah.”
“I just want to know what he found, Uncle Marty.”
“Sarah. Don’t be rude.”
I’m not being rude.
Dr. Rondeau laughs. “I see you are very enthusiastic about this kind of thing. That is good.” He turns his head to look over his shoulder at Uncle Marty. “She is like her uncle, no?”
I watch Uncle Marty to gauge his reaction. He musters a small, tight smile.
We’re quickly approaching a large hole in the ground, with orange fence all around it and two people standing on the edge of the hole, looking down inside of it.
“I can tell you, it is very promising,” says Dr. Rondeau, sensing my excitement. “You will see now,” he adds as we arrive at the orange fence.
I jog to get around it - to the opening - and in my haste to see, practically push aside the two people standing at its edge.
“It’s...it’s...”
“A stairway? A stairwell? How do you say it in English?” Dr. Rondeau’s beside me now, peering down into the hole at the two workers below who seem to be digging and brushing (with special brushes) with tremendous fervour.
I nod as I study the narrow set of stone stairs leading down to the bottom of the hole. “A stairway. Or a stairwell. You can use both words. Oh, and staircase works too.”
Dr. Rondeau looks perplexed. “Really? All of those are correct”
I nod.
Now he looks almost irritated. “English is such a funny language.”
“Funny?”
“Like...strange.”
I laugh, now that I get what he means. “Oh, yeah! It is kind of strange.”
“It is strange because there are so many words for the same thing...” He looks down at the two people in the hole. “Jacques! Amélie! Qu’aviez vous trouvés?”
The workers seem to have stopped and I watch them closely as I feel Troy and Josh and Uncle Marty come up alongside us.
I turn to Troy. “What’d he say?”
“He’s asking what they’ve found,” he replies softly.
It’s quite the sight - all of us - assembled on the edge of this giant hole and staring down into it - our mouths half open.
One of the people standing beside us - one of the people I kind of pushed out of the way - eases through us and stops at the edge of the hole. He looks down at the pair in the hole, fires off something in rapid French, and Jacques and Amélie move away from whatever they’re working on. Dr. Rondeau meanwhile takes a giant step forward and peers down into the hole. We all follow his lead.
“What is it?” I ask, looking from Dr. Rondeau to Uncle Marty.
“I don’t know...it looks like some kind of metal covering...” Uncle Marty answers quietly.
Dr. Rondeau turns to Uncle Marty and nods. “Exactement. That’s what I think also. That is a cover. And behind it is a passage.” He turns and calls down once more to the two in the hole.
“What’s he saying?” I ask Troy as Dr. Rondeau rattles a bunch of words off to them in French.
“He’s asking if there’s anything behind the grate.”
“Grate?”
“That metal thing. That’s the word he used anyway.”
I return my attention to the inside of the hole. Everything about the staircase it looks extremely old.
“Dr. Rondeau?”
“Sarah, not now,” Uncle Marty snaps, glaring at me.
But Dr. Rondeau has nothing but a smile for me. “Yes, Sarah?”
“I was wondering...” I ignore Uncle Marty’s stare. “I was wondering...can we go down there?”
He makes a face - a sympathetic face - and I already know the answer. “As much as I would love to say yes, I must say no. Simply because we do not know what we are dealing with and because this stairway has not been entirely excavated. We must finish excavating it and then I can get some covers for your shoes and you and your brother (he glances at Josh) and you can go down and have a look. Okay?”
The way he says “okay”, he’s not asking, he’s telling. But he’s being nice.
“Okay...”
He nods, seemingly satisfied, and claps a hand on Uncle Marty’s shoulder. “Come, Dr. Rosenberg, let’s go and see what they have found.”
“Certainly, Dr. Rondeau.”
“What are we supposed to do?” I ask as Uncle Marty follows Dr. Rondeau down the first few steps.
“Hang out and watch.”
“That’s a little boring...”
Uncle Marty shrugs. “I guess you’ll just be bored then.”
“Can we at least go down to the beach?” I point toward the water in the distance.
“Absolutely not,” says Uncle Marty with a half smile. “Sarah. If you’re not going to do what I tell you while you’re here at the dig site, then I won’t bring you next time.”
“Fine! I’ll stay here and be bored!”
Troy catches me arm as I turn to walk away.
“Sarah. Just hang out here for awhile and then we’ll go tour the dig site. There’s lots of cool stuff going on (he waves an arm at the other archaeologists on site) and we’ll go do a little tour of the site. Sound good?”
I feel my anger subside.
How can I ever say no to you?
“Alright...”
“Ten minutes?” He grins as he follows Uncle Marty and Dr. Rondeau, already halfway in the hole, down the stairway. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
I look at my brother who doesn’t seem overly bothered by the fact we have to hang out and watch Troy and Uncle Marty get to do all the fun stuff.
“You’re cool just hanging around here?” I ask.
“Yeah...”
I give him a look that says “really?”
“Well...I don’t know. Why? What else can we do?”
“Uh? Look where we are!” I wave my hand toward the ocean. “There’s a beach down there. I can go tanning. We can go find some starfish or something. I don’t know. What’s the point in hanging out here if we’re not even allowed to look at anything?”
“You’re allowed to look at plenty, Sarah,” Uncle Marty calls up from the hole below.
Is my voice really that loud?
“I’m not talking to you, Uncle Marty.”
“Well, you are right now.”
Oh my god...
“Whatever...come on, Josh,” I say, making sure my voice is quiet enough so that only he can hear, “let’s go look around. It’s better than standing here and just watching them.”
He shrugs. “Sure.”
“You’d better stay where I can see you!” Uncle Marty calls from down inside the hole as we head away.
“We will!”
Pssssh. Yeah right.
“So where are we going?” Josh asks as we pick our way over buckets and shovels and layers of white tarp.
“The beach. I told you that already.”
Josh murmurs something as he stops to look down a hole with a small twine fence built around it.
“Anything cool down there?”
“Nope,” Josh answers, jogging to catch up.
“I thought not. You know, I’ll bet the Dumnonian Hoard isn’t even here. We came all this way and they’re spending all this money and they have all these people (I wave an arm at the archaeologists spread across the site), and they’re not even going to find anything.”
“You know, it’s usually when people say stuff like that, that they find something.”
I give my brother a funny look. “Who told you that?”
“No one told me that. I just know that’s how it is.”
“Well, how do you know that’s how it is?”
He squints his eyes at me, clearly unsure whether I’m messing with him or not. “That’s just how it is.”
“Well, whatev - ”
“Careful!”
Josh yanks my arm and I fall sideways into the dirt.
“YOU IDIOT! WHY THE HELL DID YOU - ”
I stop mid-sentence as I see the massive hole he’d just kept me from falling into.
“Oh...”
“Oh.” His tone is sarcastic.
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be. I just saved your life.”
“You didn’t save my life. The worst that would have happened is that I would have broken my leg or something.”
Josh looks indignant. “Well then I saved you from breaking your leg.”
“Ha! Maybe breaking my leg would have saved me from this trip! I could just take the next plane to Paris, spend a couple days there, and be back in Toronto by next weekend. Which would be in time to go to Stacey’s cottage.”
Josh says nothing and we amble along, moseying past more holes in the ground and more sheets of white tarp. As we near the back end of the dig site, we find ourselves once more on grass. The grass however doesn’t last long as it’s quickly followed by a steep drop down to the water.
“How the heck are we going to get down to the beach?”
“I don’t know,” I answer, following the grass to the edge of the cliff. I peer over the edge. It’s about thirty feet to the bottom - the bottom which is a chain of rocks poking out of the water with the frothy surf swirling all around and the waves lapping at the edges of the cliff. I turn my head and spy a strip of sandier, flatter beach further away. “Over there!”
“Over where?” asks Josh, coming up beside me and letting his gaze move to the water below.
“Over there,” I say, pointing.
“Oh...still, how do get get down there?”
“I don’t know. But w
e’ll figure it out.”
“Sair?”
“What?”
“I’m happy we got to go on this trip together.”
My brother’s being nice to me...why?
“Yeah...me too,” I answer, eyeing him closely.
He’s got me all nervous now.
“Why’re you being so nice all of a sudden?”
“What?”
“You’re being all nice to me all of a sudden...and I want to know why.”
Josh smirks. “I’m not being nice to you on purpose. Well...I don’t know...maybe a little.”
“I don’t understand you right now, dear brother.”
We both laugh and it feels good because it’s the first time we’ve laughed at the same thing in a long while.
“Alright...” I say, wanting to move past this awkward moment, “let’s head over to that path. Then we can get down to the beach!”
I’m excited at the prospect of sun tanning.
Josh nods. “Yeah for sure.”
We follow the grass until it gives way to dirt and rock and once on the path, we follow its winding trajectory down to the water. It’s rather steep and several times I have to stop and grab onto a rock or a branch protruding from the hard-packed earth so as to steady myself.
“I’m glad I decided to wear shoes.”
“What else would you wear?” asks Josh as he reaches the bottom, well ahead of me.
“Uh...sandals?”
“Oh...yeah. I only brought these shoes,” he says, lifting one foot.
I pick my way slowly along the path, stepping carefully from rock to rock and sliding with my feet whenever it gets really steep.
“Dummy.” Just like I do with the stairs in our house, once I’ve reached the bottom portion of the path, I jump down onto the rocky beach. “You should have brought at least one more pair.”
“Whatever. I can buy another pair.”
“I plan on buying several pairs of shoes while we’re here.”
“Here in Porspoder?” asks Josh as we pick our way along the various sizes and shapes of rock that make up the beach.
“No, stupid, in Paris.” I feel grossed out by all the seaweed washed up on the beach.
“We’re going to Paris?”
“Uh, yeah. Remember Uncle Marty said. When we’re done here. On the way home. We’ll stay a night or two in Paris.”
“Cool.”
I nod and make a face as though this was obvious and he should have known.
“I want to check out the Eiffel Tower. How high do you think they let you go up?”
“How should I know?”
Josh shrugs. “I don’t know...”
I shake my head. “You’re acting all strange today.”
He shrugs again and meanders off to one side of the beach. He bends down and picks up a flat rock.
“You’d better not throw that at me!”
“I’m not going to,” he says angrily. “I’m finding good skipping rocks.”
“I’ll bet I can skip rocks better than you.”
Josh grins. “Wanna bet?”
As though suddenly full of sugar and caffeine, we both start gathering up all the flat rocks we can find. We’re like a couple of crazy people, laughing and yelling at each other. I’m using the bottom part of my shirt as a little basket while Josh is stuffing the pockets of his cargo shorts.
Josh runs past me and gives me a playful shove as he runs to the water’s edge.
I, being the klutz that I am, topple over and all the rocks in my shirt go flying.
“You idiot!” I squeal, chasing him down and slapping him on the back as he lets loose a rock.
He winces and we watch it skip across the water. Once, twice, three times.
“Only three? Phhhhhh.”
“You try it then!” Josh shoves a rock in my face.
“Alright. I will.”
I take the rock and set my feet firmly against the rocks underfoot. Then, cocking my arm, I whip the rock, as hard as I can, across the surface of the water. It takes a wild bounce and then sinks a few feet away.
Josh smirks. “Lame.”
“Whatever. Give me another one.”
He shakes his head. “Get your own.”
“You’ve got like twenty rocks!” I reach for one and he pushes me away.
Whether he meant to or not, his push sends me sprawling forwards and I hit the cold water, face first.
“JOSH!!!!”
“Oh crap!” He shrieks, a high-pitched shriek that almost hurts my ears, and then takes off running.
“You scream like a girl!” I call after him, picking myself up and stepping out of the cold, salty water. “And you’re dead! You are so dead!”
I sprint after him, angrily, and with my heart pounding. “When I catch you...!”
Up ahead, Josh runs on, laughing and zig-zagging from side to side as though this will somehow make it more difficult for me.
I bite my tongue and hurry forward, relishing the opportunity to hit him and cause him pain.
A little ways ahead, protruding from a small tidal pool, I spot a length of Bullwhip kelp.
Perfect.
“Get ready!” I yell as his quick pace puts even more distance between us.
Damn it. I’d better be able to catch him!
I bend down an take up the Bullwhip kelp.
“I’m serious! When I catch you...”
Josh?
A second ago he’d been there, by that rock. And with his orange shirt, he’d been easy enough to see...
“Josh?”
I pick my way along the beach, sidestepping stones and bits of driftwood.
“Josh? Josh....this isn’t funny. Seriously.”
The stones underfoot are getting smaller now as beach gives way to dirt and grass. As I approach the cliff face, almost perfectly flat and looming up from the beach, I hear what sounds like Josh’s voice. Only it’s muffled...and very distant sounding.
“Josh?”
“....”
“Josh! What the hell!? Where are you!?”
I approach the rock and walk a complete circle around it. No Josh.
“JOSH!”
“Sarah...”
This time I can actually make out my name. It sounds like it’s coming from behind me...
I whirl around and find myself staring at the cliff face. It’s like a wall. A very smooth wall, overgrown with grass and brush and...
Josh’s face pops through a thick ivy curtain. He’s grinning from ear to ear.
“JOSH! YOU IDIOT!”
The ivy curtain shimmers shut as he disappears once more behind it.
Now I’ve got you.
I brandish my whip, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to give my brother a good lashing.
I reach the ivy curtain hanging down the cliff face and stick a hand through it.
“SARAH! YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS! HURRY UP!”
“This had better not be a trick!” I say, easing through the green strands. The leaves pick at me and catch my hair, but I’m through after a second, and standing in what appears to be a cave.
“Josh...what are we doing in here?”
Suddenly I don’t care about getting him back...
Instinctively, my eyes move to the ceiling. I’m surprised there are no bats. Well, at least not that I can see.
“Sarah. Seriously.” He waves me over to the opposite end of the cave. “Try and leave those leaves open a bit...so we can get some light in here.”
“I still don’t get why you’re even in here...” I bunch a handful of strands together and loop them around a rock jutting out from the cave wall. “How did you find this place?”
“I was running over here to hide and I fell right through those leaves.”
“These ivy strands?” I ask, stepping away from the cave entrance.
A fair amount of light pierces the darkness of the cave through the space left by the strands I’ve hooked off to the side.
“Yeah...
whatever those are.”
“They’re ivy. It’s the same stuff that grows along the brick wall at Aunt Karen’s house.”
Josh nods. “Okay. Anyway, that doesn’t really matter. Seriously, come check this out.” He points to something in front of him, piquing my curiosity.
“What is it?” I ask, making my way (nervously) deeper into the cave.
“It’s...well, I think it’s a statue.”
“A statue?”
It takes me a second to get to him - the space between the mouth of the cave and the back of the cave where Josh is standing is about thirty feet. And believe me when I say I’m not at all comfortable in my current surroundings.
“There’d better not be any snakes in here...are there snakes in France?”
“Snakes?”
“Yes, snakes.”
Even the word grosses me out.
“I don’t think so...maybe little ones.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “Really?”
He smiles. “I don’t know. I’m just guessing.”
“Well don’t!” I slap his arm.
“Ow! What’d you do that for!?”
“You’re trying to scare me.”
“Am not.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re always pulling stunts like this.”
Josh looks genuinely pissed off and I suddenly feel guilty.
“Sorry.”
“Whatever. Just look, would you?”
He points at the ground. It’s a statue alright. About two feet tall. It looks old. And it’s not very well defined - though it definitely looks like the statue of a man...at least I think it’s supposed to be a man...
“Who do you think it’s a statue of?”
“Well,” says Josh, looking at me, his eyes dancing, “remember who Uncle Marty told us was watching over the Dumnonian Hoard?”
I look at him cross-eyed. “You mean, you actually listened to something Uncle Marty said?”
Josh emits a fake laugh. “Ha, ha.”
I grin. “Alright...” I return my attention to the statue. “There was that saint guy he mentioned...”
Josh nods, looking at me as though I’m finally following his line of thought.
And then it hits me. “Budoc...” I gape at him as I suddenly remember the patron saint of the Dumnonii. “Saint Budoc...yes...” My eyes dart back to the statue and I bend down beside it, running my hand over the peaked hat atop his head. “Yes...and look there’s even a cross on his chest!”
Josh bends down to inspect it further and I remove my hands so he can see.
“It is a cross! Sarah...do you know what this means?”
We look at each other, both thinking the same thing.
“THE DUMNONIAN HOARD!”
We jump up and whoop and holler and I’m sure if there were any snakes in that cave, we scared them all away.
“I can’t believe this!”
“I know! We’re going to be famous!”
“What’s Uncle Marty going to say!?”
A thought occurs to me. “Let’s not tell him.”
Josh shoots me a quizzical look.
“Let’s not tell him...” I repeat, “and then once we find it, and once we have it, we’ll just be all casual with it and like what up onto the dig site and be like, oh look, the Dumnonian Hoard!”
The image of this makes us both laugh hysterically.
“Yes! Alright! That’ll be pro!”
“Okay, but we have to find it first,” I say, scanning the walls and floor of the cave. “Where do you think it is?”
“Well...” Josh looks thoughtfully at the statue. “The Scroll of Isca said that it’s being protected by Budoc...right?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“And so...” Josh squats down and starts pulling on the base of the statue. “It’s got to be under him or something.”
“Yes...yes you’re right!” I squat down beside him and start pulling on the rocks beside the statue.
“It’s not...moving...”
I watch my brother struggle for a minute.
“What if it’s like where he’s looking or something?”
I stand up and move to the wall opposite, the wall the statue faces.
“Good idea,” says Josh, joining me and beginning a study of the wall. “It could be like in the movies where there’s like a button or something...and then you push it and a secret door opens...”
I roll my eyes. “Remember, this was like a thousand years ago. I don’t think they had that kind of technology back then.”
“Maybe they did.”
“I doubt it.”
I move my hand along the wall, over the bumps and through the crevices (I’m carefully not to stick my fingers inside these crevices lest some snake or spider be lurking in its depths), tracing its smooth surface with my palm.
“Oh...holy...holy crap!”
My head snaps toward Josh. “What? What is it?”
He’s bent down on both knees and he’s got his hands glued to a large flat stone.
“This...” he grunts as he strains against the stone, “moves...” He grunts again and I hurry to help him.
“Here, let me take this side.”
“You’re not strong enough, sis.”
“Ah, excuse me, I’m pretty damn strong for a girl. How many times have I hit you and left a mark?”
Josh grins, panting from the energy he’s expending. “Alright...alright. Take that side then. I got this side.”
“Alright.”
Positioning myself on one side of the stone, I push against its weight, digging my feet into the firm, solid rock ground for more leverage.
“This...is...impossible.”
“C’mon. We got this.”
“It’s...so...heavy!”
After several minutes, every muscle in my body feels like it’s on fire.
“I...can’t...do...this...anymore.”
“Just a little further,” Josh urges, turning and putting his back against the rock.
“Okay...but...WHOA!”
Where there was once solid rock at my feet, there’s now the beginnings of a hole.
Josh stops pushing and steps away from the rock. “What?”
I point at the partial hole we’ve uncovered. “Look!”
“Holy...Sarah...this is it. It has to be.”
I nod. “I think so too.”
We look at each other, both of us grinning from ear to ear.
“Do you know what this means!?”
“It means we’re going to find the Dumnonian Hoard...” I answer breathlessly.
“It has to be down there!”
“It sure seems like a good spot to hide some treasure...” I take a step toward the hole and peer inside it. “How far down do you think it goes?”
“Let’s find out,” says Josh, stooping down and plucking a stone from the floor.
He drops it down the hole and we wait in silence.
One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, four one thousand, five one - ”
TICK.
We look at each other.
“Four and a half seconds,” I say.
Josh nods. “That’s a deep hole.”
“How the heck are we supposed to get down there?” I ask, suddenly feeling less hopeful.
“With some rope?”
“Where are we going to get that?”
Josh’s face dons a thoughtful expression. “How about from the Duguays’? They must have some somewhere.”
“What if they don’t?”
Josh looks down at the hole. “Then we’ll figure something out. We have to get down there...”
“And I don’t think we should tell Uncle Marty,” I say.
Josh looks at me and smiles. “Yeah, me either.”
I return his smile. “I say we find it and then we’ll just walk onto the dig site and be all casual and be like, is this what you guys are looking for?”
We both laugh and the sound of our laughte
r echoes off the cave walls.
“That would be awesome!”
There’s silence now as we realize the enormity of the task we face. We seem to both have our eyes on the big rock still covering most of the hole.
“So...”
“So...”
“Do we move it now then?” I ask, not looking forward to the prospect.
Josh shrugs as he massages his biceps. “We can move it now or when we come back.”
“Are you thinking we have to come back?”
Josh shoots me a sideways glance. “Uh...yeah...we have to get the rope from the Duguays’.”
I practically slap my forehead. “Right.”
“So tonight?”
I shake my head. “No, not tonight. We still have to find some rope and all that.”
Josh nods. “Tomorrow night then.”
“For sure.”
“Alright.”
“Let’s go then before Uncle Marty wonders where we’ve got to.”
“Good idea.”