It was late afternoon when they mounted up and rode back to the stable. They rubbed the horses down and helped the stable hands to feed them, then traipsed, tired and still a bit damp, into the house to clean up before dinner.
They met Bailey and his ever-present feather duster in the hall outside of Megan’s room. Each girl gave him a polite hello, to which he said nothing, but acknowledged with a slight nod of his head.
“He’s a bit of an odd duck, isn’t he?” Harriet whispered when he was out of sight.
“Yeah, he freaks me out.” Megan pushed open the door to her room. “Just the looks he gives, makes me wonder what I’ve done wrong. But he’s harmless. I hardly notice he’s around most of the time.”
Rachel tossed her jacket on the bed. “Uh, Megan. Did you leave the desk drawer open?”
Megan’s stomach dropped when she saw the desk. “No, I didn’t. I shut it when I took the poem out, I know I did.” She ran to the desk, and the sinking feeling turned into panic.
The drawer wasn’t closed any more.
“Open it, Megan,” Rachel said.
Megan, hands trembling, feeling sick, reached out and ripped the drawer open.
The journal was gone.
Chapter Five: The Library of Athena
“What do you mean, gone?” Claire’s voice was higher than normal. “Who took it?”
Megan slammed the drawer closed, her heart sinking. “Whoever it was had to know what it was. I mean, it could have been my diary, right? Then they wouldn’t have taken it. So they definitely know it wasn’t.”
“It had to have been Bailey,” Rachel said. “We saw him right outside this room.”
“But we didn’t see him actually coming out of here,” Harriet said from her perch on the bed.
“She’s right,” Claire agreed. “There’s no proof it was him.”
“It could have been any of the staff.” Megan sat in the desk chair and leaned her head on her hand. “At least we still have the poem and the key.” She threw the brass key onto the desk, where it made a sad clunk.
“Yeah, and we need to keep a careful watch on them,” Rachel said. “Give me the key.”
Megan wondered what Rachel had in mind, but handed it over. Rachel tucked it into the front pocket of her jeans.
“And Meg will hold onto the poem. That way if someone finds them, they’ll only find one and not the other.”
“Unless someone kidnaps you both and searches your pockets,” Harriet said.
“Thanks. Thank you for your good cheer,” Rachel replied with a touch of snark. “It’s better than nothing.”
Claire sat on the bed and crossed her legs. “Harriet has a point, though. If we do lose one, both are pretty useless.”
“So I guess we’ll just have to make sure we hold onto them,” Rachel said.
Once again Maggie fed them well, this time with a feast of Mexican cuisine—soft tacos and refried beans. After dessert, the girls watched another movie, Claire’s selection, with Megan’s dad. Afterwards, he said goodnight, and the girls raced to Megan’s room. With the door locked, they gathered around the desk.
Her school books sat in a pile on one end of the desk. She plucked out her Literature book. She opened to the section on Greek mythology.
“Oh, come on, Megan,” Rachel moaned. “This is the weekend. I don’t want to think about schoolwork.”
“It’s not schoolwork. It’s research. Sir Gregory obviously liked Greek mythology, so maybe we should at least look at them. Listen to some of these.”
The girls took turns reading some of the stories out loud. It didn’t help solve the riddle, but it was entertaining.
“Wow,” Rachel said after reading the Twelve Tasks of Hercules. “Some of these are pretty intense. Bet you couldn’t get them on the telly. Well, you could, but not network.”
“We should get back to working on the poem,” Claire said. “Since the library was a bust, and we don’t have the journal anymore, let’s see what we can find out about Sir Gregory.”
Megan shut the book and logged onto the Internet. Into the search engine she typed “Sir Gregory Archibald”, and hit Enter. Several links popped up on the screen.
Claire scanned them over the top of her glasses. “None of these look very useful. Most of them are press releases or articles about his art collection or things that he donated to the British Museum.” She leaned in front of Megan, her short brown hair falling on either side of her face, and typed something.
“What did you do?” Megan asked. Claire stood and she looked over the new set of links. They were all about Ancient Greece.
“If we can’t find out about the man,” Claire said with a satisfied air. “We’ll just have to learn about his work. Perhaps the answer is there somewhere.”
Rachel clucked her tongue. “All this research. Can’t we just go back to searching the house? That’s much more fun.”
Harriet maintained her earlier position. “Can’t we just forget about it? Nothing we’ve done has led anywhere, and I don’t want to spend another night creeping around in the dark or with my nose in some book.”
“Still afraid of ghosts?” Megan said with a smirk.
Harriet shifted uncomfortably. “No, I just don’t want to lose any more sleep over this wild goose chase. Besides, someone’s already stolen the diary. That tells me that whatever the secret is, someone wants to make sure it stays that way. What if they try to find out what we know, and stop us if we get too close? It could be dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Ha!” Rachel flapped a hand at Harriet. “This is more fun than sitting up all night telling silly stories, or painting our toenails, or some such nonsense, isn’t it? I think the four of us can handle one old butler, don’t you?”
Harriet gave Rachel a cockeyed look, put her nose in the air and, with a huff, went to the bed and plopped herself on it. She pulled the latest issue of Hello! magazine out of her bag and silently paged through it.
Megan bit back a laugh as she turned back to the computer screen. She was having a great time trying to solve the mystery; she agreed one hundred percent with Rachel. It was obvious Rachel and Claire were on board, willing to see this through to the end. But what Harriet said nagged her. What if she was right, and this was more than just fun? They had no idea who they were dealing with; whoever it was obviously wanted to put the girls off the track. What were they willing to do to stop Megan and her friends? They would have to be careful.
She typed in a new search. A site dedicated to Athena came up. There was a list of sites of the goddess’s temples in Greece, the myths she played parts in, and pictures of various statues. One caught Megan’s eye. She clicked on it, and a photo filled the screen.
“Hey, that looks like the statue downstairs,” Rachel said.
It was like someone threw a switch in Megan’s brain. Bailey’s voice echoed in her head. Something he said to her and her father the day they arrived. It danced at the edge of her thoughts—there was something there, she just had to reach out and grab it…
“I’ve got it!”
The other girls jumped. Megan’s face was flushed with excitement. She was certain this was the answer. If it wasn’t, she’d forget all about Sir Gregory and his secret.
“I know what the poem is talking about. It’s so simple.”
“What are you going on about?” Rachel said.
Megan danced in her seat. She wanted to make them wait. “You’ll see. We’re going to have to go back downstairs.”
Claire glanced at the clock on the computer screen. “Do you think your Dad’s in bed yet?”
“I hope so.” She logged off and spun around in the chair. Harriet had drifted off, face down in the magazine, soft snores coming from under the cascade of blonde hair spread out around her.
“Should we wake her up?” Rachel covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“Yeah, probably,” Megan said. “As much as she complains, she might get mad if we leave her behind. Especially if we find
anything.”
Rachel, Claire, Megan, and a grumpy-but-willing Harriet changed into stealth attire; dark-colored pants and long-sleeved shirts. They pulled their hair into ponytails (except for Claire, whose hair was too short) to keep it out of their way. Megan dug through the bottom drawer of her dresser and pulled out the flashlight.
Quickly and quietly, Megan crept down the hall to check on her father. The door to his bedroom was shut; Megan heard the muffled sounds of the TV. She pressed her ear to the door. Snores that reminded Megan of a rusty saw told her that he was in for the night. Her father was nothing if not predictable. She went back to her room and poked her head inside.
“All clear,” Megan whispered. She beckoned her friends with the flashlight. “Let’s go.” She walked toward the stairs with Claire, Harriet and Rachel following in her wake.
Without a word, Megan led them down the stairs and past the landing. Halfway down the steps that led to the entrance hall, she turned around and faced her friends.
“There it is.” She pointed past the girls and up the stairs.
“There what is?” Harriet turned and tried to see in the dark. “What are you playing at?”
Megan marched back up the stairs and stopped on the landing. “The answer is right here. We’ve walked right past it at least a dozen times this weekend.”
Rachel shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Realization dawned on Claire’s face. She pointed to the statue of Athena. “Her. That’s the answer. This Athena. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Harriet gestured toward the statue. “Will you please explain to me what this statue has to do with the library?”
“I don’t know, but it does have to do with the poem and the little note in the diary. And the poem is about whatever Sir Gregory is hiding,” Megan said. “Look, we know the first lines are about Athena, right? We all thought it must mean a book about Athena. The library reference in the diary threw us off. But that little notation could be right on. They’re talking about this statue. She guards the way.”
Harriet shook her head. “I don’t know. Why would he put it out in plain sight like that?”
“Sometimes the best place to hide something is in plain sight,” Rachel said thoughtfully. “Without the poem or the diary, no one would suspect, would they?”
Megan’s excitement was in her voice. “Bailey said that this statue was Sir Gregory’s favorite—his pride and joy. And the next part of the poem fits too. ‘When night-bird falls, the way is clear’. Look at her arm.”
They all looked up at the statue. Claire smacked herself in the head. “Of course. I am such a dolt. This must be what he was talking about.” She reached up and touched the owl perched in Athena’s right hand. “When night-bird falls…”
“So, here’s the night-bird,” Harriet said. “At least we were right about that part, looking for an owl. What about the ‘falling’ part?”
Megan already had a plan in mind. “Here, hold this.” She handed the flashlight to Rachel, grabbed onto the owl with both hands, and pulled down. Nothing happened. “Maybe I just need a little more weight.” She lifted her feet off the ground, but the marble arm didn’t budge.
“Let me try,” Rachel said. She pulled on the arm, her muscles straining, but to no avail.
“This has got to be it,” said Megan. “We just have to figure out how to make it work.” Her nerves were on edge, she knew they were close. They had gotten this far, they couldn’t fail now.
Harriet stepped up to Athena; she focused on the end of the figure’s arm. “Maybe you only have to pull on the owl?” She reached up and tugged on the owl’s head. There was a grinding sound, and the statue’s wrist, along with the owl, spun around until the bird was upside down.
“Way to go, Harriet.” Megan clapped her on the shoulder.
Harriet shrugged. “It just made sense.”
“Okay, now what?” Rachel took the flashlight from Megan and shone it up and down the statue. “I don’t see a door or a secret compartment or anything. Shouldn’t the treasure be inside the statue or something?” She handed the light back to Megan.
“The poem said she guards the door and the way would be clear.” Claire pushed up her glasses. “But I don’t think it meant in the middle of the night with only a flashlight to see by. Let’s look around a bit.”
Claire and Rachel each took a branch of the staircase and ran their hands along the wall, looking for a hidden door. Megan shone the light along the floor.
Harriet went behind the statue. “It’s terribly dark back here. Megan, would you be a love and bring ’round the flashlight so I can see?”
Megan stopped. “Harriet, what did you say?”
“I said, bring the flashlight over here so that I can see better, please.”
Her voice sounded strange, like she was speaking into a coffee can. Megan peered around the statue and shone the light onto Harriet and the wall beside her. Her breath caught in her throat. A narrow opening, just big enough for one person to slip through, revealed a set of stone steps that wound down into the dark.
“I didn’t even see that there,” Harriet said. “Lucky I didn’t fall down and break my neck.”
Megan called Rachel and Claire and they each took a turn peering into the dark opening. Megan perched on the top step. How long had it been since someone walked down these stairs, or even looked at them? A secret staircase was beyond anything she could have hoped to find. She fought the urge to race to the bottom.
“I’m going down,” she said. “Who’s coming with me?”
“You don’t know what’s down there,” Harriet whispered. “It could be anything. It could be booby-trapped, for all you know.”
Rachel chuffed. “I don’t think the bogey man is going to jump out at you. It looks perfectly safe. We’re coming too, Megan.” She grabbed Harriet’s hand. “All of us.”
The girls followed Megan, single-file down the narrow stairs. The gray stone was smooth and slightly damp, which made it slippery, even in sneakers. Megan held the flashlight in front of her with one hand and used the other to steady herself on the wall.
The stairs continued down, down, down, with no sign of ending. How deep beneath the house were they? She kept going, counting each one, and lost count as she passed the hundredth step. Finally the light fell onto a flat stone floor and open space.
“We’re here.” Megan stood to one side and trained the light on the bottom steps so that her friends could safely see their way down.
“And just where is here?” Rachel peered into the dark. “I can’t see a thing.”
Megan moved the light around. It bounced off a wall, also made of stone, about fifteen feet away. “I’m not sure. Looks like just an empty room.”
“No way did we come all the way down here for an empty room,” Harriet said. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Hold your horses,” Megan said. “Let me take a look.”
There were three solid walls. The fourth, to the left of the stair, contained an arch that opened into a larger, darker space. Megan looked above her, but couldn’t make out a ceiling.
“I’m not sure we should be here,” Harriet said directly into Megan’s ear. “Let’s go back.”
“Don’t you dare, scaredy-cat,” Rachel threatened. “What if someone sees you? Then everyone will know we found this place. Remember, someone stole that diary. What would they do if they knew we were down here?”
“I agree,” Megan said. “Besides, there’s safety in numbers, so let’s stick together.” She swung the light through the arch and into the next room, then walked forward, confident and anxious all at once. There was an audible click, and one of the stones sunk beneath her foot. “Uh oh.”
“What ‘uh oh’?” Claire said, anxious.
Megan looked over her shoulder; all three of her friends stood directly behind her.
“I think I set off some sort of trap. This stone just moved. You guys better back up, right now.”
; “Booby-trapped. I told you so.” Harriet shot up the staircase. Rachel and Claire took three long steps backward and pressed themselves against the back wall.
Megan held her breath and waited for the trap to be sprung. She imagined poison darts coming from the wall beside her and finding her neck, or a spray of some gas that would kill her. She took a deep breath and slowly lifted her foot.
There was another click. Torches, in brackets on the walls, flared to life. Megan caught the smell of natural gas, like when she used to light the stove in her old apartment. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, her chin coming to rest on her chest. “It’s okay. I’m all right.”
Harriet peeked around the curve of the staircase. “All clear?”
“Yes, sissy,” Rachel said.
Harriet came back down. Claire’s face was pale and shiny with sweat; she looked like she might faint. Rachel pushed herself away from the wall, ran to Megan and hugged her tight. With their arms around each other’s shoulders, they stepped through the arch.
“What the…” Rachel and Megan said together.
A Greek temple, buried here beneath Megan’s house, lay before them. Twenty-foot-tall scrolled columns of white marble ran around the perimeter of the room. They reached to meet the smooth, flat roof of the cavern, which was intricately carved with a series of strange symbols.
Harriet and Claire came in behind, open-mouthed.
Claire pointed to the ceiling. “Fascinating.” She craned her neck to better study the carvings. “I see Greek letters and symbols, some Egyptian, and some Cabalistic. But I don’t recognize the rest. How long must it have taken to do all that? It’s brilliant.”
Megan and Rachel moved further into the temple, which was about forty-feet long. They walked past a statue of a centaur and one of a griffin. In one corner sat a large shallow bowl made of a shimmering golden metal, on an iron three-footed stand.
Rachel leaned over to look inside. It smelled heavily of oil. “What is this thing, the world’s largest deep fryer?”
“If I’m not mistaken, this is the sacrificial fire,” Claire said. “A piece of the sacrifice would be cut off and tossed into the fire set in this bowl.”
The Crown of Zeus: The Library of Athena Book 1 Page 6