Opening the jar was a delicate operation. It was sealed with some kind of wax or gum, which would undoubtedly crack under pressure. The remnants had to be collected, however, so they could be analyzed. In addition, it was important not to break the jar itself. There was no telling how strong or weak it might be. There were no visible cracks, but you couldn’t be too careful.
The process seemed to take forever and there were lots of pieces of dried gum to retrieve, but at last Liam got the jar open. He shined a light inside and said, “My, my.”
“What is it?” said Twinkle. Everyone gave her a dirty look but she didn’t notice.
“There seems to be a manuscript in here,” said Liam. “Felix, can you help me, please?”
Felix stuck a large pair of tweezers into the jar. Slowly, slowly he pulled out what looked like a rolled up piece of very old paper. Protected by the jar, it seemed not to have any dust on it. Liam produced a plastic bag and labeled it, and Felix carefully dropped the paper into it.
After they had sealed the bag they went through the same process for the other jars. Each of them held a similar scroll. When they were finished, they had three scrolls in three plastic bags, as well as samples of the sealant.
“We will take these into the caravan and see what we have,” said Liam. (A large caravan, as the English say, or trailer to Americans, had been set up on the field above the tunnels as an office and laboratory for the team.)
Now the group was even more excited. The scrolls might be the key to everything, explaining exactly what the artifacts were and who had left them. With Darius’s camera capturing their every move, they followed Liam out of the tunnels and into the trailer, where they stood around a large table and watched him remove the first scroll from its bag.
The tension was so thick Amanda could almost feel it enter her nose. If the scroll proved that the artifacts had nothing to do with Arthur, would they cancel the dig? She didn’t see why. Even if they didn’t prove that the site was Camelot, the discoveries must still be noteworthy and would deserve more investigation. But what if the government decided that they would only finance the project if it had something to do with Arthur? Liam would be terribly disappointed, which, on top of his anxiety about Fern might even make him ill. Such a development wouldn’t help Ivy’s state of mind either.
Liam carefully unrolled the paper and spread it flat, weighting it down with pebbles that had been encased in plastic bags so as not to contaminate the paper. Slowly, slowly, he manipulated the paper until its inner surface was visible. As they saw what was on the paper, the group gasped. There before them was a gorgeous illuminated manuscript, with gold portions so shiny that they gleamed. And there, in one corner, surrounded by calligraphic text, was a picture of a man wearing a purple garment.
“Is that Arthur?” said Clive.
“I don’t think so,” said Simon. “He isn’t wearing a crown.”
“Good point,” said Clive.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions, boys,” said Liam. “Let’s read this and see what it says.” He choked up. “I wish Fern were here. She would love this so. Her old English is excellent.”
Amanda could hear Ivy sniffling next to her. She took her friend’s hand and squeezed.
“Oh my,” said Liam. “‘Sēo Bōc Myrddin.’ ‘The Book of Merlin.’”
Everyone gasped.
“Arthur’s wizard!” said Simon.
“Camelot!” said Felix.
“OMG, there really is such a thing as magic,” said Twinkle.
“Let’s check the other two,” said Louie.
That they did, with similar results. The other two scrolls proved to be additional illuminated pages from the Book of Merlin, whatever that was—equally gorgeous. As Liam read out the title of the third, the group let out a cheer. As cautious as he normally was, even he smiled now. The artifacts looked extremely promising.
The Book of Merlin proved to be just what it purported to be. It had been written by a contemporary of the heretofore mythical wizard and described how Merlin had died, where he was buried, and with what artifacts. Two manuscript experts Liam called in to examine it deemed it authentic, and the whole project changed overnight.
It seemed that the manuscript described Merlin’s burial place in Wales. This wasn’t exactly surprising, as among the places the wizard was rumored to have been buried at least two were in Wales. This one was neither of those, or so it seemed. It was a bit vague, claiming that Merlin was buried in a cave near Aberystwyth, not Bardsey Island or Merlin’s Hill near Carmarthen, as hypothesized by others.
Liam wanted to go there as soon as possible, and considering the importance of the find, the government and the university were all for extending the project so he could do that. Normally an extension like that would take months, if not years, to arrange, but they did it in a week, and before they knew it Ivy and Simon had departed for Wales with Liam and his team. Professor Sidebotham would not let Amanda and Clive go, but they were able to follow via a streaming video channel, so at least they could participate. Darius, of course, would have to manage without Amanda, but he had struck up a pleasant relationship with the archaeologists and they promised to help out whenever they could.
Meanwhile, back at Legatum Amphora was absolutely green with envy. She was still harping on the fact that Darius had hired Simon and Clive, and she couldn’t understand why he hadn’t offered her a job as well. She felt that with her design ability she would do an amazing job on his costumes and makeup, as well as set design. Holmes seemed not to know what to do when she complained about the injustice of it all and could not catch a break whatever he said. If he told her it didn’t matter and she should stop worrying, she accused him of making light of something that mattered to her. If he told her she should try to talk to Darius, she said she couldn’t possibly because he’d think she was pushy. If he kept silent, she thought he was insensitive. And so it went.
Amanda still hadn’t heard from Nick and was beginning to feel quite bothered. She just knew something bad was going on. She wasn’t worried that he’d been hurt or was ill. She just thought he was up to something he shouldn’t be. So she skated down to the boat one afternoon to see if he’d talk to her. When she arrived, however, she could see Mr. Onion on the deck and decided that it was a bad time, so she turned around and went back without speaking to him. Meeting with Mr. Onion was not a nefarious activity. Maybe he was just busy and she was jumping to conclusions. He’d communicate when he was ready. She breathed a sigh of relief—at least about Nick. There was still the issue of Thrillkill, Fern, and the others, on which no one seemed to be making any progress.
Having seen the map of subterranean Britain, Amanda wasn’t surprised. There were a billion places the wretches could be hiding. Even with so many police departments and Salty searching for them, it was unlikely they would be found, especially because the zombies seemed to know all the tunnels so well. If they’d been underground for years, they’d be able to move through them better than most people do on the surface. She dearly hoped the captives were still alive and in good health. She missed Fern and Gordon and Despina and Hill, and was surprised to find herself hoping to see Thrillkill again too. She wasn’t so sure about her cousin Jeffrey though. The man really was a pill, although even he didn’t deserve whatever it was that was happening to him.
Once the archaeological team arrived in Wales, things went quickly. Because they knew what they were looking for, the Book of Merlin being quite specific, they found the cave and some of the artifacts they were seeking within a couple of days. They also found the bones.
The skeleton was buried in a shallow grave way back in the depths of the cave. Because it was located behind a tall rock formation, it didn’t seem to have been disturbed as it might have been if it had been easier for animals to find. In fact the team almost missed it and only chanced upon it because of a protruding bone that had been partially coated with calcite, the substance that falls from the roofs of caves. Felix had tho
ught the bone looked more like what it really was—an ulna, or lower arm bone—than a stick or some other formation and had investigated further.
The team had then discovered the grave and slowly dug up the skeleton. Amanda had been able to watch some of this work, although her classes interfered with her viewing time. She envied Simon and Ivy and commiserated with Clive about not being able to be there in person. Many of the other students gathered around her screen from time to time as well, Holmes being the most constant observer. Amphora, however, declined to watch at all.
“Why do you want to get involved with all that hocus pocus?” Amanda heard her say to her boyfriend.
“It’s interesting,” he said. “I like seeing how Professor Halpin attacks problems. He’s very methodical.”
“I think Fern’s disappearance has affected his brain,” she said. “There is no such person as King Arthur. He’s just wasting everyone’s money.”
“How do you explain the coins then?” said Holmes.
“Fakes.”
“But the experts say they’re real.”
“They would, wouldn’t they? It makes them famous—and rich. They can write books now.”
Holmes sighed. Amanda caught his eye but he looked away quickly.
Amphora wasn’t the only skeptic. In Logic, Professor Darktower railed at the class, saying that it was a sad day when even the country’s most esteemed archaeologists were taken in by such a scheme. The problem was that they’d got carried away by their emotions and hadn’t applied rigorous logic principles to the situation. Logic always worked as long as you didn’t let wishful thinking get in the way. Clearly that was what was happening now. If it were up to him, he’d pull the plug on the whole thing. Amanda thought it was a good thing Ivy wasn’t there to hear that. She would have been devastated.
To everyone except Amphora and Professor Darktower, the discovery of the skeleton was so exciting that it nearly eclipsed the finding of various artifacts, such as a staff and more King Arthur coins. The staff appeared to be composed of petrified wood. The Book of Merlin had mentioned it, and sure enough it was there. Not that the author would have known the wood had petrified. That was just luck. As for the coins, they formed another link between the cave and the tunnels near Penrith.
Amanda wondered about the author of the Book of Merlin. Whoever had written the manuscript must have seen Merlin’s grave with their own eyes, or even dug it. Was it possible that the same person who created the lovely Book of Merlin was the wizard’s murderer? Now that was a creepy idea. To think that a homicidal maniac could also be a sensitive artist—ugh. And then she thought of Blixus, who had exquisite taste and was nevertheless a murderer. And Nick, who was also artistic. Had he killed anyone? She wasn’t sure. He had definitely come close.
Of course the skeleton may not have been Merlin, which was not to say that the person hadn’t been murdered. The forensic anthropologists working with Liam would have to analyze it and see if they could match its physical and chemical features to what was known—or seemed to be known—about the man. They would also look for the cause of death. After all, whoever it was hadn’t buried himself—or herself. He or she might very well have been killed, and knowing that would help them piece together their story.
One of the most important tools the team had was carbon dating. This technique would tell them exactly how old the bones and the artifacts were. It would also tell them the ages of the manuscript and the other items found in the hidden chamber, and everyone was anxiously awaiting the results.
Another tool they might be able to use was DNA—if it hadn’t degraded too much. Sometimes DNA was so badly damaged by heat, moisture, and other factors that it simply could not be read. This grave was so well preserved, however, that the chances of getting usable DNA from the bones looked quite good. Expectations were running high there as well—except Simon’s.
Suddenly, after having driven everyone crazy with his raging enthusiasm for the project, Simon had done a complete about face and decided that the whole thing was nonsense. He didn’t care what the carbon dating would say. He didn’t care about DNA. The very idea of Merlin and Arthur was improbable and Liam was getting carried away. Amanda wondered if he would change his mind if he knew he was echoing what Amphora had said. She was tempted to tell him.
But then they got the results, and they were stunning: the bones, staff, and manuscript all dated from the Sixth Century—the supposed time of Arthur. It was clear that Liam was still trying to maintain a healthy skepticism, but even he was succumbing to the lure of the golden aura surrounding the project—which unfortunately was about to tarnish in a big way.
For one thing, Simon got into a big argument with Ivy. Aside from the times when she would fine him for squabbling with Amphora, this was unheard of. But now things turned deadly serious. Amanda saw the whole thing on Skype.
Ivy had declared her intention to hold a little celebration for her father at the local pub. Simon had taken exception to the idea and just about lacerated her.
“I thought scientists were supposed to be skeptical,” he said.
“He is being skeptical,” said Ivy. “I want to celebrate the progress the team is making.”
“It’s way too early to do that,” said Simon.
“It’s not a trip to the moon,” said Ivy. “It’s just a little atta boy. If you’re uncomfortable with it you don’t have to come.”
“I won’t,” said Simon ungraciously.
“I seem to remember that it wasn’t too long ago that you were over the moon about the dirk,” she said. “You said it was proof of King Arthur’s presence in the area.”
“I was wrong,” said Simon. “I’ve corrected that now. As your dad should.”
“Right. He should deny the evidence.”
“The evidence isn’t all in yet,” said Simon.
“He’s aware of that,” said Ivy.
“Are you sure?” said Simon.
“What is wrong with you, Simon?” Ivy screamed. “How can you be so sure and excited one day and so negative the next? You should get a psychiatric evaluation. You’re obviously schizophrenic!”
Amanda had never head Ivy talk that way to anyone before, let alone Simon.
“What would you know?” said Simon. “Little Miss Sunshine. No one can ever do anything wrong in your world.”
“SIMON!” screamed Amanda through the microphone. “Are you insane? Shut up!”
“You are hateful!” shouted Ivy. “You hide behind that Asperger’s thing you’ve got going on so people won’t blame you for being a nasty, spiteful person. But all the time you know perfectly well what you’re doing and you won’t take responsibility for it. I never want to speak to you again as long as I live!”
Simon looked stunned. He stood there with his mouth hanging open and left the frame so that Amanda could only see Ivy, who had burst into tears and was sobbing loudly. She wished she could fly through the phone and comfort her friend, but all she could do was say, “Ivy! Don’t listen to him. He’s awful.”
Then she phoned Simon and left a scathing voice mail for him. She was tempted to ask Sidebotham to recall him but couldn’t bring herself to be that mean. Still, what she felt for Simon at that moment was every bit as strong as her feelings about Nick when he’d asked her to kill her father. Was the offense of equal weight? At the moment it felt like it.
As Amanda was contemplating the question, Amphora wandered into the common room.
“I heard that,” she said. “Now you know what I’ve been complaining about all this time.”
“What are you talking about?” said Amanda, attempting to play dumb.
“Simon. He’s a jerk.”
“He can be a bit argumentative,” said Amanda. She didn’t know why she was trying to defend him.
“Don’t lie to me, Amanda,” said Amphora. “You know perfectly well that he’s not a nice person.”
“He does many nice things,” said Amanda, failing to think of even one.
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br /> “I’ll remind you you said that when he turns on you,” said Amphora, and left the room.
Amanda ran to Clive to tell him what had happened and he sat there with a horrified look on his face. “Poor Ivy,” he said.
“What is wrong with that guy?” said Amanda.
“He’s got issues,” said Clive.
“What do you mean ‘issues’?”
“Just stuff,” said Clive. “Sorry. I can’t tell you.”
This threw Amanda for a loop. What issues could Simon possibly have? He had once been in danger of losing his place at Legatum, but that threat was behind him. He didn’t seem ill. He was doing all right in his classes, and he had friends. He seemed to speak about his family positively. She couldn’t imagine what the problem was.
“Does this have anything to do with him kissing me?” she said.
“What?” said Clive. “No, of course not. He doesn’t really have a thing for you. He’s just being obnoxious.”
“Then what is it?”
“Sorry,” said Clive, shaking his head. “Confidentiality.”
“An easy way to wriggle out of anything you don’t want to deal with,” said Amanda.
“I think you know me better than that,” said Clive.
He was a good guy. She wasn’t being fair to him. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
As she left Clive a few minutes later she began to wonder. Was Amphora right? Was Simon way nastier than he seemed? Could he have been hiding his true personality all this time? She didn’t see how—or why. She’d always assumed that what you saw with Simon was what you got. No, Amphora was just trying to stir up trouble as usual. Clive had the answer. Something was bugging Simon. It probably wasn’t her business—except that it had made him hurt Ivy something awful—and her father. She would have to get to the bottom of this, if not for her own sake, then for Ivy’s.
The next day Liam announced that the DNA was usable and he was going to see if he could identify it. Seeing that the skeleton was about fifteen hundred years old, Amanda didn’t see how that could happen. But then Liam explained that he might be able to find a descendant using mitochondrial DNA, the DNA that’s passed down from the mother’s side of the family. That way he might be able to work backward through the person’s family tree. It was a long shot, but if the dead person had reproduced and their descendants had reproduced, there was a tiny chance that they might find someone who was related to him—and it was definitely a him, they had determined. A male, about fifty years old.
Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set Page 120