‘What do you mean? Why have you moved sites?’
‘Elizabeth, I have fallen in love with the most wonderful girl in the world.’
What on Earth did this have to do with his doctorate?
‘Yes, Elizabeth,’ he continued, ‘I fell in love with my amada Lupita, Lupita Martinez, when first I arrived in Mexico, just six years ago. She is my only care since…’
Juan was clearly besotted, but why was he telling her this?
‘…well, my first care. I must finish my PhD, of course. This is an important thing, too.’
Elizabeth settled her face into a polite smile. Juan wasn’t her friend at university, and she didn’t particularly care about the lack of progress on his thesis or his love life. Was meeting him for coffee going to be a complete waste of time?
‘I should have finished my doctorate when you did,’ said Juan. ‘But I spent my first four years in Mexico helping my beloved Lupita’s family in the fields instead. Lupita’s father will only let her marry with me if I prove I can look after the family.’
Elizabeth felt momentary admiration for Juan: he must really love this girl. Hang on, wasn’t Juan on scholarship for the first three years of his degree like Elizabeth? But he didn’t work to earn it? That was akin to stealing!
‘What about your scholarship, Juan? What did you report for progress?’
Juan waved a hand dismissively.
‘I spent some time at Tajinel. I submitted a few soil tests. No-one asked of me any questions until the scholarship finished. Then, after some time, they stopped asking. I have one year left anyway, so I am sure to make it on time. There are always people who can help me. The important thing is to make as much of Juluwik as possible.’
Juan’s smugness turned Elizabeth’s stomach. Time to be direct.
‘So, what’s your big news about Luke?’
‘Oh, he should tell you this himself,’ Juan wouldn’t meet her eyes. ‘Besides, I didn’t mean he had big news, I meant I had big news.’
‘No, Juan, you said you had big news to tell me about Luke.’
‘Yes! Big news. But not Luke’s news. My news,’ Juan leant forward in his chair, blocking Elizabeth’s view of the windows. ‘Maybe our news, no?’
What nonsense was this? Time to go; Elizabeth looked meaningfully at her watch.
‘We have discovered it,’ Juan whispered.
‘It?’
‘It, Elizabeth, it. At Juluwik. The earliest writing in the Americas. Yes, it’s true. We are going to publish and we will be famous. And we want you to be part of the team.’
There was no sound in the world, then a strange ringing in her ears. Pain danced vaguely on the edge of awareness. Elizabeth realised she was gripping her cartouche so tightly it was cutting into the palm of her hand.
‘Ah, sorry, could you repeat that?’
‘I said, we have found the earliest writing in the Americas. It is going to make for all of us good careers. And we want for you to be part of it.’
That made no sense. Elizabeth hadn’t studied American archaeology or writing systems. That was Juan’s speciality. Did he have her confused with someone else?
‘Juan, for my post-grad work I specialised in Egyptology, palaeogenetics, skeletal analysis…that kind of thing. I’m not sure why you want me.’
‘Yes. This is exactly why we want you,’ Juan said, baffling her further. ‘The writing is in a cave which is also a cemetery. A royal cemetery, Elizabeth. There are skeletons, which have been brought to here. We want you to be the person to analyse them for us.’
Juan paused for a second. ‘Surely you want to do this?’ He seemed incredulous when she didn’t agree immediately.
‘It sounds…well, it sounds fantastic,’ Elizabeth said, hedging.
‘Only,’ Juan continued, ‘we cannot pay you. Once this important site is published, though, we should receive much funding.’
The tiny spark of hope in Elizabeth’s heart died. Juan knew she was excellent at skeletal analysis and wanted to use her. Time to set him straight.
‘The funding will pay for further exploring of the site,’ Juan said before she could reject his offer, ‘as well as much tourism and jobs for the local people. As we uncover more skeletons, you can be our expert. You could even end up with a team of your own.’
Perhaps this was a real opportunity, after all? Oh, wait. Mexico…tropical jungles…poor preservation. What were we actually talking about here?
‘It does sound like an amazing opportunity,’ she said as diplomatically as she could. ‘I’d like to know more.’
Juan waved his hands at her, indicating she should ask whatever she liked.
‘Well, where is the site?’
‘About 50 miles from Córdoba, in Veracruz.’
‘How many sets of remains do you have, and what state are they in?’
‘Seventeen individuals so far. The cemetery is inside the cave and protected from the weather, so they are well preserved.’
This still wasn’t making sense. There were plenty of other researchers at the university who could manage a basic analysis and description of just seventeen skeletons.
‘I sexed the skeletons myself,’ Juan continued. ‘There are three men, one woman and thirteen children. The most fascinating find was the woman with a ballplayer figurine. They are more than three thousand, two hundred years old. Elizabeth, this is it!’
‘When was the site discovered?’ Elizabeth continued her questioning, ignoring the dramatic overlay.
Juan’s nostrils flared. ‘Juluwik was discovered about one, two years ago, yes? Carl Schmidt is the site director. He was also the director of the Tajinel site. He transferred me from Tajinel to Juluwik after he discovered it.’
‘Is the cave an isolated site, or is it part of something larger?’
‘The cave is part of a large complex. We have found the foundations of many buildings and other works…large buildings, avenues and, of course, a ball court. We do not know completely how large the site is. It is very hidden, with much jungle. We are lucky that someone’s dog was lost in the cave, otherwise, it may not have been found.’
‘And you say it has the oldest writing in the Americas, and that it’s a royal cemetery. What evidence is there for that?’
‘You ask a lot of questions, Elizabeth. I thought you would be more excited than this.’
‘I am excited, Juan. But you know me…I want to understand what’s involved before I say yes.’
‘But you will say yes, Elizabeth. I know you will. Luke said you are miserable working here in the Library, that your only wish is to return to archaeology.’
What? Luke discussed her feelings with Juan? Elizabeth covered her confusion as best she could.
‘Yes, of course I miss archaeology. Who wouldn’t? But that doesn’t answer my questions. How do you know the cemetery is royal, and how do you know the writing is older than anything else found so far?’
‘All right, Elizabeth, all right. You are so very…hmmm, um…tenaz. How do you say this? Like a bull wanting to go through a gate? But I will satisfy you with my answers. There are two things that tell us these important facts. The first thing is the writing – I could translate some of it immediately. It has the date over three thousand, two hundred years old. And, to make it certain, Carl has radiocarbon dated ceramics from the site and they have this same age.’
‘And how do you know it’s a royal cemetery?’
‘The writing uses symbols we know mean royal, and the grave goods in the cave have markings for royal males on them.’
‘I see,’ Elizabeth said. It all sounded very promising, but… ‘Juan, there are plenty of other people who could analyse such a small number of skeletons. Why me?’
‘Because you are the best, Elizabeth, and the remains are here, in Canberra. And you wish to be published, yes? Your name would be on every publication for Juluwik.’
Could she really get back into archaeology, get published and keep working at the Library? Still, it was clear
Juan was holding something back.
‘Elizabeth, meet Carl before you decide. At the lab, in two Saturdays?’ Juan pleaded. ‘He will make this site the most famous in all Mexico. I told Carl how good you are with the bones. He wants to meet with you very much.’
‘I’ll tell you what,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I have to get back to work now, but I’ll think about it over the weekend and give you a call next week?’
‘Yes, Elizabeth,’ Juan nodded. ‘I know you will say yes.’
As she returned to the Maps wing, Elizabeth’s desire to analyse the skeletons was almost palpable. Was it really possible that she could be back in archaeology in just a week’s time?
Chapter Five
The following morning, lying in bed, Elizabeth heard Sam jabbering away at Nainai while allegedly helping her in the walled vegetable garden. Elizabeth snorted at the idea of Sam the lush doing anything remotely useful, then she began to dress.
As she pulled on her jeans and a striped Breton top, Elizabeth’s nose indicated to her that she should investigate the kitchen. Drifting down the hallway, Elizabeth realised why: Taid was cooking cawl mamgu. Welsh soup! No wonder her nose was quivering. Taid’s delectable lamb and leek soup was Elizabeth’s absolute favourite.
Taid was usually banned from the kitchen by Elizabeth’s grandmothers due to the phenomenal mess he created. Normally, the only reason Grandmère and Nainai relented was if Taid had badgered someone into cleaning up after him. Elizabeth wondered who Taid’s victim was today. As she entered the kitchen, Taid turned and gave Elizabeth one of his twinkle-eyed smiles. Uh-oh.
‘Bore da, Taid. Sut da chi?’ Good morning, Taid, how are you?
‘Da iawn, diolch. Paned o de?’ he replied.
‘A cup of tea would be lovely, thanks,’ Elizabeth said, sitting at the breakfast bar. ‘Okay, I have to ask. How did you convince the Grand High Council of Grandmothers to let you cook today?’
‘I told them you’d be my sous chef,’ Taid replied, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Elizabeth almost smiled in return, but stopped herself. The idea of spending the morning with Taid was appealing, but she couldn’t make it too easy for him. She looked pointedly at the carnage of used knives, dirty spoons and vegetable peelings strewn from one end of the kitchen to the other.
‘Really? I don’t remember agreeing to be your serf. What if I want to do free-person things today?’
‘Why, for you my Beth bach, I would clean up after myself,’ Taid countered, teaspoon tinkling in freshly poured Earl Grey. ‘There must be sufficient cawl to sustain you through the coming winter months!’
‘How very self-sacrificing of you, Taid bach.’
He smirked.
‘But really. What if I was busy?’ Elizabeth asked, reaching for her favourite Eeyore mug.
Taid looked directly at her.
‘Whether you are or not, I need to talk with you soon. You were so quiet at dinner last night that your grandmothers and I agreed that something must be bothering you. So Cho will keep Samantha busy in the garden, and Madeleine has taken Mathieu to the markets to give us some space. If you’re free, of course.’
A swirl of playful responses sprang to mind, but all Elizabeth could manage was, ‘Okay.’
As she sipped her tea, Elizabeth noticed the cats drift into the kitchen, targeting the warm slate tiles. As soon as they saw Elizabeth’s grandfather, however, they sensibly diverted to the cooler conservatory. The mixing of Taid’s feet with reposing felines usually resulted in both ruffled fur and feelings. For some reason, he simply couldn’t master the tail-and-paw shuffle.
‘Let’s get to it then,’ Taid said. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind, or do I need to ply you with a biscuit first?’
‘Biscuit.’
Taid placed a large lemon and currant Welsh dragon in front of Elizabeth. The icing was superb, sweet and tangy.
‘Well?’
‘Delicious.’
Taid removed steaming chunks of lamb from a now unctuous stock, and swapped Elizabeth’s empty biscuit plate for one piled high with neck chops for her to deflesh. Elizabeth began plucking small morsels from the rosettes, splattering herself with droplets of hot fat.
‘Beth, come on.’
Oh well, here goes nothing. ‘I’ve been offered a job back in archaeology,’ she blurted.
Taid tensed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Juan de Montoya from my honours year came to see me at the Library yesterday. He’s working on an Olmec site in Mexico. He said they found skeletal remains that have been brought here for analysis. He invited me to join the team. I’d be on any papers that were published, but there’s no money in it.’
‘That sounds exciting, Beth. You should be excited, too. What aren’t you saying?’
Elizabeth considered her answer as she cleaned the lenses of her weekend glasses with a teatowel.
‘Well, I could only do the work on Saturdays. In fact, Juan asked me to go and meet the team leader, Carl, at the lab next Saturday. But I can’t, really, because it would mean I’d be out of the house six days a week, and I’d have to miss Saturdays with Matty.’
Taid shook his head.
‘You work so hard all week for us, there’s no way we’d ask you not to do this.’ He smiled. ‘We’d just have to make the most of our Sundays together, Mathieu included.’
Elizabeth bit the inside of her lower lip.
‘I haven’t seen Matty with any friends lately, and he avoids all my questions about it. Has he had anyone over after school?’
‘No,’ Taid sighed. ‘He seems to be withdrawing again, coming straight home and going to his room. He has to be measured for his next surgeries soon, so I think that’s what’s behind it.’
‘Doesn’t that make my Saturdays with him even more important?’
‘No, Beth. You have already put your career on hold for the family – which we appreciate no end – but there’s no need for martyrdom. You love archaeology, full stop. And we’re all here for Mathieu. You should go to the laboratory next Saturday and meet this Carl, then make a decision based on nothing other than what you want for yourself.’
Elizabeth’s initial excitement at publishing a skeletal analysis for such an important site returned. ‘All right,’ she said, nodding.
‘Excellent,’ said Taid, nodding back. They grinned at each other. ‘I think it might prove very rewarding. Now, I remember you mentioning the Olmecs somewhere early in your first degree. Why don’t you go to that special “library” of yours soon and look over what you already know?’
Elizabeth had planned to do just that – there were multiple tomes of Mesoamerican archaeology on the shelves of her phrenic library.
An hour or so later Elizabeth felt a surge of happiness as she watched Taid ladle the last of the soup into containers. There was a certain comfort in knowing that in winter, when icy winds lashed the house, she could pull a jar out of the freezer and wrap herself in the culinary equivalent of a warm blanket.
Taid adjourned to his library for the afternoon with tea and bara brith. The cats, sensing safety, wafted from their cane chairs in the conservatory to find warm spots from the kitchen’s underfloor heating.
As she prepared to mop the black-and-white chequerboard floor, Elizabeth marvelled at Taid’s ability to create a mess. His ability to utterly devastate the kitchen every time he cooked defied explanation. There were splashes of grease on the black marble bench, the white splashback tiles and across the adjoining walls. Elizabeth shook her head, clapped her hands to urge the cats out of the kitchen and began cleaning.
As she mopped she resolved to ring Juan first thing Monday morning and agree to meet him at the lab next Saturday. By Khaenweset, in just one week’s time she would be back where she belonged.
—
The following Friday night Elizabeth lay in bed, rigid with tension, excitement and uncertainty. As she breathed out, she was aware of Seshet pressed against her under the blanket. Thoth, on t
op of the covers, snuggled in the dip between Elizabeth’s knees. The steam rising from a pot of apple tea on her bedside table helped her to relax. She couldn’t put it off any longer. It was time.
Elizabeth hadn’t visited her phrenic library since completing her diploma last year. She wondered what had changed in her absence.
Grasping her cartouche in her right hand, she closed her eyes.
Elizabeth opened the lightly carved rosewood door to reveal an infinitely long, narrow room. To her left, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and deep-set bay windows alternated along the wall. To her right lay a carefully constructed fireplace scene, and beyond that, display cases of ancient treasures stretched into the distance.
As usual upon entering, Elizabeth paused to observe the room.
On this occasion there was an ornately studded armchair in front of the fireplace. Its matching ottoman presented the library’s most delightful occupant: Billy. Eyes closed, arms outstretched, Billy yawned, opened his eyes, sat up and demanded a pat.
She scratched the top of his ginger head and continued to scan the room. The air was pleasantly cool, reassuring. Sunlight glowed through gently snaking gauze curtains.
Moving to the closest shelf, she reached for the first book she had ever read on Mesoamerican archaeology.
Elizabeth sank into the leather wing chair in the library of her mind and began to read.
She flipped through chapters covering early Mexican archaeology and the work of Alfonso Caso and Ignacio Bernal. She located a short section on writing in Mesoamerica, comparisons with the Incan knot language, disputed interpretations of the Cascajal block, and…ahh, that’s why the writing in the Juluwik cave was so significant: the carvings there predated the currently accepted earliest Mesoamerican writing by centuries!
Skimming over sections on the Aztecs, Toltecs and Mayans, Elizabeth found an introductory chapter on Olmec archaeology. Right: here were Gertrude and Matthew Stirling, pioneering Olmec archaeologists. Here were pyramids to rival Egypt’s finest, enormous Olmec stone heads, and the possible origin of the Mesoamerican obsession with corn, fertility and the rubber ballgame.
Like the Egyptians on the Nile, Harappans on the Indus, Chinese on the Yangzi and Sumerians on the Tigris, the Olmec culture had emerged along a river, the Coatzacoalcos in tropical mid-Mexico. A fascinating culture: on the one hand they developed a complex calendar, the concept of zero, and wonderful jade, obsidian and ceramic art. On the other, their world view seemed to be dominated by fear and a need to appease invisible forces. Ritual bloodletting was popular. They even had bog sacrifices reminiscent of the Celts’.
Olmec Obituary Page 5