by Leo McNeir
“But you’re supposed to be on holiday, Anne.”
“That’s okay. It’s quite fun, actually.”
“What do you have to do?”
“I mostly spend my time squatting in the mud pointing a microphone at Zoë.”
“Sounds a gas.”
They ended the conversation and agreed to be in touch over the weekend.
The plan for the day was that Anne would spend the morning visiting the National Gallery and would return to assist Donovan around lunchtime. Anne would have stayed on site all day, but Donovan insisted she should have at least a partial holiday. He had once told her the saying in military circles that all plans fell apart once contact was made with the enemy. That morning they learned that something similar also held true for archaeology.
*
Anne and Donovan were wondering what would be the subject of the daily dispute at the building site. Whatever it was, the hot money was on Zoë once again being in the middle of it. They were right, but the atmosphere was much more low-key that morning. As they waved their security passes at the guard on the gate, they could see Zoë remonstrating with one of the students, a thin girl with a thick brown pigtail down her back. The girl looked less than pleased as she walked over to the staff hut. Zoë was shaking her head with a wry smile as she saw Anne and Donovan approaching.
“She knows the rules,” Zoë said in exasperation. “No jewellery on the dig.”
“The diamond tiara interferes with the hard hat?” Anne suggested.
It was a measure of their improved relationship that she felt able to make such a remark.
Zoë grinned. “Something like that.”
“Is that the usual rule at an excavation?” Donovan asked.
He had a clear recollection of seeing archaeologists wearing small items of jewellery on the Glebe Farm dig the previous summer.
“It’s one of my rules,” said Zoë. “And there’s a good reason for it. A year or two back, one of the students on our summer dig in Staffordshire thought she’d found a Roman pendant. Turns out it had been dropped by one of the girls on the team who’d snagged the chain on some stonework.”
“And you seriously mistook it for Roman?” Anne said.
Zoë sighed. “In fact, it was a replica from that company, Past Times, and it almost fooled me. Caked with dirt and mud, it was a pretty good imitation at first sight. So now I make a rule … no exceptions.”
Zoë’s grin changed abruptly to a scowl. Turning to follow her look, Anne saw Dick Blackwood walking towards the compound.
“Quick,” Zoë said. “Get your protective clothing and follow me down to the dig.”
Donovan began to speak. “Actually, Zoë, Anne is going –”
But it was too late. Zoë was already hurrying towards the first ladder. Donovan turned to Anne.
“Look, there’s no need for you to –”
Anne interrupted. “This sound equipment you’ve brought … it needs someone to operate, doesn’t it? I mean, you can’t film and record sound single-handed, right?”
“It’s not ideal, but this morning I was just going to film the diggers at work, plus cutaways with wild sound in the background.”
“Looks like Zoë has other ideas,” Anne said. “Let’s just get on with it.”
Entering the staff hut, Donovan was surprised that Dick had not yet appeared. He looked out towards the entrance gate and saw him in conversation with Dr Fennimore. Dick was gesticulating in excited fashion. Donovan went inside and quickly dressed for the site.
“This doesn’t look good,” he said wearily to Anne, who by now was ready to go.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“I think we’re about to have two hyper archaeologists to deal with. Dick’s out there bending the ear of the project director. Something’s got him going.”
Anne groaned. Grabbing their gear, they exited the hut and hurried towards the excavation. Dick was still explaining something to Dr Fennimore, but now his style was more restrained, as if pressing home the detailed points of an argument. Fennimore was listening intently, his expression hovering between impressed and startled.
“I wonder what that’s all about,” Anne said.
She engaged the top rungs of the ladder and began her descent with the equipment bag over her shoulder. When her feet touched bottom, she followed Donovan across the sodden ground on which some kind of tracking had been laid to create a footpath. Even in the half light of the dig area, she could see that Zoë was more animated than usual. Hyper. Donovan was right. She wondered what Zoë would do if she, Anne, simply announced that she had other plans for the morning and could not stay.
Too late. She hesitated, and the moment passed. Donovan was already being briefed, and Anne quickly joined them. Zoë was in mid-flight.
“… even more significant than I at first thought possible.” Her eyes were sparkling again. Anne knew that look. “The others are over there.”
They all peered into the gloom.
“What are we looking for?” Anne asked.
Zoë turned and placed her hands on Anne’s shoulders. She spoke slowly.
“We have now uncovered five Roman vessels … not three, Anne … five.”
“Why are they here?” Anne said. “Presumably, they wouldn’t just abandon them, would they?”
“That’s what makes them so special, Anne. They’ve probably been here since the Romans began moving back to defend Rome against the Visigoths in around 410 AD.”
“You mean they just left them behind?”
“Exactly. After the Roman empire collapsed in the west, a lot of trading ceased. The Romans dumped a lot of things when they left.”
“But wouldn’t they have needed all their boats … er, ships?”
“That has never been clear, Anne, at least not until now. This discovery may well prove that they took what they could in their biggest vessels and left the smaller ones behind. With no crews to operate them, they were just abandoned.”
Anne thought of old photographs she had seen of decaying narrowboats and barges left rotting in backwaters of the canal system after the bulk of commercial carrying had ceased.
“So this is an important discovery,” Anne said.
“That, Anne, is the understatement of the year. This is huge.”
And it will make your name, Anne thought.
Zoë’s eyes refocused to a point over Anne’s shoulder.
“Ah, good,” said Zoë. “Just the man I wanted …” Her voice tailed off.
Anne and Donovan turned to see Dr Fennimore reaching the bottom of the ladder. He stopped and looked up, as if expecting someone to be following him. After a few moments he checked his watch and scanned the lower level. Spotting Zoë, he waved to her to come over. Anne and Donovan went with her, but Fennimore shook his head.
“Sorry,” he said, “I need to have a word with Dr Tipton in private.”
He led Zoë a short distance away while Anne and Donovan withdrew to give them space.
“Something’s going on,” Donovan murmured.
“I wonder what,” said Anne.
“My guess is, Dick’s got something up his sleeve.”
“It will have to be pretty big to trump Zoë’s finds down here.” Anne looked over at the group of students busily engaged on the ship remains. “What d’you think it could be?”
Donovan shrugged. “I don’t know enough about archaeology to know what’s hot.”
“He’s probably found … King Arthur’s round table,” Anne said, with an impish smile.
Donovan grinned. “Even if Camelot ever existed, I don’t think it was supposed to be in these parts.”
They had a clear view of Zoë’s reaction to whatever Dr Fennimore was saying. She looked completely subdued, as if he was telling her the Roman ships were replicas from Past Times. Fennimore repeatedly looked up the ladder, but no-one came down. When he ended the conversation, he began climbing to the surface leaving Zoë standing in silent conte
mplation.
Donovan spoke under his breath. “I think you’re going to get your visit to the gallery, Anne.”
“You think so?”
“We’ll see now.”
Zoë walked slowly over to where they were standing. “Er … I don’t think we’ll be filming this morning after all. Something’s … come up.”
“Will you be needing us later on?” Donovan asked.
Zoë avoided eye contact. “Probably not, I think.” She glanced up quickly. “If you’ll excuse me …”
Zoë hurried back to the excavations.
“I wonder what’s the archaeological term that’s bigger than mega,” Donovan said quietly.
“You think Dick has discovered something of that order?”
Donovan shrugged. “What else could it be?”
*
Marnie was sitting on the roof, dangling her legs over the side of the boat while Ralph steered. Rubbing sunblock on her arms, she was thinking about fetching cold drinks from the galley, when her mobile rang..
“That’s only your second call all week, Marnie. It must be a record.”
Marnie smiled and pressed the green button.
“Hallo? Marnie Walker.”
Anne told her of the strange happenings at the site that morning. Marnie was equally baffled and rapidly outlined the situation to Ralph.
“Sounds like Dick has come up with something significant,” he called over the sound of the engine. “I suspect it must be something like that.”
“Any idea what?” Marnie asked.
Ralph shook his head.
“You haven’t been able to ask Dick direct?” Marnie said.
“Not so far,” said Anne. “He’s been in a huddle with Dr Fennimore. They’ve shut themselves away in another hut on site. Strictly no admittance.”
When Marnie disconnected, she went down into the galley and brought up glasses of sparkling water with chunks of ice and a wedge of lemon. While they sipped, they tried to guess what might have happened.
“I suppose Dick might have come across a hoard of some kind,” Ralph suggested. “Do you know what’s the subject of his thesis?”
“I only know he’s a medievalist,” said Marnie. “And would a hoard be more important than those Roman vessels?”
“Depends what was in it.”
“Any other ideas?”
Ralph pondered. “A burial, perhaps? The lost tomb of some king or other?”
“Surely they know where all the medieval kings are buried,” Marnie said. “What about Boudicca’s tomb? That’s never been found, has it?”
“Not Dick’s field of study,” said Ralph.
“Maybe not, but that wouldn’t prevent him finding it if he was digging somewhere.”
“True. Whatever it is, it must be … what’s the best way of describing it?”
“Mega?” Marnie suggested.
*
Anne and Donovan went back to the staff hut to change out of their protective clothing. While Donovan was putting the hard hats up on the shelf, Dr Fennimore looked in.
“I think we need to have a word,” he said. “Can you hang on for a minute or two?”
“Sure,” said Anne.
Fennimore went out, and the door closed silently behind him.
“My guess is we’re about to sign the Official Secrets Act,” Donovan said, hanging up his yellow jacket.
He held out his hand to take Anne’s jacket and joined her at the table.
“I wonder what’s going on,” Anne muttered. “It’s all very mysterious.”
“It has to be about Dick,” Donovan said firmly. “He’s been away from the site for most of the week. Then he turns up in an excited state and gets Fennimore jumping. He tells Zoë what’s happened, and that bursts her bubble.”
“So where do we fit in?” Anne asked.
“I don’t think we do.”
Before Donovan could continue, the door swung open and Fennimore entered, followed by Dick, whose eyes were alight. Anne thought this was how scientists must have reacted when they first split the atom or discovered the double helix of DNA.
Dick winked at Anne as he took his place at the table. She gave him a questioning look, but his only reply was to beam at her with raised eyebrows. Dr Fennimore cleared his throat and adopted a serious expression.
“How should I begin?” he said.
He was evidently not expecting an answer, so everyone waited for him to continue. He steepled his fingers and bowed his head as if about to say prayers.
“In the coming days you’re likely to hear things through your contact with the archaeologists here.” He spoke slowly and quietly. “Certain matters will inevitably be mentioned in your presence. I want you to understand that nothing you hear is to go beyond this compound. Do I make myself clear?”
“Are you going to tell us what kind of thing is in question?” Donovan asked.
Fennimore reflected. “No. I can’t do that.”
“Dr Fennimore, we aren’t experts in this field. We may not realise what of all the things we hear might need to be kept secret.”
“Oh, you would,” said Fennimore. “Believe me.”
Beside Fennimore, Dick Blackwood was staring down at the table, trying hard to contain himself.
“What have you found … the Crown Jewels?” Donovan said in a flippant tone.
Anne and Donovan were astonished at the reaction of the two archaeologists. Their heads snapped up and they glared at Donovan. He looked sideways at Anne, who was as baffled as he was.
“I meant that in a light-hearted way,” said Donovan. “Obviously.”
Dick opened his mouth to speak, but Fennimore cut him off.
“I think enough has been said on this subject.”
“So you’re not going to give us any idea what’s happened?” Donovan said.
Fennimore shook his head. “We’re not ready to make any announcement at the present time. We’re not even giving exact details to our own colleagues.”
Donovan persisted. “Even though we’ve promised to respect confidentiality?”
“This is about academic protocol,” Fennimore said. “We’ll make known what has happened when we’ve ascertained all the facts.”
“Do we get back to filming Zoë and her ships?” Donovan asked. “I want to get footage of the students on the dig. I hoped that might include shots of you talking to them as they work, Dr Fennimore.”
“I’m going to be otherwise engaged this morning,” said Fennimore. “Mr Blackwood and I have things to discuss.”
Donovan took that as a sign that their meeting was concluded. He stood up and shouldered his pack. Anne did the same and they left the hut.
“Amazing,” said Donovan as they walked across to the ladder.
“The secrecy bit or their reaction to your Crown Jewels remark?”
“Neither. The fact that Dick didn’t utter a single syllable all through.”
Anne stopped and turned to Donovan. “What did you make of their reaction to what you said?”
Anne knew that face. Donovan was working though the possibilities in his mind.
“It must be about some kind of treasure,” he said, “something really major.”
They looked over at the Tower of London across the river, where the Crown Jewels of England were on display in secure cabinets in a heavily-protected gallery. “I don’t think even Dick would tunnel his way in there and claim them.”
“What then?” Anne said.
“Two things. I think the first question we have to ask is where Dick has been this week. Also, we know his field is the Middle Ages, but we don’t know the subject of the thesis he’s working on.”
“Can we find out?” Anne said. “Who would know?”
“I expect if we asked –”
At that moment students began emerging from the dig hole. One after another they scrambled off the ladder and assembled in the yard. A dozen of them formed a group, chatting among themselves. Then their number grew
to about twenty, then thirty. Eventually, Zoë emerged from below, followed by two more students. She looked annoyed, weary and despondent in equal measure.
Anne and Donovan went over to where she was standing.
“What’s up?” said Donovan.
Zoë was like a different person. The lively, dynamic young woman of the previous evening had gone. Now she looked as if she had not slept for a week. The light in her eyes was extinguished.
“First there’s this new business with Dick Blackwood,” she said. “That’s going to get in the way of everything I’m trying to do here. Now this …” She waved an arm towards the excavation.
In the background builders were descending the ladder, and a crane had swung round to lower equipment and materials down into the hole.
“What’s going on?” said Donovan.
Zoë sighed. “The wretched site agent has intervened, playing the health and safety card. We’re out of there for the rest of the morning. He wants yet more shuttering to protect the site.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” said Anne. “I mean, won’t that help preserve your ships?”
“It’s just one more annoyance, Anne. There’s nothing wrong with the site as it is. These people are obsessed with health and bloody safety. They’re always going on about it.”
Donovan joined in. “You mentioned this new business with Dick …?”
Zoë shook her head. “To be brutally frank, I have doubts … serious doubts. We shall see …”
With that, she walked away, head bowed, avoiding eye contact with everyone.
“If they’re out, we’re out,” Donovan said, watching Zoë pull open the door of the staff hut. “I suppose that means you’re free, Anne. The cultural fleshpots of London await you.”
“What about you? What will you do, Donovan?”
“Good question. I suppose I ought to write up my work on the project so far. I’ve got the laptop with me. Perhaps I could go back and work in the flat?”
“Of course you can.” Anne looked at her watch. “How about coffee first?”
*
Marnie yawned and stretched. She had not felt so relaxed in weeks, months … probably years. She made a mental resolve to take at least one holiday every year from then on. From her perch on the boat’s roof, she smiled at Ralph who was leaning comfortably against the tiller. They had passed through the last lock of their journey south at Cowley and knew they now had a clear run all the way to Little Venice.