“Good morning.” Fine laugh lines formed around the woman’s eyes and warmed her sharp face. She almost looked beautiful.
“Good morning. I’m looking for Professor Gorshe. I’m Max Gallus.”
“Ah, yes, he told me you were coming,” the woman said. “Unfortunately, the professor won’t be able to join us today. He had to attend to some important business at the museum. I’m his colleague, Marija. I will be assisting you.”
“Thank you for accommodating us, Marija. We’ll try not to cause too much damage.” Max grinned. “This is Shelley, Brad, Simon, and Dex.”
“It’s good to see young people taking such a keen interest in Slovenian history.” Marija shook each of their hands. “If you’ll come with me, we’ll get you suited up.”
Max zipped Shelley into her black wet suit and handed her a full-faced diver’s mask. “This will allow you to breathe as you normally would.”
“You mean unlike the way I’m hyperventilating now?”
“Don’t worry, luv. We’ll be diving in a very shallow part of the river, no more than a few feet, really.”
“Yeah, come on, Shelley. It will be fun.” Brad put his arm around her.
“Easy for you to say,” she said. “You guys know how to dive.”
“You’ll be fine.” Dex smiled. “Marija said that we won’t be in the water long. Her team has already surveyed and marked off the dive site.”
“And I’ll be holding your hand the whole time,” Max said. “Just follow my lead.”
“And where exactly are you leading us, Max? You haven’t even told me what I’m risking my lungs and life for,” Shelley said.
Max held the tent flap open for the group. “It will be worth the suspense, I promise.”
“For your sake, it had better be as spectacular as the Titanic,” Shelley said.
Marija was waiting for them at the river’s edge. Two divers in blue wet suits were already in the water farther upstream.
“Are they from the museum, too?” Simon asked.
Marija frowned. “No. They are treasure hunters.”
“Treasure hunters?” Brad asked.
“They scour the river and sell what they find to the highest bidder. A horrid business. They are common thieves as far as I am concerned.” Marija put on her regulator and waded into the brown river.
“Why? What’s in the river, Max?” Shelley asked. “What are they stealing?”
Max secured Shelley’s mask over her face. “Our story.”
Shelley felt a knot of dread as the cold murky water rose over her head. She could not see more than a few feet in front of her. She watched Brad’s fins disappear into the shadows as he swam after Marija. She felt Max squeeze her hand. She turned to face him. He looked into her eyes and held her gaze as they swam deeper. She began to relax. There was a strange comfort in not knowing—and not being able to control—what was going to happen next. It was freeing to be enveloped by the dark, guided only by Max’s hand. There were no railroad tracks or trains to jump from in the water.
Time slowed in the river. Only the gurgling of bubbles from Shelley’s regulator hinted that any second had passed at all. If she could get used to the silt swirling around her, the brown river was not a bad place in which to spend the rest of the tour. The water was cool, she didn’t feel the extra pounds the trip had padded onto her thighs, and Max was at her side. An added bonus was that the river was murky enough to hide her ghosts. Or maybe they just couldn’t swim, which was even better. Dex’s fins flapped in front of her, shattering her watery oasis. She ducked, narrowly avoiding getting her mask knocked off. She drew panicked breaths and changed her mind. She wanted to get out of the water. Now.
A beam of light cut through the river. Marija waved to the group with her flashlight. Shelley clung to Max as they gathered around a buoy line. Dex swam next to her and gave her a friendly nudge. She eked out a wan smile, debating whether or not she was going to strangle him for almost drowning her.
Marija swept the depths with her flashlight. The powerful light pierced through the greenish haze of algae and settled on the bottom. There, behind a veil of silt, was a riddle almost as ancient as the river itself.
Shelley did not understand what she was seeing. Pieces of broken pottery littered the muddy floor, blue-green shards of weathered glass next to them. Was this a shipwreck? A drowned city? A gravesite? Where other rivers might have yielded empty tin cans and the odd leather boot, this one was strewn with the improbable.
Marija swam ahead. The puzzled group followed her. She let her light fall on a spot marked by another buoy. Ancient coins peeked through the silt, giving the group another glimpse of the river’s layered past. Then she swam to a small dark object that was still partially buried in the riverbed. Carefully, she brushed back the blanket of loose sediment that covered it, blurring the water as she did. Shelley caught herself holding her breath, wondering what other treasures the river would yield. Mermaid combs and black pearls were close to the top of her wish list.
Another beam of light flashed over the river’s floor. Marija turned sharply, pointing her flashlight in its direction. A diver in a blue wet suit raised his arm to shield his eyes. He spun around and darted away. She chased after the treasure hunter. Max signaled to the rest of the group to stay put. Shelley glanced back longingly at the artifact that Marija had been about to uncover. It had fallen back into the darkness.
Marija swam back to the group. Shelley could see her frustration through her mask, but a childlike glee soon replaced it when she returned to her find. She brushed back more silt. When the sandy cloud settled, a blackened cross, larger than a man’s hand, jutted through the floor. Marija took its picture with her underwater camera, then cleared away more mud. There, beneath sand and time, was a medieval sword, patiently waiting to be reclaimed.
The group changed back into their clothes while Marija took the sword to another tent to be processed and stabilized.
“That’s some river, Max.” Dex buttoned up his shirt. “No wonder Marija has a lot of competition.”
“The Ljubljanica has yielded more artifacts per square inch than any other river in Europe,” Max said. “They’ve found thousands of items from various points in history. Roman glass. Celtic coins. Germanic jewelry. The oldest object that’s been found so far is a Paleolithic flute.”
“But why would so many artifacts be in the river?” Simon asked.
“I can give you two theories to choose from. One theory is what Marija and all the other archaeologists here will tell you. The other is the story the River Man told Viktor, the man who rescued Pavel from him.”
Marija strode into the tent. “And what would I tell the group, Max? Although personally I’d much rather hear your story about the River Man.”
“Ladies first.” Max offered Marija a seat at the table where the group had gathered.
“Very well.” Marija sat down. “The reason we believe that there is such an extensive trove of artifacts in the Ljubljanica is because of a very fortunate combination of geomorphic and economic factors. The river is what we call a low-energy river, which means that its current is relatively gentle. Another favorable characteristic is its narrow bed made of soft sediment. Both of these features have greatly contributed to the remarkable state of preservation of the river finds, which under other circumstances would have been swept away or eroded. Economically speaking, the river has long been a means for communication and transportation across the Ljubljana moor. Centuries of shipping accidents and battles are a very probable source of some of the artifacts we have found. Remains of settlements and graveyards may have also been washed into the river. Of course, because of the sheer number of certain types of artifacts, we cannot rule out that a fair amount of these items found their way into the river—how shall I put it? Ah, yes,” Marija said, “deliberately.”
Chapter Fourteen
Monsters and men
LJUBLJANICA RIVER
A.D. 958
Iva
n watched his son. Pavel’s arms sliced through the water with long, even strokes far better than most six-year-olds. It was the one lesson that he was certain he had taught Pavel well: how not to drown.
Pride pulled Ivan’s lips taut across the tanned leather of his face. If he smiled any more broadly, his face would crack. He had grown used to it. Having a son set him in the seam of bliss and breaking. Hearts, he learned, were fragile things outside the chest. He was never more aware of it than when he saw his son running over rocky paths, climbing up trees, or diving into the river. It swam to him now.
Pavel grabbed onto Ivan’s arm, wrapped his legs around his father’s waist, and hoisted himself up for another dive. Ivan pulled him down from his shoulders and set him in the hook of his arm. He waded back to the riverbank. A chill snaked through the water, swirling around his legs. “That’s enough play for today. It’s getting late. I have to leave before first light tomorrow.”
“Can I come with you, Papa? Please?” Pavel widened his eyes. They were amber like his mother’s and just as skilled at making his father melt.
Ivan ruffled his son’s wet hair. He wanted to say yes. “I’m afraid the fishing net is still larger than you are.”
Pavel pouted.
“Why the face?”
“I’m not a baby anymore.”
“And neither are you a man. Fishing is not play, Pavel. You will just be in the way.”
Pavel wrestled free from Ivan’s arms. He ran back to the village, tears streaming down his face.
It was still dark when Ivan came to say good-bye. He hovered near Pavel’s bed. He had spared his son the rod but regretted that he had made him go to bed without supper. He ran his fingers through Pavel’s brown hair and watched his eyelids quiver. Pavel pretended to sleep. Ivan pretended not to notice.
The night’s harsh words had left a bitter taste in Ivan’s mouth. He was a whisper away from taking them back. He brought his lips next to his son’s ear, then changed his mind. His apology made a sharp wheeze as he sucked it back through his nose. He exhaled it with a heavy sigh. If only all of life’s lessons were as easy as teaching children how to swim. He drew himself up, traced Pavel’s cheek with his thumb, and left.
Pavel listened as Ivan walked into the inky dawn. Later, he would try to remember every unspoken word, breath, and footstep. Good morning. Good-bye. I’ll see you soon. I love you. Shuffle, shuffle. Creak, creak. They were wisps at best, but he made do. He shaped them into a handful of fog, the last memory he would have of his father.
Pavel held his mother’s hand. Or was it she who was clinging to his? She had kept him stitched to her side ever since his father had left more than a month ago. She had told him his father was dead. He wondered why she had lied to him. His father was coming back. Perhaps he had just lost his way. Or found a treasure. And needed a bigger boat to carry it in. Which meant he had to find larger trees. He was hiking through a forest to find some now. Pavel wriggled his fingers. They were starting to feel numb. His mother squeezed them tighter, pulling him closer to her hip. He sighed. His mother was silly sometimes. Pavel crinkled his toes as the muddy riverbank swallowed more of his sandals. How much longer was this going to take?
Chanting hung over the water thicker than mist. The elders had not run out of prayers yet. Pavel fidgeted. More mud licked his heels. He was tired. It was difficult sleeping on his father’s side of the mattress. The space was too large to fill, but his mother would have it no other way. It was just as well. He wanted to be awake when his father walked through the door.
Pavel looked at the faces of his neighbors as they chanted. They didn’t seem to be getting much sleep, either. Maybe it was because of the women who had not come back from fetching water. He asked his mother about them, but she did not like to talk much lately. She was too busy checking if she had barred their door. And it wasn’t just her. The whole village now kept its doors secured. He heard one name whispered behind them. Gestrin. His mother boxed his ears when he said it out loud.
Ema, the smith’s daughter, had boasted that she knew all about Gestrin. She had said he was a river spirit and that he was angry because no one had brought him offerings. Pavel had rolled his eyes at her. He didn’t like girls much. They were loud and cried a lot when he pulled their hair. Still, he missed her when she went away. His mother told him that Ema was visiting an aunt. Other people told lies about her. Ales, his best friend, listened to them. He said that they had found Ema. He said that she was … broken.
Ales tugged at Pavel’s sleeve and whispered in his ear. He pointed at the ground beneath his feet. “They said this is where they found her.”
Pavel tugged his arm back. “Shut up!”
His mother shushed them both.
The chanting ended. Finally. Pavel looked up at his mother. She nodded at him and handed him his toy. It was time. Necklaces, pots, and coins splashed into the river. The carved wooden boat joined them. It bobbed, tangled in a string of his mother’s beads. It took on water. Pavel watched his favorite toy sink. It was silly, he thought. He kicked at the mud. He didn’t have to do it. He didn’t believe their stories. His father wasn’t dead. Gestrin did not kill him. He didn’t have to make an offering. He just wanted to see if his boat would float. He wasn’t hoping that it was enough to buy his father back. Not really.
The clouds stirred as Pavel skipped pebbles across their reflection. “Do you believe in the River Man, Uncle Viktor?”
Viktor patted Pavel’s shoulder. He no longer had to crouch down to do it. The boy had grown since his last visit. “That is an old wives’ tale, Pavel.”
“So … the River Man did not take Papa?” Pavel picked up another stone.
Viktor looked into Pavel’s eyes. They were as amber as his own. “No.”
“I knew it.” Pavel beamed. “I told Mama that Papa was coming back.”
“No, Pavel. You misunderstand. Your father isn’t coming back.”
“But you said …”
“Your father wasn’t killed by the River Man. He had an accident. I’m sorry.”
Pavel threw the stone. It skipped three times before sinking into the river. “You’re wrong. He will come back. You’ll see.”
Viktor sighed.
A young woman marched toward them. The hem of her wool dress was wet from the marshes. Her brown hair swung in a braid behind her. “There you are! I’ve been looking for both of you. It’s getting dark. Come away from the river.”
“But, Mama, it’s still early.”
“Listen to your mother,” Viktor said.
“Only if you tell me more of your stories when we get back home.” Pavel looked up at his uncle hopefully.
“It’s a deal.” Viktor smiled and tousled Pavel’s hair.
Anja and Viktor walked back to the village. Pavel ran ahead of them.
“You have a good boy there, Anja,” Viktor said.
“Yes. He’s just like his father.” Anja dabbed at her eyes with a rough sleeve.
“I am so sorry about Ivan,” Viktor said. “I regret I was not able to come sooner.”
“Thank you, Cousin,” Anja said, “for your company and for your help. I will pay you back, I promise.”
“There is no need. That’s what family is for. We take care of each other.”
“But really, Viktor, it is far too much.”
“And there will be more if you need it.”
“But …”
“Anja,” Viktor said, “we are blood. You are my family. I will take care of you and Pavel.”
“Thank you.” Anja sobbed into his chest. Viktor’s help had lifted the weight of a widow’s worldly burden off her shoulders. Now only the greater task of healing what was left of her heart remained.
The morning rippled over the river. Pavel squealed with delight as he jumped from Viktor’s shoulders and scattered a sunbeam across the water.
“You are a boatman’s son.” Viktor smiled as the young boy swam back to him.
Pavel laughed. “One
more time, Uncle? Please?”
“All right, but this is the last time. My shoulders are about to fall off.”
Pavel clambered up his uncle’s back. He looked out into the water to the place where his toy boat had sunk. He closed his eyes. It was fleeting, but the river made good on their trade. His father’s shoulders were beneath the soles of his feet, ready to launch him into the sky.
Anja cleared the dinner table. She stacked the bowls without looking at her guest. “Viktor, Pavel told me that you went swimming in the river today.”
Viktor smiled. “Yes, we did. Ivan taught him well. Your boy is a fish. Why don’t you come with us tomorrow and watch him?”
“Cousin, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you shouldn’t go back to the river,” Anja said. “Ever.”
“Why? Pavel is a good swimmer, Anja. You have nothing to worry about. He is safe with me.”
Anja’s lips trembled. “No one is safe from the River Man.”
“But there is no such—”
“You are wrong,” Anja said. “That vile creature does exist. He took my husband. I will not let him take my son. You must promise me that you will never take Pavel to the river again.”
The river blazed with torchlight. Night had fallen and Pavel was still missing. It was easy for a child his size to crouch in the nooks and crannies of the village, and easier still to hide in the tall growth of the marshes—at least this is what the villagers chose to believe as they held up their oiled flames and called out his name.
Anja tore at her cloak. “Pavel! Come home!”
“We’ll find him, Anja.” Viktor held her to keep her from crumpling to the mud. He knew Pavel would not answer back, no matter how loud or long his mother called for him. He was not hiding from her. He had run from Anja when she had told him that he could no longer swim in the river, but he was not a cruel boy. And neither was he a weak swimmer. Viktor was confident that he had not drowned. But what he was most certain of was that a river spirit had not taken the boy. Evil did not need make-believe monsters to do its work. There were very real men for that. Viktor knew he had to find Pavel. Soon.
Before Ever After Page 18