“No, we were preparing to leave when I saw something lying on the ground, partially buried in front of the tomb. We took a closer look and discovered a piece of parchment with writing on it. Oddly enough, it’s not ancient Guanche, or Spanish,” she said as the final slide appeared on the screen showing a close up of a segment of papyrus.
“Is this a joke?” Turner asked, staring at the photo with amazement.
“No joke, Josh,” she replied as they stared at the writing on the ancient parchment.
“This is written in ancient Aramaic!” Turner said in astonishment. “What the hell would this be doing in a Guanche tomb on one of the Canary Islands?”
“That’s why I called you first. I figured this may be an important find, or a complete waste of our time,” Maria said hesitantly as she poured herself a cup of coffee that was at least six hours old. “You understand Aramaic. Can you make it out?”
“It’s pretty faded on this picture, Maria. I’d need to see it blown up in order to translate it,” Turner replied, still focusing on the strange document. “Do you think that your father at the university can get the approvals for us to begin a proper excavation without the usual red tape?”
“I’m sure when he sees this, Josh, and, if it turns out to be the real deal, he’ll find a way. Father has many friends in the Policia Nacional, and in the island administration.”
“Has Samuel said anything about this to anyone?” Turner asked.
“We made a deal not to tell anyone until we could talk to you, your father, and to my father. We didn’t want to risk the chance of relic hunters gutting the place before we could survey and document everything.”
“Nicely done, Maria; your father will be proud of you. Why don’t you take what you have back to San Fernando University and get a translation on this before we announce anything,” Turner said as he closed the laptop lid and handed it to Maria.
“I’m way ahead of you, Josh. We burnt the parchment and cover stone pictures to a CD then I sent Samuel back to Santa Cruz University. I’ll send them to my father when I meet up with Samuel at the university. We’re all meeting tonight at the Cofradia de Pescadores restaurant for our monthly meeting. Hopefully, we can discuss whatever we find out from the antiquities department,” she said, as the two turned and started walking out of the office.
Locking the door behind them, Turner said, “I’m heading back to the hotel to get cleaned up, so I’ll meet you later.”
“Okay, Josh, I’ll see you there,” Maria yelled as she sprinted toward her Jeep. Turner watched her, wondering what it would take to breach that wall of dedication to her work.
Early evening had come to the city of Santa Cruz along with the festive atmosphere, which now enveloped the city streets as Paulo pulled the Land Rover in front of the entrance to the El Dorado hotel.
The El Dorado was one of the few hotels that were affordable to the university since they were footing the bill for Turner’s stay. The hotel was clean, and attractive with comfortable accommodations.
“I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock, Josh,” Paulo yelled as he pulled away from the entrance.
“Oh, that’s just lovely,” Turner grumbled, looking at his watch and seeing it was already close to six o’clock. “That gives me just one hour to rest and shower.”
He passed through the colorful glass doors that led into the hotel’s lobby. In the courtyard he saw the now familiar circular bar. The piano player was already into his first set for the evening. The small lounge was a favorite for Turner and Samuel after a long day on the dig site. He then walked over to the front desk where the night clerk was just beginning his shift.
“Good evening, Juan. Are there any messages for me?” Turner asked the slightly balding clerk, who had worked at the El Dorado for fifteen years.
“No messages for you this evening, Señor Josh,” he replied looking in the slot for room number 12. “Would you like me to have your drink ready for you in the bar after you’ve had a chance to freshen up?”
“Not tonight, Juan. It’s tempting, but I’ll be dining out with Professor Santiago, my father, and the team at the Cofradia de Pescadores and probably won’t be returning until late.”
“Ah, the meals there are delicious, Señor Josh,” he said with a wide grin.
“Thanks, Juan. I’ve learned to trust your taste in restaurants since I’ve been on Tenerife,” he said as he made his way down the lavishly carpeted hallway leading to the guest rooms.
Turner fumbled in his pocket for his room key then opened the door and was greeted by the scent of fresh cut Canary samphire, a wild plant with bright green leaves and golden flowers found on the island’s coastal basalt rocks.
Shutting the door behind him, he tossed his coat onto the bed then proceeded to strip off his dust laden clothes; a daily routine from the arid conditions on the eastern side of Tenerife with the constant dry winds blowing westward off the Saharan Desert on the African continent.
Showering and then toweling off, he quickly dressed and walked back into the bedroom. He saw the post-it he’d stuck on the closet door yesterday reminding him to call Abby in Washington tomorrow and thank her for setting up his accommodations while he was in the states.
Abby, the first woman Dad has attempted to have a relationship with since losing Mom, Turner thought. God knows, he needs someone in his life.
Turner had been there when Professor Eli Turner had met Abigail Conger at a dinner function for the preservation of ancient artifacts last year in Washington, D.C. They were immediately attracted to each other, which surprised Josh, seeing his father left little room in his life for anything, or anyone.
Abby was assistant to the Under Secretary of State for Arms Control and International Security at the State Department. Another one married to their work, never finding time to settle down with anyone, Turner mused as he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.
Paulo arrived on time as usual, and the two headed off to the restaurant located in the old town near the harbor district. They passed colorfully decorated shops and storefronts amidst the celebration of Dia de Santiago Apostol, the annual festival honoring their patron saint, and the town’s defeat of the English.
Paulo and Turner made their way through the busy streets of Santa Cruz, bypassing one of the many festival parades marching down toward the Plaza de Espana. The participants of the parade were dressed in brightly colored costumes, the custom for the island’s numerous festivals held throughout the year. There was dancing to the festive rhythms of music provided by live bands along the Plaza.
They turned onto Calle de la Marini Street and drove for another five minutes along the harbor before turning into the parking lot of the Cofradia de Pescadores restaurant.
The restaurant was one of the few out of the way establishments frequented by locals more often than the many tourists, who came to enjoy the mild, summer climate of the Canaries.
They made their way through the modest entrance of the restaurant and found the interior filled with the sounds of joviality. The intoxicating aroma of fine food drifted through the room, mingled with the soft clinking sound of silverware and muffled discussions in Spanish and English.
The smartly dressed waiters hurried about, serving their sizzling hot entrees to the delight of their patrons seated at spacious round custom-made tables. Each table was specially designed with its own distinct colorful pattern tablecloth, and accented with large high-backed cushioned chairs.
Turner was approached by a young host, who asked if they required a table.
“We are here to dine with Professors Turner and Santiago. Have they arrived yet?” he asked the host in fluent Spanish.
“Si’, Señor. They are seated and awaiting your arrival,” the host replied as he motioned them toward a table in the upper level of the restaurant at the rear of the establishment.
“Hello, Josh, my old friend!” a voice boomed from the end table.
Professor Carlos Santiago was a commanding figur
e of a man, standing at six feet tall with a broad smile hidden behind a thick goatee. He was wearing his traditional white cotton suit and checkered bow tie, which had become his trademark at the university.
Santiago was something of a legend at San Fernando University. He possessed a jovial spirit, and kindness to his staff and students. When he wanted something done, however, he exhibited all the tenacity and gracefulness of a rogue elephant on a rampage.
“Good evening, Carlos,” Turner said as he and Paulo sat down at the table. “Hello, Dad,” he added to his father, who was seated next to Carlos.
“Hello, Son. Was your trip to the states successful?” Eli Turner said, cutting right to business.
“It was, Dad,” Turner replied, a bit annoyed by the question. “I sent you an email with all the particulars. Here,” he said, handing the bag with the pipe and tobacco to his father. “I picked this up for you in Washington, D.C.Abby told me where to find it.”
“Thanks, Son,” the elder Turner said, lifting out his new pipe. “I broke the stem on the old one.”
“I hope you don’t mind that we mix business with pleasure this evening,” Carlos said as he signaled the waiter. “We need to discuss this find my daughter and Samuel made up on the slopes of Mt. Teide. She called me from the university an hour ago and gave me a brief overview. If it’s valid, I must make the proper arrangements for permits as expediently as possible.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Carlos,” Eli Turner said as the waiter approached the table with pad and pencil in hand. “This could be quite a unique discovery.”
“Where are Samuel and Maria?” Turner asked Carlos.
“Samuel and Maria will be along shortly, Josh. They went to meet with the linguistics head at the university before coming here. Hopefully they will have more information for us.”
“While we wait, I’ll have a Ron Miel,” Eli said to the waiter, having grown fond of the local mead rum made with palm honey. “Josh, would you like your usual?”
“I’ll have Jose Cuervo Black, on the rocks. Thanks, Dad.”
“I’ll have another Malvasia; it’s one of our finest island wines. Oh, and a soft drink for Paulo because he is driving tonight,” Carlos said as the waiter then hurried off to get their drinks.
“What do you two make of Maria and Samuel’s discovery?” Turner asked curiously, getting right to the topic at hand.
“I’m a bit intrigued, but just a bit more skeptical, Josh. Finding a parchment written in ancient Aramaic within a Guanche tomb? It’s a bit of a stretch,” Carlos said, finishing off the last of his Malvasia.
“I’m curious as to what is in the tomb, which Maria said was sealed with a flat cover stone. All of the other tomb entrances within the lava tube looked to be constructed with traditional piles of basalt rock,” Eli said as their waiter set their drinks down in front of them.
“I’m more curious as to who is in that tomb.” Carlos added with a puzzled look. “I had Maria email the enlarged and enhanced photo of the cover stone to me before I came here. I want you to tell me what you see, Josh,” he said as he reached beside his chair, pulled out a photo from his brief case, and handed it to Turner.
Eli and Carlos remained silent as Turner studied the photo of the cover stone that had been light-enhanced by brightening the natural rock, which left the etching in a dark shaded pattern. His sharp, blue eyes widened at the image he saw on the stone.
“The Ichthus,” Turner said in an astonished voice. “What the hell would the symbol of the early Christian church be doing in an ancient Guanche tomb on the Canary Islands?”
“That’s what I would like to know as well,” Carlos replied. “We do know from our studies that the Romans were exploring the Canary archipelago as early as the fourth century A.D. Pliny the Elder, who was a Roman soldier and administrator, did extensive research and documentation of the Islands. We also know that trade had been established by the Romans with the discovery of ancient potsherds dug up on the island of Lanzarote in the 1960’s.” He paused to take a sip of his wine, and then continued his discourse. “Most of the potsherds were pieces of large amphorae used to carry such commodities as wine, salt fish, and olive oil. Analysis of their clay showed that the amphorae originally came from Campania in Italy, Baetica in Spain, and Tunisia.”
“That may explain the symbol on the cover stone,” Turner said.
“I’m not so sure, Josh,” Eli said. “At that time, the early Christian church was struggling under heavy persecution from the Romans, so I don’t believe that the early church ever had a presence here. The Guanche worshiped their own Gods, and, it would have been almost impossible to communicate with them, seeing they had their own unique language.”
“Do you think the tomb might have been used at a later date?” Turner asked.
“Who’s to say?” Carlos said, taking another sip of his wine. “We won’t know until we perform a carbon dating on the contents. That will verify the time period, but the real substance will hopefully come from the parchment translation, which I hope Maria will have with her.”
At that moment, Maria Santiago strolled up to the upper level followed by Samuel Caberra, Peruvian native and longtime friend of Turner.
Turner knew Maria Santiago’s striking beauty and elegance never failed to turn heads wherever she went, and this evening would be no exception. Turner watched her gracefully approach with her long, dark flowing hair pulled back in a bun. She wore a brightly flowered sundress with spaghetti straps that dramatically accented her dark skin and slim, athletic figure. She slowly made her way toward them carrying her laptop computer under her arm, which amused Turner.
“Hello, Father,” she said to Carlos as the four men rose from their chairs. As she approached, she winked at Turner, sending his heart racing.
“Good evening, my dear,” Carlos said giving his daughter a hug.
“Hello, Maria,” Eli added.
“Good evening, Dr. Turner. You’re looking especially handsome tonight. It’s so nice to be able to see your hair without that hat on,” she said with a laugh.
“What’s left of my hair anyway,” Eli joked.
“Samuel, you’re looking as fit as ever,” Turner said to his long-time friend, who simply smiled then proceeded to give Turner one of his trademark bear hugs. His ribs aching, Turner pleaded, “Okay, okay. I give up!”
Josh Turner had felt like a brother to Samuel Caberra ever since their meeting at a pyramid excavation in Lima Peru back in the late 90’s.
Samuel Caberra, a Huarochiri Quechua native, was born and raised in the village of Tupicocha, high in the Andes Mountains of Peru. As a Quechuan, he was a descendant of the Inca, the indigenous peoples of South America, who were conquered by the Spanish.
Turner learned from Samuel that much of their heritage and culture had been stifled by the Spanish. Even their native tongue had been considered by their conquerors to be ‘animal talk’. Only in recent years had their culture been re-established by legislation in an effort to recognize the Quechua as an indigenous people.
Samuel had grown up the eldest son in a poor family of six and worked with his father on the terrace fields raising crops to provide a meager existence for his family. The many years of hunting and working in the high altitudes of the Andes made him the perfect athlete.
He’d be more at home on a rocky slope than in this restaurant, Turner mused, noting the Peruvian’s obvious discomfort at being there.
“Hello, Eli, how goes it?” Samuel said, giving his second father a powerful hug that caused Eli’s back to crack.
“Good God, I won’t need a chiropractor for a while after that,” Eli said rubbing his lower back.
Samuel had first encountered Eli and his son, Josh Turner in Lima, the Capitol city of Peru after making the decision to make a better life for himself and his family by leaving for the coastal city in search of meaningful work. At the time, the research team working on the pyramid in the center of Lima made the discovery of a tomb deep with
in the structure. Eli Turner was invited to aide in the identification and preservation of the many Incan artifacts found within.
Samuel got word on the street that work could be procured as a laborer. So, one evening, he went to the site to speak to anyone he could find about acquiring employment. As luck would have it, the site was closed. Before turning to leave, Samuel heard sounds coming from the site entrance and went to see if he could find someone.
Rounding the corner and going down a long ramp out of view of the street, he saw a young man carrying a metal box being shoved about by two rather large men. It didn’t take long for Samuel to realize that this was a robbery in progress and immediately, he went to his aid. The two men quickly turned on Samuel, which turned out to be a mistake on their part, as the native Quechuan made quick work of the thieves. The initial punch thrown by Samuel knocked the first man completely off his feet, and dropped him to the ground with a bone-jarring thud. The other hoodlum, seeing he was out-matched, helped his partner up and then fled up the ramp, disappearing into the dusk of the early evening.
A grateful Josh Turner thanked Samuel, and explained that he was carrying Incan relics from the site to the local museum to secure them. En route, he had been ambushed by the two looters, who would have stolen and sold the artifacts on the antiquities black market. Turner asked Samuel to accompany him to secure the items, and afterward invited him to come to the facility provided by the University of Lima where he and his father were staying.
Samuel spoke no English, but the fact that both Josh and Eli were fluent in Spanish broke any language barriers and the three soon became friends. Eli eventually hired Samuel as his project director for the site, acting as a liaison to the workers. He quickly became a trusted friend to the Turners. The elder Turner made it possible for Samuel to get the schooling he needed to learn English, and had taught him the basics of archeology with on-site training. Samuel worked hard, and sent most of his earnings home to his family in Tupicocha. Josh and Samuel became inseparable, and spent many years after that working together on many excavation sites around the world.
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