The Rings of Poseidon

by Mike Crowson

  * * *

  The man with the binoculars watched Steve drive another iron stake into the sandy ground, knot the rope round it and uncoil more rope to reach the next stake. The watcher put away the binoculars and strolled towards the workers.

  "You know," remarked Gill, "if Alicia's right about this being all part of the site it is fairly extensive."

  "Not much left above the ground though," answered Steve.

  "There may never have been much above ground," Gill told him.

  "Why's that?"

  "The pre-Celtic people of Northern Scotland built houses that were virtually underground."

  "How odd," said Steve, picking up another stake and the sledgehammer. "I would think it would be damp, chilly and miserable. Smoky too, I should think."

  "At least it would be windproof," said Gill. "Anyway, they were damp, chilly and miserable times, the Late Stone Age and Early Bronze Age. The people were smallish, few in number and kept out of the way of the Celts when they moved in. That's probably how the legends of fairies started - little people who live in hills and all that."

  "I can see how stories like that could get around," Steve agreed, knotting the rope to the last stake. "Hello, a visitor," he added, jerking his head towards the approaching newcomer.

  The binoculars were in a case slung over his shoulder. He wore a heavy tweed jacket, a felt hat pulled well down and grey trousers tucked into Wellington boots. He was a tallish man of early middle age, with nothing particularly memorable about him.

  "There's usually visitors - well, spectators - at an archeological excavation," said Gill, "but I wouldn't have expected any on Hoy," she added.

  "Perhaps he's come to offer his services. Not really dressed for digging though."

  The visitor stood for a little while watching Steve as he fiddled with the camera. He said nothing as the latter took the preliminary photographs Alicia wanted, coming somewhat diffidently forward as he finished.

  "You'll not be using any motorised equipment?" he asked.

  "Absolutely not," answered Gill. "This is an archaeological dig."

  The visitor appeared relieved. "There's a nest just over the hillock there I wouldn't want to see disturbed," he said.

  "You needn't worry about us. We're a quiet and careful lot and we'll be wrapped up in our own business." Gill was surprised at her own confidence.

  "In that case I'll be getting along," said the birdwatcher and walked off.

  "Nest?" said Steve.

  "Bird's nest, I suppose," answered Gill.

  "Bird watcher's paradise, Hoy," said Manjy, who had been listening silently.

  "Well, time for a coffee break anyway," said Gill, feeling steadily more confident, "and apart from that we can't really do anything until Ali tells us where she wants us to start."

  "Ali's back now." Manjy pointed to the hired car turning into the field by the caravans.

  "Right then," said Gill, "Coffee and the boss's orders," and led the others back across the field.

  "It's just possible that the houses are intact, so we'll start at the landward side and see if there's any sign of an entrance", Ali told them. "There are three local men coming up this afternoon, so we'll make a start on the real digging when they get here.

  "We'll go down about two feet starting from this edge of the hill," she said, pointing to the landward side of an aerial photograph. "We'll move the trench inwards until we strike walls then move sideways along them. If this is a village we'll find an entrance somewhere; if not here then somewhere else."

  Steve was looking at the photos carefully, turning them in his hand. "Surprising how much the outlines of old foundations show," he remarked.

  "Oh yes. You can even see sometimes where wooden posts were stuck into the ground thousands of years ago," said Alicia.

  "Fascinating," said Steve, as if he meant it.