“From what I’ve been told, we are dealing with minor thefts, not a physical threat. If we were worried about some sort of attack in numbers, then we’d definitely want more men. We’ll set up monitoring equipment to secure the perimeter. No one will be able to get in or out except at the main gate. That will be our chokepoint where we’ll search anyone and anything leaving the premises. With the proper scanners and trained personnel, it shouldn’t disrupt activities too much. If we don’t find your thief, I think we’ll at least bring a halt to their activities. We’ll train the staff here on how to use the equipment we’ve installed, and once you staff up with locals, we’ll move on.”
Acton was impressed. The man clearly had confidence, and appeared to know what he was talking about. Acton agreed with every word Korba had said. This was all to prevent a thief from continuing his or her crimes, not to protect against a terrorist attack.
And he also liked how the man spoke of training the in-place personnel, then moving on. He didn’t sound like someone looking to establish a long-term foothold on the location, billing them through the nose for months or years.
Leather had chosen wisely.
Korba turned to Professor Antoniou. “Sir, are you Professor Antoniou?”
“I am.”
Korba shook his hand, switching to Greek. The words flew fast and furious, Acton picking up a fair bit of it, though his forte was Ancient Greek, and his skillset there consisted of being able to read it, not understand it in rapid conversation.
Whatever was said seemed to please both Antoniou and his wife. More handshakes were exchanged, then Korba turned to Acton.
“Please excuse me. I have to see to my men. We’ll meet again in one hour and I’ll update you on our progress.” He bowed his head at everyone, then spun on his heel, heading back to the SUVs and the piles of unloaded gear, snapping orders to his men.
Acton sighed, then turned to Antoniou. “Well, I have a feeling your security issue has just been taken care of.”
Antoniou nodded, though didn’t seem as confident. “Hopefully, but it still doesn’t tell us who is behind the thefts in the first place.”
“True. Perhaps it’s time to call in the authorities.”
Antoniou stared at him, aghast. “Oh no! We couldn’t do that! Like I said, they’ll shut us down. We need to figure it out ourselves, then deliver the guilty party into their hands. Only then can we prove we are good custodians of this find.”
Acton didn’t agree with the man, though it wasn’t his place to say anything. He was a guest here, and this wasn’t his country, though the discovery belonged to all the people of the world. Yes, the Greeks should be allowed to keep whatever was found on their soil, but it should be enjoyed as part of a worldwide collection of history.
All history, everywhere, should be respected, preserved, and enjoyed, by all mankind. This was why he was always enraged when he read reports or saw videos of groups like ISIS or the Taliban destroying irreplaceable history, of how the burning of thousands of priceless pieces of art by the Nazis gutted him.
These things were irreplaceable.
These things were who they all were.
This city, Athens, was where the very idea of democracy was born. If those initial cornerstones hadn’t been laid so long ago, who knew what type of world they might live in now. The history that surrounded them was awe inspiring. There wasn’t a street in Athens without a building on it older than the oldest European built structure in America.
He loved it here, and this site that they had been touring was one of the greatest finds ever made.
And it made him determined to save it, though how he could, without the cooperation of the man in charge, he wasn’t sure.
Acton nodded at Antoniou, biting his tongue for now. “We’ll do it your way, of course, my friend.”
Antoniou breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Jim, thank you.” He smiled. “Now, how about I show you our greatest discovery to date. The discovery that proves who is actually buried here?”
18 |
The Acropolis
City of Athens
632 BC
Basileios’ chest ached as he heard the fighting behind him, and there was no doubt their ruse had been discovered. He prayed his friend had managed to escape, and as the sounds of the fight dwindled with no shouts of victory, he smiled.
May Apollo and Athena protect you, my friend.
“What is the meaning of this trickery?”
Basileios wiped the smile off his face before turning toward Megacles. “To what trickery do you refer?”
Megacles glared at him. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Some of your people tried to escape.” He stared down the long line of supporters. “And where is Cylon? Shouldn’t he be leading you criminals?”
Basileios shook his head. “No, he is bringing up the rear. He wanted to make sure everyone got out safely.”
Megacles jabbed at the air between them. “If I find out he has broken our deal!”
Basileios shrugged. “I’m sure he’s at the end of the line. Go see for yourself.”
Megacles stormed off and Basileios didn’t dare look at the others as he continued to lead them toward the court, the thread providing them the goddesses’ protection still gripped tightly in his hand, several additional spools of thread stuffed in his robes should it not prove long enough. They didn’t have far to go, and would be there soon. The fact they still had not heard word of Cylon’s fate continued to give him hope that his friend had escaped.
But he feared their fate once Megacles discovered Cylon wasn’t at the end of the line like he had said. Though he had said he was willing to die, he was hoping he would see his wife and children one last time before his fate was sealed by the betrayal he had orchestrated.
A roar of rage erupted from behind him, then Megacles’ voice echoed through the street. “Where is Cylon?”
Worried utterances rippled down the line, and Basileios turned to the man behind him. “Keep going. Whatever you do, remain calm, and keep a hold of the thread. Athena will protect you.”
The man nodded, fear in his eyes, but he took the lead as Basileios hurried toward the end of the line, making sure to always keep one alternating hand on the thread that he hoped was more than a symbolic link to the protections they needed Athena to afford them.
“Search the area!” shouted Megacles as Basileios approached. “I want him found!” Megacles glared at Basileios as he arrived, pointing a finger at him. “You would follow a coward that would abandon you? Does he realize what he has done?”
Basileios drew a long breath, thrusting his shoulders back and his chest out. “We happily sacrifice ourselves so that Cylon may live. And should he have escaped, then I pray that Pythia’s prophesy will come true, and that one day he will lead our people to the greatness we risk losing.”
Megacles growled. “None of you will see the rise of tomorrow’s sun, let alone the day Cylon will rule.”
Basileios held up the thread, the line still marching toward the justice they had been promised. “Remember, we are under the protection of the goddess Athena. This link to her, still strong despite being so delicate, is proof that she protects us, and expects your promise of our safe passage to be honored.”
Megacles glared at him then drew his sword, sliding it across the exposed thread at the end of the line, slicing it in two, the severed ends gently fluttering to the ground.
Basileios and the others who witnessed the blasphemous act gasped in horror, and he gripped the amulet tightly in his hands as he realized their fate had just been sealed.
“Kill them all.”
19 |
Phaleron Delta Necropolis
Athens, Greece
Present Day
“We only discovered this a few days ago. We haven’t even told the Ministry yet. It far exceeds anything we have found to this point, and frankly, I doubt anything else we find here can rival it.”
Acton clasped his hands
behind his neck, desperate for Antoniou to get to the point, his heart hammering with excitement. But he had been in this position before—the big reveal—and he wasn’t about to deprive his friend of this moment.
“You’re killing us, Basil!” cried Laura, her fingers drumming rapidly on her stomach as she burned off the nervous energy.
Antoniou smiled, then with a flourish removed the cloth covering whatever it was he had been hiding.
Acton gasped and Laura cooed as they circled the table holding the priceless artifact. It was a jar, or more likely an urn considering their location within a necropolis, perfectly preserved. Care had been taken to remove any dirt stuck to it, and the skill used was evident, as not a crack was to be seen.
Acton leaned in closer, examining the top. He pointed at the lid. “Sealed with wax?”
“Yes.”
His heart skipped a beat as he exchanged an excited glance with Laura. “So, you don’t know what’s inside?”
“No idea. Except…”
Acton stopped, turning to Antoniou. “Except?”
“Except that there definitely is something inside.”
Acton closed his eyes, imagining a thousand possibilities. “Any ideas?”
“None, except that it is small, and likely metal by the sounds it made scraping on the bottom of the jar when we gently rotated it.”
Acton stood back, not trusting he wouldn’t collapse in his excitement. He found a large stone and sat on it. “This is exciting. I don’t know why, but it just is. I feel like a kid who wants to tear open the box of Cheerios to get to the prize inside.”
Antoniou laughed. “You have no idea how hard it has been to resist opening this, right here, right now, but we’re waiting for the proper facilities to be made available to have it scanned without disturbing the contents.”
Acton nodded. “A wise precaution. When do you anticipate being able to open it?”
“Very soon. As early as next week. You are both welcome to join us, of course.”
Laura’s eyes were wide as she continued to circle the urn. “There is no power on Earth that could keep us away.”
Acton agreed. “We’ll be there, you can count on it.” He pushed to his feet. “Now, how does this prove who these people are?”
Antoniou smiled. “Let me paint you a picture.” He stepped over to the first excavated body. “I think you are absolutely right about these people. They were noblemen, massacred, and buried with honor, though shackled so their shame would be known throughout eternity.” He stepped to the left of the first body and removed a tarp, revealing the skeleton of what appeared to be a child. “And this young boy, unshackled, shows signs of a violent, horrible death.” He indicated evidence of crushed bones. “Something happened to this boy, but I think after the events that led to these men being interned here.”
Laura joined him. “What makes you say that?”
“The body was laid with care beside the first in this line, and the urn was placed between the two bodies. I think this suggests that these two people, or at a minimum the boy, was of importance to whoever put it here.”
“A plausible explanation,” agreed Acton, examining the bones, wincing at how painful the death must have been. “Perhaps his son, or a relation of importance.”
“Perhaps, or perhaps a relation to this first man. Whoever the boy was, I think the placement of the urn indicates he was important to whoever placed the urn here.” Antoniou quickly strode down the long line of dozens of bodies, then stopped beside a tangled mass of bones.
Acton’s eyes shot wide at the sight. “What the hell happened here?”
“That is the question, isn’t it?” Antoniou pointed at the shackles, binding the skeletons to each other at the wrists. “These men were shackled together, whereas these others only had their own wrists clasped. What does that suggest to you?”
Laura stepped closer. “These men were alive when they were placed here.”
Antoniou smiled, clapping his hands together, the sound echoing through the sunken dig site. “Exactly what we thought! These poor souls were still alive, shackled together like prisoners, and simply tossed into a pile to die with their already dead companions.” He pointed at several chipped and broken bones. “You can see that they had suffered wounds like the others. This again fits with Plutarch’s account.”
Acton shook his head. “What a way to go. Depending on the wound, some of them could have survived for days, maybe even weeks, and as each of them died, there’d be even less chance of escape, as the dead weight would keep increasing.”
Laura shivered beside him. “How could anyone be so cruel?”
Antoniou nodded solemnly. “I don’t know, but remember, these were different times.”
Acton agreed. “But we know from history that Megacles and his entire family were banished from Athens for centuries after these events, so obviously the Athenians agreed that this wasn’t acceptable.”
Antoniou sighed. “Which might be why these bodies were left here, undisturbed, so that those who died so cruelly, could find some peace in death.”
Acton surveyed the scene, shaking his head, then turned to Antoniou. “Okay, you’ve painted your picture. Now, please, show us this proof you’ve been teasing us with.”
Antoniou smiled. He pointed at one body, the skeletal remains appearing to be lying over the others. “Do you notice anything about this one?”
Acton and Laura stepped closer, even Tommy and Mai braving a few extra steps. Acton shook his head. “No.”
Laura pointed. “He’s not shackled!”
Antoniou clapped. “Exactly! He’s the only one without shackles besides the boy. And, as you can see, he was placed on top of the other bodies. It is my belief that this man came here after the fact, placed the urn here, then was killed, his body tossed on top of the others who were dead or dying, as one final humiliation.”
Acton smiled. “So, you think this man is their leader?”
Antoniou nodded. “I’m convinced of it.”
“And you think this man is Cylon himself?”
Antoniou hopped up and down on his toes. “I do!”
Acton grinned. “You said you had proof.”
Antoniou led them back to the urn. “What you may not have noticed is that there is an inscription written on the urn. It is very faint, almost gone, but it is there.”
Acton leaned forward, unable to see it at first, then as he held a light closer to the urn, he smiled. “I see it, but you’re right, it’s very faint. It’s almost as if it were scratched onto the surface with stone, rather than baked in during the design process.”
Antoniou retrieved several pieces of paper sitting nearby. “That’s our theory as well.” He handed the pages to Acton. “We took some high-resolution photographs, then put them into the computer. After a little manipulation, we were able to reveal what was written.”
Acton excitedly grabbed the pages, Laura leaning in close as they both translated the Ancient Greek, Acton’s eyes growing wider with each word until he reached the final, enhanced word, a word that could only be a signature.
“Cylon!” Acton spun toward the unshackled corpse, goosebumps rushing over his entire body. “It has to be him!”
Laura grabbed his arm, shaking him with excitement, as Tommy took a step backward, his head on a swivel, his eyes wide. Acton looked at him.
“What’s wrong?”
Tommy shivered. “Just looking for red eyes in the dark.”
20 |
City of Athens
632 BC
Cylon wept. Unabashedly. All reports were that most of his friends were dead, and those that weren’t had been badly wounded.
And all had been entombed, dead or alive.
He thanked the gods for that small mercy.
By being entombed, they had at least been afforded some small honor, recognizing their position in society. He wondered if this was to placate him lest he seek revenge. Dishonoring the dead might have exacted a grea
ter retribution, though at this moment, he wanted all the archons dead for their betrayal.
Though he’d settle for just one.
Megacles.
From what he had been told by his supporters within the gathered crowds, Megacles himself had cut the thread then ordered the slaughter, later claiming the thread had broken on its own accord, a sign from Athena that she no longer supported Cylon and his cause.
It was a blasphemy that Megacles must pay for, though at the moment, in his hour of grief, he wasn’t certain how to accomplish that. Perhaps he would be forced to leave it to the gods in the afterlife.
Should he seize power one day, he could enact his revenge, but that could be years from now, for he had no base of support from which to rise to power.
“Cylon?”
His heart leaped and he rose to his feet, wiping the tears from his soiled cheeks at his beloved wife’s voice. “Over here.”
Calliope emerged from the shadows, their clandestine meeting arranged through a friend. He didn’t dare return to their home, and he had given her strict instructions to be followed, to ensure she wasn’t tracked. She recognized him and rushed forward, collapsing into his arms. “Oh, my love, I feared I would never see you again.”
He hugged her hard, burying his nose in her hair, breathing its intoxicating scent in for what might be the last time. “Did you follow my instructions?”
She nodded, staring up at him. “To the letter. I wasn’t followed.”
“Good.” He smiled at her, pinching her chin. “I knew I could rely on you.” He held her out in front of him, staring at her with concern. “Have they harmed you?”
She shook her head. “Not in any way. I think they fear what my father might do.”
He chuckled. “If they know what’s good for them…” He sighed. “Speaking of your father, I think you should leave immediately to stay with him. Right now, they aren’t touching you, but I fear what might happen in time.”
“And you will come with me.”
He frowned. “Eventually. But I have something I must do before I join you.”
The Cylon Curse Page 6