Spiral: Book One of the Spiral in Time (7 page)

One was especially notable, tall with fine, silvery hair. “That’s Charles Peregrine Sackville,” Aubrey said. “But only his family and close friends ever use that name. I know it because we went to school together before he inherited the Earl’s title from his father. Now, he is always called Lord Dorset or sometimes just ‘Dorset,’ if you know him well enough. I don’t. He doesn’t encourage familiarity. And by the way, he has an extensive collection of prehistoric artifacts. None better.”

When Aubrey introduced her, Lord Dorset gave a polite, but questioning look.

“Dr. Germaine O’Neill. I’ve asked her to be my assistant and project director.” She barely concealed her surprise at this announcement. This was quite a few steps above just “helping out.”

At first, Lord Dorset’s look was unsettling, then she realized why. Up close—and she hoped her surprise didn’t show—she realized his right eye was glass. Anatomically correct, it didn’t move. But his left eye did. His gaze was very disconcerting. But he had a gracious manner. He said the right things, asked the right questions. His bearing seemed so regal, she half-wondered if she should curtsey.

And all the time, the left eye never wavered from her. He is sizing me up with every comment, she thought. Nothing is going unnoticed behind that cool facade.

“Maiden Castle is a favorite of mine. One of my particular areas of interest at university was the Iron Age,” Lord Dorset said. “Sir Aubrey tells me you are quite an expert in that time period.” He gave her a thin smile. “I like to seek out people who have similar interests. I have a great interest in collecting various artifacts from prehistory. You must come see it sometime. Our family seat is nearby at Frome Abbey.”

Germaine thought this more of a regal pronouncement than a conversation.

A moment later, Lord Dorset excused himself and walked off toward Conan Ryan. Germaine watched him move through the crowd. He looked like an elegant stork amongst a group of ducks. She felt uneasy about the conversation.

“It’s disconcerting to talk to someone with only one eye,” she said, as she and Aubrey walked away. “For some reason, I found it annoying. I kept feeling cross-eyed. Like both my eyes were trying to focus on his one eye.” And there was something else about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Aubrey made a low sound of agreement. “By the way, my dear, he lost that eye in a fight. It’s not a romantic story. Nothing honorable like being in the war. Some bloke owed him money, and they had a fight. Dorset almost beat him to death. He’s really rather vicious, though you’d never know it to look at him. All polished and dressed by Savile tailors.” He held her elbow and leaned closer.

“About being my project director. Don’t be anxious or surprised by all this. This is your area of expertise, and you are very good. I know I can trust you. I think there is something important here. You deserve to be in on whatever is uncovered. It can only help you in the future. Come, there is something I want to show you.”

He led Germaine back to the Bentley and motioned her to get in.

“Look, I rescued this.” From under the driver’s seat, he pulled out something wrapped in a towel. Aubrey uncovered a piece of blackened metal, almost two feet long. Half of it had a green patina that looked like bronze and a design was visible under the tarnished surface.

“It was already cast out of its original find spot by the explosion,” he said. His finger touched the green patina. “I think it’s part of a sword scabbard. So it’s likely the sword is up there somewhere. I’ve never seen anything like it here. It might be early La Tène. See the signature-style engraving, the curved lines and plant motifs? And there are warriors on it and horses and some kind of wheel symbol. The Durotriges tribe never made anything that looked so elegant. I’m supposed to be the expert and I can’t explain it. It’s way out of place, if you look at the context where it was found.” He pointed up with his head to Maiden Castle.

“I tripped over it when I first went up to the blast site. Just sticking out of the chalk and dirt. It was next to a bone, so perhaps we can date it that way. I couldn’t just leave it there. We don’t have a secure-room set up yet, and someone might walk off with it as a souvenir.”

Germaine ran her finger over the intricate engravings; they were gorgeous. It was unique—and so familiar. Then she remembered.

“I’ve seen something similar in the
Naturhistorisches Museum
in Vienna. It is said to be the only one of its kind.” Now, here was another.

Aubrey gave her a keen look. “Yes, a real find, and I don’t want the press to get wind of this now. We’d be overrun with treasure hunters. This would be an impossible place to guard. It’s so bloody big—over forty seven acres.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Right now, I don’t know. We’ll have to let English Heritage know about it soon. First, I want to find out more about the blast site. I would sound like a blooming idiot if I tried to explain it to the press now. So, keep it secret for a few days, I suppose. Then we can figure out a plan. And some hypothesis for how such a unique scabbard ended up here.”

“A gift? Or it might have come in trade for something. They did that a lot.”

His finger traced the rich, bronze surface. “Somehow, I don’t think so. Everyone thinks Sir Mortimer found all the marvels hidden here and there is nothing new left to discover. Well, they’re wrong. I’m relying on my Aubrey sensors.”

Germaine knew he was not joking. He had an uncanny way of locating things and called it his own built-in Aubrey sensor. “Secret technology.” He usually laughed, tapping his head, a cover-up for a faith in intuition, which no one wanted to admit to in this age of science.

“And I’m worried,” he said, almost as an afterthought. Germaine heard a familiar tone in his voice. It was Aubrey’s way. He usually saved the bit that was most important till the end.

“Strange finds keep surfacing on the London antiquities market. They all have dubious provenances. No one is quite sure where they come from. I’ve been called in several times for my expert opinion. Coins, artifacts of all kinds. Just last week I saw a valuable gold torc. I suspect they are stolen from archaeological sites. There are some troubling connections with certain people, like our Lord Dorset, that I don’t understand yet. And these ‘finds’ seem to come from everywhere. To be sure, some are found by the nighthawks, who search at night with metal detectors. But not all.”

Aubrey looked at the busy scene. “I will just feel better if you are around and can help keep a fresh eye on this. I don’t want anything we might find here to turn up missing.”

Germaine nodded, trying to conceal her apprehension. She knew all about illicit treasure seekers who searched under cover of darkness. Now, she was project director and chief spy for Aubrey, or at least security guard. Her job description grew longer by the minute.

He seemed to read her mind. “Don’t worry, Germaine. Trust me. Now, let’s go see what’s up there.” He cast an appraising look at the heavy clouds and grabbed an umbrella from the back seat.

A new sound, a strange eerie chant, floated over the noise of the crowd as they started toward the gate. Aubrey pointed to a small group of people dressed in white robes, on the far side of the car park.

“They’re the Neo-Druids,” he said. “The earth and everything on it is alive to them, sacred, full of spirits. Some even claim to be descendents of the original Celts who lived here.”

One tall Druid beat a small drum that looked like an Irish bodhran. He kept up a steady beat under the chanting. Conan Ryan came and stood with Germaine and Aubrey.

“That sounds a little like some Native American chanting I’ve heard,” she said.

“Well, it’s not. It’s just the damn Druids,” Ryan said, in a disgusted voice. He looked angry. “I don’t know how they found out about this so fast. We can’t do anything without some bloody group of pagans interfering. They think it’s all theirs.” He waved his arm around in a sweeping gesture.

“It’s always ‘a long time ago’ it was
their
land,
their
ancestors. But those people died thousands of years ago, and there’s nothing here. Just a hole and some fool, who got hurt playing around with explosives.”

Just then, another Brigantia Ltd. truck entered the car park. “Oh, have to go.” He raced off toward the truck.

Germaine stood still, feeling calmed by the Druid’s chanting. A cool breeze brushed her face and she closed her eyes for a moment, listening. “Well, I like it. Why are they here?”

“At first, we thought the explosion was caused by kids playing around with explosives,” Aubrey said. “It wasn’t. It was the Druids. I talked to them a moment ago. They’re here because they were up there last night, and one lad was almost killed in the blast. They’re quite upset. Their old Druid leader just died, and they were trying to dig a hole to bury him. They said the burial needed to take place in a sacred place. And that’s where it gets complicated.”

Germaine turned and looked at the misty hill behind them. Yes, she thought
,
their sacred land was probably up there, somewhere. It looked like a place ancient people might think of as close to their gods. Sacred, or not,
Mai Dun
had been occupied for over six thousand years by many peoples. Now, the Druids wanted to claim it as their own special place, for their dead.

And one place none may touch. The unbidden thought just popped into her mind, but made no sense. What place?

“What do you think, Aubrey? It’s hard for me to be too critical of people wanting a burial in sacred ground. They think it’s part of their history.”

“I agree,” he said. “In a way, I can understand. They consider this their land. The one I talked to said he was a descendent of Druids who lived here a long time ago.”

A long time ago.
To her mind, that always sounded like the beginning of a fairy tale. Mildly critical, she wished for an actual date or time period in their comments. Archaeologists always liked numbers.

“That’s what Conan just said. And who were those Druids who lived ‘a long time ago?’ It is impossible to link modern-day Druids to anyone who lived here two or four or six thousand years ago. There are no histories that can be traced. To my knowledge, no one has ever found a Druid burial. I don’t see where they have much to support their claim.”

“But what is sacred? Their claim is as good as any,” Aubrey said. “Especially since the Chief Archaeologist for English Heritage publically stated that another ancient site, Seahenge, was a ‘sacred site’ for pagans. That puts a very big stamp of government support on their claims. And,” ... he tapped his head lightly, “... the sacred is always up here. It’s what people think that counts in these matters.”

Germaine looked up to the top of Maiden Castle again and shivered. Sacred land?

The clouds that hovered all day were now dark gray and gave a rumble of thunder with a single warning flash of lightning. Big, fat raindrops started falling and created a near stampede in the car park as everyone ran for shelter. The Druids broke out a few umbrellas and huddled together in a cluster of white robes. They looked like tall mushrooms with their umbrellas overhead. They seemed determined to keep their vigil.

Aubrey and Germaine ran to the car. “Well, we can’t get up to the site now. Come on, my dear, let’s get out of this. Conan’s chaps will guard the place and set up a tent over the site. We’ll get you a nice place to stay nearby and start out fresh early in the morning.”

He looked at the sky with a knowing nod. “This won’t last, just a part of our usual English summer.”

As they pulled out of the car park, Germaine turned in her seat and watched Maiden Castle retreat through the rain on the rear window. Aubrey’s premonition about something to be discovered seemed to be catching. The bronze scabbard was like a harbinger of unknown things to come. Under the shadow of the hillfort, she felt a sense of something waiting for her.

The heavy veil of rain obscured whatever she had sensed. She shivered with the same cold chill she felt when she first saw Maiden Castle. Where before the hillfort seemed almost welcoming to her, it now felt closed and somber. Then it disappeared.

CHAPTER 4

June 6, 2006

Germaine lifted the sash of the window in her room at the Maiden Castle Bed and Breakfast. She shivered as cool, fresh air blew into the room, and wrapped her robe tight against the early morning chill. The storm that chased them away from the site yesterday had raged all last night. Crystalline drops of rain, glistening in the light, still clung to everything.

She drew a deep breath and excitement flowed through her body. It swept a growing sense of unease back into a corner of her mind, to a dark place where she did not have to look at it too closely. Maiden Castle was disturbingly familiar. When she looked at the ancient hillfort, she felt a disquieting sense of déjà vu.

This is about an archaeological site, not some mystical experience, she firmly reminded herself. Focus on today, on the positive. She was Aubrey’s project director on an admittedly strange excavation, but he promised she would be in on new discoveries. His prescription of a stiff drink and good food had been therapeutic. The sound of rain falling had lulled her into a deep sleep, the first she’d had in months. Now, it was a new day.