The Five-Day Dig (17 page)

Late in the afternoon, when she stood up in the trench, the progress they had made surprised her. “We’re in up to my thighs now. I never expected to get so far so soon.”

Chaz looked around at their work. “We’ve done well. Do you think Jack will give us permission to dig inside the building, too?”

She laughed. “So far, no one around here has expressed any reserve about digging. Domenico is a possible exception with his concerns about explosives, but I haven’t seen him visit the site yet.”

Farber appeared at the edge of the trench. “Hello, Winifred, Charles. Any significant finds today?”

Chaz pointed toward a tray with his trowel. “Similar to yesterday. A lot of pot shards, a couple of coins, a brooch and a broken glass vessel.”

The department chair squatted down for a closer inspection. “It all looks run-of-the-mill.”

Winnie pressed her lips together.
As if anyone might find an array of artifacts like this in their backyard.

“How’s it going at the lodging?” Chaz asked.

“We’ve noted traces of charring, perhaps due to burning during the volcanic eruption. I haven’t unearthed anything significant, but Father Giampiero came across a silver drinking flagon.”

Chaz gave a low whistle. “It sounds like you’re in the money trench.”

Farber shrugged off the comment. “It’s just one flagon, Charles – so far, anyway. Giampiero is still digging. He refuses to take a break.”

The thought of the priest digging without supervision reminded Winnie that they were supposed to keep an eye on him. Unfortunately, Farber didn’t know that, and she couldn’t share it with him. She tried to act casual as she asked, “Any sign of scrolls over there?”

His forehead creased. “What sort of scrolls?”

She gave him a blank look. “I don’t know. Any sort.”

“Hardly. You should know how rare it is to find scrolls, Winifred.”

Frowning, she went back to digging. Sometimes talking with Farber wasn’t worth the effort. Let Dunk worry about Giampiero and his conspiracy theory.

A
squeal and a thump from above prompted her to look back over the side of the trench. Amara lay sprawled on the ground behind Farber. Her clipboard and one stiletto shoe lay on the ground beside her.

Winnie winced. “Are you OK?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I shouldn’t rush quite so much.” She slid the shoe back on her foot. “It’s just that Dunk wants everyone in the temple now. We’ve had a breakthrough.”

Without offering a hand, Farber watched her struggle to stand up. “What sort of breakthrough?”

“I can’t tell you. We want to get everyone’s reaction on camera.” Making it to her feet, she hobbled toward the lodging, presumably to tell Father Giampiero. Glancing back, she said, “See you over there.”

“How annoying,” Farber said. “If their find is less impressive than a silver flagon, I won’t be happy about being kept away from my own work.”

Nevertheless, he proceeded toward the temple without waiting for Winnie and Chaz to climb out of their trench and walk with him.

They made their way across the site, passing half-a-dozen students sifting through heaps of spoil like Forty-niners panning for gold. Beyond them, three other kids were collecting, washing and labeling small finds that had turned up in the sieves. Meanwhile, a hired laborer shoveled sifted soil into a wheelbarrow and carried it away.

When they got inside the cult room, Winnie’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim light, but as they did, she stared. Three of the walls, now totally cleared, boasted two frescoes each, all displaying a degree of detail she’d rarely seen in Roman painting.

The priestess who had first captured her imagination appeared in all six paintings. In the one where
she
held the tablet, she read to a young couple. Another panel showed her using a tree clipping to shake drops of water on the same man. A third depicted her and the other female lighting candles. In a fourth, all three of them drank wine with a satyr. A fifth painting showed the younger woman recoiling from someone wearing a mask. In the last image, the priestess subdued the man as he flailed on a couch.

When she pulled her gaze away from the artwork, she found Amara, Jack and Enza grinning while they watched the newcomers’ reactions. Glancing around at the awestruck expressions on the faces of Chaz, Farber and Father
Giampiero
, Winnie knew she must have looked as amazed as they did.

Dunk moved close to Farber and pointed to an empty pedestal at the far end of the room. “Can you explain that platform, Doctor? Is it an altar?”

Hank swung the camera around to the interviewee.

Farber cleared his throat. “No, it’s not an altar. With Roman temples, the altars stand outside. That pedestal would have held a statue of a deity.”

Remembering similar set-ups in
Pompeii
, Winnie nodded to herself.

“Why would the statue be missing?” Dunk asked.

Farber scanned the room, apparently making sure they hadn’t overlooked a statue. “The temple may have fallen out of use before the eruption, but judging by the room’s excellent condition, I doubt it. My guess is that looters tunneled in at some point and took the figure.”

Father
Giampiero
stepped into the circle on camera. “Perhaps after the eruption died down, the temple priests came back for the statue. For sure it meant something to them, in their own misguided minds.”

“That’s feasible, Father,” Farber said.

Judging by the scenes in the frescoes, Winnie wondered if priestesses would more likely have been in charge here, but she kept her speculation to herself.

Dunk continued to question her boss. “How do you interpret the frescoes?”

He surveyed the paintings. “I’d say they depict a series of rites in an initiation into a mystery religion – perhaps Bacchic.”

Next, Dunk turned to her. “Do you agree, Dr. Price?”

The camera lens honed in on her. She moistened her lips. “In part, but Bacchus is the god of wine and, if you recall, Signore Rentino found a recipe for beer – not wine – on site. That could indicate they were worshiping a deity associated with grain.”

Her boss glowered at her. “We don’t have any evidence that recipe relates to the rites depicted here. You’re jumping to a conclusion.”

She lifted her chin, resolving not to be undermined in front of millions of TV viewers. “I’m extrapolating, not concluding.”

“The fact that a priestess is shown leading the rites in the frescoes also suggests the deity is female,” Chaz added. “And, don’t forget, the defixio we found was addressed to a goddess.”

“Yes, we mustn’t forget the curse tablet.” Dunk turned back to Winnie. “The text on it mentions the Great Mother. Would that be Juno?”

Unsure, she considered the question from an etymological standpoint. “I can see why you’d think so, since Juno was Jupiter’s wife, and
his
name derives from the Latin for Divine Father, but I’ve never seen a corresponding title used for her. My guess is that Juno could be a cognate of the word
young
, similar to
junior
. But I’m getting off track. Maybe Chaz can tell us which goddess was called Great Mother.”

Hank swung the camera around to Chaz.

“ ‘Great Mother’ often refers to Cybele,” he said, “but the title was used for other goddesses, too: Ceres, for example. And as goddess of agriculture, Ceres was associated with grain.”

Winnie smiled. “She’s a good candidate then.”

He nodded to her, then turned to face a rectangular pit she hadn’t noticed in one corner of the room. Pointing downward, he asked Dunk, “Is this a stairway leading to a lower floor?”

Jack joined him, looking smug. “Yes, that’s our big surprise. You can see part of a wooden door in situ below. We’re working carefully to open it. If we’re lucky, the downstairs won’t be filled with volcanic material.”

Winnie’s mouth fell open. “Holy cow.”

Farber crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s probably just a storage area. And don’t expect to find scrolls in it, Winifred.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Chaz looked amused. “Anything that clues us in on the deity’s identity would satisfy me.”

“Like the missing statue,” she said.

Dunk nodded. “That would be ideal. We will know what’s down there soon, because Jack plans to work late tonight. That means we’re postponing the reenactment until tomorrow.” He raised his voice to speak to the group. “OK, everyone back to your trenches!”

That evening when they returned to the house, Winnie and Chaz climbed the stairs in silence. Damp tendrils of hair curled on her neck, her clothes were dusty, and her muscles ached – but she felt content about putting in a hard day’s work on a world-class excavation.

As they reached the upstairs hall, Dunk caught up with them. “Some of the team is still out at the temple, so we’re going to skip a formal dinner tonight. Signora Vaccula is making panini that we can grab in the dining room whenever convenient.”

 
“Sounds good.” She wondered if Father Giampiero was still working – and, if so, who was keeping an eye on him. “Who’s still out at the site?”

“Just Jack and Father Giampiero.” He seemed to read her mind, adding, “Amara and I are going back out after tea to relieve them, if they’re still digging by then. Otherwise, Jack will probably forget to eat.”

Chaz laughed. “I’ll stop by the site after dinner, too, assuming I don’t fall asleep first. I can’t wait to see what’s below the temple.”

Winnie didn’t want to miss an important development, either. “Me, too.”

“Only if you’re up for it.” Dunk stopped at the door to his room and unlocked it. “If not, I’ll see you in the morning. Cheers.”

As he shut his door, she continued down the hall with Chaz. “I’ve seen enough of Farber for one day and don’t want to run into him now. Let’s sneak our panini back up here and eat on my balcony.” Catching herself, she added, “unless you want to try to meet up with Enza, that is.”

“
Enza
? After the way she snatched the
defixio
out of my hands?” he asked with mock indignation. “A curse upon her – though I won’t go so far as to condemn her liver, her lungs or her life. In any case, eating on your balcony sounds fantastic. I don’t have one, you know.”

“You’re welcome to share mine.” She tried not to look quite as happy about it as she felt. Coming to her door, she reached to unlock it. “How about we take fifteen minutes to get tidied up, then I’ll meet you?”

“It’s a date.”

His choice of words made her look up, startled.

He laughed at her, then moved on toward his room.

She turned back to her door, embarrassed.