Trojan Odyssey (20 page)

D
IRK AND
S
UMMER
drove to St. Julien's residence in Georgetown with the top down on Dirk's 1952 Meteor, a California custom-built fiberglass-bodied hot rod with a DeSoto FireDome V-8 that was souped up from the stock one hundred and sixty horsepower to two hundred and seventy. The body was painted in American racing colors, white with a blue stripe running down the middle. Actually, the car never had a top. When it rained, Dirk merely pulled a piece of plastic from under one seat and spread it over the cockpit with a hole for his head to poke through.

He pulled off a picturesque tree-lined brick street and turned into the drive circling a large, old, three-story manor house with eight gables. He continued around the side until he came to a stop in front of what was the manor's former carriage and stable house. Quite large, it was once the home of ten horses and five carriages, with rooms upstairs for the grooms and drivers. Purchased by St. Julien Perlmutter forty years earlier, he had remodeled the interior into a homey archive with miles of shelves crammed with books, documents and private papers, all recording the marine history of nearly three hundred thousand ships and shipwrecks. A gourmand and bon vivant, he maintained a refrigerated food locker stocked with delicacies from around the world and a four-thousand-bottle wine cellar.

There was no doorbell, only a big door knocker cast in the shape of an anchor. Summer rapped three times and waited. A full three minutes later the door was thrown open by a massive man standing four inches over six feet and weighing four hundred pounds. Perlmutter may have been huge, but he was solid; the sea of flesh was firm and tight.

His gray hair was shaggy and his full beard was enhanced by a long mustache twisted on the ends. Except for his size, children might have taken him for Santa Claus because of his round red face with a tulip nose and blue eyes. Perlmutter was dressed in his customary purple-and-gold paisley silk robe. A little dachshund puppy danced around his legs and yapped at the visitors.

“Summer!” he exclaimed. “Dirk!” He swept the young people up in his huge arms in a great bear hug and lifted both of them off the porch. Summer felt as if her ribs were cracking and Dirk gasped for breath. To their great relief, Perlmutter, who didn't know his own strength, set them down and waved them through the door.

“Come in, come in. You don't know what a joy it is to see you.” Then he admonished the dog. “Fritz! Any more barking and I'll cut off your gourmet dog food allowance.”

Summer massaged her breast. “I hope Dad told you we were coming?”

“Yes, yes, he did,” Perlmutter said cheerfully. “What a pleasure.” He paused and his eyes became misty. “Looking at Dirk, I can remember when your father was your age, even a bit younger, when he used to come around and browse my library. It's almost as if time has stood still.”

Dirk and Summer had visited Perlmutter with Pitt on several occasions and were always astounded by the vast archives that sagged the shelves and the volumes stacked in hallways and every room of the carriage house, even the bathrooms. It was renowned as the world's largest repository of marine history in the world. Libraries and archives around the nation stood in line, ready to bid whatever price it took should Perlmutter ever decide to sell his immense collection.

Summer was always bewildered at Perlmutter's incredible memory. It would seem that the mass of data should be categorized and indexed onto a computer data file system, but he always claimed he couldn't think abstract and never bought a terminal. Amazingly, he knew where every scrap of information, every book, every author and source and every report was deposited. He liked to boast that he could pick any one out of the maze within sixty seconds.

Perlmutter escorted them into his beautiful sandalwood-paneled dining area, the only room of the house devoid of books. “Sit down, sit down,” he fairly boomed, motioning to a thick, round dining table he'd had carved from the rudder of the famous ghost ship
Mary Celeste,
whose remains had been found in Haiti. “I've made a light lunch of my own concoction of guava-sautéed shrimp. We'll wash it down with a Martin Ray Chardonnay.”

Fritz sat beside the table, his tail sweeping the floor. Perlmutter reached down every few minutes and gave him a bit of shrimp, which he swallowed without chewing.

Not much later, Dirk patted his flat stomach. “The shrimp was so good I'm afraid I made a pig of myself.”

“You weren't alone,” Summer groaned softly, fully sated.

“Now then, what can I do for you kids?” said Perlmutter. “Your Dad said something about you finding Celtic artifacts.”

Summer opened a briefcase she'd brought with her and retrieved the report she and Dirk had written on the airplane to Washington and photos of the ancient relics. “This pretty well sums up our findings. It also includes Hiram Yaeger's conclusions on the amphor, comb and printed photocopies of the artifacts and chambers.”

Perlmutter poured himself another glass of wine, dropped his spectacles over his nose and began reading. “Help yourself to more shrimp. There's plenty.”

“I don't think either of us could manage another bite,” Dirk muttered, holding his stomach.

Wordlessly, Perlmutter dabbed around his beard that hid most of his mouth. He paused occasionally, staring up at the ceiling in thought before he went back to studying the report. Finally, he laid it on the table and fixed the Pitts with a steady stare.

“Do you realize what you've done?”

Summer shrugged unknowingly. “We think it's an archaeological find of some significance.”

“Some significance,” Perlmutter parroted, with a slight tone of sarcasm. “If what you've discovered is the genuine article, you've thrown a thousand accepted archaeological theories down the sink.”

“Oh dear,” said Summer, looking at her brother, who was containing laughter. “Is it all that bad?”

“Depends from what direction you look at it,” Perlmutter said between sips of wine. If the report was an earthshaking revelation, he was acting buoyantly calm. “Very little is known about Celtic culture much before five hundred
B.C.
They didn't keep written records until the Middle Ages. All that is known through the mists of time is that sometime around two thousand
B.C.
, the Celts fanned out from Eastern Europe after originating around the Caspian Sea. Some historians theorize that the Celts and Hindus shared a common ancestry because their language was similar.”

“How widespread were their settlements?” asked Dirk.

“They moved into the north of Italy and Switzerland, then on to France, Germany, Britain and Ireland, reaching as far north as Denmark in the Scandinavian region and as far south as Spain and Greece. Archaeologists have even found Celtic artifacts across the Mediterranean in Morocco. Also, graves of well-preserved mummies have been discovered in northern China from a culture called the Urumchi people. They were most certainly Celtic, since they had Caucasian skin and facial features, blond and red hair, and were dressed in tartan-woven cloth.”

Dirk leaned back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the floor. “I've read of the Urumchi. But I had no idea the Celts migrated into Greece. I always thought the Greeks were indigenous.”

“Though some of them originated in the region, it has generally been accepted that most filtered south from Central Europe.” Perlmutter shifted his bulk into a more comfortable position before continuing. “The Celts eventually ruled lands almost as vast as the Roman Empire. Displacing the neolithic people who built megalithic monuments around Europe such as Stonehenge, they continued the traditions of the Druid religion of mysticism.
Druids,
by the way, means ‘the very wise ones.'”

“Strange, so little has come down through the ages about them,” said Summer.

Perlmutter nodded in agreement. “Unlike the Egyptians, Greeks and Romans, they never built an empire nor formed a national unity. They were made up of a loose confederation of tribes that often fought each other but came together and banded against a common enemy. After fifteen hundred years their village culture eventually gave way to hill forts constructed of earthworks and wooden palisades that evolved into crowded communities. Quite a number of modern cities are built on the sites of old Celt fortresses. Zurich, Paris, Munich and Copenhagen, for example, and half the towns across Europe rest on top of what were once Celtic villages.”

“Hard to believe nonbuilders of palaces and citadels became the dominant culture of Western Europe.”

“Celtic society leaned mainly toward the pastoral. Their primary endeavor in life was the raising of cattle and sheep. They engaged in agriculture but their yield was small, raised only to feed individual families. But for the fact they were not nomadic, their tribal existence was very similar to that of the American Indian. They often raided other villages for cattle and women. Not until three hundred
B.C.
did they turn to growing crops to feed their animals during harsh winters. Those who lived along the coasts became traders, dealing in bronze weapons and selling precious tin for other cultures to produce the metal. Most of the gold for the production of exotic adornments for the ruling chieftains and upper-caste classes was imported.”

“Strange, a culture with so little going for it grew so strong over such a vast territory.”

“You can't say the Celts had nothing going for them,” Perlmutter lectured Dirk. “They led the way into the Bronze Age by developing the metal using copper alloyed with the tin found in huge reserves in Britain. They were later credited with smelting iron and ushering in the Iron Age as well. They were superb horsemen and brought to Europe knowledge of the wheel, built war chariots and were the first to use four-wheeled farm wagons and metal implements for plowing and harvesting. They created tools still in use today like pincers and pliers. They were the first to have shod their horses with bronze shoes and made iron rims for chariot and wagon wheels. The Celts educated the ancient world on the use of soap. Their craftsmanship in metal was second to none, and their mastery of gold in the decoration of jewelry, ornaments, warriors' helmets, swords and axes was exquisite. Celtic ceramics and pottery were also creatively designed, and they mastered the art of producing glass. They also taught the art of enameling to the Greeks and Romans. Celts exceled in poetry and music. Their poets were placed in greater esteem than their priests. And their practice of beginning the day at midnight has been passed down to us today.”

“What were the causes behind their fading glory?” asked Summer.

“Mainly defeats by the invading Romans. The world of the Gauls, as the Romans called the Celts, began to unravel, as other cultures such as the Germans, the Goths and the Saxons began to expand throughout Europe. In a way, the Celts were their own worst enemy. A wild, untamed people who loved adventure and individual freedom, they were mercurial, impetuous and completely undisciplined, factors that hastened their downfall. By the time Rome fell, the Celts had been driven across the North Sea to England and Ireland, where their influence is still felt today.”

“What was their appearance—and how did they treat their women?” asked Summer, with a kittenish grin.

Perlmutter sighed. “I wondered when you'd get around to that.” He poured the last of the wine in their glasses. “The Celts were a hardy race, tall and fair. Their hair ran from blond to red to brown. They were described as a boisterous lot, with deep-sounding and harsh voices. You'll be happy to know, Summer, that women were held on a pedestal in Celtic society. They could marry whom they desired and inherit property. And unlike most cultures since their time, women could claim damages if they were molested. Celtic women were described as being as large as their men and fought alongside them in battle.” Perlmutter hesitated and grinned before continuing. “An army of Celtic men and women must have been quite a sight.”

“Why is that?” asked Summer, falling into the trap.

“Because they often went into battle naked.”

Summer was too intrepid to blush, but she did roll her eyes and stare at the floor.

“Which brings us back around to the Celtic artifacts we found on Navidad Bank,” said Dirk seriously. “If they weren't being transported aboard a ship three thousand years later, where did they come from?”

“And what about the room and chambers we found that were carved from the rock?” added Summer.

“Are you sure they were carved from the rock and not stones laid one on the other?” Perlmutter questioned.

Dirk looked at his sister. “I suppose it's possible. The encrustation could easily have covered the cracks between the stones.”

“It wasn't like the Celts to carve chambers out of solid rock. They rarely built structures from stone,” said Perlmutter. “It may have been there were no trees to fell as lumber when Navidad Bank rose above the sea. Tropical palms, for example, because of their curved and fiber trunks, were not practical for livable structures.”

“But how could they have crossed six thousand miles of ocean in eleven hundred
B.C.
?”

“A tough question,” Perlmutter admitted. “Those who lived on the Atlantic shores were a seafaring people, often called ‘people of the oars.' They are known to have sailed into the Mediterranean from ports in the North Sea. But there are no legends of Celts crossing the Atlantic, other than possibly Saint Brendan, the Irish priest, whose voyage of seven years is thought by many to have reached the east coast of America.”