Read Touchstone (Meridian Series) Online

Authors: John Schettler,Mark Prost

Touchstone (Meridian Series) (27 page)

       Nordhausen
watched the men work, a feeling of rising excitement and anxiety in his chest.
Now they were struggling to pry loose a particularly stubborn rock that was
wedged into the supporting foundation of the wall. The officer, Bouchard,
gestured to two other men, indicating that they should lend their weight to the
lever and, even as they rushed forward to the task, LeGrand appeared in a
billow of dust, riding in on the same covered coach that Robert and Maeve had
arrived in the previous day.

       The
two travelers had come to the scene an hour earlier, escorted by their guide, Khalid.
He was especially gracious, bringing them cool water and a plate of sweetened
bread and dates when he arrived at their room that morning. They ate, and then
were eager to reach the site of the impending discovery, though they did not
share their real intent with their host. Nordhausen carried on about his
interest in the old Egyptian carvings in the region, and Khalid was only too
happy to banter with him about the improvements the Arabs had made to the
architecture in centuries past.

       Now
they were standing in the lee of a high tower on the wall, watching with keen
interest as the work parties cleared the rubble away by slow, tedious labor.

       Though
Maeve wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible, it was hard for the other
Westerners at the scene not to notice them. A few French infantry were eyeing
her from a distance, though Khalid played his role of the cordial host well,
and made it seem that he was entertaining guests, or trading partners in some
long planned exchange of commerce. It was a ruse that seemed to be working, for
no one bothered them until LeGrand arrived in his coach and fixed his grey eyes
upon them with a squint of suspicion.

       Khalid
was quick to notice. He turned to Robert and leaned in close, as Arabs are
accustomed, as if confiding some intensely personal matter.

       “He
is here.”

       “I
beg your pardon?” Robert was not quite in tune.

       “You
know the man of whom I speak. The grey one in the coach, near the gate by the
west wall. You must be very cautious now, my friends. This man is dangerous.”

       “You
know him?” Robert expressed his natural curiosity, hoping to ferret out the
relationship between the two that he was already suspicious of himself.

       “Let
us say that I have had dealings with the man. He is not to be trusted.”

       “Ah…
Then he is another trader?” There was something in Robert’s voice that was not
lost on his host. Khalid smiled, his dark eyes narrowing under their heavy
brows.

       “He
trades in things that most men would be wise to leave in peace,” said Khalid.
“But, then again, the commerce of the hour brings us all here to some end or
another, does it not?”

       Robert
nodded agreeably, though the insinuation was not lost on Maeve, who regarded
the Arab with a knowing gaze. She was keen to observe the obvious tension in
the man’s face and deportment now that LeGrand had arrived. The interloper was
down from his coach and making his way boldly across the courtyard, intent on
trio by the tower.

      
“Bonjour,
Madame,”
LeGrand said politely, bowing as he stepped into the shade of the
tower. “Monsieur.” He said to Nordhausen, and then proffered a wan smile in Khalid’s
direction, nodding his head in a mock bow.

       Khalid
touched his heart with his hand, and made a shallow head bow in return. “You
are very punctual, LeGrand,” he said in English, with just a hint of annoyance.

       “Oh?”
said LeGrand. “And just what brings
you
into the company of these good
people, Sheik? Are you working some trade for the Sultan?”

       “The
Sultan? His army is very close at hand, but I do not think he has trade on his
mind. The Pasha is here to throw out the French, as you well know.” He lowered
his voice, covering the remark with a strained smile.

       “Not
something you want to lord on about,” said LeGrand. “Particularly in
English—not with the British fleet about in these waters. Rumor has it that the
French are becoming more and more suspicious of local traders. Information
passes in whispers, even as coinage moves from one purse to another. They
wonder how Nelson and his fleet managed to make such a good accounting of the
French Army’s movements when they were in
Palestine
.”

       “Do
they?” Khalid was still smiling, though his eyes were smoldering with
restrained hostility. “They are a curious lot, are they not?”

       “Curious,
indeed,” LeGrand returned. “As you seem to be. Pray tell me, what business do you
have here today? Are you hoping to win a contract for the repair of these walls?”
He gestured at the tawny fortifications.

       “Nothing
so enterprising,” said Khalid. “I was merely  extending the hospitality of my
people to these strangers, and seeing to their comfort. The professor here has
an interest in ancient stone carvings, and I thought we might tour the
fortifications.”

       “Ah,”
said LeGrand. “Good day, professor. Ready for the revelation?” he rubbed his
palms together. “In spite of what my friend says, I think we can all safely
acknowledge why we are here, yes?  Now then…” he squinted at the sun. “You may
wish to move this way in a moment.” LeGrand gestured to his right, where a low
pile of loosened stone provided them a slight rise in elevation and a better
view of the digging party. The low baritone of the French officer of engineers
could be heard, exhorting the laborers to strain a bit harder at the iron lever
they had wedged into the base of the large, half-exposed rock they were
working.

       “Come,
professor, Madame… It is almost time.” There was just a trace of urgency in LeGrand’s
voice, and Maeve could see that Khalid had been edging closer to the work
crews, trying to appear uninterested, but keenly aware of their steady
progress.

       Robert
turned, and then heard a loud chink as the  iron lever slipped. A hard crack
followed, and the large rock fell suddenly away from the base of the wall in a
cloud of silt and dust. LeGrand rocked on his heels, a smile of anticipation on
his face. There was an audible gasp as the dust settled around a dark squarish
shape that had been exposed in the side of the wall. The officer had
immediately taken note of it, and was leaning in, intent on some discovery in
the rubble.

       Two
of the workmen rushed from the scene, as though frightened by what they had
uncovered. The officer shouted after them, then barked loudly at the two French
soldiers standing the watch, and the men came running in response.

       Now
Nordhausen saw that the two laborers had gone to fetch a sturdy rope and
tackle. The officer was giving orders, his riding crop pointing this way and
that, and he soon eyed the coach that LeGrand had arrived in, pointing at the
horse. It was clear that he wanted to utilize the animal to help haul something
out of the rubble. LeGrand, still beaming with a smug, self-satisfied
expression, strode forward to offer his services. He gestured to Nordhausen
with his hand, beckoning him to follow.

       Robert
and Maeve needed no encouragement. They were inching closer, trying to remain
discreet, but keenly interested in the find. Khalid was right on their heels.

       LeGrand
stepped up, bowed to the French officer, and then gestured magnanimously at his
horse and tackle, where the soldiers were already loosening the carriage
harness and hitch to free the beast for their purposes, whether LeGrand
approved or not. Dust clouded the scene, obscuring the find, but LeGrand acted
as though he was playing out a well rehearsed part.

       “Be
my guest,” Nordhausen heard LeGrand say in French. “But what is it you have
discovered,
monsieur?”

       LeGrand
turned, expectantly, his face still molded in a jovial smile, and then he
froze, as though struck by the officer’s riding crop. His eyes widened, bright
ovals above the doughy cheeks of his face, and his jaw gaped open with a look
of complete astonishment.

      
“Mon
dieu!
” the invocation escaped his lips as he gazed, and Nordhausen hurried
forward to see what he was looking at, tripping on a pile of loosened rock. As
he rose, Khalid strode boldly forward, a look of great satisfaction blooming on
his face when he saw LeGrand’s reaction. He started to laugh, pointing a long
thin finger at LeGrand as he spoke.

       “Not
what you expected, monsieur?” His eyes glittered. “Something to put a little
fire in your next courier dispatch?” Now his laughter could not be restrained.

       Nordhausen
gaped at him, struggling to his feet. Maeve came up to lend him a hand, and
they started down the gentle incline to approach the dig site. LeGrand had
cupped his ears with his palms, as if to shut out the laughter of his
adversary, but the gesture seemed more one of amazement. It was then that they
saw Khalid turn to look upon the discovery that was obviously the source of his
elation.

       “Do
I work some mischief for the Sultan, he wonders? More than you could possibly
know, my friend.” But then his words were cut short and, like LeGrand before
him, his eyes opened with surprise and shock.
“Ahliah!
He exclaimed, the
mirth driven from his face and a look of profound distress in its place.

       Nordhausen
ran the last few steps. Pushing his way through the gathering crown until he
reached the edge of the site. Maeve called after him the moment he ran forward,
obviously perturbed.

       “Come
back here, Robert!” She had seen the spark of irrepressible curiosity in his
eyes and was worried that he would do something—say something—that would cause
some grave complication. There were many French soldiers at the scene now, and
she was certain Robert would draw unwanted attention to himself the moment he
opened his mouth.

       She
looked and saw him come up short at the lip of the dig, then heard him take in
a sudden breath, as though startled by what he saw. His hand shot up to the top
of his head, an involuntary gesture of bewilderment. She saw him scratch and
then, to her great dismay, he pulled off his wig, thoughtlessly, carelessly, as
though he was totally unaware of what he had just done.

       She
pressed closer, finally reaching the place where the others stood, clearly
dumbfounded by the moment of discovery. The soldiers were pointing and speaking
rapidly to one another in French. She saw the officer of engineers lean in,
eyes squinting at the find now that the dust had settled. What in the world
could have caused such commotion?

       Then
she saw it, the great black shape jutting from the side of the embankment below
the wall, and now she understood, at last, the marvel of all those who looked
on. A silence fell on the scene as the French officer of engineers stooped and
extended his arm to touch the thing they had unearthed. He reached out, as
though afraid that he might be scalded by the stone. She saw his hand play
lightly over the smooth, polished surface of the find, one finger tracing a
delicate path over the carved lettering. Then the hush resolved into a rush of
whispers. People were turning to one another, nodding wide eyed conclusions,
and she saw Khalid staring at LeGrand as if he expected to have the same
berating laughter thrown at him by the man.

       The
look on LeGrand’s face was plain to see, however, and it was clear that neither
man could lay claim to any victory in the find.

       Robert
turned, remembering her at last, and gestured wildly for her to take the final
step forward and look upon the scene. She passed a moment of hesitation and
great anxiety. Something was wrong. She could see it on everyone’s face, though
many seemed to glow with joy at the find. Yet for LeGrand and Khalid, the
discovery seemed to promise great trouble. It was clear to her now that one man
or the other expected to come out the better when the shape of the ancient
stone was finally unearthed.

       Now
she knew that both were secret adversaries in the struggle that had begun on
that first stormy night in
Berkeley
—the night they resolved to spin up the Arch
for the very first time and breach the womb of time. She turned her head,
slowly, deliberately, and looked upon the shape that had been unearthed.

       Robert
gaped at her, waiting to see the same look of astonishment sweep across her
features. Instead he saw the tightening of her jaw, and the tension in her
eyes, set tighter now, and reflecting some unalterable inner conclusion as she
took in the scene. There was wonder there, to be sure, but it was ruthlessly
suppressed. In its place he saw the glimmer of anger kindled like a growing
fire, and he knew at last, in the wake of his own confusion and surprise,  a
moment of great doubt and fear.

 

20

      

It
had taken them
the better
part of three hours, and nearly fifty men with levers and ropes, but they had
it up on the wooden truss now, freed from the long embrace of the dry earthen
embankment where it had slept for so many centuries.

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