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Lost Heritage
Lost Heritage
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Lost Heritage


‘I haven’t come this far just to turn back. We’re on the point of the greatest archaeological discovery in history,’ I replied angrily.

They both lowered their heads and kept their mouths shut.

I took one last look all along the rock wall face, trying to envisage my route. There were certainly enough cracks and fissures that could provide hand and foot holds for someone who was as experienced at climbing as I was. After a last look, I began the ascent.

The first section was relatively easy. I climbed to a not too excessive height, around 20 feet above the level of the lagoon, high enough to ensure that nothing could attack me from the water. I inched my way along searching for a crack that could provide first a handhold and then a foothold, taking one step after another with great care. The humidity in the underground cavern had made its mark on the walls over the years, creating a large number of cracks and fissures.

Upon reaching halfway, I was beginning to feel tired but on looking down, I saw the water gently stir in the centre of the lagoon; something that gave me more than enough motivation to carry on.

As I neared the altar, its close proximity renewed my strength. However, the biggest obstacle came a moment later as the number of cracks into which I could put my hand or my foot had become much fewer and further between. There were only a few feet left to go and I could already clearly see that relic.

‘What is it?’ Kalisteas yelled when he saw me stop.

‘There aren’t enough cracks in the wall for me to hold on to!’ I replied.

‘You should have paid the ferryman,’ he growled angrily.

I pretended not to hear him. I climbed down the wall as stealthily as I could as there was no other way to get over to the other side than to enter the water. I silently and very gently slipped my body into the cold liquid until it came up to my neck. There was no turning back, and I started to swim towards the altar with all my strength.

Although the distance was very short, as I stepped onto the ground on the other side I heard a snapping sound behind me. Without thinking twice, I took out my revolver and emptied the magazine without seeing exactly what I was firing at. I could only see ripples in the water that drifted back in the opposite direction.

Having regained my calm, I was at last able to reach the small altar. It sat on a tombstone in the middle of a small square cut into the rock. On the tombstone itself had been engraved the depiction of a procession of mourners, and beneath them was what looked like a tomb displaying letters that were barely readable, having been worn away by the humidity and the passing of the years. I ran my hand over both the engravings and the inscription and immediately felt a sensation that even today I cannot describe using mere words alone.

I was paralyzed, rooted to the spot as I kept staring at them, until a loud buzzing noise shook me out of my trance-like state. I looked out over the lagoon, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

‘You have to come back quickly!’ Kalisteas began to scream at the top of his lungs.

‘Not now! Not now that I've finally found it!’ I replied.

‘Forget it if you don't want it to be the last thing you’ll ever see in your life! A storm is coming and in a short time the cave will be completely under water!’

Those words stabbed me in the heart.

‘Alright!’ I replied with resignation.

I knew I would have to set off back along the wall using the gaps in the rock face that were much nearer the surface of the water, even allowing my foot to go below the surface of the water once or twice. So, I shouted across to Kalisteas.

‘Do me a favour, Kalisteas. Start distracting the creature!’

‘How?’

‘Throw rocks into the water to attract our friend's attention! As soon as you see him approach you, tell me!’

‘Got it!’

A few moments later on seeing the creature approach, Kalisteas shouted. From the ripples in the water at the other side of the lagoon, it was clear that he had attracted the creature’s attention. At that moment, I got into the water and started to swim the short distance to the point where there were an abundance of gaps in the wall close to the water’s surface.

I did not look back as I emerged from the water and immediately started ascending the rock face. Just as I had cleared my feet from the water’s surface, I could hear a swishing sound in the lagoon close behind me; a sound that grew more ominous as I started to put a few more inches between myself and the lagoon surface below.

With my heart pounding and with a greater familiarity of the handholds and footholds I had already used to get to that point, I climbed back along the wall at more than twice the speed I had come. All my previous caution had been thrown to the wind as I now started grabbing hold of any crack, or putting my foot in any gap I could, as pure adrenaline was pumping through my veins.

The thunderous noise outside continued to increase as I reached the other side, my hands torn and bleeding through the effort I had made and the chances I had taken.

The Greek hurried us back through the shafts, passageways and tunnels until we reached the cave. The water had risen so high that as we entered the water to swim out, our heads barely protruded above the surface as there was only just enough room between the water and the cave ceiling.

We were already in sight of the exit when the cave became completely submerged. Just before the exit, we all took a final deep breath and had to dive below the surface in order to cover the final stretch. Finally, we emerged into the sunlit lake overcome with relief as we saw the ferryman waiting for us.

The trip back had a bittersweet taste. We had made the greatest archaeological discovery in human history but had brought back no evidence to support this. And worst of all, we would have to wait for a whole year in order to try again.

Chapter 1

London, 1922

I was on my way to an exhibition being held in the main function room of the British Museum. Unfortunately, I was running late and had had to catch a taxi on the corner of White Hart Lane. All the writers and reporters for the most prominent newspapers were going to be there to cover the news of the year. For the first time, the most acclaimed archaeological discovery of recent years could be seen in London. No reporter worth his salt would miss this event.

By the time we had reached Piccadilly Circus we had run into a horrendous traffic jam, and for ten minutes we barely advanced twenty yards.

If I was late, I could consider myself fired.

‘How much?’ I asked the taxi driver.

‘Two shillings and tuppence’ he replied turning to me.

I paid him and got out.

After walking across Trafalgar Square in the drizzle, I hurried down several side streets until I came to Great Russell Street.

The atmosphere of expectation was even greater than I would have imagined. Hundreds of photographers, policemen and multitudes of onlookers were crowding around the entrance to the British Museum. Despite its enormous dimensions, even the museum appeared to be too small for the occasion.

Luxury Rolls-Royces kept pulling up out the front. I could not recall such a stir since Valentino had made an appearance at the Albert Hall a couple of years earlier.

Two large spotlights made the impressive Doric columns of the building’s façade shine as the statue of the goddess Athena at the front seemed to come to life. The building sparkled that night as if it were the most beautiful neoclassical jewel.

I went to the front gate, presented my press accreditation and, after an exhaustive search through the lists of invited newspapers, the museum’s officials finally let me in. Apparently, imposters had been constantly trying to sneak in using all manner of false press passes. I then climbed the wide staircase and stood at the designated spot on the corridor overlooking the main entrance.

‘Hey Paul! You’re wet through!’ exclaimed Tom, the Northern Star correspondent.

‘It was impossible to get anywhere near this place by taxi and I left my umbrella at home,’ I answered glumly. ‘Has the man of the moment arrived yet?’

‘No. Just the mayor, but that’s nothing to shout about!’ he replied smiling.

In the background a great murmur was heard as even more people began to crowd at the main entrance.

‘I think that may be our man now,’ Tom announced as he reloaded his camera.

We did not have to wait too long. A few moments later, we saw an Aston Martin convertible come to a stop outside the front steps carrying the star of the day.

A shower of flashes immortalized the moment as people shouted the name of the most sought-after man on the planet as he was getting out of the car. Howard Carter, accompanied by his beautiful and elegant lady friend, stepped onto the red carpet rolled out for the occasion, and proceeded to greet cheering fans and well-wishers on either side as if they were two movie stars in the age of the silent film.