Her father, however, was frowning at his copy of the clue. “Dr. Nikolopoulou,” he said. “I appreciate your translation and interpretation, but we might be overthinking the philosophical connections. ‘Where the Lyceum’s heir taught kings, and wisdom walked in covered halls, the merchant of words left his final gift. Seek the owl’s blessing where philosophy was born.’ The Lyceum was where Aristotle taught. However, consider the phrase “merchant of words” alongside “where philosophy” was born in this original clue.I wonder if we should look for someone who sold books, not someone who wrote them.”
Her father’s reasoning confirmed her own.
“What do you mean?” Helena’s confidence wavered.
Elizabeth was pleased to have an answer ready. “In ancient Athens, where would one actually find merchants selling written works? Not in the schools, surely, but in the commercial district. The Agora had a thriving book trade, did it not?”
Helena glanced at her father, then at Darcy. “But the inscription I found points toward the Lyceum…”
“Perhaps,” Darcy said slowly. “But the inscription might have been designed to lead us astray. After all, if someone wanted to hide something valuable, would they place obvious markers pointing directly to it?”
“The ancient Agora!” her father said with excitement. “We are looking in the wrong place.”
Helena’s translation had been valuable, but it was Elizabeth and her father’s practical thinking that identified the flaw in her interpretation. As they made their way toward the Agora ruins, a mixture of vindication and pride diluted the bitter flavor of insecurity she still tasted.
29
Darcy stood in the center of the Agora the next day, his shirt sticking to his back with perspiration that had nothing to do with the Greek sunshine. His neck ached from craning upward to study every inch of marble, every carved detail, every possible hiding place among the magnificent ruins. His palms were raw from climbing over rough stones, and his eyes burned from squinting at inscription after inscription.
The morning light struck the ruins with blinding brilliance. However, instead of inspiring awe, the beauty only mocked them with its indifference to their urgent search. Somewhere in this maze of ancient stone lay the clue they desperately sought. Three days of systematic investigation had yielded nothing but frustration and rising panic. Although he admired Dr. Nikolopoulou’s willingness to share her extensive scholarly knowledge of Athens, he was pleased when she was unavailable on their final day. They needed no diversion.
“It is overwhelming,” his cousin said, his words mirroring Darcy’s frustration.
Darcy surveyed the ruins again, his mind racing through possibilities they might have missed. Every street corner in Athens bore carved quotes from philosophers. Every public building displayed marble tributes to Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates. References to owls and Athena were everywhere, especially in the ancient marketplace where statues of gods and goddesses would have been sold. The city was so thoroughly saturated with its heritage that finding its specific clue was like searching for a grain of sand on an endless beach.
“Richard, we have less than an hour before the carriage arrives to return us to Piraeus,” he said through gritted teeth. “We cannot continue without the clue, but theMary Catherinewill not wait for us. Remaining behind and seeking alternate transport is unacceptable.” He was frustrated from the time slipping away. Because they had found the previous clue without much difficulty, three days to find this one seemed generous when they arrived. Now, with only minutes remaining before their scheduled departure, the pressure felt crushing. The sweat running down his spine turned cold.
Bennet was as tense as Darcy now. “Where the Lyceum’s heir taught kings, and wisdom walked in covered halls. The merchant of words left his final gift. Seek the owl’s blessing where philosophy was born.”
“We have found the places where philosophy was born,” Darcy snapped, his usual restraint cracking under the strain. His breathing had grown shallow and rapid. “We have found countless owls and references to Athena. But where is thisfinal giftthat Aristotle supposedly left?”
Elizabeth intertwined her fingers with his, calming him. She pointed to an alley near the main thoroughfare that would receive the most customer traffic. “There,” she said, indicating a section of foundation near the entrance to the narrow street. “If I were selling books in ancient Athens, that is where I would have set up my stall.”
Hurrying to where Elizabeth directed, Mrs. Bell looked around and called out excitedly, “Mr. Bennet! Come quickly!”
They all ran to where she stood and, following the lady’s gaze upward, he spotted carved letters that were visible from their current angle.
Mr. Bennet adjusted the telescope he had purchased the day prior. Darcy could see the same desperate hope in the older man. “By Jove, she is right! It is Latin, carved much later than the original construction. The same as in Rome?the letters are interspersed with another message. We would never have seen this had the sun not been at this precise angle, and if you had not stood exactly here.”
Darcy read the inscription through the telescope. “Urbs duorum marium, ubi Oriens Occidentemqueconvenit, custodit pontem inter mundos. In magna ecclesia ubi lux fit oratio, secretum custodis requiescit ubi imperatores quondam steterunt.”
“Constantinople,” Richard deduced.
We found it!After three days of mounting desperation, they had their next clue.
Even as triumph coursed through his veins, though, new anxiety was already taking root. Constantinople. Going to this part of the world presented complex new obstacles. French warships were straightforward by comparison.
Standingat the foot of the ruin, Elizabeth excitedly wrote the translation in her journal, “The city of two seas, where East meets West, guards the bridge between worlds. In the great church where light becomes prayer, the keeper’s secret rests where emperors once stood.”
The words burned into her mind as she copied them. Her entire body hummed with anticipation.
As they hurried back to the carriage that would return them to Piraeus, Elizabeth’s thoughts jumped to consider the difficulties that awaited them: How would they gain access to Hagia Sophia? How would they navigate the cultural and religious complexities of the Ottoman capital? How much time did they have before other treasure hunters followed the same trail?
Added to all this was the constant worry that Mr. Wickham would turn up and cause trouble. Each night, the colonel had reported no sign of him, for which she was grateful. But that did not mean that he was not near.
Once they were in the carriage speeding back to the port, her father said, “We have made it this far. Though this clue was a challenge, we did find it. I have no doubt that we will succeed. Professor Drye would be pleased with our work so far.”
The colonel agreed. “Whatever the political terrain in Constantinople, we focus on finding the clue and trust that we are capable of handling the rest, agreed?”
