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“My brother is in charge. He has eyes on Bako and his five closest men day and night.”
“Better than I could have wished,” Sam said. “Have a pleasant voyage.”
The engine started, and the boat turned slightly so Tibor could climb aboard. It straightened and began to chug up the quiet river toward the lake.
Sam and Remi drove to the open chamber one last time. They used the climbing rope to lower themselves into the dark stone room, and then Sam turned on his flashlight and shone it on each of the plain stone walls. This time, there was no engraved iron plate. But on the floor, visible only now that the treasure had been removed, was a stone block with engraved letters. They stood over it, and Remi took several photographs with her cell phone, then reviewed them to be sure the letters were clear. Sam was busily copying the message on a piece of paper. When he saw Remi looking at him, he shrugged. “If we lose the phone, I’m not coming back to read this. Are you?”
“I wasn’t thinking about that,” she said.
“What were you thinking?”
“That this isn’t like the huge iron slab we found in Hungary. I’ll bet that, using the car, we could lift this thing out.”
Sam knelt and tried to jiggle it but couldn’t. Then he used his pocketknife to scrape at the mortar a bit. “I’ll be right back,” he said and climbed up the rope and out. He returned a few minutes later with the other rope, both crowbars, and the hammer. They went to work on the mortar, and in a short time they had freed the stone. They pried it up, and Sam tied the rope around it, first the short side, then the long side. He climbed up, and Remi heard him start the car. The stone was thinner and slightly smaller than the blocklike stones that made up the bulk of the room. It rose easily and then stopped. Remi climbed up the rope and joined Sam at the surface and then went to the car and used it to pull while Sam used the crowbar to help it over the edge and to the ground. The two of them used their crowbars to lift the stone up so they could slide it onto the backseat floor.
“You were right,” he said. “This time we don’t have to leave the message for Bako to see.”
They used the car to drag the larger stone back over the opening to seal the chamber. Then they shoveled and pushed the mound of dirt over it. Once the ground was even, the chamber entrance was four feet under.
Remi turned and looked back at the plowed field. “Wow. Look.”
It was just beginning to get light, so they could see their deep tire tracks running from the chamber t
o the riverbank and back. “I wish we could get rid of those tracks.”
“We don’t have a way,” Sam said. “All we can do is try to make the damage look like a drunken joyride.” They got into the car, and Sam picked up the empty wine bottle from their picnic lunch, wiped off the fingerprints, and tossed it on the ground. Then he drove up and down the field, turning and looping, backing up, making a random set of shapes that were not concentrated in one part of the field. Then he bumped up onto the highway that ran parallel to the river.
As dawn approached, Remi sent the photos to Selma and Albrecht. It began to rain. “I’m glad we didn’t have to contend with that,” she said. The rain grew slowly to a steady, strong downpour, and Sam drove them through every puddle, washing the mud and dirt from the rental car. When they reached a spot where they could park unseen close to the Mincio, they stopped and dumped the inscribed tablet into the river. “I’m going to take a picture of the spot,” said Remi. “Once it isn’t a threat to our lives, we’ll come back one day for the tablet and donate it to a museum.” When she had her pictures, they drove on.
They arrived in Peschiera del Garda before six a.m. and waited in the parking lot near the marina to see the big boat go under the last bridge into the lake. While they waited, Remi called the house in California and Selma answered.
“Hi, Remi,” she said. “We got your pictures. Is the treasure as big as it looks?”
“Bigger. Have you and Albrecht read the message?”
“Albrecht has translated it, but he’s been studying the situation.” Selma paused. “He should be the one to tell you.” After a bit of rustling, Remi heard Albrecht say, “Hello.”
“Hi, Albrecht,” said Remi. “Could you read the stone?”
“Yes. It’s still just Latin. Here’s what it says.
“‘You have my fifth treasure. The fourth is in the place where friends rushed to become enemies. While I buried treasure for the future, King Thorismund buried funeral goods for King Theodoric.’”
“What do you make of that?” asked Sam.
“It’s a reference to the other possibility I referred to for the fifth treasure, the Battle of the Catalaunian Plains in 451,” Albrecht said. “The friends were Flavius Aëtius, the Roman general, and Theodoric, the King of the Visigoths. Both had been friends of Attila but hated each other. When Attila invaded and looted much of France, they joined forces at Châlons-en-Champagne and became his enemies.”
“What’s that about funeral goods?”
“Theodoric was killed in the battle, but, as sometimes happens in big battles, the principal leaders lost touch with one another and Theodoric’s body wasn’t found until the next day. His son, Thorismund, buried Theodoric, presumably with his armor, weapons, and personal belongings, and the crown passed to him.”
Remi said, “And this was your second choice for ‘where the world was lost.’”
“That’s right,” Albrecht said. “This was the farthest west Attila got—roughly to the city of Troyes, France. The men who formed an alliance to stop him had once been friends of Attila’s. The battle was huge and violent, but it ended in a draw. When it was too dark to fight, Attila withdrew to his camp. Flavius Aëtius didn’t pursue the Huns when they left. Some historians believe he was afraid to destroy them because it would have left the Visigoths unopposed. I suspect the truth was that the Huns were still strong as ever and he didn’t want to push his luck. This was the last major battle that the Romans could be said to have won and that was only because Aëtius was still on the field when the other armies departed. Theodoric was dead, and his son Thorismund set off for home as fast as he could to secure his place as the new king of the Visigoths.”
“Good enough,” said Remi. “So we know roughly where we go next. But we’re still in Italy. Have you gotten in touch with the Italian authorities?”
“Yes. They understand the need for secrecy and the need for speed. They’ll be in touch with you in a few hours to take possession of the artifacts and move them to Rome.”
