Avalon (59 page)

Then, alighting from the platform, they touched the surface of the new island. To Jenny it was like setting foot on the moon. She felt a strange, inexplicable exhilaration — as if she were in some way connecting with a power long dormant inside her, a primeval force she had suppressed all her life but which responded to this place. The feeling both thrilled and frightened. She looked to James, and he seemed equally dumbfounded.

“Good morning, Your Royal Highnesses. I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Dr. Fuller,” said the woman waiting just beyond reach of the whirling helicopter blades. Christine Fuller, the coordinator of the multidiscipline research project and director of the oceanographic unit, was accompanied by two assistants — a slightly older man and a slim, brown-haired young woman. She said, “Claudia, my personal assistant, and Nicholas, our site manager, have prepared a little presentation at site headquarters; I thought we might start there before showing you around. If you would like to follow me.”

They moved off towards a cluster of prefab huts, around which a group of Special Branch security agents in dark suits was maintaining discreet yet vigilant presence, complementing on land the police in the boats. Dr. Fuller led her guests past four large, diesel-fired generators and a half dozen portable toilets. The whirring whine of the generators drowned out all other sound and set the ground vibrating underfoot; the huge engines filled the air with a fine blue haze of diesel smoke and fumes.

The largest of the huts was a portable building anchored with ropes and covered by a canopy constructed of scaffolding poles and nylon-reinforced plastic sheeting to keep off the sun and rain. The interior looked like a jumble sale for used computer gear and office equipment. Monitor screens and consoles were heaped on every available surface; cords and wires snaked off in all directions. Members of the research team moved among the stacks of equipment, shouting above the din of the generators outside, checking the monitors, and making notations on charts and clipboards.

The pale blue interior was lit by halogen lamps centered over a large table covered with a white sheet. A space had been cleared around the table, and four folding chairs lined up on one side. At the director’s invitation, the four visitors took their seats and, while Claudia nervously served coffee and biscuits, Nicholas led them through a printout which explained the technical aspects of the geologic dynamics at work in the area — all about plate tectonics, pressure zones, and sonar mapping. Then Claudia took over; using a prepared flip chart, she outlined the corresponding geophysical relationship of Llyonesse with the mainland and explained the topographical profile of the region.

Thanking her colleagues, Dr. Fuller continued, detailing the last, dramatic few weeks. “Having established the mean rise ratio over the entire site,” she explained, “we fed the sonar data into our computers at Bristol University and were able to produce a virtual model of the active area. The computer model was used to create this….”

She nodded to her assistants, who stepped to the table and lifted off the sheet to reveal a large-scale physical model of Llyonesse as it had been in ages past and, by all calculations, would be once again — complete with white-capped waves and tiny boats all around. The new island was an elongated mass that looked like a slightly splayed inverted footprint, the heel of which was separated from Cornwall by a narrow channel, and the toes of which were formed by what had been the Isles of Scilly. The center of the island was dominated by a rising plateau — the tabletop, so to speak, part of which was all that protruded from the sea at present.

“The model you see before you,” Dr. Fuller proclaimed, “is how we believe the restored landmass will appear. And this” — she indicated a smaller, less detailed model set into a corner of the table — “is how it appears now.”

“How quickly is the island rising?” Embries asked, genuine excitement lending an edge to his voice Jenny had never heard before. “How long, that is, until the entire landmass is fully visible?”

“The rate of rise has accelerated since the primary quake to an average of nearly three centimeters per day,” Nicholas answered. “Naturally, some areas are rising faster than others; the submerged region” — he pointed to the model, indicating the portion still beneath the surface — “is rising almost twice as fast as the area where we are now, which is rising very little.” He held his hand out flat and tilted it to show how one part could rise more swiftly than another.

“As I say, three centimeters is the average over the entire region. That’s a lot, and should the seabed continue to ascend at that rate, Llyonesse will appear as indicated by our model in approximately thirty-eight months — assuming the tectonic shift continues to follow its present course. We cannot predict that another cataclysm won’t suck it back into the sea. I would point out, however, that the island rose almost eighteen meters as a result of the quake eight weeks ago.”

“The Coronation Quake,” James said, referring to the media tag which had attached itself to the phenomenon. “Might another quake produce equally dramatic results?”

“Certainly, Your Majesty,” replied Dr. Fuller. “In fact, the entire region between Land’s End and Scilly Isles is undergoing an almost continual series of tremors — three in one day last week. We have been fortunate so far in that most of the subsequent quake damage has been limited to the southernmost portions of the mainland. Again, our prediction skills are extremely rudimentary; it’s difficult to say at this point how long the process will take. Nevertheless, I believe Llyonesse will one day appear as indicated by the model.”

“What is this bit, here?” asked Jenny, running her fingertips across an unnatural line of bumps that ran roughly parallel to the edge of the plateau. “It seems unusually symmetrical.”

Dr. Fuller smiled mysteriously and gestured towards Claudia, who said, “One of the first features to draw our attention was that very ridge system.” She stepped to the model and pointed to several places where there was a ridge, or hump, running alongside the cliff formed by the plateau; one, perpendicular to the first, disappeared over the edge.

“Preliminary excavations — performed mostly underwater, although we soon hope to be able to carry them out on dry land — indicate that what we are looking at is, in fact, the remains of a sophisticated wall system, or perhaps a road.”

“Walls,” Jenny repeated. “The information we received said nothing about walls or roads of any sort.”

“Indeed, Your Highness,” agreed Dr. Fuller. “In order to discourage amateur treasure-hunting, which unfortunately has already occurred, we have ceased reporting our more sensational discoveries.” She nodded to her assistant.

“My specialty is underwater mapping,” explained Claudia, “and from what I’ve seen so far, I think I can say with a high degree of certainty that Llyonesse was extensively populated at some time in the past, and we are in fact standing on a site of ancient habitation. Unfortunately, the most comprehensive patterning is still underwater at the present time. Until we can begin excavations, we cannot say precisely what we’re looking at.”

“Nevertheless,” said Dr. Fuller, “we have good reason to be hopeful.” She bent down and retrieved a large wooden box from beneath the table. Handing the box to Nicholas, she reached inside. “One of the exploratory trenches turned up this fragment.”

She brought out a slender, curved bit of reddish stone.

“Incredible!” enthused Jenny. “May I?” She took the bit of pottery in her hands and turned it over reverently. “Hand turned — and look: there is still some decoration along the rim. Oh, this is wonderful.”

“There is more where that came from,” announced Nicholas. “We found five more pieces just this morning. They are still
in situ
and we will be bringing them up shortly.”

Jenny cradled the smooth fragment in the palm of her hand; being a potter herself, she could almost feel the way the clay had been worked by the hand that had shaped it long ago. It formed for her a strong connection with the past: she saw in her mind’s eye a large, low-sided bowl decorated with dolphins and fish. “Where did you say you found them?”

“Just here.” Nicholas pointed at the model, indicating the cliff face roughly halfway down the sheer slope where Llyonesse met the sea. “We have to rappel down there, so it’s not easy work — but I can tell you it’s pretty darn exciting. I was working down there earlier today, and —”

That clenched it for Jenny. “Could I see it, please?”

“You mean take you there, Ma’am?” Nicholas hesitated and looked to his superior.

“It is a fairly strenuous descent, as Dr. Wiles has indicated,” began Dr. Fuller.

“I’ve done plenty of rock climbing,” Jenny assured them. “If you wouldn’t mind showing me, I’d love to see it.”

“But of course, Your Majesty,” answered Dr. Fuller. “We’d be honored to show you — if you don’t mind getting dirty. It’s pretty muddy down there, and the surface is fairly rough.”

James added his endorsement of Jenny’s climbing skills, and it was settled. The necessary gear was quickly assembled — a dry suit and inflatable life vest, climbing boots, and a bag of tools — and the royal party was conducted out across the compound and up the long, rising slope to the edge of the escarpment.

“This is why we use harnesses,” Dr. Fuller explained as they approached the steeply angled slope. She introduced them to a bearded young man in a faded black tee shirt, identifying him as the excavation supervisor, who began explaining the system of winches and cables used for the dig.

A number of iron bars had been driven into crevices in the rock to anchor a crude stanchion of scaffolding pipe; more scaffolding was erected in a configuration which projected out over the edge of the cliff like two great fishing poles — an image aided by the fact that positioned at the bottom of each pole was an electric winch with nylon climbing rope. Three smaller hand winches held other ropes which passed through a plate with a roller bar and disappeared over the cliff side.

Jenny stepped forward and looked over the edge to see a sharply inclined plane, about the angle of a fast ski jump, slanting away to the water washing restlessly around the heaps of broken rock slicing up out of the sea perhaps a hundred and fifty feet or so below. The cliff face itself, mostly rock and hardened sediment, was crisscrossed with the low humps of buried walls.

James stepped beside her, taking her arm as she gazed over the edge. “Are you sure you want to go down there?” he asked. “It’s a long, rough slide to the bottom.”

“It’ll be a doddle,” she said. “All the same, I’ll wait for the harness, thanks.”

Retreating from the edge, they stepped back and rejoined Embries, Rhys, and Dr. Fuller, who were talking to the excavation supervisor. Two Special Branch agents kept a close but respectful distance; one of them was speaking softly into a tiny microphone attached to his lapel.

“Eventually, of course, the entire site will be thoroughly excavated,” the supervisor was saying. “For now, a few exploratory trenches is about all we can manage because of the difficulty in reaching the area. Still, the fact that we’re finding artifacts already indicates an exceptionally rich field for study.”

“We may soon be able to establish a date from the samples found so far,” Dr. Fuller added. “I hope to have a preliminary estimate by the end of the summer.”

Nicholas arrived with a blue jumpsuit and the necessary harness — identical to the one he was now wearing: an all-body affair made of heavy nylon strapping and titanium fasteners much the same as hang gliders and sky divers used. As Rhys examined the harness, one of the security agents stepped forward and said, “Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but you aren’t thinking of going down there, are you?”

“I am,” replied Jenny, shoving her arms into the sleeves of the blue coverall.

“The risk, Your Highness. I’ll have to ask you to reconsider,” began the agent.

Jenny stopped him. “We’ve had this conversation before, haven’t we, Richard?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Fine,” the Queen replied, zipping up the jumpsuit. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll put on my harness now.”

As Jennifer shrugged into the nylon straps of the harness, the Special Branch agent appealed to the King. “Your concern is duly noted,” James told him, a small amused smile touching his lips. “Believe me, the Queen is fully able to take care of herself.”

At a nod from Jenny, Nicholas took the rope from the winch at the base of the second pole. “If you would allow me, Ma’am,” he said, and attached the titanium spring clip on the end of the rope to the ring on the chest strap of the harness.

Rhys expertly tightened the various straps, and double-checked the fasteners before giving her the all clear. He settled himself at the controls of the winch. “Ready when you are, Your Majesty,” he called.

Jenny, eager to begin, stepped quickly to the edge and leaned backward. The rope tightened. “Lower away!”

Rhys eased back the red-handled lever on the winch; the motor engaged and the rope began sliding smoothly through the pulley, and Jenny started walking backward down the face of the cliff.

Behind them, Embries and Dr. Fuller, deep in conversation, moved off with Claudia to see a new excavation begun just that morning. Rhys, operating the winch, let the rope unwind slowly, allowing jenny to abseil down the sheer rock face.

“Ready,” announced Nicholas. He stepped to the edge, turned, and called, “Lower away.” The excavation supervisor settled at the controls of the second winch, pulled the red lever back, and Nicholas disappeared over the edge.

James knelt to watch as the two walked backward down the steep incline of the slope. He gazed down at the restless wash of the water on the rocks far below. Gulls circled and dived, working the rocks for small fish. Further out, two boats chuntered slowly by — one of them a police launch — and a third, obviously anchored a little way from the cliff, bobbed in the swell. The keening cry of the ever-wheeling gulls, the low groan of the winches, the far-off burbling of the boat engines, and the drone of the generators in the compound filled the air with a drowsy sound.