Spoils of the Game (26 page)

Austin looked up at Madeline, pulled her down to him, and kissed her. “Madeline, I love you, but most importantly, I am glad you are my friend. I do not know what I am going to do with my business or the project that brought me over here, so forgive me if I am a little uncertain where my life is going. Just give me a little time. I want you in my life, but how and where, I just don’t know.”

It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but for now it would have to be enough, and she knew it.

“So are we done with this hunt? Can we go back to the beach now?” said Madeline with a little attitude.

“It is anticlimactic. I mean, I kind of feel a little foolish. Too many things fell into place, and for a while it was going so well, and I was ready to go out and spend the money.”

“Well, look around some more, and make sure you have done all that you can do, and then we can figure out if we go back to the beach or whatever,” said Madeline, who now hoped that both of them were about to put the search for gold behind them.

The sun was higher, and the temperature was beginning to rise. Austin climbed to the top of a wall that was probably part of one of the original towers that Maetan had shown in his painting. From his elevated position he got a better perspective and could almost see the entire outline of the ancient buildings; he could also see the old road that possibly led down to the highway. Madeline had a camera and began to take photos to document their visit. The wall he was standing on was about three feet thick, with the stonework locking every stone in place. It was hard to imaging how such a structure would not last forever. Fire had not caused the destruction as much as war. From his high vantage point, Austin could see for miles, and he marveled at the beauty of the countryside. Suddenly he heard Madeline call his name as if she were in trouble. Austin looked for her and could not find her. He called out her name, and she responded, “Austin, hurry!”

Austin made his way down the wall toward the sound of her voice. When he found her, she was pointing at a marble wall surrounded with tall grass and debris.

“What is the problem?” he asked as he confirmed that she was not hurt.

“Look!”

“At what?”

“At the name on that stone. It is the same name as the nobleman Ierardi. He was the subject of one of the paintings,” said Madeline, who was amazed at what she saw.

“What is the stone from? It is not a grave marker.”

“No, I think it is from the ruins of this mausoleum.”

“You’re right. Are there any bodies in it?” asked Austin with an evil smile.

“No, I am afraid that time and grave robbers have resulted in Ierardi’s eternal sleep being disturbed. Frankel knew that Maetan knew Ierardi, and maybe there was a connection between his gravesite and the gold, but what was left of the mausoleum showed no signs of the gold.”

“All we need now is the damn sign I wanted.”

“Sign?”

“The one that says T
HIS WAY TO THE GOLD
,” said Austin with a smile.

Madeline took several pictures of the area and continued to explore the hillside behind the monastery. The discovery of Ierardi’s gravesite was a shock and one that inspired her. Flowers covered the hillside, and Madeline found herself taking pictures of the countryside and the beauty around her. Again she called out Austin’s name, but this time her voice could hardly be heard.

“What?” said Austin.

Madeline appeared to be in shock. “Look at the words on the wall.”

Austin studied the large pile of debris that he saw before him and saw nothing.

“What wall?” he asked, trying to understand her meaning.

“Look on the left. Do you see the small piece of white marble?”

Austin approached the pile of stones that at one time had been the side of one of the monastery buildings. He pulled two large stones free to better reveal the piece of marble Madeline was now photographing.

“Okay,” said Austin. “What am I supposed to make of this? There are pieces of broken marble all over the place.”

“It is the first three words.”

“First three words?” He still didn’t understand what she meant.

“It is the first three words in the banner that was on the painting of the church,” said Madeline.

“You mean that ‘well of the Lord’ thing?”

“Yes. It’s the same.”

Austin again approached the pile of debris that was perhaps six feet tall and began removing more of the stones to reveal more of the message and any structure that might be underneath. Two trees had grown on one side of the pile, and the roots were intertwined with the debris, making the task difficult. In about two hours, the full message was revealed, but it was not until about five in the afternoon that the structure, which had been buried for hundreds of years, was exposed. Austin climbed to the top and looked down.

“It’s a well,” said Austin. “It’s a well!”

“Are you sure?” said Madeline, now caught up in the excitement.

“No, I am not sure, but I am willing to bet that it’s a well.”

“Be careful you do not fall in. I could never get you out,” said a concerned Madeline.

“There is something on the top, under these broken clay roof tiles, that looks like metal plates. Come here a minute. Somebody has put a cover on the well, and there is a lock. My goodness, the lock looks like it’s hundreds of years old.”

Austin continued to remove more of the bits and pieces that covered the metal plates, to reveal a metal cover that spanned the top of the well.

“The metal plates are all pitted. I think they are made from iron. See the little door here? If you want to get water, you open this door to put your bucket down, but you cannot fall in, and the cover must keep dirt and leaves and other things from falling in.”

Austin gathered some small rocks, opened the small door, and began dropping the rocks into the well, listening for a splash. There was no splash, just the sound of stones hitting the dry bottom.

“I have a flashlight in the car,” he said. “Let’s go back to the car.”

Austin and Madeline walked down the road they had found, hopefully toward the highway and the car. Austin was energized again, and even Madeline was excited. The road had become an obstacle course of ruts and large stones, and at one point metal spikes that were part of an old gate protruded from the ground. The path did intersect the highway, but the end of the path at the road was not obvious. Austin found his flashlight and then drove back up to the monastery. The drive required a few adjustments to get around the metal spikes and the trees that had grown in the road, but getting the car to the top was not that difficult. Austin grabbed the flashlight and hurried back to the well.

He leaned over the edge of the well and opened the small door on the top of the iron plates.

“What do you see?” asked Madeline, who was as interested as Austin.

“A couple of buckets and …”

“And what?”

“And a bunch of pots.”

“And?”

“The pots are too organized. I mean, they are in rows or something. I need to get the plates off.”

A very old padlock was in place, and Austin looked for a means to defeat it. Around the well, pieces of wrought-iron fence lay on the ground. Austin pulled a single metal bar free and then placed the bar through the lock and began to use the bar as a lever in an effort to twist and break the lock. Age had reduced the strength of the metal, which snapped with ease. With the lock gone, Austin stood on the edge of the well and lifted the heavy plate that was hinged in the middle, exposing the depths of the well. With the improved view, Austin and Madeline studied the interior with his flashlight.

“See the pots, or jars, or whatever they are, down on the bottom? Madeline, they’re too organized to not have been placed there on purpose. I mean, no one dropped the pots into the well and got them so well organized.”

“How are you going to get down there?” asked Madeline.

“Me? I was going to lower you,” said Austin with a smile.

“I am not going down there for all of the gold in the world. There are bugs and snakes and creepy things down there,” said Madeline with a shiver.

“I don’t know how I am getting down there. A ladder would be nice—an elevator would be better. I’ll figure out something. Do you see the wooden rings that hold out the stones on the side of the well? Apparently they were afraid that the stones might give way. There are even little handholds or footholds in the rock so that someone could climb down if they had to. My guess is that someone lowered the pots with a rope that might have had a metal hook on the end. Once the pot was on the bottom, they could just unhook the rope and pull it back up. It is kind of cool. If you want to make a withdrawal, you just lower your hook and pull up a pot. Maybe we should try that first.”

“Why is there no water in the well?” asked Madeline.

“Great question. There are a few wet spots on the side, but there is no water in the bottom. It looks very dry around here. I do not think it has rained very much in weeks. Perhaps during the rainy season, if there is one, it has more water. The well is only about thirty feet deep—perhaps they didn’t dig it deep enough. Maybe it has just dried up. I’m not complaining.”

“So what are we going to do now?”

“I have to think. Do you have anything to write with?”

Madeline went to the car and found some paper and a pen.

“Okay, let’s make a list. I want to get in and get out. I do not want to be here when a bunch of kids show up to get drunk. The right side of the well looks like it is going to collapse, and I don’t want to be down there when it decides to go. So let’s put a bunch of stuff on the list. Let’s get some rope and some metal hooks, and if I can get the pots out by fishing them out, that will be great. I suspect that they might be glued in with mud. Let’s get some gloves, some rope, some lumber, a hammer, nails, some wire cutters, a saw, a few more lights—including a headband light—a rope ladder or something like that, a couple of shovels, some pulleys, some plastic sheeting, a bunch of those canvas bags that people go shopping with, and let’s see if I can get something to reinforce the side wall of the well. Madeline, do you remember that home center store just south of Bergamo?”

“Maybe. I am not sure.”

“We are going to go get the right tools to do this job.”

Madeline looked up at the sky. “It may have been dry around here, but now it looks like rain, it looks like it is going to rain a lot.”

“Well, then, let’s hurry, and we will get some rain gear too.

Austin and Madeline carefully drove down the dirt road, avoiding large rocks and metal spikes. It took thirty minutes to drive back to Bergamo. At the home center, Austin and Madeline worked their way through the store, finding the things on the list and a few extra things as well, including a waterproof work jacket and a plastic construction helmet for Madeline. Within an hour they were out of the store, in the rain, and on their way back to the monastery. Driving down the road, Austin looked over at Madeline, who was reading a book.

“Madeline, aren’t you excited?”

Madeline looked up from her book and said, “Sure.”

“Then why are you reading a book? My goodness, my heart is pounding, and you are reading a book.”

“Austin, this is a very good book, and it is getting to a very exciting part. I was reading it last night while you were sleeping, and I had hoped to finish it, but I fell asleep. I’m almost done.”

Austin looked at the darkening sky.

“Madeline, if that rain doesn’t hold off, you and your book are going to get wet.”

Being an engineer, Austin rigged up the necessary pulley arrangement using the tree next to the well and a few pieces of the wrought-iron fence. It took him more time than he’d planned to fabricate his rope ladder and to arrange the pulleys he would need to pull the pots to the surface. The rain had continued, and now it was raining hard, and it was almost dark in the shadow of the ruins. After throwing his homemade rope ladder over the side of the well, he was over the side with his headband flashlight and shovel, with Madeline standing at the ready, wearing her yellow helmet and her new rain jacket.

It was dark and raining hard when he began his descent, and it became darker the deeper he went. With the light on his headband, he became aware of items like spiders and snakes and the moss that covered most of the well’s interior. As a boy he used to play with snakes, and unlike a famed Hollywood archeologist, snakes were not an issue for him, but he was not crazy about spiders. As he continued down, he realized the wooden rings that reinforced the sides of the well were dry-rotted and easily crumbled. Some of the metal steps that someone had put into the side of the well over five hundred years ago crumbled when he tested them by putting some of his weight on them. About halfway down he came to a section where the side of the well was protruding inward. He tested the integrity of the wall by pulling on a stone, and it came free readily and slipped from his wet hand. When he reached the bottom, he was careful where he stepped, so that he would not damage any of the pots.

Madeline had sent down an electric lantern on the rope. Carefully he knelt down to inspect one of the pots. It was a simple clay pot with a matching lid. Each had a brass handle, and if these pots had been placed by Maetan, they had survived the last five hundred years very well. Austin reached down and tried to remove the lid from one of the pots. He laughed to himself, thinking,
Wouldn’t it be funny if each pot was full of baked beans that someone had made for the monks’ annual picnic and just forgot they were there?
The lid was covered with mud, and removing it was not as easy as he had hoped. Austin tapped the lid of one pot with the handle of his shovel, and suddenly it broke free. He reached down and lifted the lid, and inside were gold coins submerged in a broth of water and mud. He reached in and pulled out a few, placed them in a cloth bag, and attached it to one end of a rope. Without comment, he signaled to Madeline to pull up the rope.

From his subterranean location, he heard her response. “Oh my God! Oh my God! Austin, you found it. How much is there, Austin?”