Valley of Thracians (33 page)

Chapter
58

An unearthly apparition charged at
Simon, startling him with animal-like features and an enormous fur-covered
headdress topped with sharp, protruding horns. The blackened face of this
frightening creature was angular and hairy; its eyes were demonic and dark.
Simon was caught off-guard by what he saw racing toward him. It took a second
to register that he was viewing a man dressed in an elaborate costume and
wearing a bizarre shaggy mask. A string of cowbells around the man’s waist
clanged noisily with each approaching step. On his legs were knee-high white
stockings, and leather thongs were tied to his shoes. A banshee-like cry
escaped from beneath the mask as the man ran wildly toward the curb.

“What the hell?”

Leaping onto the sidewalk to escape the
tumult of the disturbed parade, the masked man catapulted into Simon. The rim
of an animal-skin drum jolted into Simon’s thigh as the man passed. Within a
moment, he had melted into the crowd, a fleeing spirit that may very well have
been imagined.

“It’s a
kukeri
,” Sophia shouted, pulling Simon close. “The bells on their
belts chase away the evil spirits.”

Simon barely heard the explanation of
the costumed merrymaker’s origins. He was pushed back repeatedly by the rapidly
dispersing crowd. He tried to stand in place and search through the crazy scene
for his grandson. He reached out to Sophia for support, but she, too, was
finding it difficult to remain on the street corner. Something had happened to
disrupt the festivities, and it wasn’t clear what it was.

“Grandpa, we’ve got to go.” It was
Scott, and he was panting for breath. “I know where it is. We have to hurry
though because they’re here, trying to follow us.”

Scott pulled his grandfather along as
they hurried down the narrow street toward Sophia’s parked car. Music no longer
played through the loudspeakers; instead, instructions were issued repeatedly,
calling on everyone to remain calm. The tranquil scene of Bulgarian families
enjoying the Festival of Roses celebrations was a distant memory to Simon; now
all he saw were panicked citizens fleeing what appeared to be a major incident.

 
“Where to?”
Sophia asked, glancing at Scott in the rearview
mirror after she had started the motor.

“Do you know the Thracian Tomb of
Kazanlak?”

“Of course.
Is that where Lance hid the gym bag?”

Scott nodded, and Simon turned around to
face his grandson.
“Slow down, Scott.
You need to
explain what the hell is going on. Did something happen to you at the parade?
We’ve already been to a number of places. How can you be sure that this is
where we need to go now?”

“We don’t have time for lengthy
explanations,” Scott said. “We’re being followed by people who want what we
want. We need to get to the tomb before them.”

“No, that won’t do,” Simon said, angry
at what he was hearing. “Sophia, stop the car. Really, stop!”

Sophia reluctantly pulled to the side of
the road. Scott began to speak quickly, the words pouring out of his mouth, but
Simon ordered him to slow down. As she listened, Sophia pulled her cell phone
out of her purse and punched in a text message, but her attention was also
focused on what Scott was saying.

“Okay, it’s like this,” Scott began. “I
told my grandfather that there was more in Lance’s message than just mentioning
he had hid the bag in our
favorite
place
in Bulgaria. He also said, ‘
remember
when we were so tired.
’
I didn’t know what that meant. I just
assumed that if I remembered the place, I would also know how to decipher ‘
remember when we were so tired.
’

“I told you yesterday that I had become
convinced that Kazanlak was our
favorite
place
in Bulgaria. I clearly remember sitting with Lance at a pub not
far from the square we just visited. We were drinking beer and ogling the
Bulgarian girls. Lance definitely said those words, that this was our ‘
favorite place.
’ But he wasn’t
exactly referring to the town of Kazanlak itself. Except when it’s hosting the
rose festival, Kazanlak is quite a lackluster place.”

“What was he referring to?” Simon asked,
unbuckling his seat belt so that he could face Scott directly.

“I didn’t know for sure at first,” Scott
said. “It wasn’t until the parade began that the final piece fit into place. I
was standing on the street, looking for a clue, for anything, really, that
would stir up a memory from my previous visit. And then I saw it.
The pub where Lance and I were sitting.
We had hiked all the
way into town, and we were physically beat. That’s why we enjoyed sitting down
for cold beers. Lance’s words,
remember
when we were so tired,
’ referred to the end of that hike when we sat at
the pub.”

“I don’t get it,” Simon said, looking to
Sophia to see if she understood. She shook her head to signal that she was as
confused as he was.

“The pub,” Scott said, as if the answer
was obvious. “The name of the pub then, as it still is today when I spotted it
from across the street, is Thracian Glory.”

“Thracian Glory?”

“I don’t know what it’s called in
Bulgarian, but that’s its name in English. Don’t you understand? The town of
Kazanlak is surrounded by many, many Thracian tombs.”

“In addition to being known as the
Valley of Roses, this area is also called the Valley of the Thracian Kings,”
Sophia confirmed. “There is a large Thracian necropolis near Kazanlak and
countless burial tombs.”

“Remembering our stopover at that pub, I
understood the true meaning of our ‘
favorite
place
.’ When we came to Kazanlak, Lance and I visited the famous tomb.
Lance and I were both amazed at the colorful murals inside, depicting majestic
horses and their riders. We were so spellbound by what we saw that they had to
literally drag us out. It was the tomb of Kazanlak, not the
town,
that
was our
favorite place
in all of Bulgaria.”

Scott took a breath, and then continued
his tale. “There was something else that Lance wrote in his message that I
didn’t mention to you before. He stated that he opened the Adidas gym bag. He
saw the silver artifact … what was it called again? Oh yes, a
rhyton
,
and he knew that it had been taken from an ancient Thracian burial tomb. He
planned to hide it appropriately at our
favorite
place
, and I now know this meant he intended to conceal it in the
Kazanlak tomb.”

“Are you sure?” Simon asked, not
entirely convinced by the story.

“For us, the highlight of our Bulgarian
adventure was experienced here, in the Valley of the Thracian Kings. That is
why we enjoyed our visit to Kazanlak so much. We felt that we were able to
touch upon that ancient time, those ancient people, and the real glory of
Bulgaria’s past. Everything came back to me in a flash when I saw the pub where
we drank beer.
Thracian Glory.
I’m absolutely sure we
need to go to the tomb!”

“It sounds plausible,” Sophia admitted.
“Simon, I think we should go and check.”

 
“Let’s just go back to Sofia now and leave all
this drama to the police.”

“No, Grandpa! We’re almost there. We
want to get there before anyone realizes where we’re heading. I am convinced
that this is where Lance went. Come on, please!”

The Kazanlak tomb was located just a
short drive outside the town, and within a few minutes, they were there. As
they walked from the car, Sophia explained the tomb’s history and significance.

“It was unearthed by chance in 1944,
when the army was digging an air-defense observation post,” she said. “Unique
to all the tombs in Bulgaria, it has a totally preserved ancient mural, quite a
masterpiece of Thracian art. Because of this, the tomb was recognized by UNESCO
and is included on its World Heritage List.”

“Yeah, they told us all that when we
came here on the tour. Let’s go inside,” Scott said impatiently, urging them
toward the park’s entrance.

A large sign at the side of the pathway
announced, with a very noticeable spelling mistake, “
Vizit the Valley of the
Roses and the Thracian Kings
.”

“Visiting hours
are
nearly over,” Simon noted, reading the details listed.

“We have enough time,” Scott replied.

They paid the
three-leva
entrance fee and entered the burial-mound grounds. The tomb was located on a
hill set in a lush expanse of spacious green lawns and flowerbeds, pathways,
and stairs. The first building they came to was marked with a prominent sign
announcing that it enclosed the famous tomb. Built entirely out of reddish
brick, the structure welcomed them with heavily barred windows and an entrance
door secured in metal. Access to the ancient wonders inside was off limits.

“We can’t get in!” Simon exclaimed. The
tomb was locked, and they had come all this way for nothing.

Chapter
59

“Visitors aren’t allowed inside the
Kazanlak tomb,” Sophia explained. “It’s too delicate an ancient site for
tourists. There’s a copy, quite authentic, just ahead. Scott,
which
one did you visit when you were here?”

Not bothering to reply, Scott hurried up
the path.

A copy of a tomb?
This didn’t make sense to Simon. He turned to Sophia and was surprised to see
that she was whispering into her cell phone. Who was she talking to? What’s
with all these phone calls?

By the time they reached the entrance to
the tomb’s duplicate, the one open for regular visits, Sophia had finished her
call and returned to her role as their tour guide.

“This duplicate of the tomb allows
visitors to observe the beauty of the well-preserved frescoes dating back to
the third century BC without causing any damage. I’ve been in the original
tomb, and it’s quite impressive, but it’s not particularly visitor friendly.
Setting up this duplicate was vital for the tomb’s preservation. Otherwise,
there would be nothing left of the unique structure.”

Sophia explained that the Kazanlak tomb
was of the beehive type, also known as a
tholos
tomb. This meant that it
was a burial structure characterized by an internal false dome created by the
superimposition of successively smaller layers of stones, creating a beehive
effect. The outsides of such tombs were typically covered so that from a
distance they appeared like small raised hills, or mounds.

“This tomb consists of three chambers,
as is customary of all Thracian burial sites,” Sophia continued. “There is a
chamber for the ruler’s horses, a corridor that included the material goods
needed by the ruler in the afterlife, and a burial chamber for the body itself.
What is particularly unique about the Kazanlak
tomb, what
makes it special, are
its murals—perfectly preserved examples of
Thracian art.”

They stood in the dimly lit hallway,
gazing up at horsemen and their steeds. The horses, portrayed in a variety of
colors, were elaborately adorned with silver-gilt harness ornaments. The riders
stood to the side, not dressed for battle or conquest, but rendered instead in
simple white tunics. Sophia explained that they were viewing a typical Thracian
gathering at a ritual funeral feast. It didn’t matter that this was just a
reproduction of what was discovered a short distance away. It was an awesome
mural even if it was but a copy.

With closing time approaching, the last
of the other visitors left the building, and they were alone, admiring the mural
high above their heads. The chambers were dank and shadowy, the air stagnant
and slightly unpleasant. It was as if they were visiting a centuries-old
subterranean cavern and not something built for visitors in the past decade.

Scott moved to one side, toward the back
of the main chamber. He began touching the walls, constructed in modern times
in the fashion of the ancient Thracians. He had been here before, he recalled.
He and Lance had been fooling around, pretending that they were the dead
Thracian ruler’s ghost come to life and ready to haunt anyone who disturbed his
eternal resting place. They had chased each other around the central chamber,
not particularly paying attention to the Thracian artwork above their heads.
And that is when Lance had discovered the stone in the side wall that could be
eased out of place.

And now, Scott found that exact spot.
With a sigh of pleasure, he slipped his fingers into the tiny crack, moving the
stone back and forth slightly, loosening it from its setting in the wall.

“What are you doing?” Simon asked,
coming up to his grandson and ready to reprimand him for disturbing this tomb,
even if it was only a replica of the ancient original.

Sophia looked on with fascination,
holding her cell phone in her hand as if she wanted to photograph Scott’s
strange actions.

The stone came loose, and Scott slowly
removed it from the wall. Exposed to view was a deep cavity, the same hole in
the wall that he and Lance had discovered more than three years before. But
unlike then, this time the hole was not empty. There was something inside, and
Scott stretched his hands in to bring it out.

Scott withdrew the wine-colored sports
bag with the Adidas logo and lowered it to the cement floor of the chamber.
Without bothering to glance at his companions, he bent down to unzip the bag.

“Wait,” Simon said, almost speechless.

“What is there to wait for?” Scott
asked, looking up at both Simon and Sophia triumphantly. The zipper caught at
first, but then eased down its track. Scott peeled back the fabric sides of the
bag. Inside was an undefined object enwrapped in bubble paper, and he handled
this package with extreme care.

Scott slowly removed the wrapping,
exposing a half-meter-long silver ornament. Simon held his breath as he watched
his grandson finish this delicate task. The chamber was deadly quiet as the
ancient wonder was revealed. Scott held up the heavy
rhyton,
angling it
so that it would be visible in the beam of an overhead spotlight.

The tarnished silver, untouched and
unpolished for many years, was still magnificent to see. There was no denying
the object’s grandeur and appeal.

“That’s quite amazing,” Simon commented,
staring in wonder at the grooved drinking horn used in mysterious ceremonies
and rituals more than two thousand years before. The finely carved lion’s head
at its bottom was a stunning display of craftsmanship. “So that’s what a
rhyton
looks like. I couldn’t exactly picture it.”

“Allow me to just check something,”
Sophia said. “May I?” she asked, reaching for the artifact.

“Sure,” Scott said, preparing to hand
her the heavy object.

A strange thought popped into Simon’s
head with no advance warning. Scott had rediscovered the ancient treasure,
hidden as he had guessed in a Thracian tomb. It was a priceless piece, and the
fact that Scott had located it was quite unbelievable. As inconceivable as all
this was turning out to be, what disturbed Simon was a sudden and unexplained
hesitation about allowing his grandson to hand over the valuable object to
Sophia.

Should the artifact be given so freely
to the woman? Simon wondered about all the strange phone calls she had been
making, including a conversation conducted the minute they arrived at the
Kazanlak tomb. With whom was she talking? Was she reporting on their trip, on
their activities? Was she alerting someone, giving out precise directions how
to find them? Had she instructed Scott’s host parents to meet them in
Belogradchik? Had she been in contact with the pair that had attacked Simon in
Veliko Tarnovo?

His suspicion regarding his travel guide
made him wonder if Sophia was really the specialist in Thracian history that
she said she was. Was she really on their side?

 
“No, don’t!” he said suddenly, holding back
Scott and preventing him from handing the
rhyton
to Sophia.

“What are you doing, Grandpa?”

“Simon, what’s the matter?”

“I think we should call the police
immediately, and tell them what you’ve found. It’s the safest procedure,” he
said, still firmly grasping Scott’s arm.

“Grandpa, what’s gotten into you? We
finally found it. Our quest was successful. We can go home now.”

“Simon, I just want to check that this
is the original artifact, the one that’s been missing from the museum all these
years,” Sophia said calmly. “I need to authenticate it. That’s my job.”

“Your job?”
Simon asked. “What do you
mean,
your job?”

 
“Hand it over, please.”

These words echoed in the enclosed
chamber, but they weren’t coming from Sophia. It was a male voice,
authoritative and demanding. They turned in unison toward the corridor leading
from the tomb’s entrance and saw a large man standing there, menacingly aiming
a pistol at them.

“Hand it over, mister peace-lover,” he
repeated, indicating the
rhyton
with a wave of his gun.

There was a woman to his side, and with
a burst of recognition, Scott blurted out, “It’s Vlady and Katya!”

“The couple who
attacked me in the elevator!”
Simon added with
alarm.

“For the last time, I say, hand it
over,” Vlady said as he clicked back the safety of his revolver and placed his
finger on the trigger.