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Authors: Lillian Stewart Carl
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He ranged up beside her and saw that she was comparing what looked like old photographs of the area with its current appearance.
"Miller's expedition in the thirties,” she explained. “The remains of some medieval buildings were still here then. I imagine they've gone to build the walls of chip shops and garages. Along here.” Her forefinger sketched lines and angles over the turf.
Gareth didn't know whether she was extrapolating from the photos or whether she was “seeing” the after-image of a building. He didn't ask, any more than he'd asked her last night about her vision, or hallucination, or whatever it had been. He hadn't seen or heard anything. The air had been still and cold, the night so quiet it had rung in his ears. Matilda had stood looking intently at nothing.
"That trench over there, the deep one's overgrown,” he said. “That's from the Miller expedition?"
"Yes, although those scars along its edge are much more recent, like the potholes I was pointing out yesterday. In fact.... “Matilda climbed down into the weedy ravine that cut through the northern embankment of the fort, Gareth at her heels. “I wouldn't be at all surprised if those statues came from that hole there. It's fairly recent—smaller weeds, and the bank has collapsed into it. A pretty good tunnel was driven in here, into the foundations of what used to be a substantial building, judging by the stone and pottery debris.” She poked the dirt with the toe of her rubber wellie boot, turning up a few scraps of stone.
"Someone digging here would have been hidden from the farm and from the town,” Gareth said. “Do you suppose they knew what they were after?"
"Whoever stole the statuary dug several pits in the area of the temple, the legion headquarters, and the commander's home, places where he could reasonably expect to find valuable items. Corcester town council offers a very nice map of the fort, the Miller excavation reports are available at the library, and metal detectors work just as well for the dishonest."
"So we're not necessarily looking for someone with specialized knowledge?"
"No, just someone with a bit of luck and no conscience. The statuary must have been buried just outside the temple, perhaps by a third or fourth century thief who never returned for his loot. According to the catalog listing it was found bundled into a cooking pot."
"This is the temple, then?” Gareth nodded toward the stone scraps. They might just as well have been Tahitian seashells to him.
"Yes. This is where Miller found the tessellated floor of what was probably the Celtic temenos. The Romans might have built their own temple—to Mars, or Augustus, or some other deity—on top of its ruins, backed up to the perimeter wall. That would be one way of keeping the local people from returning to Epona's shrine."
Gareth thought of the Catholic pilgrims continuing to come to St. Winifred's shrine at Holywell despite the Reformation. He eyed the scraped and scrambled burrow in the slope of the embankment. Matilda had decided on the point of origin of the statuary by scientific deduction. He could have done that himself if he'd had the proper background. “And if the statuary came from the temple then it was deliberately abandoned and not treasure trove, if I take Reynolds's point correctly."
"Reynolds is straining at a gnat, trying to avoid having to sell his finds to the Crown. The statuary might just as well have come from the legion commander's home, but a much later home than the one I saw last night. That was from the earliest period, about 80 Anno Domini—not that they were measuring time Anno Domini, of course.... “She cut herself off. “Well now, I can't prove anything more than Reynolds can."
Gareth didn't reply. Matilda smiled, privately, and turned just as Sweeney scrambled down the slope. “Howard, I was telling Gareth that this is probably where the statuary came from."
"Wouldn't be the least surprised,” Sweeney
"Miller's expedition in the thirties,” she explained. “The remains of some medieval buildings were still here then. I imagine they've gone to build the walls of chip shops and garages. Along here.” Her forefinger sketched lines and angles over the turf.
Gareth didn't know whether she was extrapolating from the photos or whether she was “seeing” the after-image of a building. He didn't ask, any more than he'd asked her last night about her vision, or hallucination, or whatever it had been. He hadn't seen or heard anything. The air had been still and cold, the night so quiet it had rung in his ears. Matilda had stood looking intently at nothing.
"That trench over there, the deep one's overgrown,” he said. “That's from the Miller expedition?"
"Yes, although those scars along its edge are much more recent, like the potholes I was pointing out yesterday. In fact.... “Matilda climbed down into the weedy ravine that cut through the northern embankment of the fort, Gareth at her heels. “I wouldn't be at all surprised if those statues came from that hole there. It's fairly recent—smaller weeds, and the bank has collapsed into it. A pretty good tunnel was driven in here, into the foundations of what used to be a substantial building, judging by the stone and pottery debris.” She poked the dirt with the toe of her rubber wellie boot, turning up a few scraps of stone.
"Someone digging here would have been hidden from the farm and from the town,” Gareth said. “Do you suppose they knew what they were after?"
"Whoever stole the statuary dug several pits in the area of the temple, the legion headquarters, and the commander's home, places where he could reasonably expect to find valuable items. Corcester town council offers a very nice map of the fort, the Miller excavation reports are available at the library, and metal detectors work just as well for the dishonest."
"So we're not necessarily looking for someone with specialized knowledge?"
"No, just someone with a bit of luck and no conscience. The statuary must have been buried just outside the temple, perhaps by a third or fourth century thief who never returned for his loot. According to the catalog listing it was found bundled into a cooking pot."
"This is the temple, then?” Gareth nodded toward the stone scraps. They might just as well have been Tahitian seashells to him.
"Yes. This is where Miller found the tessellated floor of what was probably the Celtic temenos. The Romans might have built their own temple—to Mars, or Augustus, or some other deity—on top of its ruins, backed up to the perimeter wall. That would be one way of keeping the local people from returning to Epona's shrine."
Gareth thought of the Catholic pilgrims continuing to come to St. Winifred's shrine at Holywell despite the Reformation. He eyed the scraped and scrambled burrow in the slope of the embankment. Matilda had decided on the point of origin of the statuary by scientific deduction. He could have done that himself if he'd had the proper background. “And if the statuary came from the temple then it was deliberately abandoned and not treasure trove, if I take Reynolds's point correctly."
"Reynolds is straining at a gnat, trying to avoid having to sell his finds to the Crown. The statuary might just as well have come from the legion commander's home, but a much later home than the one I saw last night. That was from the earliest period, about 80 Anno Domini—not that they were measuring time Anno Domini, of course.... “She cut herself off. “Well now, I can't prove anything more than Reynolds can."
Gareth didn't reply. Matilda smiled, privately, and turned just as Sweeney scrambled down the slope. “Howard, I was telling Gareth that this is probably where the statuary came from."
"Wouldn't be the least surprised,” Sweeney
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