"But you don't like him personally."
"No." He glanced at his watch. "Time for lunch," he said and he put his hands on the edge of the trench and heaved himself out. It was the easy, fluid movement of a man whose muscles are in perfect tune. "You coming?" The others were moving off down the slope. He picked up his sweater and started to follow them, tying the sleeves round his neck.
"Just a moment," I said. "Was it my father who insisted that this cave-shelter was occupied by early man?"
He nodded, pausing. "He said it might not prove anything beyond doubt, but for him it was confirmation."
"Why?"
"The situation." He was standing in silhouette against the sunlight, a thick-set powerful figure, staring down into the
valley. "The river right at their door," he said. "And it faces south with a good view. That's important-to watch for game and to avoid being surprised by human enemies. And the sun-those early hunters went practically naked. They needed the sun. And they needed water, for themselves and to attract the animals that provided them with food, weapons, tools, fat for their lamps, skins to lie on."
I had moved to his side, and standing there on that high platform of beaten earth, looking down upon that flock of sheep moving slowly beside the river, I could almost imagine myself, with a skin over my shoulders and a flint axe in my hand, preparing to go down and cut the next meal out.
"It's a textbook situation, you know." He turned, smiling at me. "I'm still a student. I'd never seen a cave-shelter before. But as soon as I saw this place. . it's a natural."
"You think it's important then?"
He hesitated, his gaze switching to the two figures of Cart-wright and Kotiadis moving slowly down the slope towards the river and the olives. "I'll tell you, I'm only a student. But ja-ja, I do. So little work has been done in the Balkans-almost nothing in Greece. And Dr. Van der Voort. . maybe his theory is wild, as Alec says, but he had a most extraordinary eye for country. All down through Macedonia, in the mountains of Montenegro, and then after we crossed the border into Greece-I watched him, trying to learn, to understand. He seemed to know-instinctively. About the country, I mean. Sometimes he drove the Land-Rover. More often he was walking himself, a queer slouching walk, his head bent, his eyes on the ground or on the lie of the land. It was almost. ." He hesitated. "I don't know … as though he saw it all with the eyes of prehistoric man. He had that sort of rapport with the subject. Identification-ja, that's the word. He was involved, identified, and so completely dedicated, so entirely absorbed. ." He grinned as though to cover his unwilling admiration. "Maybe it's just because I'd never worked with a real expert before."
"Cartwright said you didn't find anything very much."
"Oh yes, we found traces here and there-quite a few things, chert flakes mainly. But nothing Dr. Van der Voort thought worth-while. Not until we came here. And it wasn't only the situation that excited him. Come and look at this." He took me to the back of the cave, to the blackened curve of the rock. "Alec is not convinced. He thinks it may be water seepage. But Dr. Van der Voort insisted that the discolouration was carbon deposit from the smoke of open hearths." He put his hand on the rock face. "Feel that. Feel how smooth it is. That's calcium. A thick layer of it overlying the fire marks and acting as a protective coating. It's caused by water seeping down from the limestone overhead, and if we knew when it had happened, how fast it had built up, we'd know how old the fire marks are. Dr. Van der Voort thought ten thousand years at least."
"Did he give any reason?"
He shook his head. "No, he didn't say. But you can see here where he chipped a bit out with the small geological hammer he always had with him." The calcium coating was almost an inch thick, opaque like cathedral glass. "What he was, hoping for, of course, was a hearth burial. They used to leave their dead beside their hearths and move on. At least, that's what the books say. And then wind-blown earth gradually covered the body-a natural burial. But there's a lot of work to do before we get anywhere near that level."
We were standing on the lip of the trench and at the back here it was less than two feet deep with rock showing at the bottom.
"We're in trouble already, you see. Big slabs fallen from the roof. They'll take a lot of shifting. And out near the edge of the platform, where the earth is softer, we are already having to widen the trench to prevent it from collapsing." He glanced at his watch again. "Well, let's go and eat. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry." He picked up his shirt and we started down the slope. The breeze was stronger now and quite cool, but he didn't seem to notice it.
"I gather your sister has joined you."
"Ja. She is come four days ago."
"Why?"
He looked at me, his pale eyes suddenly hostile. "Sonia can be very obstinate at times. And she has money of her own."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Well, you ask her yourself." And he muttered, "That old devil had a sort of fascination for her."
"You mean my father?"
"Dr. Van der Voort-ja. It's not healthy for her. He may be a very clever palaeontologist, but he's a damned strange old man." And when I asked him what he meant by that, he rounded on me. "You should know. You're his son and you haven't been near him for years."
He closed up after that, and a few minutes later we arrived at the camp. She was standing by the stone hearth, looking more like a boy than ever in a pale shirt and very short shorts, and all she said was "Hullo!", as though we had parted only that morning. And then she turned back to her cooking, reaching for a wooden spoon, and in doing so dislodged a packet of biscuits. She bent down to retrieve it, the curve of her buttocks stretching the flimsy shorts. I saw Cartwright staring, a sly look that was somehow unexpected in an academic. He glanced round, caught my eye-a satyr with glasses and a schoolboy flush. My feeling of dislike intensified.
"A word with you please." It was Kotiadis, and he took me aside, along the path through the olive trees that led back to the village. "I have sent the corporal for your valitsa. Also I have told him you are free to come and go as you please."
"You're leaving?"
"Yes. I do not wish to eat here. I prefer Greek food."
"And I'm to stay?"
"It's what you want, eh?"
"Yes. Yes, of course."
He nodded, smiling and holding out his hand. "I will be back in two, perhaps three days."
"And I can go where I like?"
"Of course. You can go to Preveza, meet your friends, leave
Greece-if that is what you want. You are free and you have your passport."
I shook his hand and he walked off through the olive grove, still smiling quietly to himself. Shortly afterwards the corporal arrived with my suitcase.
It was hot that afternoon and I was alone. The three of them had gone up to the dig. Lunch had been a hurried meal, eaten largely in silence. No doubt I was responsible for that, but I got the impression that the midday meal was always hurried. The hours of daylight were precious and Cartwright seemed driven, as though he had a deadline to meet. "If you want to sleep here," he said, "then you'd better use Dr. Van der Voort's tent. Everything's still there, including his sleeping bag. We'll be back at dusk." I had expected Sonia to stay in the camp, but she went with them.
I sat for a while on the gnarled trunk of a fallen olive tree, listening to the strident sound of the cicadas, the distant tinkling of sheep bells. The breeze had died and it was very still, very peaceful. An idyllic spot, except for the picture in my mind-moonlight and the old man going for Cartwright without any reason. It didn't make sense-and yet … I wondered why Hans hadn't liked him when his sister so obviously did.