Sean’s stare never wavered; his pressed lips gave no sign of dishonesty.
Tommy’s eyes returned to the diamond, then to Sean, then back to the diamond once more. “It can’t be. No one has known where this thing is for—”
“Almost a hundred years,” Sean finished the thought. “Yeah, I know. I thought you’d be a little more excited about it than this.”
“Sorry. I just… is this for real?”
Sean burst out laughing. “Yes, buddy. It’s real. Promise. You’re not on some television practical joke show.”
“This… this is incredible. We’ll have to set up a press conference, contact the Austrian government to make sure it’s returned safely… this is a huge get, Sean. Well done.” Tommy’s face beamed with delight. Anytime his agency could deliver something of incredible historical value to the world, he got as giddy as a little boy on Christmas morning.
Tommy Schultz had built the International Archaeological Agency with the money his parents left him upon their untimely deaths. With shrewd investments and good public relations, he’d grown that amount into the hundreds of millions in a relatively short time, though most of that growth had been in the last year or so.
“I’m just so excited. Thank you, Sean. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t mention my name when you announce this. Okay?”
“As always.”
Sean Wyatt preferred to remain anonymous. He’d made enemies all over the globe during his time with Axis, a small government agency now based in Atlanta. While most of his enemies were either terminated or in jail, some were still hiding in the shadows, waiting for him to reveal himself.
“Now,” Sean said, interrupting his friend’s excitement, “didn’t you have something you wanted to show me?”
Tommy shook his head, snapping back to reality. “Right. I almost forgot. I mean, it pales in comparison. The kids are working on getting more details right now, but we don’t have some of the resources yet that we had in the old building. New hardware will be here later in the month.”
He stood up, sidled over to the center of his desk, and pulled out the middle drawer. Next, he removed a plastic bag with a golden medallion stuffed inside. “Here,” he said, extending the baggie to Sean. “Have a look.”
Sean’s eyebrows lowered as he took the bag and held it to the light. “Looks pretty old. Five, maybe six hundred years? Where’d you find it? That dig in France?”
Tommy nodded. “Yep. Found it up on the mountain above the lake. And it’s older than six hundred years. We think it belonged to Godfrey of Bouillon. The sarcophagus had an eagle on it that looks remarkably similar to Godfrey’s crest. Plus, it was on old Bouillon land. No body in the crypt, though. Very strange.”
Sean listened as he continued inspecting the medallion. When Tommy was done, Sean pointed out the writing on the back. “I assume you already translated this Latin.”
“Yep,” Tommy said. “It’s a reference to a verse from the Bible.”
“Matthew 26:52. But why is it on this medallion? And what does the nine mean?”
“Good questions. We don’t have all the answers yet, but we’re working on it. Godfrey of Bouillon was a Crusader. Actually, he was the Crusader. He led a massive siege and subsequent assault on Jerusalem and captured it. Then he was named king. Godfrey was a religious man and didn’t want to be called king. He said the only king of Jerusalem could be Jesus. That medallion,” Tommy pointed at the object, “was included in several portraits of Godfrey. What you’re holding in your hand is something that belonged to one of the greatest military figures in history.”
Sean gazed at the object with his mouth agape. “I have to say, Schultzie, I thought I brought you something nice. This, though. This is incredible.” He paused a second to think. “That story still doesn’t explain the engraving on the back.”
“Right. We had to do a little connect-the-dots work on that. As it turns out, Godfrey is part of a group of men referred to as the Nine Worthies or sometimes called the Nine Good Heroes.”
Tommy slid into his desk chair and pecked away on the computer. Then he clicked the mouse twice and turned the laptop screen around so Sean could see it.
“That is a picture of a thirteenth-century sculpture in the rathaus in Cologne, Germany. It features the Nine Heroes.”
Sean stared at the image for a long minute before speaking. “Who are all the others? And why haven’t I heard of this?”
“Oh, you know of most of them. The other eight men are Joshua, King David, Judas Maccabeus—”
“The Jewish rebel?”
“The very same. The carving features three Jews, three pagans, and three Christians.”
“Dogs and cats living together.”
Tommy snorted. “Anyway, Hector, Julius Caesar, and Alexander the Great make up the pagans. The three Christians are Charlemagne, King Arthur, and our friend Godfrey. Best we can figure, that is the nine the medallion refers to.”
Sean frowned. He rubbed his chin. “Yeah, but two of those guys are fictional. I mean, maybe Hector was real, but King Arthur? Come on. That whole Merlin story is a fairy tale.”
Tommy rolled his shoulders. “I’m just telling you who they are. It certainly accounts for the number on the back of that medallion.”
“Right. I get that. It’s just hard for me to get past the fact that King Arthur — and probably Hector — weren’t real.”
“For now, that’s irrelevant. Each of these nine men exhibited chivalrous qualities of one kind or another. That’s why they’re called good heroes and not just heroes. Some were kind to women, others were very generous, some were merciful.”
Sean set the medallion down carefully on Tommy’s desk. He pondered the information and then crossed his arms. “Well, that’s a nice story. And congrats on getting two incredibly important artifacts in a single week. That’s gotta be some kind of record for you.”
“Yeah,” Tommy said. He sounded crestfallen.
“What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know. It just seems like there’s more than meets the eye to this thing. The riddle on the back of that medallion…”
“Okay, hold on. There’s no way we know that’s a riddle. It’s probably just a way of honoring those other eight guys, you know? I wouldn’t look too much into it, buddy. Be happy you made another historic discovery. I can’t wait to see you on the History Channel.”
Tommy let out a half-sincere laugh. “Yeah, but something doesn’t feel right. I told you about the guys who tried to steal this.”
“Yeah.”
“They were Korean.”
“So?” Sean shrugged. “Who cares where they were from? A thief’s a thief, right? They probably just wanted to sell it.”
“They were North Korean,” Tommy said.
That changed things. “North Korean? Are you sure?”
Tommy nodded slowly.
“How sure?” Sean double checked.
Tommy opened a side drawer of his desk and pulled out a folder. There were pictures inside along with files on both thieves. “They were North Korean spies. Interpol had been watching them for some time. CIA, too. Not sure how the two men slipped by all those eyeballs, but they did.”
“And we hired them.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it. I paid them.”
Sean’s head twisted back and forth. “I don’t understand. Since when did Pyongyang care about archaeology?”
“And since when did they use some of their highly trained spies to attempt to steal artifacts? I’m afraid right now we have more questions than answers. I’ve been talking back and forth with my connections in Europe. They can’t seem to piece together a motivation.”
“Did you call Emily?”
“No. I thought maybe you’d be better suited for that phone call, seeing how you two were partners and all.”