She walked through the ruins of Castelgard town. Unlike many others, Kate could rebuild the ruins in her mind, and see the town whole. She liked Castelgard; this was a no-nonsense town, conceived and built in time of war. It had all the straightforward authenticity that she had found missing in architecture school.
She felt the hot sun on her neck and her legs and thought for the hundredth time how glad she was to be in France, and not sitting in New Haven at her cramped little workspace on the sixth floor of the A A Building, with big picture windows overlooking fake-colonial Davenport College and fake-Gothic Payne Whitney Gym. Kate had found architecture school depressing, she had found the Arts and Architecture Building very depressing, and she had never regretted her switch to history.
Certainly, you couldn't argue with a summer in southern France. She fitted into the team here at the Dordogne quite well. So far it had been a pleasant summer.
Of course, there had been some men to fend off. Marek had made a pass early on, and then Rick Chang, and soon she would have to deal with Chris Hughes as well. Chris took the British girl's rejection hard - he was apparently the only one in the Prigord who hadn't seen it coming - and now he was behaving like a wounded puppy. He'd been staring at her last night, during dinner. Men didn't seem to realize that rebound behavior was slightly insulting.
Lost in her thoughts, she walked down to the river, where the team kept the little rowboat that they used to ferry across.
And waiting there, smiling at her, was Chris Hughes.
"I'll row," he offered as they climbed into the boat. She let him. He began to pull across the river in easy strokes. She said nothing, just closed her eyes, turned her face up to the sun. It felt warm, relaxing.
"Beautiful day," she heard him say.
"Yes, beautiful."
"You know, Kate," he began, "I really enjoyed dinner last night. I was thinking maybe-"
"That's very flattering, Chris," she said. "But I have to be honest with you."
"Really? About what?"
"I've just broken up with someone."
"Oh. Uh-huh"
"And I want to take some time off."
"Oh," he said. "Sure. I understand. But maybe we could still-"
She gave him her nicest smile. "I don't think so," she said.
"Oh. Okay." She saw that he was starting to pout. Then he said, "You know, you're right. I really think it's best that we just stay colleagues."
"Colleagues," she said, shaking hands with him.
The boat touched the far shore.
At the monastery, a large crowd was standing around at the top of grid four, looking down into the excavation pit.
The excavation was a precise square, twenty feet on a side, going down to a depth of ten feet. On the north and east sides, the excavators had uncovered flat sides of stone arches, which indicated the dig was now within the catacomb structure, beneath the original monastery. The arches themselves were filled in with solid earth. Last week, they had dug a trench through the north arch, but it seemed to lead nowhere. Shored up with timbers, it was now ignored.
Now all the excitement was directed to the east arch, where in recent days they had dug another trench under the arch. Work had been slow because they kept finding human remains, which Rick Chang identified as the bodies of soldiers.
Looking down, Kate saw that the walls of the trench had collapsed on both sides, the earth falling inward, covering the trench itself. There was now a great mound of earth, like a landslide, blocking further progress, and as the earth collapsed, brownish skulls and long bones - lots of them - had tumbled out.
She saw Rick Chang down there, and Marek, and Elsie, who had left her lair to come out here. Elsie had her digital camera on a tripod, snapping off shots. These would later be stitched together in the computer to make 360-degree panoramas. They would be taken at hourly intervals, to record every phase of the excavation.
Marek looked up and saw Kate on the rim. "Hey," he said. "I've been looking for you. Get down here."
She scrambled down the ladder to the earthen floor of the pit. In the hot midafternoon sun, she smelled dirt, and the faint odor of organic decay. One of the skulls broke free and rolled to the ground at her feet. But she didn't touch it; she knew the remains should stay as they were until Chang removed them.
"This may be the catacombs," Kate said, "but these bones weren't stored. Was there ever a battle here?"
Marek shrugged. "There were battles everywhere. I'm more interested in that." He pointed ahead to the arch, which was without decoration, rounded and slightly flattened.
Kate said, "Cistercian, could even be twelfth century"
"Okay, sure. But what about that?" Directly beneath the central curve of the arch, the collapse of the trench had left a black opening about three feet wide.
She said, "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking we better get in there. Right away."
"Why?" she said. "What's the hurry?"
Chang said to her, "It looks like there's space beyond the opening. A room, maybe several rooms."
"So?"
"Now it's exposed to the air. For the first time in maybe six hundred years."
Marek said, "And air has oxygen."
"You think there's artifacts in there?"
"I don't know what's in there," Marek said. "But you could have considerable damage within a few hours." He turned to Chang. "Have we got a snake?"
"No, it's in Toulouse, being repaired." The snake was a fiber optic cable that could be hooked to a camera. They used it to view otherwise inaccessible spaces.
Kate said, "Why don't you just pump the room full of nitrogen?" Nitrogen was an inert gas, heavier than air. If they pumped it through the opening, it would fill the space up, like water. And protect any artifacts from the corrosive effects of oxygen.
"I would," Marek said, "if I had enough gas. The biggest cylinder we've got is fifty liters."
That wasn't enough.
She pointed to the skulls. "I know, but if you do anything now, you'll disturb-"
"I wouldn't worry about these skeletons," Chang said. "They've already been moved out of position. And they look like they were mass-graved, after a battle. But there isn't that much we can learn from them." He turned and looked up. "Chris, who's got the reflector?"
Up above, Chris said, "Not me. I think they were last used here."
One of the students said, "No, it's over by grid three."
"Let's get it. Elsie, are you about finished with your pictures?"
"Pushy, pushy."
"Are you, or not?"
"One minute more."
Chang was calling to the students above, telling them to bring the reflectors. Four of them ran off excitedly.
Marek was saying to the others, "Okay, you people, I want flashlights, I want excavation packs, portable oxygen, filter headsets, lead lines, the works - now."
Through the excitement, Kate continued to eye the opening beneath the arch. The arch itself looked weak to her, the stones held loosely together. Normally, an arch kept its shape by the weight of the walls pressing in on the center stone, the keystone of the arch. But here, the whole upper curve above the opening could just collapse. The landslide of earth underneath the opening was loose. She watched pebbles break free and trickle down here and there. It didn't look good to her.
"Andr, I don't think it's safe to climb over that"
"Who's talking about climbing over? We'll lower you from above."
"Me?"
"Yeah. You hang from above the arch, and then go inside." She must have looked stricken, because he grinned. "Don't worry, I'll go with you."
"You realize, if we're wrong
" She was thinking, We could be buried alive.
"What's this?" Marek said. "Losing your nerve?"
That was all he had to say.
Ten minutes later, she was hanging in midair by the edge of the exposed arch. She wore the excavation backpack, which was fitted with an oxygen bottle on the back and had two flashlights dangling like hand grenades from the waist straps. She had her filter headset pushed up on her forehead. Wires ran from the radio to a battery in her pocket. With so much equipment she felt clunky, uncomfortable. Marek stood above her, holding her safety line. And down in the pit, Rick and his students were watching her tensely.