Chapter 8
Morning came far too quickly for Alexander.
He prepared for the day, trying not to think about how difficult it would be to manage his team, and how much more so when he’d slept only four hours.
He wanted to accompany Saffron while she scouted out the dig site because she was stuck with Clark.
He didn’t like to think how Clark would treat her if he wasn’t within earshot, especially in a place like the agora, which was spread out and full of niches.
But doing so would only feed into whatever negative views the others held of her.
Perhaps he could send Neill along with them.
Neill might be inexperienced and impressionable, but he didn’t seem like the sort to turn a blind eye to improper behavior toward a woman.
Alexander’s descent down the stairs to the breakfast room was interrupted by Saffron. Rather, her attire interrupted his descent down the stairs.
He didn’t recognize her at first, with her short brunette curls obscured by a wide-brimmed hat and her figure camouflaged beneath a long, tan dust jacket.
He realized it was her when she turned at the sounds of his footsteps on the stairs behind her.
Her blue eyes were wide with something like alarm at first, then her face broke into an embarrassed smile.
He could see why she might feel sheepish; he was sure she’d never worn jodhpurs before, nor boots laced up to nearly her knees.
The effect, in Alexander’s opinion, was charming.
The khaki jodhpurs were tucked into shining leather boots and flared at her thighs before being tightly tied at her waist with a sturdy leather belt.
It threw into relief her figure, which he took a moment to appreciate before she swatted him on the arm, cheeks pink.
“Stop that,” she whispered. “Or we’ll be late.”
He grinned. “I might be willing to be late.”
She bit her lip, but unsure if it was in invitation, he forced himself to look away.
They were about to be surrounded by a lot of grumpy men on their way to being covered in dust and sweat.
He wouldn’t mind getting one last enjoyable moment together, but he couldn’t show up to the first day late, and neither could Saffron.
On a sigh, he said, “Let’s go down to breakfast.”
“I take it you found the assistants, considering Dr. Henry isn’t shouting the place down,” she said as they descended the winding stairs.
“They were three sheets to the wind by the time we got to them.” It was possible the trio of idiots still were, it being only a few hours since he and Banks had plucked them from the han.
Alexander described the search as they crossed the foyer to the dining room, busy with eating crew members.
He was glad to distract her with the tale, as her clothing was drawing more than a few eyes.
They piled their plates high with fruit, eggs, cheese, and bread, and Alexander finished relating the strange interaction at Bey’s han.
Saffron nearly choked on her coffee. “He wants you to go back? What on earth for?”
Alexander shrugged. “He likely wants our business. Banks imagined he might be involved with the drug trade, considering the state of the assistants. From how he spoke, I think he must have dealt with the Greeks before the war. He didn’t seem particularly nefarious.”
They said no more about it as the breakfast room filled with their colleagues.
Plates were stacked with food and coffee was guzzled, despite the strength of the hotel’s brew being double that of what they were used to.
Just as they finished breakfast, Dr. Henry announced the cars and drivers were outside.
Saffron excused herself and said she would be outside.
That was fine with Alexander; he wanted to speak to Clark before they drove to the agora.
As much as he wanted to tell himself this was solely because he wanted their team to work together seamlessly, the truth was that he wanted nothing to spoil Saffron’s first expedition.
As Clark entered the room, he went to join him at the buffet table.
“Good morning, Ashton,” Clark said, his unpleasant grin spreading across his face. “I heard you and Banks were successful finding the assistants. What sort of place did they end up in? I daresay they must have had some fun; they look nearly as bad as you do.”
“I want to remind you of why we’re here,” Alexander said. “We’re here to work. The sooner you finish your work with the biology team, the sooner you can join your team.”
An eyebrow cocked and a smirk about his thin lips, Clark said, “I’m sure I’m not the one you need to worry about. I’m here, am I not?” He brushed past him. “I’ll be present and prepared at the agora. I do hope everyone else will be, too.”
The drive to the agora of Smyrna was, in a word, bumpy.
The streets of Bornova were replaced by tremulous unpaved roads that skirted the mountains and took them in a wide arc over Smyrna.
They saw a brief taste of the untouched fields and rocky valleys cloaked in the blue prelude to dawn before the road skirted a river and made their way back down to the houses and shops of Smyrna.
After what felt like an hour of jostling around in the cramped motorcar, Saffron gratefully decamped to the cobblestones of the street.
A headache threatened behind her eyes, brought on perhaps by the sedative she’d been given, or perhaps the overly bumpy ride, but the air was fresh and cool, and a day of exploration awaited her.
She eagerly looked about the place they’d come to.
With the pale gold light of emerging dawn casting deep shadows of the surrounding buildings and the fence protecting the site, it was not easy to make out much. Through the planks of the fence she saw only grass, dirt, and hunks of stone.
The kemeralti sprawled just beyond the close-knit buildings looking down on the agora, the sounds and smells of which permeated the crisp morning air.
It added a definite urban feeling to the site.
She’d always imagined researching abroad to involve jungles and rivers rather than cities with busy markets, but it would be a fun place to take her breaks.
From what Alexander had told her of the market, it was layered with all sorts of goods to explore.
Excited noise swelled behind her as the rest of the crew assembled. Several members drew near to the fence to get a better look, including Clark and Wakefield. Clark was pointing to something, looking like he was, for once, concerned with work. But a moment later his eyes strayed to the group.
A most satisfactory look of shock clouded his face when he spotted her. Saffron grinned and waved. He glared and turned away.
What a pleasant way to begin the day, and her suspicion was confirmed by his surprise she was present at the agora.
Dr. Henry shouted for the crew to follow him into the site before offering his arm to Mrs. Henry. The older woman had mentioned she would be joining the crew sporadically, and so Saffron was not surprised to see her in elegant white walking daintily over the uneven ground.
They passed through a gate manned by a Turk wearing something that looked a good deal like a military or police uniform, though he wore no weapon that Saffron could see, and then they were inside the agora.
It was, in fact, a stretch of land that was mostly field, undistinguishable from those they’d passed on the way down from Bornova.
The agora was, first and foremost, largely still underground, but part of the field had been transformed into an archaeological dig the likes of which she’d seen in newspapers and journals.
Three large tents sheltered tables laden with all manner of equipment and what looked to be rocks.
A handful of cracked columns, some broken to resemble oversized stubs of candlesticks and others taller than Alexander, lay in a loose row beside a long pit.
Dr. Henry marched to the nearest of the tents and waved the crew to follow.
He went to join the three men who stepped out of the tent: Mr. Hayrettin, Mr. Assam, and his translator.
They shook hands, and Mr. Assam, through Mr. Tawfik, waxed on for some time about the excitement of the government, as well as the honor it was for representatives of University College London to discover what amazing things awaited in the agora.
Saffron lost interest early in the largely familiar speech, and her gaze wandered to the excavated area.
Stone arches, like the ribs of a whale partially buried on a beach, arced over the pit some twelve feet across.
These would be the remains of the west stoa.
Alexander had said something about the locals fitting together the stones they’d found in the earliest excavations, proving what the structure had been before it was buried and built over.
She guessed she would spend some time in that area if the archaeologists had discovered any wares left behind in the market stalls that had once occupied it.
She couldn’t wait to see what they had discovered down there.
Mr. Assam’s speech came to an end, his proclamation of great successes to come from the partnership met with lukewarm applause from those who had been listening.
Just when Saffron thought they would be moving on to the actual work, he added, “This is the excavation crew.” He lifted his hand, drawing the crew’s attention to the twenty or so men standing a dozen yards away.
Saffron wondered if these were the men who had already been working in the agora.
Many wore vests over dusty tunics with loose-fitting trousers, and all were weather-worn bronze and tough-looking.
The easy way they stood together in their informal clothing made Saffron suddenly feel ridiculous, trussed up in her pristine cotton and canvas sport togs.
Her boots didn’t even have dust on them.
And they were, in fact, rather uncomfortable despite her efforts to break in the leather before the journey.
She shifted from foot to foot, trying to concentrate on what Mr. Assam was saying about the schedule for working hours.
“The local men work from one hour after sunrise until sunset, with breaks for the namaz and lunch at noon. Water is available at the tent, and today we will be providing light refreshment,” Mr. Assam’s translator managed to relay his cheerful tone. He clapped his hands. “Kolay gelsin!”
The crew applauded stutteringly, as if unsure they were meant to.
Dr. Henry nodded to the officials. To the crew, he called, “Form up into departments to go over your assignments. We’ve got work to do.”