23. Six Men in a Coach
CHAPTER 23
SIX MEN IN A COACH
T wo days later, on the way to Cape Sounion
Although both Marcus and Randy would have preferred to ride in the coach carrying Miss Jane Fitzsimmons and Miss Diana Henley, the two were stuffed into an ancient coach with Antonio Fitzsimmons, Tom Forster, and David and Will Slater.
At least they would not have to censor their remarks for the opposite sex’s delicate ears.
The coach was also not as full as it might have been. Michael had elected to stay behind in Athens to continue his work with the archaeologists atop the Acropolis. The older men no doubt saw him as a strapping young lad who could see to the more physical aspects of the dig.
Randy had a passing thought that Diana was probably feeling jealous she hadn’t been included in the invitation. If she hadn’t agreed to join his family on this jaunt to Cape Sounion, though, Randy wasn’t sure he would have agreed to go. For some reason he couldn’t quite fathom, he felt a need to provide protection for the young woman.
Marcus certainly didn’t seem to show concern for his sister. His infatuation with Miss Jane was obviously clouding his judgement. For the young man to have almost come to blows with David Slater during their tour of the Prison of Socrates was certainly evidence enough, but his disregard for Diana was unconscionable.
Randy’s gaze went to the ceiling of the ancient coach. Despite its age, the equipage was still in good shape, although the trap door appeared as if it might come crashing down at any moment. The driver had only opened it a couple of times since their departure from Athens to inform them when they would be stopping to change horses.
For a moment, he wondered about who else might have ridden in the coach—what sights they might have seen whilst touring the ancient country—but his thoughts drifted back to Miss Diana and her brother’s lack of regard for her. He might have continued to mentally berate Marcus, but a conversation had begun amongst the others in the coach. He thought it best he pay attention.
“ H ow is it that you served in the British Navy when you are the oldest and the heir?” Antonio asked, his query directed to Will.
“My grandfather was an admiral in the navy, and since I didn’t have a younger brother…” He paused and reconsidered his answer. “At least, not one that I knew about, I asked if I might be allowed a naval career,” Will explained.
He had finally met his illegitimate brother, Stephen, when he was commander of the HMS Greenwich . Stephen, identical in appearance to Will, was assigned to the same ship. The first time they had come across one another, they had stopped and stared in disbelief before Stephen explained he was Will’s half brother by way of one of their father’s mistresses.
“My father allowed me to pursue the career with the caveat I had to return to British shores unscathed.”
“I take it you did so?” Marcus asked, emerging from a nap he had begun the moment they had taken their seats in the worn velvet squabs of a coach that had at one time belonged to an Ottoman nobleman. It was the largest traveling coach available, and a team of four horses was pulling the equipage.
Meanwhile, the ladies’ carriage, a smaller but newer coach, was pulled by two draft horses and had settled into a comfortable trot up ahead of them.
“We were fortunate not to engage in any wars at the time,” Will replied.
“Where was your ship assigned?” Antonio asked.
“The Mediterranean, mostly,” Will replied.
“So… you’ve already been here,” Marcus reasoned.
Will nodded, although he was quick to say, “Piraeus, of course, but the Ottomans controlled Athens at the time. All of Greece, really. We had to be careful not to cause any incidents.”
“You mean like the one that British Navy cadet caused?” Marcus asked. “Back in thirty-three?”
Will gave a start. “I’m not familiar with it. What happened?”
“He broke the nose off a sculpture from the Parthenon. From one of the friezes,” Marcus explained.
Will visibly winced. “Deliberately?”
Marcus shrugged. “He had to have climbed up there to reach it,” he reasoned. “I’m not sure what he intended.”
“Damn. What happened to him?”
“He was fined three pounds.”
A low whistle sounded from Antonio. “Did he pay it?”
Marcus lifted a shoulder. “Someone did. The man who is in charge of the ancient monuments here—Mr. Pittakis—asked that the money be used to help fund the first excavations around the Parthenon,” he explained. “Mr. Pittakis wrote to Admiral Malcolm?—”
“He was the commander-in-chief of the Mediterranean Fleet,” Will interrupted.
“—and those funds helped to keep the excavations going,” Marcus continued. “Otherwise, the work would have had to stop due to lack of money. They had already spent all the funds provided by some Athenian antiquarian society.”
“Three pounds for a nose,” Tom said as his eyes rounded. “What did they accomplish with the money?”
Apparently enjoying his status as the one in the know, Marcus said, “Pittakis cleared all the medieval and early modern buildings from the site?—”
“All except the Frankish tower,” Randy remarked. “It’s still there.”
“—and he recovered a number of artifacts including three fragments from the north frieze, a metope, and various inscriptions.”
At hearing the word ‘inscriptions’, Randy stared at Marcus. “Any graffiti?” he asked.
Marcus blinked. “I don’t think so.” He furrowed a brow and leaned toward Tom, his attention on the book his cousin held open on his lap. “What are you reading? And is that... is that Ancient Greek?” he asked in surprise.
“Pausanias’ Description of Greece ,” Tom replied. “Thought I would read more about what we’re to see today.”
“What did he write about Sounion?” Will asked.
Tom held up the tome and recited, “On the Greek Mainland, facing the Cyclades Islands and the Aegean Sea, the Sounion Promontory stands out from the Attic land. When you have rounded the headland you see a harbor and a temple to Athena of Sounion on the peak of the promontory.” He paused. “Those are the opening lines to the book.”
“Athena?” Marcus questioned.
“He got it wrong,” Tom said. “It’s a temple dedicated to Poseidon.”
Randy scoffed softly. “If he got that wrong, what else did he mislabel, I wonder?”
“He tends to be more interested in art, I think,” Tom murmured. “His descriptions of buildings are lacking, to say the least, but he’s quite eloquent when it comes to describing statuary and paintings. He admits he’s rather selective in what he includes.”
“Admits it where?” Randy asked.
“Volume Three.” Tom shuffled through the book before holding it open, his moves overly dramatic. “To avoid misunderstandings,” he recited, “in my description of Attica I stated that I was not listing everything in order, but had chosen what is most noteworthy. I repeat the same before I write of Sparta.”
Will chuckled softly, which had David briefly waking from the nap he had been taking since the moment the coach had jerked into motion. He hadn’t even stirred when the horses were changed in Glyfada. His attention went to the window. “Water,” he whispered.
“Saronic Gulf,” Antonio said from the other side of the coach. “I think we’re about halfway to Sounion.”
David allowed a grunt before he nodded and drifted back to sleep.
His manner still guarded when it came to David, Marcus lowered his voice to say to Tom, “Whatever you do, don’t mention to the ladies what boys used to do in Sparta.”
Tom furrowed a brow before he widened his eyes. “Oh, the bit about the youths sacrificing puppies?” he asked before adding a look of disgust. “Before they fought one another?”
“No need to elaborate,” Will said.
“I don’t understand why Pausanias would even mention it,” Marcus complained. “Let alone describe it in such detail.”
“He frequently digresses,” Tom said, “but if he hadn’t written about it, we wouldn’t know. It’s not as if there are any other references to such a practice since no other writings seemed to have survived from that time.”
“He is good about mentioning his sources,” Randy remarked. “He was obviously wealthy.”
“What makes you say that?” Tom asked, apparently ready to argue.
“He was Greek. Well-educated, able to travel, and he had time to pursue cultural interests,” Randy replied. “Not unlike some aristocrats we know,” he added, waving a hand to include everyone in the coach.
“Except we’re not Greek,” Marcus reminded him.
“Wouldn’t he have been a Roman?” Tom asked absently. “Given the time period? Uh... one-fifty AD?”
The others nodded their agreement.
The memory of Diana’s talk about the Colossi of Memnon and Romans in Egypt had Randy suddenly straightening. “He wrote this book for Romans,” he said in awe.
“What? What makes you say that?” Tom asked, his attention on the opening pages of the book.
“Wealthy Romans. Remember, Greece would have been part of Rome in the second century. They took holidays and would have used this as a guidebook,” Randy explained.
“Much like we’re doing?” Tom countered.
Randy gave him a quelling glance. “Something like that,” he murmured. When no one else spoke up, he directed his gaze out the coach window and thought of Diana. He looked forward to sharing the tidbit with her whenever they next talked about Pausanias.
Although he would have continued staring at the blue waters of the Aegean, he felt a tap on his knee and turned to discover Marcus leaning in his direction. All the others in the coach were sound asleep. “What is it?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
“What do you suppose the women are talking about in their carriage?”
Randy blinked. He had secretly hoped he could ride with Diana, and he knew Marcus had planned to be in the same coach as Miss Jane. “Fashion, gossip, and...” He swallowed. “ Us , no doubt.”
Sighing, Marcus sat back in the squabs, tipped his top hat forward, and went to sleep.
Chuckling softly, Randy returned his attention to the sea.