Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
Aspen
Halfway through a long second day, I’m slowly but surely making my way through the current shovel test pit, looking for any evidence of the missing sword.
I have one more site to test after this one, and if those two turn up empty, I’ll have to figure out where to move next for more GPR data.
Bishop’s sitting faithfully by my side, doing his best to learn and take notes on how I’m working so he can help with the next round if we’re forced to try again.
“Would a metal detector help?”
“It could if it’s close enough to the surface. Do you know how deep you dug it?”
“That night is a bit of a blur, honestly. I thought I dug it pretty deep, but I had to go through the snow first and then the dirt, you know? So I’m not sure how deep under the ground itself it actually was.”
I nod as I work, scraping another layer of dirt off the surface, when suddenly my trowel hits something. Something hard and… I tap it again lightly. Something that definitely feels like metal. I gently work to move the dirt away and brush the looser bits aside with my hand.
“Aspen?” he questions, just as curious as I am at the discovery.
“I don’t know. I really don’t. It feels like metal though. Get me some of the brushes just in case.” I nod back to the bag where we left most of our supplies.
He jumps up and takes off to fulfill my request while I continue working the dirt away and feeling out the shape of the object. It’s a slow process, gentle removal of the dirt, brushing away, repeat ad nauseam until I can tell what it is.
I manage to get quite a bit of the top layer of soil cleared by the time he brings the brush over, and I use it to brush what’s left of the debris off the tip of the object.
It glints in the sun, even with the dirt that’s still stuck to the surface.
It’s definitely metal, and as I lean down and tilt my head to get a closer look, I’m almost positive it’s something man-made.
I work furiously for the next few minutes as more and more of the object comes into view, making one final flourish of the brush over the surface to clear as much of the debris away as possible. It’s the hilt of a sword. It has to be. I let out a little squeal of delight.
“Is this it? Is this how you remember it?” I ask him for confirmation.
“I think so. It’s been a long time. I didn’t get the greatest look at it since I was just trying to get rid of it, but how many swords do you think are buried out here?” he jokes.
“With our families? Who knows?” I laugh, and he squeezes my shoulder.
“Fuck. We found it! You’re amazing, Jones. It’s almost like you do this for a living.” He winks at me. “I’ll call Levi down, and he can get Rowan and the rest. Or wait, would you rather do this alone?” He pauses for my input.
“No. No. Tell Levi. I’ll keep going, but get them on their way. Hopefully, it won’t take me too long, and we can get it out of here safely in one piece.” I urge him on, and he grabs his cell as I return to the painstaking task of getting the sword free.
A few hours later, the sword is out of the ground, ensconced in an archival box, and sitting on the table in Grant’s conference room while we surround it in varying states of disarray.
The sword looks like the one in the photo from the abbey.
Bishop swears it’s the same one, in the same general area where he buried it over fifteen years ago.
But the sword was allegedly of the finest quality silver and gold.
The legend purported that it was so pure and so rare that it shimmered like the sun, blinding all of Charlemagne’s adversaries in battle.
This sword has only spent fifteen years in the ground, and it’s already suffering the effects of corrosion.
Parts of it are brittle, and pulling it out of the ground has caused several of the more delicate elements to fall apart in the extraction, despite how carefully we handled it.
Something that would only happen if the alloy of the metal was of an inferior quality.
“It’s definitely the sword I buried.” Bishop looks over it again and nods. “Like I said earlier, how many swords were buried on that property in that area?”
“But it wouldn’t corrode like this if it was silver and gold. There’s too much copper alloy in the metal, or something that’s not adding up to what we know about the original,” I explain.
“Maybe the abbey’s records are inaccurate. It wouldn’t be the first time,” Zephyrine adds her thoughts.
“Or it’s not the original. A clever fake.” Charlotte’s expertise lies largely in spotting fakes, for the most part, because in her prior life, she helped create them. “I could run some tests and see.”
“I think we have to. It could be a fake or a replica. Or the records could be wrong.”
“Or the original was there, and someone took it, had a replica made, and put it back in the ground,” Levi suggests. “We know Zephyrine’s brothers were crawling over that property. We have no idea for how long.”
“This would still take years. More than they would have had. And if it was more recent, we would have seen disturbance in the surface soil. We didn’t. It looked like the rest of the ground around it that had been scorched by the fire,” I explain.
“Could the fire have weakened it? If it got hot enough? Parts of it weren’t that far from the surface,” Bishop questions.
“It’s possible, depending on how hot the fire was burning and if there was water in the soil.
The more acidic the rain, the more it intensifies processes like this, but it would still have had to have been made from a lesser alloy.
Gold is nonreactive to oxygen, and silver can occasionally pit under the right conditions, but not like this. ” I shake my head.
“She’s right. There’s something not adding up here.” Levi agrees with my assessment.
“They were fighting over a replica that night? Why?” Bishop’s brow furrows.
“Maybe they didn’t know it was a replica. They could have believed it was real. Without the damage time and the elements have caused, it might have been imperceptible differences to the naked eye that set them apart.” I put forward a theory, and Charlotte nods along with me.
“If this one is a fake, couldn’t they all be fakes?” Grant asks.
“I mean, theoretically, I wasn’t analyzing them as potential fakes when they passed through our care.
But the curators would have taken them through a rigorous registration process when they readmitted them to the collection; I can’t imagine they would have missed it.
There are always tells with these kinds of things,” Charlotte explains.
“I’ll reach out to them for more information, see what they can tell me, and let them know that we’re continuing to investigate. ”
“Never a fucking dull day with this adventure,” Levi grumbles, turning to Zephyrine, who runs her hand over his.
“We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry,” I reassure my brother. I know he’s worried about what this could mean for Zephyrine and for our family. The sooner we put all this behind us, the better.
“Yes. Aspen, do you think you could get us time in the university labs? Maybe borrow one of the professors to help us speed up the process?” Charlotte asks.
“I can see what I can do. I don’t have the same power here that I did in Boston, being new and a lecturer at that.” I feel the anxiety over the tenuous position I have at the university come in full force as I explain it to Charlotte.
“A lecturer? Do they know who you are? Have they read your publications?” Charlotte’s brow lifts in irritation.
“That’s the reason I have a position there at all,” I explain.
“Well. Someone should tell them what they’re missing,” Charlotte grouches. “I’ll do it myself if I have to.”
“Let’s hold off on ripping the administration when we require their help, yeah?
” Rowan looks to Charlotte thoughtfully and receives an eye roll for his efforts, but her hand slips over his arm, and he pats the back of hers in a soft, comforting motion of support. “After, I’ll be right there with you.”
“I appreciate the support.” I give Charlotte a small smile of appreciation, and she nods.
“All right. Next steps.” Levi sits forward.
“Charlotte and Aspen will handle the testing. Bishop and Rowan will support them. Zephyrine and Charlotte will report back to their contacts at the abbey. I’ll continue to monitor the site with security until we’re sure we don’t need to go back out.
Sound good?” He glances around the table, and we all signal our agreement before he calls the meeting to an end, and most of us move down to Seven Sins for a drink.
I fire off a text to Fallon, letting her know we’ll be up to the penthouse in a bit and asking how her homework is going. Bishop runs his hand over my back in gentle circles of support as we make our way down the hall.
“Going from the absolute high of thinking we solved our problem to feeling like we’re right back to where we started sucks.”
“That’s the field for you.” I shrug, and Bishop nods. I have a feeling we’re talking about two entirely different types of fields, but nevertheless.
“It’s a metaphor for life in general around here.” He lets out a frustrated sigh.
“Something bothering you?” I ask, seeing his face falter as we hit the elevator. I hold it for Charlotte, but she waves us on, holding up her cell to show she’s still on a call. When the doors close, I look back at Bishop, who’s leaning against the elevator wall.
“Nothing in particular, just wishing we could solve this quickly.”
“Agreed. I love fieldwork, don’t get me wrong.
But I’d love it even more if I could put my full focus into my class and into making sure Fallon’s settling into all of this okay.
Do you think you could take her to her therapy appointment tomorrow?
I can stay a little later to talk to them about testing options at the university if you do. ”
“Of course.” His frown morphs back into a soft smile.
“What now?” I mirror his smile. They’re so infectious it’s hard not to.
“One minute we’re solving decades-old mysteries with a team of experts, and the next we’re being incredibly domestic, trying to figure out appointment times for our daughter.” He runs a knuckle down the side of my arm. “Keeps it interesting.”
“I’m glad I can keep you on your toes with my life of intrigue. Wouldn’t want you to get bored,” I muse.
“Never bored. The only problem is that it’s hard to choose which version I like best.”
“I’m familiar with that problem.” I let my eyes rake over him just before the elevator dings, and I hurry out the doors as they open, only to be swept up into his arms and spun around before he puts me back on my feet.
“Don’t tempt me to break your rules, Jones. I’m trying my level best to be good for you,” he whispers against my ear before he lets me go, and I feel my stomach tumble with the way he looks at me.
He’s right. This marriage is keeping things interesting. Particularly the part where he makes me feel like I’m twenty again on nights like tonight, when it should be impossible after a long day of disappointment. And yet somehow, he makes it possible.