from Chapter One: London Dig
Note: While the photo above is not historically accurate in relation to the novel, the discovery in London of ancient Roman artifacts in 2013 was one of the inspirations for the Dylan's construction activities that open the first chapter of the book.
Dylan filled a cart with broken bricks and shattered wood from the pile of debris surrounding him. He shouted to the men above, who then drove a team of four horses that pulled the cart from the excavation to the street level, where it was emptied into wagons and hauled away to be used as landfill elsewhere. The team reversed course and lowered the cart back into the hole, and the process repeated. Dylan was in London in April, thrilled to be part of a construction project in England’s capital.
A visiting English duke had toured all the provincial capitals in Llanfyllin two years before, and he was impressed with Dylan’s architecture in Macnylleth, where Dylan had been kim for almost 16 years. His grand castle, nicknamed “Dylan’s Treasure,” was the city’s grand attraction. Almost as impressive was the neighboring cathedral, completed two years after the Norse War. The English king appointed the duke to oversee the construction of a new government building in Dowgate near All Hallows Church. As he assembled his team, he remembered how impressed he was by Dylan's work, so he invited him to join the construction team. Dylan eagerly accepted, committing him to work in London until summer's end.
However, the existing building at the construction site, a squat brick warehouse, had to be razed before the new edifice began. Although most masons would have been content to supervise the planning of the new building, Dylan relished the hands-on aspect of the process. At Dylan’s request, his Welsh royalty was not circulated among his fellows in the crew; as far as they knew, he was another hard-working mason. What other men might have considered work beneath their station, Dylan welcomed as a learning opportunity. They worked in the south end of the city within sight of the Thames. As the excavation proceeded, he observed the nature of the existing foundation as well as the quality of the land. He transferred his mental notes to a series of parchments he kept in his borrowed London flat. The duke offered him noble accommodations, but Dylan preferred to live humbly while he was working.
As usual for his projects, Dylan was accompanied by his chief knight and oldest, closest friend, Clyde. Clyde’s skill as a worker was augmented by his strength and instinctive ability to solve problems. He also kept Dylan entertained with his constant complaining about what a cruel taskmaster his kim was to him.
“Shoveling bricks,” Clyde said. “That’s where my service to you has brought me. Peasant work. I could have stayed home and tended to the horses.”
“Nonsense,” Dylan said. “Excavating a building is like stepping into the past. Look how they put this together. It’s stood for decades, and we’re taking it apart in a few weeks.”
“Yes, but why us? We could be having ale with the architects instead of digging around in this muck.”
“We’re not really building anything unless we do it with our own hands. Have I not taught you anything, Clyde?”
“You’ve taught me I should have been squire to a different Ellesmere.”
“Oh really? Like Kane?”
“Well, when you put it that way, I suppose dirty is better than dead.”
“I’ll tell him you said that the next time we see him.”
They worked late into the afternoon, and once all the bricks were removed, a deep indentation in the ground was revealed. Dylan pondered the shape in relation to its surroundings, then picked up a shovel and approached it carefully.
“What is it?” Clyde asked.
“The ground shouldn’t curve inward like this if it’s solid beneath. Look at the rest of the site; it’s as flat as the Wrexham plains, but this part looks about to fall in. I think there’s something underneath.”
“What do you propose?”
“We dig, of course!”
“Of course.” Clyde found another shovel and joined Dylan at the center of the low point. The other crews were focused on their own tasks, and they ignored Dylan and Clyde. The dirt was densely packed and difficult to dig, but the farther they progressed, the more it began to crumble. Dylan stepped out of the hole, which was almost two feet deep, and poked at it with the blade of his shovel.
“We’re almost through,” he told Clyde, and then the shovel fell out of his hand and disappeared into the earth below. They could hear it clatter on stone beneath them.
“You were right,” Clyde said. “Is it a cave?”
“I doubt it,” Dylan said. “We’re so close to the river that any natural caverns are likely to be filled with water. Chances are, it’s an older building that got buried. It may be hundreds of years old.”
“We’re going down there, aren’t we?”
“Of course we are,” Dylan said, grinning back at his friend.
Clyde had to climb a ladder to street level to find ropes to lower into the hole. He rummaged around in the supply wagon and improvised a couple of torches, but he had to go into All Hallows Church and convince the vicar to loan him a candle with which to light them. Once he returned to the excavation, they drove two thick stakes in the ground to anchor the ropes. Clyde insisted on going first to make sure nothing deadly or dangerous awaited them; part of his position was keeping Dylan safe and alive, even if Dylan didn’t always cooperate.
“It looks safe,” Clyde called. “You can come down.”
“What do you see?” Dylan asked.
“It’s not a cave,” Clyde replied. “Definitely man-made.”
Dylan threw his torch down and slid down the rope. The distance was no more than about 15 feet, and a narrow shaft of light from above illuminated his landing spot. Clyde was walking around the perimeter of the underground building, which was clearly constructed by men. Dylan walked to the far end of the structure and paced his steps to the opposite end, noting 20 paces. He did the same for the short sides, stopping after 12 paces.
“About 60 by 36 feet, wouldn’t you say?” Dylan said.
“My estimate as well,” Clyde confirmed. “What do you think it is?”
“I’ve never seen Roman ruins in England before, but the style of the columns and the archways looks similar to ancient sites I’ve toured in Rome,” Dylan said. “Can you see any art or inscriptions?”
“The walls aren’t smooth,” Clyde said. “They are all recessed about two hands worth on all sides.”
“Let me see,” Dylan said, walking over to where Clyde was inspecting the indentations. They were divided into three levels, each section a long rectangle stacked upon the one below it. Dylan held his torch close to the stone that divided the middle rectangle from the bottom. He blew away the dust and then wiped it with the sleeve of his heavy work tunic. This revealed a faint inscription that time had not yet worn away: His libris res est praefectus—non removere a bibliothecam.
“What does it say?” Clyde asked.
“My Latin skills are rusted,” Dylan said, “but I think it says, ‘These scrolls are the prefect’s; don’t remove them from the library.’”
“That’s what this was? A library?”
“It would appear so,” Dylan said. “That explains the recessions in the walls. They’re shelves for scrolls.”
“Where are all the scrolls, then?” Clyde asked.
“Oh, I would imagine they were removed when the Romans began to leave London. Anything left behind was probably taken when the Britons sacked the city.”
“How do you know all this?” Clyde asked.
“Benefits of a royal education,” Dylan said.
“It makes my head hurt to think about it,” Clyde said. “It’s an empty building, then?”
“Historically significant, I would say,” Dylan said. “We should inform the duke of our discovery. Perhaps the king will want his scholars and historians to take a look.”
“Look at this part over here,” Clyde said, gesturing toward the end farthest from their entry point, which was the side facing south toward the Thames. “There’s an archway that should lead to another room, but it’s blocked off by a wall. The stone is different from the rest of the walls.”
“What are you thinking, Clyde?”
“Maybe something valuable is hidden on the other side.”
“It’s worth a look, then, isn’t it?”
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