Oracle of the Dead(19)

“And what is your impression of the stonework?”

“Well, it was cut by men who knew their business. Every stroke is straight and true, the marks are still there to see. Strange how they did it, one or maybe two men working at the rockface. Must have taken them twenty years to drive that tunnel in such a fashion. With a good team of a dozen cutters I could drive a tunnel that long in a year. It would have to be wider, of course. But then, how can we judge the way ancient people did things? They must’ve thought the gods wanted it done that way, and who’s going to argue with the gods?”

“Quite so,” I mused. I had been inside one of the great pyramids outside Thebes, and none of it made any sense at all, with shafts leading nowhere and chambers containing nothing and slots no wider than your hand that led a hundred feet or more through solid stone to the outside, and nothing to be seen through them but a star or two. They were different people with different gods and how are we to understand them?

“Perna,” I said, “I heard a rumor that the tunnel was cut upward, from below. Any way that could have happened?”

“How is that possible?”

“I didn’t say it was possible,” I said testily. “I just wondered if it could be true.”

He chuckled. “No, sir. I know how to read chisel cuts, and that tunnel was driven downward like any other, and it was done with normal mallet-and-chisel work. Hard to even swing a sledge in such a narrow space.”

“Have you any idea how it was driven straight to the river?”

He shrugged. “That I couldn’t tell you. I suspect the gods were involved.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” I rose from my seat. “Come with me. I want you to tell me what you think of this new tunnel we’ve found beneath the temple.” My lictors followed us.

“I’ve never heard of this tunnel,” Perna said, “and I’ve lived in this district all my life.”

“That’s what everyone says. Somebody has been very good at keeping a secret.”

Inside the temple, I had one of my lictors raise the trap. Perna grunted and examined the door, then peered into the hinging arrangements. “The counterweight is hidden in the foundation,” he pronounced. “This is Greek work, but not local. I’ve heard of this sort of device being used in Alexandrian temples. They’re fond of spectacular effects like raising the god up through the floor during ceremonies.”

“Yes, I’ve been in Alexandria and have seen that sort of thing. Now for the tunnel.” We went down the ramp and Perna examined the walls, floor, and ceiling.

“Greek work again,” he said. “The pattern of cuts is the same that’s been taught by Greek stonecutters for generations. Very different from the cutting done in the Oracle’s tunnel.”

“That’s as I suspected. Is there any way to judge how old this work is?”

“That’s harder to say. Under the surface like this, there’s no natural wearing to age the stones.”

I nodded, remembering the pyramid. It was more than two thousand years old, the priests said, yet the stonework in the interior looked as if it had been finished the day before.

“It’s much newer than the Oracle’s tunnel,” said Perna. “And this temple is far older as well. It’s a Greek temple now, but a lot of the stonework is pre-Greek. The foundation here is made of huge blocks, nothing like native work, more like something Egyptians would use. The temple dates from later than that. It’s pure Campanian work. Then the Greeks came along and altered it to their own taste.”

It was not an uncommon thing in a place like this, which had been overrun so many times by various conquerors as well as peaceful immigrants. I had seen more complicated structures in Sicily. Why waste a good, solid foundation or sound walls when you can just build on top and redecorate?

“How long has your family been in the district?” I asked him.

“You mean how was this tunnel built without anyone outside knowing about it?” He was not without a certain native intelligence. He rubbed his chin. “I’d say it could be done without great difficulty. If someone were to give me a contract to accomplish such a task, I’d bring in foreign workmen and keep them here in barracks under guard. They could work at night, since night and day are the same thing underground. The rubble could be carried out in baskets and scattered in fields or in the nearby rivers.” He thought for a while. “But I can think of an even better way.”

“What might that be?”

“Do it when the temple is being restored. That way, nobody at all would wonder about the work going on. You wouldn’t have to disguise the rubble. Just keep sightseers away. Priests can always do that by threatening curses, or promising ritual contamination or talking about omens.”