CHAPTER 3. By now Yaros was visible as a small speck off the bow. The wind had picked up, and with it, the sea had become choppy. The small craft began slapping the waves as the going got rough. Colin throttled back the engine to cut their speed. At this rate, they'd be another two hours to Yaros... plenty of time, the redhead thought, to tell Draper everything. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the smack of the waves. "The very beginning.... well, that would have to be forty-five hundred years ago I suppose, when Circe was supposedly at the height of her powers. But I'll simply fast forward to March 1st. As I mentioned in the cable, a couple of weeks ago we unearthed a fragment of mirror in the cella, roughly six by ten centimeters. Like all ancient mirrors, it was metal, only it was not corroded. It was still bright and yielded an optically perfect reflection. I had to conclude it was platinum, or else white gold. Finding the fragment slowed us down quite a bit.... we had to proceed with brushes and dental picks, and could barely get down into the floor more than a couple of millimeters a day. We began sieving everything with a triple-O screen, but all we found were some black pottery shards. "On Friday, the 11th, we hit pay dirt." Here the redhead had to stop, for a breaking wave had drenched her. Draper could not fail to notice how her wet shirt clung to her, revealing her full, shapely breasts. The chill of the fabric instantly made her nipples erect. The effect was extremely stimulating. Despite all his efforts to concentrate on what she was saying, Draper felt himself stiffen, and shifted his position so that it would not show. The girl, however, who, after all, was a super-observant archeologist, saw the flicker of lust in his eyes. She knew the Professor, and had seen that look often enough before, usually when a pretty secretary had come into his office. She knew in a flash that Draper had made up his mind right then to fuck her, and she knew in a flash that he would, sooner rather than later, and, moreover, she realized that she would welcome it. Draper saw the receptivity in her eyes. They instantly perceived that a compact had been made between them, though the whole transaction has lasted no more than five seconds. Turning to see if Justin has been watching (she hadn't been), the redhead blushed and nervously tugged at her wet shirt to free it from her breasts, but there was little she could do about it. So she ignored it, and continued her narrative, no longer looking Draper in the eye quite so often. When she resumed, it was with a more confident voice. "So we hit pay dirt," she continued, "In the form of a marble slab on the floor cunningly carved to resemble a surface of smaller stones, but a single slab nonetheless. Once it was cleaned, we sounded it carefully, listening with stethoscopes, and determined that there was a chamber or vault beneath. We could find no point of purchase, however, until Saturday morning, when we discovered that a false stone at either end of the slab in fact concealed heavy bronze rings, clearly the very ones that had been used to lower the slab into position. It took us the rest of the day to construct scaffolding to hang several comealongs from, strong enough to support the weight of the slab, which we guessed to be about four tons. We hung three comealongs at each end of the scaffolding and secured them to the rings at each end. Then we called it a day. "Around noon on Sunday we began carefully winching up the slab. By dusk it was high enough to permit a view of what lay beneath it." "A burial crypt, no doubt..." interjected the Professor. "We really could not tell," Colin said, ducking another sheet of spray, which this time caught Justin, soaking her through, with the same wet T- shirt results, for she when turned around to protest the dousing she had received, her shirt, too, clung tightly to her, delineating her lovely torso in its detail: she may as well have been naked. She was every bit as shapely as Draper had imagined. But when she saw the professor stare at her breasts with obvious male interest, she gasped, abruptly turned her back to him and hunched over more tightly than before. The Professor's glance was not lost on Colin, of course; she felt an instant pang of jealously pierce her womanheart - the first such pang she had ever known (and certainly not the last). But she continued as if nothing had happened. "We really could not tell. After we had lowered lights and cameras and photographed the interior, I sent Martin down - he was the smallest. It was filled with perhaps a hundred amphorae of unglazed orange clay of the kind found only on Lemnos. The wooden stands had long turned to dust, so the amphorae were lying scattered about, but all of them were intact. Martin gathered them, lining them all up right below the opening so we could bring them up. Then Neal - always the clumsy one- dislodged a loose fragment of rock at the edge of the opening. It fell directly onto one of the amphorae, shattering it. The crypt instantly filled with dense gray fumes, Martin disappeared from view, and it was only by his violent coughing that we could locate him and pull him out. By then, the entire cella was filled with the same gray fog, choking us and burning our eyes. We all managed to escape safely enough, and lay panting on the ground about fifty yards away, Some of us were retching and vomiting. It was alarming, to say the least. Within minutes the entire site was obscured by a roiling cloud of smoke, which clung there in the still evening air. Like the cloud over a volcano, filled with charged dust, this cloud began emitting lightning and thunder - flashing white against the night sky. "We backed off to a safer distance and watched the show. The pyrotechnics continued until about three in the morning, when suddenly all became still, except for odd chinking sounds, like trowels on stone. None of us dared go any closer. Besides, whenever we turned our flashlights on the site, all we could see was the gray cloud - now dull and quiet, but still clinging there like a huge cauliflower. We finally turned in. The chinking sounds ceased sometime before dawn. "Naturally, we were anxious to see what had happened during the night. At first light, Justin, Steven and I - always the early risers - approached the site. The cloud of smoke had dissipated. In its place was a gleaming temple of marble, as new and crisp as a fresh-minted coin. It was not large by ancient standards - perhaps only 25 meters on each side. It was surrounded by hundreds of flowering almond trees set in gardens with numerous fountains and pools. In short, the temple the center of a rich and beautiful park, with white marble walkways leading to belvederes overlooking the sea, and with benches and vine-covered bowers inviting repose. As we got closer, were could hear chanting coming from the temple - women's voices - with one higher voice giving the theme and a chorus of voices giving the responses." Draper, no longer aroused by the display of the two girls' wet bodies, was listening intently, his face registering a mixture of horror and incredulity. The redhead continued. "We got down on our bellies and began to crawl closer, not wishing to be detected. But we must have tripped some sort of perimeter alarm, for all at once the chanting ceased and about thirty young women, virtually nude save for gossamer scarves which they wore round their hips, poured from the temple, bearing long spears. Like so many angry hornets, they were swift, and we were so astonished that we had barely gotten to our feet before we were surrounded. The women - most of them really girls no older than were are now - leveled their spears, pricking our chests, flanks and backs with their sharp bronze points. They could easily have killed us on the spot. One of them appeared to be their captain, for she alone wore a garland of golden oak leaves around her brow. Like all the warriors, she was small breasted, no doubt an advantage when wielding a spear. With no particular malice, she addressed us in the very language of Linear-Sigma. "She informed us that the island was sacred to women and strictly forbidden to 'hairy, forkèd creatures' like ourselves and that our presence was a desecration. We would instantly be brought before their leader, who would decide how best the island could be purified, and how we should be punished for our defilement. She demanded I tell whether there were other men on the island besides us, and if so, how many and whether were they armed, and if armed, what were their weapons. When I hesitated in my reply, she instantly barked out a command and half the warriors detached themselves and rushed off in the direction we had come from. Those remaining swiftly bound our elbows behind our backs with silk cords and marched us off to the temple, prodding us with the butt ends of their spears. It was still before dawn... perhaps only half an hour or so away. "We found ourselves inside the cella, illuminated in the pre-dawn obscurity by a hundred oil-lamps. The chamber was resplendent, with gleaming marble walls and floors, each of its votary alcoves of alabaster or jade filled with small brightly-painted statuettes." The redhead paused to stare intently at Draper. Was he still with her? He was, in fact, listening with rapt attention as if his very life depended on it. He had not missed a word. Yaros was now much more than a speck on the horizon, but they still had an hour or so, assuming the seas got no rougher. Draper wanted as much time as possible to digest this incredible tale. "Ready for the next part, Professor?" asked the redhead. "What now? Nothing could be more unbelievable than what you've related so far." "Here it is: at the end of the cella, on a throne set on a dais of polished granite, sat an intense young girl with the aspect of a brooding and petulant teenager. She could not have been more than sixteen or seventeen, at the most. She held a broad-bowled chalice of wine in her right hand, and a sort of a wand in her other. Behind her, set into the wall, was an ornately framed convex mirror which reflected the whole interior of the temple in miniature. In a disdainful voice, she addressed the captain of our squadron, deigning barely a glance in our direction. She, too, spoke in Linear-Sigma. "'Are there more of these filthy, hairy, forkèd creatures on my island?' she asked. 'We believe there must be, O Mistress,' replied the captain. 'I have ordered a platoon to reconnoiter and capture any others that might be here.' "'We shall wait precisely one hundred drops by the clepsydra,' the girl on the throne replied, indicating a water-clock sitting on a jade stand to her right, dripping water at the rate of perhaps one drop every five seconds. 'We must wait no longer, as Apollo's chariot even now is just below the horizon, and my own powers will not suffice to punish these creatures until the first rays of the sun strike my mirror. If we wait too long, the sun will be too high. If there are others and they are not brought here soon, we shall have to wait until the morrow to mete out their punishment, but these you have already brought before Us will be punished no later than the hundredth drop. Count!' A warrior immediately detached herself from the squadron and began counting the drops at the water-clock. "My heart sunk when I realized that this chit of a girl could be none other than Circe herself, and that today was precisely one week before the vernal equinox! I broke out in an icy sweat and was about to speak when the platoon burst into the temple, driving the rest of our crew, including the Greeks, before them with the tips of their spears. Our crew was all tightly bound in the same manner as we were, and looked terrified. "'Colin!'" Steven cried out as he lurched into the temple, trying to outrun the points of the spears. 'What the hell's going on?' Before I could respond, Circe almost imperceptibly flicked a finger and one of the warriors instantly delivered a powerful blow to the side of Steven's head with the butt end of her spear. He staggered and sank to his knees, but two other warriors raised him to his feet and held him, groaning in pain, between them. "'How dare a hairy, forkèd creature profane my temple with his coarse voice! Hold your tongues on pain of instant death!' cried the girl on the throne. We are Circe, unchallenged Mistress of this island and We have forbidden entry to spindly, hairy creatures such as yourselves, which the rest of the world are pleased to call "men." By some magic spell, you have disturbed Our peace and repose, which was to have endured until the advent of next Golden Age, a primordial cycle of six thousand years, but no longer than a midsummer's night for Us Immortals. You have wantonly defiled Our island. Before We can resume Our slumber, We must deal with you harshly! You have ill-chosen your time of coming here, hairy, forkèd creatures! For the time of equal nights and equal days is upon Us. Within five hundred heartbeats the power of Our mirror shall be at its zenith and shall remain undiminished for thirteen risings of the sun.' Here the girl turned to the captain of her guard, and continued, 'Bring them before the mirror! You well know what to do!' She dashed her chalice to the floor, shattering it. The wine it contained rushed over the dais in a great, seething blot, fringed with purple foam. Circe held her scepter high and invoked Apollo, imploring him to accept her libation of sacred wine and punish the defilers of her island. "Her invocation done, Circe arose from her throne, stepped off the dais, and quickly left the antechamber for an unseen inner sanctum without looking back. We never saw her again. A dozen handmaidens, who had been standing silently off to the sides, removed the throne, clearing the dais... now a scaffold for us! Then, prodded by spears, the twelve of us were driven forward and made to kneel on the dais, facing the mirror. The Greek laborers had begun to sob, though they, of all, knew least what was about to transpire. Or perhaps they knew something of the ancient legend, passed down through the millennia. In any case, I was the only one would could understand what had been spoken, and I was not about to subject myself to blows - or worse - by speaking out. We were securely bound, and even had we been free, we were badly outnumbered and had no weapons at all.... Behind each one of us stood one of Circe's soldiers, her hand grasping our hair and digging into our scalps with her sharp nails, to make sure we faced the mirror squarely and did not bow our heads: there was no escaping our fate, whatever it was to be. "Then the first rays of the sun shot across the surface of the sea....."