Daniel carefully lowered his pack, leaving it outside the door before ducking past the tent flap. Inside, various students were carefully examining and cleaning small artifacts, pieces of pottery, and the like. They were being overseen by a grad student who appeared about twenty-eight or so, with short dark hair, deeply tanned skin and brown eyes. It was to this man Daniel addressed himself. "Excuse me, is Professor Macauly around?"
"Who're you?" The younger man asked, looking him over. Daniel knew he was pretty well projecting the persona of a simple volunteer, not to be trusted with anything past physical labor and perhaps holding a brush from time to time. His clothes were worn and dusty, and though his hair was short and well-kept, a day's growth of beard added to the overall scruffy impression.
"Daniel Ballard. I contacted him a few months ago, and he said that he needed an extra set of hands."
"We always need an extra set of hands," the man replied. "I'm Tobias Jones. Tobe, most call me."
"Nice to meet you," said Daniel, shaking the proffered hand.
"Likewise," the student returned. "You're American?" Daniel shrugged. "Speak any of the local dialects?"
"A bit," said Daniel.
Tobe broke out into a grin, happiness creasing his face. "You'll be handy to have 'round, then. C'mon. Mac'll be at the main dig site, nagging and haranguing up a storm."
Daniel followed Tobe past tents scattered haphazardly across the oasis. "Most of the tents where we handle the artifacts aren't far from the actual site of recovery," said Tobe. "Mac's a maniac about preservation of the site. Anyway, we camp in the palm grove adjacent to the ancient village." He pointed to a circle of tents several hundred yards from the site. "There's plenty of extra tent room, if you need any. The oasis is good for swimming, washing and the like, but drinking and cooking water comes from barrels near the main pavilion. We'll sure be glad of an extra pair of hands and eyes, I can tell you. Some of the other volunteers drank from the oasis. Wound up sick, had to ship on home. Oy, Mac!" Tobe shouted as they neared the site. The soft sound of chisels and delicately wielded shovels carried on the air.
A head covered in a straw hat poked up from the ground. "Tobe, what now? The students crying on your last nerve?" The voice was deep and heavily accented, calling to mind harsh mountains in the Scottish highlands.
"No," Tobe shouted back. "Got some fresh meat for ya!"
"Ah, volunteers," Daniel heard the man murmur as he hauled himself out of the pit which was currently being excavated.
He approached, and Daniel got his first good look at Professor Macauly. The man was shorter than he by about a foot, and much rounder, with a shock of steel-gray hair flying wildly about his head, only barely contained by his large straw sombrero. He was more round than portly, and his snapping green eyes brooked no nonsense.
"Daniel Ballard," said Daniel, extending his hand.
"Ah, the Yank," said Macauley. "I, as you already know, am Professor Macauly. And if you feel like spitting that lot out every time we meet, by all means go ahead. I'm Mac to those who'd rather not bother, and most don't. Any relation to Nick Ballard?"
"None that I'd care to mention," Daniel shrugged, smiling. He'd known he'd be called on it, but he hadn't thought it would be quite so soon.
"Ah. Well then. When'd you get here?"
"Just now," said Tobe, grinning.
"That's funny - Michelle didn't give the mail call."
"Oh - I didn't hitch a ride," said Daniel. "Walked."
"From Madasa?" asked Mac.
"Jerusalem."
Mac started to laugh, loud and long. "Oh, you're a right crazy desert bug! You'll fit in just fine here!"
Daniel grinned, and Tobe grunted. "All right, now that you've taken on this desert bug, you'll let me go back to my job?"
"Go on, then," Mac said, still grinning amicably. "Don't mess too much with their minds - there has to be something left for me to grade!"
Tobe just gave Mac a wicked grin, and strode purposefully back to the tent filled with twenty-year-olds.
"All right," said Mac, becoming businesslike with a snap. "You've told me that you've worked on other digs before. Where, when?"
"Egypt, Syria, Libya, Brazil, Central America, and one in Southwest America. All more than seven years ago."
"You've certainly run the circuit," Mac said, almost under his breath. "So I'll guess that you're familiar with the tools of the trade, then."
"You don't lose it," Daniel said simply, following as Mac began to lead him around the dig.
"True. All right, let me introduce you to the dig," the Scottish professor began, leading Daniel around the men and women working to meticulously clear the site. "We are, as you know, excavating a Roman-Byzantine village. As of now, we've uncovered two flour mills, one from the Byzantine period in the 5th and 6th centuries C.E., and the other from the Mamluk period, which extended from the 13th to 15th centuries. We've also discovered a Roman bathhouse and perfumery. We're working on excavating those sites right now, and quite frankly the job's tedious, exhausting and rewarding. Think you're up to it?"
As they'd spoken, Mac had pointed out the various sites, switching smoothly into and out of lecture mode with refreshing speed.
Daniel looked around and nodded. "Yes," he answered.
"You know, of course, that everything we find is credited to the Hebrew University's Institute of Archaeology," Mac said.
Daniel nodded, a slightly confused look passing over his face. "Of course," he responded. "Why-"
"I have to make sure I say that to everyone on the dig," said Mac. "Makes no sense to me as we're all contracted and paid by the University, but then regulations never did make much sense to me." The quirky professor grinned roguishly, and Daniel felt himself smiling in return.
A loud ringing noise from the palm grove had everyone moving to pack up. Daniel glanced at Mac for an explanation. "Dinner," the professor explained. "Or lunch. Whichever label you prefer. Only way for us to hear Smitty. The chef. As he likes to be known. More commonly called the Grubmaster. But never to his face, of course."
Daniel snorted, schooling his expression as he followed Mac to the chow line, in a large, open tent just outside the palm grove.
Grabbing a hotdog, bread and beans, he was waved over to a table by Tobe. "Oy! Daniel!"
He moved in the young man's direction, noting that also at that table were most of the people who had been working to excavate the site.
"Everyone," said Tobe imperiously, "I'd like you to meet Daniel. He's a new volunteer, and just arrived today, on foot, from Jerusalem." An impressive whistle pierced the air, coming from a thin, carrot-topped woman of about forty. "Let me make the introductions," Tobe continued. He indicated a young, blonde girl sitting across from Daniel. "Michelle, twenty-four. She's working on her Ph.D. in archaeology, and is a graduate of the Hebrew University. She's been on-site since the beginning, and usually makes the runs into Jerusalem and Madasa for supplies. Anything you want, she'll get it for you. Unless you sneak local wildlife into her tent."
A shout of laughter went up as Michelle made a face at Tobe, who grinned shamelessly before continuing. "Saloma," he gestured to a dark, petite young woman eating a hamburger. She waved, mouth full, smiling. "She's the only other grad student aside from yours truly, doing an extra internship. She graduated from Oxford a year ago, and has been hard at work revolutionizing the technology for our field. We owe lots of our cool little gadgets to her." Saloma bowed slightly at the waist amid general applause.
"I," interjected a fifty-ish man with a peeling nose, "am Lewis Clarke Smytheson IV."
"Ignore Louie," interjected Michelle, glancing at the lanky man whose auburn hair was his most distinguishing feature. "He 's a third-generation grave-digger and proud of it."
"Louie is our resident expert on the Byzantine Empire, and a twenty-year teacher at the Hebrew University. Had a few of the American Ivy's slathering at his feet to teach there, but he went round the globe instead."
"It's all about ambience," said Louie, dipping his hotdog in his beans. "The American Northeast just doesn't have it."
"I'm Galya," said the woman who had whistled. "Forty-two and proud of it. Latin professor, also at the Hebrew University." Tobe sneered elegantly at her, and she ignored him. "Some people think that they're the self-appointed masters of PR," she continued. "I, however, believe fully in a woman's right to announce herself." She grinned, and stuck her tongue out at Tobe.
Daniel chuckled.
"And Ziv," said Tobe. "Looking to move to the UK, and currently between jobs." The blonde man looked up from his plate. "Permanently between jobs," he corrected lightheartedly. "Why do something as tedious as working when I could be here? With the sun, sand -"
"Snakes," interrupted Galya.
"Sandstorms," Louie chimed in.
"Scorpions!" Saloma picked up.
"And students," added Mac with an evil leer. The entire table burst into mock shrieks of horror, and Daniel couldn't contain his mirth. The rest of the meal was amiable and laid-back, the others exchanging jokes and talking about progress made on the site. All Daniel's questions were well-received, and almost everyone had something to say. At one point, a heated argument broke out between Louie and Ziv over what materials were used in the perfumery discovered. While the expert insisted that myrrh and rare spices were prominently found in these cases, Ziv speculated that a more common material, such as from the basalm plant, had been used.
The argument lasted through the end of the meal and back into the dig, and Galya took charge of Daniel.
"All right, I want you to start clearing this area," said Galya, grinning at him. "Don't mind me, I've got a little bit of translating to do."
Daniel nodded, looking over his tools critically. Galya was no doubt making sure he didn't screw up, and while Daniel didn't feel it was necessary, he also knew how long it'd been since he'd been part of a serious dig.
Picking up a trowel, Daniel crouched down at the base of a stone wall and began to methodically clear away around the foundation. As time passed, he realized how much he had missed this - simply discovering. No pressure to have it wrapped up by the end of the day, with the threat of never being able to return. He'd even refused to bring his video camera, hating the palpable reminder of not having enough time to even look at all of what had been discovered.
He was so absorbed in his work that he barely noticed the increasing darkness as the sun went down, and the loud buzzing and sudden influx of illumination that occurred when the stadium lighting was turned on registered only faintly on his consciousness.
"What?" he asked, surprised, as something grabbed his arm. He looked up into Tobe's grinning face.
"Galya finally gave up when it became obvious that she'd have to clamber down here and get you," he said.
"What?" Daniel asked again, utterly confused.
"It's time for supper, desert bug," Tobe replied. "C'mon!"
Daniel put down his tools, wiped his filthy hands on equally grimy jeans, and smiled a little.
The evening meal was more toned down than the last had been; everyone was tired from a day hard at work. After eating, everyone - including the tiny Smitty, shorter and skinnier than Saloma despite being ten years older - covered the exposed areas of the dig for the night, protecting what they'd already unearthed from being reburied by the wind or damaged by a sudden storm.
Then, the group retreated to the palm grove, where the teachers and grad students joyfully pulled rank, claiming the oasis' bathing privileges to the groans of the undergrads. Daniel had been bunked with Tobe by Mac, "seeing as how you two get along so well," as he put it.
Used to digs, and further desensitized by years of communal showers, Daniel had no compunctions about stripping to his boxers and jumping into the oasis. A loud wolf-whistle caught his attention, and he looked over to find Saloma and Michelle clapping at him. Daniel blushed uncomfortably, and ducked his head under the water. He surfaced to hear Galya say, "Now look, you've embarrassed him! How sweet!"
Daniel shook his head and ducked under the water again. When he came back up, it was to find Mac grinning at him. "Drowning yourself won't help with this little problem, Daniel. What say we formulate a plan of attack?"
Three minutes later a boisterous water fight had broken out, punctuated by shrieks and yells. Daniel eventually disentangled himself from the fight, drying himself off and moving back to the tent to get dressed. Happy voices pulled him from the relative silence, and he joined the rest of the adults around the campfire as the students ran toward the oasis with joyous shouts.
Daniel opened his journal, listening with one ear to the conversations around him. He stared at the page, grasping for a way to start writing. Sighing, he told himself to start at the beginning, and just try to go on from there. He picked up his pen and started to write, using his language of comfort - ancient Egyptian. Feeling freedom in the security of the language, Daniel felt his emotions start to leak through the wall he'd built, and trickle onto the page. But still, the detached sense remained.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by his name, in the corner of his hearing. He glanced up to find everyone staring at him expectantly.
"Sorry, what?" he asked.
"The lads were just wondering what your story is," Mac explained benignly.
Daniel raised a brow. "My story?"
"Where you from? What brings you here? That sort of thing," said Louie, as he smeared aloe lotion onto his cranberry-colored nose.
Daniel shut the journal, sitting up from where he was reclining in the grass. "I've been living in Colorado for the past six years or so. My job was becoming -" here, Daniel searched for words to adequately describe what had gone on in the past year. " - It was . . . " He shook his head and started over. "I worked closely for all that time with a group of people who were always accepting of my ideas and standards. During the past year, their acceptance somehow disappeared, and my - usefulness, I guess, declined." Daniel shrugged. "Eventually, I was getting lost in the machine, and decided that I needed to get out, get back to what I love."
"Not surprising that a desert bug like you' be lost in a corporation," said Mac with a grunt. "But that's enough melancholy for one night, don't you think? Ziv, bring out the music-making machine!" Ziv happily obliged, pulling a battered fiddle from a case near his side.
The next hour was filled with music and dance, singing and happiness as the group celebrated a new arrival. Daniel found himself truly relaxing, losing the tension that had held him captive ever since Sha'uri's kidnapping. As he lounged in the grass, he could almost feel himself melting into the earth, the strain within him dissipating, blowing away with the evening breeze.
Yawning, and begging off from singing for one night - although he was treated to promises of retribution the following day - Daniel made his way to the tent when he found his eyes closing of their own accord. He pulled the flap shut and made sure the gun was placed safely within reach yet out of sight, before rolling into his sleeping bag, leaving the zipper open - just in case.
As he found himself drifting off, he could hear Michelle's voice rising sweetly over the camp as she sang a haunting lullaby, the words a pidgin mix of English, German, and Russian.
Shlep ma mama, Shlep ma papa
Shlep ma kinder-ton-yan
Mama, Papa gaylusac
Live in da palay-ran-sum
Shelp mon kin mon sheini angle
A le lu le lu, le lu
Shelp mon kin mon sheini angle
Mind the git-hat-su.
Daniel translated the song as he drifted off to sleep, finding comfort in the words and soft melody.
My mother slept, my father slept,
Slept also my beloved children.
Mother and Father gone before
Live in the Palace of Sweet Dreams.
Sleep well my babes through the stormy night,
A le lu le lu, le lu,
Sleep well my babes through the stormy night,
And mind the Sandman's tunes.
- - - - - - - - -
The lullaby posted above is something sung to me by my grandmother when I was a small child, which her mother - a refugee from Lithuania to America - sang to her. While it is phonetically spelled as close as I can get it, I know nothing other than that it is most definitely a mix of English, Lithuanian, and possibly German. The translation is completely my creation. (Hope you enjoyed your glimpse into "The Secret Life of lembas7"!!)
All the reviews cheered me immensely, thank you so much! (hands out goody bags) Yesterday made me feel like a lemming on speed, and I slept in today to recover from the hassle of a surprise well done, as well as a dog who decided to let loose his bladder . on my bed. So, yes, he is now banished. To the floor.
As for the two pts of contention my reviewers were so kind as to mention - the name thing is deliberate. As for the other, I have little knowledge of guns, but may I say, that everything I do is done for a reason. (snickers) I can PROMISE that it will come back again later. (evil grin). I absolutely love that people are reviewing with pointers and questions! Candy to all!!