Crescent Dawn

“What agent?” Sophie asked.

“I was up in Haifa for a meeting, but my students said an antiquities agent stopped by yesterday and surveyed the project site. Stephanie,” he said, calling over his shoulder.

One of the girls at the screened box hurried over. A gangly coed of barely twenty, she stood before Haasis with a look of devotion.

“Stephanie, tell us about this fellow from the Antiquities Authority who came by yesterday,” he asked.

“He said he was with the Robbery Prevention Unit. He wanted to check the security of our artifacts, so I gave him a tour of the site. He seemed most interested in the harbor excavation and the papyrus document.”

Sophie and Sam looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

“Do you recall his name?” she asked.

“Yosef something. He was kind of short, dark-ski

“Did he show you any identification?” Sam asked.

“No, I don’t think so. Is anything the matter?”

“No, not at all,” Haasis said. “Thanks, Stephanie. Why don’t you take some drinks down to the others?”

Haasis waited until the girl left with an armful of cans, then turned to Sophie.

“Not one of your agents?” he asked.

Sophie shook her head. “Certainly not from the Robbery Prevention Unit.”

“Maybe he was from the national parks authority, or one of your own regional offices. These darn kids don’t seem to remember anything these days.”

“It’s possible,” she replied in a doubtful tone. “Can you show us your excavation sites? I’m most interested in the tomb. As you know, the grave robbers around Jerusalem have created a cottage industry as of late.”

Haasis smiled, then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s right behind us.”

The trio stood and walked around to a wide trench that ran behind the chairs. A sprinkling of red plastic markers was pi

“There’s no formal tomb. We’ve just uncovered a single grave at the edge of the site. It’s really unrelated to the diggings here,” Haasis explained.

“What is this site?” Sam asked.

“We believe it was something of a shipping warehouse. We targeted the area after a set of bronze scales was uncovered here some years ago. Our hope is to collect samples of grains, rice, and other food staples that might have come through the port. If successful, it will provide us a better understanding of the type and volume of trade that passed through Caesarea when it was a thriving center of trade.”

“How does the grave fit in?” Sophie asked.

“We haven’t performed any dating, but my guess is this fellow was a casualty of the Muslim invasion of the city in 638 A.D. The grave lies just outside the foundation of the building, so I think we’ll find that he was a lone body hastily buried against the wall.”

“The newspaper article called it a tomb ‘rich with artifacts,’” Sam noted.

Haasis laughed. “Journalistic license, I’m afraid. We found a few buttons made of animal bone and the heel from a sandal before we halted excavation. But that’s the extent of any ‘rich artifacts’ from the grave site.”

“Our friendly neighborhood grave robbers are liable to be sorely disappointed,” Sam said.

“Indeed,” the professor replied. “For our real riches have been uncovered along the seawall.” He nodded toward the Mediterranean, where the hum from the generators still drifted up the hill. “We discovered an early papyrus document that has us very excited. Come, let’s take a walk down to the water, then I’ll show you the artifact.”

Haasis led Sophie and Sam to the trail, then guided them down the hill. Small ridges of scattered stone broke the soil in odd patterns around them, faint reminders of the city’s once congested multitude of buildings that had long ago been reduced to rubble.

“Using molds to pour and set his concrete blocks in place, King Herod constructed two large breakwaters that circled toward each other like a pair of arms,” Haasis lectured as they walked. “Warehouses were built atop the breakwaters, and a towering lighthouse stood at the harbor entrance.”

“I recall that an early research project mapped a large number of stones underwater believed to have fallen from the lighthouse,” Sophie said.

“A shame Herod’s work didn’t survive the sea’s ravages,” Sam said, looking out at the water and finding little visible evidence of the original breakwaters.

“Yes, most all of the blocks are now completely submerged. But this is where the heart of my interest lies,” Haasis said, motioning toward the invisible bay. “The warehouse up the hill makes a nice field school for the students, but the port facility is what makes Caesarea unique.”

They crossed the beach and hiked onto a small finger of land that poked into the wave-driven sea. Two male students were laboriously excavating a deep pit in the center of the rocky spit. Nearby, a diver could be seen working in the water, applying a compressor-driven water jet under the surface.

“This is where the main breakwater originated,” Haasis explained, speaking loudly to overcome the drone of a nearby compressor. “On this site we believe was situated the equivalent of a customs house. One of the boys recovered the papyrus document in a shattered pot over there,” he said, pointing to a nearby trench. “We expanded some test trenches in several directions but have found no other artifacts.”

“Amazing that it would survive so close to the water,” Sam said.

“We’ve found fragments of the foundation that are still above mean high-tide levels.”

They peered into the active test pit, where one of the students pointed out a small flat section of marble tiling.

“Looks like you’ve reached the basement,” Sophie remarked.

“Yes, I’m afraid there may not be much left to excavate.”

“What’s the diver up to?”

“He’s a marine engineer helping reconstruct the layout of the original port facilities. He seems to think there may be a subterranean chamber to our customs house and is poking around for an underwater access.”

Sophie walked over to the edge of the embankment and stared down at the diver. He was working in ten feet of water almost directly beneath her, manhandling a water jet against the hard-packed bottom. Without noticing the audience above him, the diver broke off his probing and began to ascend. He held the nozzle of the water jet upright, which sprayed a fountain of water skyward when he broke the surface. Standing right in its path, Sophie was doused with a blasting spray of salt water before she could jump out of the way.

“You damn fool!” she cursed, wiping the salt water out of her eyes with her dripping sleeves.

Realizing what he had done, the diver quickly spun the nozzle seaward, then swam to the edge of the embankment and shut off the compressor. Turning to his victim, he gazed at the wet clothes clinging tightly to her body, then spat out his regulator.

“Behold, a goddess from the sea?” he said with a wide smile.

Sophie shook her head and turned her back on him, growing angrier at the sight of Sam laughing out loud. Haasis suppressed his own mirth and came to her rescue.

“Sophie, there’s a towel in my tent. Come, let’s get you dried off.”

The diver popped his regulator back into his mouth and disappeared under the surface as Sophie followed Haasis up the trail. They reached the professor’s tent, where she rubbed her hair and clothes dry as best she could. The warm breeze would dry her clothes quickly, but she shivered at the sudden evaporative cooling effect on her damp skin.

“May I see the artifacts you have excavated?” she asked.

“Certainly. They’re right next door.”

The professor led her to a large peaked tent that was open at one end. Inside were the artifacts recovered from the warehouse site, mostly potsherds and tile fragments, strewn about a long linen-covered table. The student Stephanie was busy with a camera and notebook, carefully numbering and recording each piece before storing them in thin plastic boxes. Haasis ignored the artifacts and led Sophie to a small table at the back of the tent. A single sealed box was on the table, which Haasis handled cautiously as he removed the lid.