“E’s too noisy fer me,” said Seth. “Keeps runnin’ aroun’ from one trench to t’other. Never seen ‘im dig. Just sits in that brand new Land Rover waitin’ fer us to come up with a find. And why are they interested in a bunch of slag heaps what the Romans are supposed to ‘ave left be’ind? It’s all ‘bout money now’days.” He sniffed and reached for another biscuit.
“Well anyway, that’s our first dig of the season so I expect you all to be there,” she said in an effort to pick up the pace of the meeting. “The TV people are going to bring in some big equipment and expand the site. The notion being put forward by the Park’s archaeologist, Wendy Jenson, is that it’s just possible that we’ll be able to find some of the buildings where the people who managed the iron works lived. It’s what the team of researchers from Exeter describe as a footprint.”
At the mention of Tony Robinson and a TV programme some of the members had started to show an interest and her hopes of getting through the rest of the agenda were looking up.
***
It was a beautiful spring day and the hedgerows were covered in pink and white buds. Wild flowers dominated areas where no one had recently trodden. The first dig of the season for the North Devon Archaeological Society was in full swing. The site was busy with people wandering about between the marquees that had been set up for the television crews. Many stood around and drank tea from large china mugs. Some had found the tent where hot sausage rolls were being handed out. Mary and the other Society members were out in force. They were slightly overshadowed by the experts from Exeter University and a collection of academics from other Universities who hoped to promote their image through being seen at the dig. Time Team was a big draw and the TV ratings showed that it had wide appeal. The discovery of a Romano-British hoard the previous September had been front-page news in all of the mainstream newspapers. Everyone hoped to see more treasure, or at least for the discovery of signs that a Roman settlement had existed there. Unfortunately, they were disappointed.
“Stop," said John Greggs, the Exmoor Parks Director as he stepped down into a trench that the large yellow mechanical digger had been carefully excavating. “Get Wendy over here quick; and call Tony Robinson.”
The stone wall at the edge of the field had toppled into the trench. They could see what looked like a leather boot similar to those worn by police motor bike riders. As Wendy Jenson bent down she could see that the boot was attached to a leg and a claw-like hand that seemed to be reaching for help stuck out of the mud. Two of the excavation team from the University jumped into the trench. One of them threw up.
“My god, it’s modern,” said a solid looking red faced girl who was obviously not fazed at seeing a dead body.
Tony Robinson ran up as the cameras began to whirr.
“What’ve we found,” he shouted. “Bones? A skeleton of a Roman noble? Fantastic.”
The filming was done weeks prior to the programme being broadcast. He knew that there would be plenty of time to edit the film before it went out to viewers.
“A what?” He gasped. “We’ll never finish by Thursday now. Are you sure, John?”
“I’m sure, Tony.” John Greggs said. “We’d better get on to the police. It means that the site will be closed, of course. I think we’ve a murder or at least a suicide or something on our hands.”
______________________
Chapter 2
Everyone at Kingston University, where Professor Ralph Chalmers taught, was anxious to begin spring break. The short winter days were a thing of the past. The time was meant to be used by the students to start their preparation for Finals, but in reality they headed home or abroad and the staff took the opportunity to visit their holiday homes and get them spruced up for the summer.
Ralph was no different. He and his partner, Katie headed for their cottage in North Devon. Samantha Tulle, their tenant, was on holiday in Greece, so the cottage was not occupied. It was a good arrangement for them and the retired GP who rented it. Ralph and Katie had retained a retired couple from the local village to look after the place and do light maintenance on it when they began letting to Samantha. They kept it in tiptop condition.
But Ralph was not in the best of moods as they joined the M5 motorway at Taunton.
“It’s not far to Exeter Ralph we should be there by 12. No doubt Marian will have a splendid lunch ready for us. Are you looking forward to seeing her again?”
“Not really. You know I’d prefer to go straight to the cottage. Exeter’s a bit of a detour and the traffic will be awful at lunchtime. The place’s a nightmare at the best of times.”
“Look, Ralph, I know you don’t want to, but she’s a friend of ours. All of that trouble with Alex Shevchenko shook her up pretty badly.”
Ralph’s mind rushed back to when he had jumped into the icy waters of the River Neva in St Petersburg and how Alex had set a trap with the KGB. Alex had fooled him; that’s what really hurt. Ralph expected to be dealt with fairly and he trusted people. He had got it wrong with Alex Shevchenko and so had a good many others, most especially Marian Watts. At least he had come out of it relatively unscathed. It had not been so easy for Marian to mend a broken heart. Ralph wondered what trouble Alex was stirring up now; probably something in Ukraine or some other hotspot, he mused. But today, as they sped down the motorway, he could see no
