“As long as it doesn’t take too long. I’m hungry.”
Beppo gazed at his friend for a few moments with a weary expression that Rick did not remember seeing in school. “Not that long. Let me show you something.” He got up from the desk and walked behind Rick’s chair. Having been dazzled by the window views of the city, Rick had not noticed a table near the door which held a large object covered by a black cloth. Beppo carefully pulled off the cloth, revealing a highly-decorated stone box. The sides were carved in relief, covered with figures in action. It was a battle scene, soldiers wielding spears and shields, wearing armor and helmets. Centered in the rectangular front panel, in the middle of the fray, a charioteer commanded his two horses. In contrast to the chaos of the war panels, a carved human figure covered the lid of the urn, an aged man reclining on a sofa, his wrinkled head held up by a hand cupped under his chin. He could have been sitting for a portrait while enjoying an ancient banquet.
At Beppo’s nod, Rick reached out, running his palms over the carvings, feeling the stone reliefs with his fingertips. “Etruscan? I was a language major in college so it’s not a period I have studied. No doubt you have.”
Beppo stared as if seeing the stone for the first time. He kept his eyes on the piece as he spoke.
“Often the Etruscan are described as mysterious, but that’s mainly because serious study of them started relatively recently and so much is still unknown about their civilization. Historians spent more time on the Romans, who absorbed Etruscan territory into their empire. And only in the last century has the Etruscan language finally been deciphered, which has led to many more discoveries about them. And as you might expect, much of the scholarship has been done in Tuscany, since most of the cities in the Etruscan federation are found there. This urn was found in western Tuscany.”
He glanced at Rick and then returned his gaze to the stone. “It is a fairly typical Etruscan burial urn from the fourth century BC. It held the ashes of a wealthy person, though likely not very prominent politically, given the urn’s size. The figures on the front and sides are myths or perhaps an important battle, but they’re typical, and likely had nothing to do with the life of the man whose ashes were placed inside.” He carefully placed a hand on the stone head and ran his fingers over its features. “However, the image of the man himself is accurate. The Romans raised portraiture, especially in sculpture, to levels never seen before and rarely repeated since. They probably learned their early skills from the Etruscans. This figure of the deceased is an excellent example of how Etruscan artists captured the real person in their work. They don’t romanticize the subject, as you can see.”
Rick glanced at his friend’s face and grinned. “Where is the Beppo I remember, the guy in the back of the class, always quiet? You sound like a professor.”
A brief smile flitted across what had been a serious face, contemplating the carving. “Sorry, Rick, I love this stuff. But let me tell you what has happened.” He glanced away from the urn to Rick. “And how you might help us save some of these beautiful objects.”
This didn’t sound like a translation job.
“Several urns from this period, like this one, have suddenly appeared on the market. Their sale is illegal, of course. Anything discovered in a dig is the property of the Italian state, but you know the sale of stolen or looted artifacts is big business. It’s what keeps our office busy.” He walked back to the desk as he talked while Rick returned to his chair. “We think that a new tomb has been discovered, and not by reputable archeologists. These pieces have begun turning up in the usual places, and we are doing our best to track down the sources. It hasn’t been easy. Oh, thank you, Marta.”
A woman had arrived with a round tray bearing two plastic cups, four packets of sugar, and a pair of tiny wooden sticks. She put the tray on the edge of the desk and disappeared. Both men reached forward, took a packet, and tore open their sugar.
“Not very elegant, I’m afraid. If you call on the minister you get real cups and silverware, but not here.”
“No problem, Beppo.” Rick stirred his espresso. “How do you know about the urns showing up on the market?”
Beppo drank his coffee in one gulp and threw the cup into a wastebasket. “We have our contacts, of course. The office got word that one was on sale in Milano last week, and we sent one of our undercover men there.” He was speaking rapidly now, and gesturing with thick-fingered hands with perfectly manicured fingernails. “Unfortunately the sellers got cold feet at the last minute and disappeared with the urn, but not before our guy had a chance to see it. He swears the piece was genuine.”
“It could have been fake?”
“There’s a large market in fakes. That isn’t our priority. Such things are usually handled by the regular police. We’re after the real thing, like that one over there.”
“That’s stolen?”
“It was.”
Rick was curious about how it had turned up in Beppo’s office, but clearly his friend would say no more.
“These latest urns have all been
