generators that hummed loudly in the distance.
Sophie headed toward the large awning, which she could see was erected over an area of active excavation. Two young women stood near a mound of dirt, filtering the soil through a screened box. As she stepped closer, Sophie could see an older man hunched over in a trench, picking at the soil with a small trowel and brush. With rumpled clothes, a close-cropped gray beard, and a pair of glasses perched at the end of his nose, Keith Haasis bore the marked appearance of a distinguished university professor.
“How much Roman treasure have you unearthed today, Dr. Haasis?”
The bearded man stood up in the trench with an annoyed look on his face, which immediately transformed into a wide grin when he recognized the inquisitor.
“Sophie!” he thundered. “How good to see you.” He hopped out of the trench and rushed over, giving her a big bear hug.
“It’s been too long,” he said.
“I just saw you two months ago at the biblical archaeology conference in Jerusalem,” she chided.
“Like I said, much too long,” he laughed.
In her younger days, Sophie had attended numerous seminars held by the archaeology professor from the University of Haifa, which had led to a professional friendship. Haasis was a highly valued contact, as both an archaeology expert and as a source of information on newly discovered sites and destructive activity.
“Dr. Haasis, this is my assistant, Sam Levine,” she said, introducing her companion. Haasis introduced his nearby students, then led Sophie and Sam to a circle of camp chairs that surrounded a large cooler. The professor passed out chilled cans of soda, then wiped his brow and plopped into a chair.
“Somebody needs to turn up the ocean breeze today,” he said with a tired smile. Then, gazing at Sophie, he asked, “I presume this is an official visit?”
Taking a drink, Sophie nodded in reply.
“Any particular concerns?”
“A bit of overstated publicity in yesterday’s
“Yes, a local reporter stopped by for an interview a few days ago,” Haasis said. “His story must have been picked up in Jerusalem.”
He smiled at Sophie as he passed the article back.
“Nothing wrong with a little publicity for some proper archaeology,” he said.
“Nothing, that is, except a brazen invitation to every thief with a shovel,” she replied.
Haasis waved his arm through the air. “This site has been plundered for centuries. Any ‘Roman treasure’ that was buried around here is long gone, I’m afraid. Or didn’t your agent think so?”
“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-skinned, with curly hair. Looked Palestinian, to be honest.”
“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 pinned into the ground surrounding a small section of exposed bones. Sophie recognized a femur among the remains embedded in the dirt.
“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.”
