09 Treasure

Indeks
09 Treasure, E-Book, alfabetycznie, !Autorzy porzadek, Clive Cussler, Eng
 
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TREASUREBY CLIVE CUSSLERBooks by Clive CusslerSaharaDragonTreasureCyclopsDeep SixPacific VortexNight Probe!Vixen 03Raise the Titanic!IcebergThe Mediterranean CaperPOCKET BOOKS New York London Toronto Sydney Tokyo SingaporePOCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc. 1230 Avenue of theAmericas, New York, NY 10020Copyright (D 1988 by Clive Cussler Enterprises, Inc.All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book orportions thereof in any form whatsoever.for information address Simon & Schuster Inc., 1230 Avenue of theAmericas, New York, NY 10020ISBN: 0-671-70465-6First Pocket Books printing November 198810 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & SchusterPrinted in the U.S.A.A NOTE TO THE READERPlease forgive the inconvenience of converting measurements from whatmost Americans are used to. But in 1991 the United States finallybecame the last nation on earth to convert to the metric system.It's easy.1 kilometer roughly equals a little more than 1/2 Mile.1 meter is slightly more than a yard, about 39 inches.THE ALEXANDRIA LIBRARY truly existed, and if it had remained unravishedby wars and religious zealots it would have given us not only theknowledge of the Egyptian, Greek and Roman empires, but thoselittle-known civilizations that rose and fell far beyond the shores ofthe Mediterranean.In A.D. 391 Christian Emperor Theodosius ordered all books and artdepicting anything remotely pagan, which included the teachings of theimmortal Greek philosophers, burned and destroyed.Much of the collection was thought to have been secretly saved andspirited away. What became of it, or where it was hidden, remains amystery sixteen centuries later.THE PRECURSORSJuly 15, A.D. 391A land unknown A small, flickering light danced eerily through the blackof the tunneled passageway. A man dressed in a woolen tunic thatdropped below his knees paused and raised an oil lamp above his head.The dim glow illuminated a human figure inside a gold-and-crystal casketwhile casting a grotesque, wavering shadow against the smoothly cut wallbehind. The man in the tunic stared into the sightless eyes for a fewmoments, and then he lowered the lamp and turned away.He studied the long line of stationary forms that stood in deathlikesilence, so great in number they seemed to trail off into infinitybefore vanishing in the darkness of the long cavern.Junius Venator moved on, his strap sandals scraping over the unevenfloor with a bare whisper of sound. Gradually, the tunnel widened intoa vast gallery. Soaring to a height of nearly thirty feet, the domedceiling was divided by a series of arches to give it structuralstrength. Gutters carved in the limestone spiraled down the walls sowater seepage could run into deep drainage basins. The walls were lacedwith cavities filled with thousands of strange-looking circularcontainers made of bronze. Except for the large wooden crates stackeduniformly in the center of the carved chamber, the forbidding placemight have been mistaken for the catacombs beneath Rome.Venator peered at the copper tags attached to the crates, checking theirnumbers against those on a scroll he flattened on a small folding table.The air was dry and heavy, and sweat began to course through the layersof dust that blanketed his skin. Two hours later, satisfied everythingwas catalogued and in proper order, he rolled up the scroll and slid itinto a sash at his waist.He took one final, solemn look at the objects in the gallery and exhaleda sigh of regret. He knew he would never see or touch them again.Tiredly, he turned, held the little lamp in front of him and retracedhis steps through the tunnel.Venator was not a young man; he was approaching his fifty-seventh year.tired dragging steps reflected the weariness of a man who had no moreheart for life. And yet, down deep, he felt a glow of warmth it-from aninner satisfaction. The immense project was successfully completed; thegreat burden lifted from his bent shoulders. All that remained for himwas to survive the long voyage to Rome.He passed four other tunnels leading off into the hill. One had beenblocked off by a great pile of rubble. Twelve slaves excavating deepinside had perished when the roof collapsed.They were still in there, crushed and buried where they fell.Venator felt little remorse. Better for them to have died quickly thansuffer years of misery in the mines of the Empire on a bare subsistencediet before dropping from disease or being abandoned when they were tooold to work.He took the far passage on the left and walked toward a pale glimmer ofdaylight. The entrance shaft had been hand-cut inside a small grottoand measured two-and-a-half meters in diameter-just wide enough topermit entry of the largest crates.Suddenly the sound of a faraway scream echoed down the shaft from theoutside. A frown of concern furrowed Venator's forehead, and heincreased his pace. Out of habit he squinted his eyes against thebrilliance of the sun as he stepped into its light. He hesitated andstudied the camp that lay a short distance away on a sloping plain. Agroup of Roman legionaries stood around several barbarian women. Oneyoung girl screamed again and tried to scramble away. She almost brokethrough the cordon of soldiers, but one of them grabbed her by her longflowing black hair. He pulled her back, and she stumbled to her kneesin the coarse dirt.A huge, hard-bitten character spied Venator and approached. The man wasa giant, standing a good full head above everyone else in camp, withgreat shoulders and hips joined nearly as one, and a pair of oak-beamarms ending in hands that dropped almost to his knees.Latinius Macer, a Gaul, was the chief overseer of the slaves. He waveda greeting and spoke in a voice that was surprisingly high-pitched."Is all in readiness?" he asked.Venator nodded. "The tally is finished. You can seal off theentrance.""Consider it done.""What is the disturbance in camp?"Macer glanced at the soldiers, peering through black, cold eyes, andspat on the ground. "Stupid legionaries became restless and raided avillage five leagues north of here. The massacre was senseless. Atleast forty barbarians were killed. Only ten were men, the rest womenand children. And for no good reason. No gold, no booty worth muledung. Returned with a few ugly women to gamble over. Little else."Venator's face tensed. "Were there any other survivors?""I was told two of the men escaped into the brush,""They will sound the alarm in other villages. I fear Severus has kickeda hornet's nest.""Severus!" Macer spat the word in unison with another salvo of saliva."That damned centurion and his lot do nothing but steep and drink ourwine supply. A pain in the buttocks to bring the lazy baggage along, inmy judgment.""They were hired to protect us," Venator reminded him."from what?" Macer demanded. "Primitive heathen who eat insects andreptiles?""Gather the slaves and seal off the tunnel quickly. And make a good jobof it. The barbarians must not be able to dig through after we leave.""Little fear of that. from what I've seen, no one around this cursedland has mastered the art of metalworking." Macer paused and pointed tothe massive heap of excavated takings poised above the entrance to theshaft, precariously held in place by a giant crib of logs. "Once thatfalls, you can stop worrying about your precious antiquities. Nobarbarian will ever get to them. Not by scratching with his barehands."Reassured, Venator dismissed the overseer and strode angrily toward thetent of Domitius Severus. He passed the personal emblem of the militarydetachment, a silver symbol of Taurus the bull atop a lance, and brushedaside the sentry who attempted to block his passage.He found the centurion seated in a camp chair, contemplating a naked,unwashed barbarian woman, who sat on her haunches, uttering a chorus ofstrange vowel sounds. She was young, no more than fourteen. Severuswas wearing a brief red tunic clasp over his left shoulder. His barearms were ornamented with two bronze bands fastened around his biceps.They were the muscled arms of a soldier, trained for the sword andshield. Severus did not bother to look up at Venator's suddenappearance."This is how you pass your time, Domitius?" snapped Venator, his voicecoldly sarcastic. "Scorning God's will by raping a heathen child?"Severus slowly turned his hard gray eyes to Venator. "The day is toowarm to listen to your Christian tripe. My god is more tolerant thanyour god.""True, but you worship a pagan.""Purely a matter of preference. Neither of us has met our gods face toface. Who is to say who is right?""Christ was the son of the true God!"Severus gave Venator a look of exasperation. "You have invaded myprivacy. State your case and leave.""So you can ravage this poor heathen?"Severus did not answer. He rose, grabbed the chanting girl by the armand threw her roughly on his camp cot."Would you care to join me, Junius? You may go first,"Venator stared at the centurion. A chill of fear ran through him. TheRoman centurion who led an infantry unit was expected to be a hardmaster. This man was merciless, a savage."Our mission here is finished," said Venator. "Macer and the slaves arepreparing to seal off the storage cave. We can strike camp and returnto the ships.""Eleven months tomorrow since we left Egypt. One more day to enjoy thelocal pleasures will not ma... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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