Crusader's Gold

THREE

Crouch didn’t relax until his team were on a plane and he’d heard from Alicia. A solid hour into their flight to Istanbul he called Sadler back.

“All right, Rolland. We’re en route and ready to get to work.”

“Good, good. Excellent job, Michael. As I said we’re on the clock. Now, as I explained, many learned archaeologists are currently working night and day to excavate and explore the old docks. Imagine what secrets might be found there. Old crusader ships laden with gold. Spoils of war. Vestiges of medieval history. But even more. Constantinople’s docks were international, of course, one of the busiest in those times. And Constantinople, with its infamous Hippodrome, its commerce and wealth and notoriety, not to mention one of history’s greatest and largest churches — the Hagia Sophia — was the place to go. Ships from every part of the world docked there.”

“And in particular a ship from Alexandria?” Crouch fathomed quickly.

Sadler laughed. “Of course. Are you all listening?”

Crouch looked around. Russo and Healey were busy picking through the airplane food with varying expressions of disgust. Caitlyn was looking introspective, perhaps dwelling on those events that had led her to this point in life. Crouch accepted that her input would be invaluable, but knew he’d hate himself if he interrupted her now.

“All as it should be,” he said. “Carry on.”

“So, after Rhacotis was renamed Alexandria by Alexander the Great in roughly 331 BCE there followed the opening of the library and the lighthouse and then the besieging and the conquering and rebuilding from the likes of none less than Augustus, Julius Caesar and Hadrian. It suffered tsunamis, Persians, Byzantines and earthquakes. What stands today is built on tons of ruins. Imagine the constant peril of the treasures that have resided there. Imagine the dilemmas presented to those who ruled. Many times, it seems during those years, Alexandria’s most important treasures were shipped out.”

Crouch took a long drink from a bottle of water. “Perfectly understandable. With Alexandria’s turbulent history I’d certainly want my valuables transported to a more stable location.”

Sadler’s voice quivered, perhaps with a little irony. “Well, Istanbul’s lost Byzantine port has been discovered in a neighborhood of textile factories and shabby hotels. The docks silted over many years ago, vanishing beneath following civilizations, remembered only in ancient books. A truly stunning discovery, the excavators first found ropes and then entire ships—”

Russo snorted, now listening in. “So, back then they lost an entire ship?”

Sadler murmured a yes. “Thirty four of them to date,” he said. “A truly fabulous, ancient armada.”

Even Crouch was amazed by the story. “Any clues as to what they were carrying?”

“Oh yes. Wheat from Egypt. Pottery. All and sundry. And it is here where we find our new journey’s first clue.”

Caitlyn snapped out of her reverie. “Which is?”

“One of the ships they found was Alexandrian. And it seems it may have contained an astounding treasure.”

Crouch’s first impulse was not what but why. “And they sent it to Constantinople?”

“As I mentioned Alexandria was a seething cauldron of misfortune and catastrophe. Constantinople, by comparison, was a secure haven.”

“Which treasure?” Russo rumbled.

“If I said to you the Hercules Tarentum what would you think?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Or so you think. How about the Horses of St. Mark’s? Or Lysippos?”

“Well, the Horses of St. Mark are in Venice. Everyone knows those. But Lyspy… os? Nope.”

“Lysippos. Regarded as one of the greatest sculptors the world has ever known. He was the only sculptor Alexander the Great would allow to do his portrait. His second most famous work is Bucephalus, Alexander’s horse. The ancient Romans knew all about Lysippos; he was written about time and time again and in particular by Pliny the Elder, one of the most famous Roman historians. In those times the market for Lysippos’ work, real or fake, was as lively as any of your contemporary or renaissance artists today. Now, the real kicker is that out of a supposed 1500 bronze works not a single one has survived to this day. Not one.”

“Are you saying that the Horses of St. Mark were sculpted by Lysippos?” Crouch wondered.

“Yes. It’s the ears you see. Next time you feel like googling look at the close similarities between the Horses of St. Mark’s and those of Bucephalus, Alexander’s horse. At worst, the Horses are a copy, as are many others around the world to this day. Lysippos also set the classical tall, slim human standard in sculpting.”

“I get it,” Russo said. “The guy was good.”

“Good?” Sadler echoed. “Understand this. His pupil, a man named Chares of Lindon constructed the Colossus of Rhodes, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.”

“And what of the Hercules Tarentum?” Caitlyn asked.

“Ah, well the Horses and the Hercules have a peculiarly mixed history. Both born of Lysippos’ talent, loved by Alexander, it is believed they possibly parted ways sometime after 323 BCE when Alexander died. Both works fell out of sight for many years, centuries in fact, reappearing in the palace of Nero, Emperor of Rome, for a short time and then the Horses at least were sent by Emperor Constantine to embellish the starting gates at his new Hippodrome in Constantinople. There they remained for almost a thousand years.”

“And the Hercules?”

“Well, history is a bit fuzzier on that count. Yes, it was in Rome and Alexandria before that and believed to have been returned when Alexandria formally came under Roman jurisdiction in 80 BCE. Though linked to the Horses through circumstance and Lysippos himself, not much more was known about his greatest work — the Hercules Tarentum.”

Crouch raised a brow. “Was?”

“The bill of lading as we know it now, originally called a bill of loading, is one of the most important documents in the history of shipping. It was invented, coincidentally and fortunately for us, in the thirteenth century. It was actually invented in Italy, because of the growing economy of sea commerce between Italian states and the Roman Empire in Constantinople. It formed a receipt of goods, contract of carriage, and a negotiable document of title.”

“Do not tell me you found one intact?” Russo whistled.

“They did. Out of thirty four ships discovered, twenty had lock boxes wherein bills of lading and other items were found, fragile but intact. Archaeologists examined these documents in due course, and my contact, a man I shall call Naz, made the stunning discovery. On a bill of lading was an item described as ‘The Tarentum Herakles.’ The ship’s hold was large enough to have transported the treasure, we believe. This find truly confirms that the Hercules was here, in Constantinople, with the Horses of St. Mark at the time of the Fourth Crusade.”

“Sorry, you’re losing me a little.” Caitlyn spoke up. “Was there actually a dispute over the Hercules being there?”

“Yes. Many said it had been melted down before the thirteenth century for its vast bronze properties. But Naz believes the statue, one of a kind and quite possibly Lysippos’ only surviving work of art, was hidden in the labyrinths underneath the Hagia Sophia when the crusaders came knocking, and quite possibly soon reunited with that other work of art — the Horses of St. Mark.”

“Why?”

“I’ll get to that. Or perhaps Naz will. But believe me — however famous and priceless the Horses are, the Hercules would top that with ease. The crusaders who destroyed Constantinople and many of its inhabitants during the Fourth Crusade stole many, many treasures, transporting them back to their homelands. That is how, of course, the Horses of St. Mark reside in Venice right now.”

“Because the crusaders stole them?” Healey asked, munching on a bag of crisps.

“Stole. Plundered. But there are two sides to every coin. If it weren’t for the Venetians taking them the Horses might well have been destroyed during those three fateful days like so many other irreplaceable treasures. Only the Venetians sought to save some of history’s most remarkable creations.”

“And yet it was their leader who led the attack,” Crouch said carefully.

“You remember your history,” Sadler said approvingly. “Yes, a man named Enrico Dandolo, the Doge of Venice.”

“The man who had the Horses placed in Venice, atop St. Mark’s Basilica.”

“The very same.”

“And this Hercules…” Russo said. “It would be valuable? A treasure for the world?”

“A true life’s-best original of history’s greatest ever sculptor and the only one of his works to survive almost two and a half thousand years of history? Oh yes.”

“Fantastic.” Russo nodded his enormous head. “When does this thing land?”

“Soon,” Crouch said. “We need to hit the ground running. Secrets like this — they don’t stay hidden for long.”

Caitlyn glanced across. “Are we expecting trouble, sir?”

“I always expect trouble, Miss Nash. And Istanbul’s a hotbed of iniquity. Rolland, does Naz know where the Hercules went?”

“Not exactly. But, being an archaeologist he does have a few ideas.”

“We’ll contact him once we get on the ground.”

“Very good. And best of luck, Michael.”

Crouch grinned. “No luck involved. We’re the best at what we do.”