Crusader's Gold

EIGHT

Naz rose to face them, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

Crouch grabbed the man’s arm in his excitement. “The windows,” he whispered. “Which set looks out onto the Hippodrome?”

“There is no Hippodrome anymore.”

“I know. But in Dandolo’s day. When the Horses of St. Mark surmounted it.”

Naz looked like he’d experienced a sudden revelation. “Of course! The tomb was built here, in full view of the windows that stare out at the object of Constantinople that he coveted most, and stole.” The archaeologist did a quick mental shuffle. “Those.” He pointed and raced off.

“Slow down.” Crouch caught him fast. “If anyone is watching…”

Naz’s quick exuberance dissipated. “You mean the crazy woman?”

“Yes. And who knows what other trolls we may have picked up along the way.”

“Trolls?” Naz’s tone was confused.

“Trolls, yes. Those who seek to upset and destroy. From the one-star reviewers to the social media scavengers and nuisance hackers. Our intentions may be good, my friend, but that doesn’t mean those we attract feel the same. So take it steady and look like a sightseer.”

Gradually, the group gravitated over to the group of windows in question. As Caitlyn already knew they were made of stained glass and colorful — an arch of greens and blacks forming over individual panes tinted various hues of blue, red, white and green. As a whole each window was a simply stunning vision, but taken by individual panes and dissected, each one painted a different picture. Caitlyn counted eight separate panes to each window on the wall, which amounted to thirty two different scenes. Nonchalantly, but more carefully than she could have believed possible, she examined each one.

“Do you see it?” Healey muttered. “Anyone?”

“It would be easier if we knew what we were looking for,” Naz admitted. “But I see nothing yet.”

Caitlyn scanned the panes of glass, seeing dozens of religious images but nothing relevant. It took twenty minutes but eventually neither she nor Naz nor Crouch felt anything short of disappointment. The team knew they had already lingered a little too long.

“Back to the drawing board?” Alicia asked. “Well, one thing’s for sure, all these failures will soon bore the arse off your bloody trolls.”

It was then that Crouch’s eye caught on a flash of color. “The Doge of Venice,” he said carefully. “That could be it.”

“What?” Naz asked, squinting toward the top row.

“A glass pane quietly dedicated to Dandolo near his tomb doesn’t seem too out of place now does it?” Crouch murmured.

“Quietly?” Caitlyn questioned.

“It would have to be,” Naz said. “Otherwise later generations would smash it. What are you seeing, Michael?”

“I’m thinking of the coat of arms of the Republic of Venice in Dandolo’s day and the colors therein,” Crouch said. “And I’m seeing them right at the very top there, dead center.”

Naz inhaled swiftly. “Looking toward the Hippodrome, a pane of deep red and yellow with the lion symbol. That has to be it.”

“But what does it portray?” Caitlyn squinted hard. “I can’t make out the figures.”

Crouch removed his cellphone and held it up, focusing the lens but still blending perfectly with the hundreds of visitors all around. Taking his time he snapped several photos, careful not to stick to the same area. A few minutes later he was staring at the screen, blowing the most relevant picture up to full size as Caitlyn and Naz looked on.

“What do you see?” Alicia asked, curious despite her apparent indifferences.

“I see a male holding—” Crouch squinted. “Two items. I also see a miniature city perhaps? And, four horses. I definitely see four horses!”

“And the male,” Naz breathed. “Look closer. Though small it is a man of strength holding up a key in one hand and a cup in the other. It is a depiction of the Hercules Tarentum. It is the statue as Lysippos sculpted it.”

“And the city?” Healey asked.

“Where else?” Crouch smiled. “It is unmistakably Venice.”