The Medusa Plot

If Jake didn’t like it, he’d just have to get over himself.

  “See how the ground level columns are Doric,” Atticus lectured, pointing to the rounded face of the massive stone structure. “On the second level, the columns are Ionic, and on the third, Corinthian. Those are, in actuality, the three main styles of architecture employed during the Roman Empire.”

  Amy could see Dan’s eyes glazing over. He wasn’t much for museum tours — even coming from the friend he valued so much.

  “The origins are Greek, of course,” Atticus went on. “Most Roman architecture derives from Greek sources.…”

  “When do we get to the part about people being eaten by lions?” Dan put in.

  Jake cast a superior glance at Dan. “Those stories have been grossly exaggerated over the centuries. We now know that tales of Christians being thrown to wild carnivores are just myths.”

  “But the Colosseum was a place for blood sports.” Atticus took up the narrative. “Gladiators fighting exotic animals and each other, beast pitted against beast. The floor of the arena was originally covered with sand to soak up the blood.”

  “Cool,” said Dan, his interest reviving.

  At the front of the line at last, they bought their tickets and entered the most famous stadium that had ever existed. Atticus led them through a long tunnel-like corridor, and they emerged into the arena.

  “Whoa!” Dan breathed. “This is just like Foxboro, where the Patriots play! You know — if Foxboro was falling down.”

  Amy nodded in awe. The Colosseum was nearly two millennia old, a vast stone husk ruined by centuries of storms, earthquakes, and theft. But the size, the seating capacity, and the basic design were no different than a football stadium that could host a twenty-first-century Super Bowl. The fact that ancient people had created such a marvel was nothing short of astounding.

  “In actuality,” Atticus told Dan, “the Colosseum was superior to Foxboro in many ways. For example, it was covered. A huge canopy called a velarium provided protection from the sun.”

  “Whoa,” Dan exclaimed. “This used to be the Roma-dome.”

  Atticus nodded. “And a capacity crowd could go in and out much faster than in a modern stadium. There are approximately eighty exits at ground level, accessed by the Colosseum’s vomitoria.”

  Dan lifted three inches off the floor. “Vomitoria? What’s that — the barfing section?”

  Atticus laughed so hard that he began to choke. For a super genius, Amy reflected, he had a sense of humor like — well, like Dan’s.

  Maybe that’s why the two of them hit it off.…

  Atticus wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “A vomitorium has nothing to do with barfing. It’s an exit tunnel built right into a tier of seating. The seats are mostly gone now, but you can still see where the vomitoria used to be.”

  “It’s sort of about barfing,” Dan argued. “You know, how the stadium vomits out the people.”

  Atticus turned his attention to the center of the arena. “The Colosseum floor is gone, so what we’re looking at here are the passages and holding pens underneath. The Romans had a trapdoor in the middle of the ring so that new animals could be hoisted up and released right into the middle of the action. And over here …”

  Dan followed his friend around the arena’s perimeter, drinking in every gory detail of the Colosseum’s violent history. Amy hung back with Jake, walking slowly. To her surprise, she’d seen more of the old Dan in the last half hour than in the entire two years since the Clue hunt. Atticus seemed to draw it out of him.

  Jake definitely did not approve. As he watched the younger boys, his expression grew more sour — or perhaps the mysterious bad smell had become even worse.

  “Now we know what our kid brothers have in common,” she said, just to break the silence. “Dumb jokes and carnage.”

  “Att has a one-in-ten-million mind,” Jake replied seriously. “But he’s so immature. That’s why Dad sent him to Rome with me. We have to be careful who he associates with.”

  She bristled. “Dan’s mind is nothing to sneeze at. He has an amazing memory. Don’t worry, he won’t contaminate your brother’s intellect.”

  He regarded her as if taking her measure. “What kind of school do you go to where it’s okay to pick up and fly to Europe on the spur of the moment in the middle of the semester?”

  “It’s an alternative school,” Amy lied smoothly.

  “And since Dan and I are on our own, it’s pretty much up to us if we want to take a trip.”

  “You’re underage,” Jake pointed out. “You must have a legal guardian.”

  Amy swallowed the lump in her throat that formed when she thought of Nellie and Fiske. “We have alternative guardians, too.”

  Alternative — what a great word to describe the Cahills.

  “Are they with you here in Rome?”

  For Amy, that question put Jake Rosenbloom over the top. He was entirely too curious. But even if the guy was nothing more than a good-looking snob, she still couldn’t risk saying too much. What if Jake got wind of the kidnappings and — with the best of intentions — called the police?

  She sped up, leaving Jake behind. “Atticus!” she called. “Which way to the Porta Sanavivaria?”

  Atticus beckoned. “Follow me!”

  That was another thing about Atticus. He never walked; he ran. Dan was hot on his heels, with Amy and Jake bringing up the rear. He led them to the huge stone arch that was the east entrance to the Colosseum.

  “When the games began, the entire procession would march in through the Gate of Life. The gladiators would face the emperor and shout, ‘We who are about to die salute you!’”

  “Awesome,” exclaimed Dan in admiration. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to do it myself, but talk about style!”

  Atticus was just getting warmed up. “In battle, when a gladiator had his opponent at his mercy, he would turn to the crowd for thumbs-up or thumbs-down. If the loser was spared, he could leave through the Gate of Life. If it was thumbs-down —”

  “Don’t tell me,” said Amy. “There’s a Gate of Death, too.”

  “Right.” The boy genius pointed to the opposite end of the arena, where a similar portal led to the outside. “The Porta Libitinensis — the west entrance, across the way. Now, when the emperor was in attendance, he would be the one in charge of who lived and who, you know, didn’t.…”

  Amy glanced at her brother. He was no longer listening. All his attention was focused on a posted diagram just inside the Gate of Life. She recognized the look on his face — one of intense concentration and dawning light. He was on to something, or at least he thought he was.

  She sidled over. “What is it?”

  “This is a map of the tunnels under the Colosseum directly below us,” he murmured. “Notice anything familiar?”

  Amy shrugged. “How could I?”

  “See the way the passages curve in and around each other? It’s the ‘Medusa’ snake hair. Not just a little bit. Exactly.”

  Amy was blown away. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  Dan nodded. “Caravaggio’s ‘Medusa’ is a map.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Jake’s handsome head insinuated itself between brother and sister. “What are you looking at?”

  “The tunnels,” Amy asked, “are they open to the public?”

  “Some are,” he replied. “Others haven’t been shored up yet.”

  “How do you get down there?”

  “We’ll show you,” Atticus volunteered.

  The Rosenblooms started down a stone ramp to the arena’s now open subfloor. Ancient walls hinted at the enclosures where dangerous animals had been kept in readiness. Amy couldn’t help but imagine the pens filled with lions, bears, and other wild beasts. One by one, they would be loaded into the hoist and lifted to the arena to do battle with Rome’s greatest gladiators for public entertainment. She could almost hear the jungle snarls magnified by the underbelly of the ring, which would hav
e been directly above their heads. And on the other side of that wooden floor — the clash of steel, the crack of bone, the agonized wail of combat and death.

  Dan felt it, too. “This might be the coolest place I’ve ever been.”

  “I know,” chortled Atticus. “The tunnels were originally created to provide access from the Colosseum to other buildings — the Spoliarium, where the dead bodies were taken; the Armamentarium, where the weapons were stored; and the Ludus Magnus, the great gladiator school.”

  Dan nodded. “Makes sense. If you lose a battle, you get sent back to gladiator school.”

  Amy let out an exasperated breath. But when she noticed Jake rolling his eyes, she was offended on her brother’s behalf. Where did this arrogant jerk get off looking down on Dan, who had heisted Caravaggio’s “Medusa” against all odds? Twice!

  Atticus continued. “The tunnels extend far beyond the walls of the Colosseum, under this entire part of the city. And not all of them have been explored.”

  Atticus in the lead, they navigated the maze of holding pens and passed through one of many arches that ringed the subfloor. Now they weren’t in the Colosseum so much as underneath it — in the foundation of one of the world’s most barbaric structures.

  The only light came from bare bulbs strung far apart, providing just enough illumination to keep visitors from walking into walls. The effect was eerie, but not half as much as it would have been in the time of the Flavian emperors, when these passages had been torch-lit. The floor sloped down as they progressed; a damp chill emanated from the stone. The tourists who had been exploring with them began to thin out. It was one thing to walk in the footsteps of gladiators. But the Colosseum, with its fresh air and sunlight, was far behind them. This place no longer felt like a historic site. It felt like the bowels of the earth.

  The atmosphere seemed to be affecting Jake, too. “What do you say we turn around?” he suggested. “I don’t think there’s anything else up ahead.”

  “You guys don’t have to come with us,” Amy said airily. “We can catch up with you back at the Colosseum.”

  “I want to keep going,” Atticus told his brother. “I’ve never been this far before.”

  “Because there’s nothing to see,” Jake grumbled. Yet he shuffled along, bringing up the rear as the group moved on.

  When they came to the first fork in the passage, Atticus hesitated, but Dan immediately chose the path to the left and kept on going.

  “Wait a minute,” Jake protested. “We don’t want to get lost down here.”

  “We can’t get lost,” Amy replied with exaggerated patience. “Dan has total recall. He’s memorized the map of the tunnels, and on the way out, he’ll be able to backtrack every twist and turn.”

  “That’s a skill I don’t have,” said Atticus, impressed.

  “It’s probably the only one,” Dan assured him with a grin.

  But he was all business as they navigated the labyrinth past two more intersections.

  “Is it the ‘Medusa’?” Amy whispered when the Rosenblooms fell back a little. “And the passageways match the snake hair?”

  “You bet,” Dan confirmed. “The painting is a map, all right.”

  “With one important detail missing,” Amy added. “There’s no X-marks-the-spot.”

  “I’ve got a theory about that,” Dan murmured. “There’s a huge tangle of snakes, and they wrap around each other a million times. But there’s only one spot where a snake bites another snake. I think that’s our X.”

  “How far away is it?”

  “Just a few turns,” Dan assured her, picking up the pace. “I see it perfectly in my head.”

  They took the next fork to the right, hugging the stone wall around the bend. Suddenly, Amy stumbled, somersaulting over a wooden barrier. On it were signs in a dozen languages. The English one read:

  UNEXCAVATED — DO NOT ENTER

  As Dan was hauling his sister to her feet, the Rosenblooms caught up.

  “Well, that’s that,” Jake announced, an I-told-you-so expression on his face.

  “That’s nothing,” Amy retorted, dabbing at a cut lip. “We’re going on.”

  “The tunnel’s closed!” Jake exclaimed.

  “No, it’s not,” Dan said reasonably. “I’m looking straight at it. It’s as open as the part we just came through.”

  Now Jake was annoyed. “Unexcavated means this part of the tunnel isn’t safe. That it’s not shored up, that it’s untested. It could cave in on top of you.”

  “This tunnel has been here for two thousand years,” Dan shot back. “Why would it pick today to cave in?”

  Amy tried to play peacemaker. “You guys head back. Dan and I need to explore a little more.”

  Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Need to?”

  “This is just our hobby,” Dan answered quickly. “Instead of collecting stamps, we find creepy old places and poke around.” The last part wasn’t even a lie. The Clue hunt had taken them through tombs, catacombs, and all manner of buried and secret chambers.

  “We understand that it’s not for everybody,” Amy added soothingly.

  Atticus spoke up. “I want to go with Dan.”

  “No way, Att.”

  “I’ve spent my whole life reading books about stuff I never get to see and do!” Atticus argued.

  “You don’t care about that,” Jake accused. “You just can’t bear to part with your hero!”

  “He’s my friend!”

  “Forget it!”

  Amy and Dan watched in amazement as the two brothers got into a heated argument. With symmetrical shrugs, the Cahills left them and ventured into the forbidden section of the tunnel. After rounding the first corner, they could no longer see the Rosenblooms, but they continued to hear Jake laying down the law and Atticus protesting.

  “We’re still on the snakes, right?” Amy queried.

  “Check,” Dan confirmed. “Caravaggio had lousy taste in models, but as a mapmaker, the guy rocked. See? The passage should veer to the left and — uh-oh.”

  They rounded the bend and found themselves staring into blackness. The electric lighting went no farther.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  Amy dug through her pockets and came up with her flashlight key chain. The beam was faint against such smothering darkness, but it was enough to allow them to go on. They moved more slowly now, stumbling over loose rocks on the tunnel floor.

  The passage went on for perhaps another hundred yards and ended abruptly at a T. “This is it,” Dan announced.

  Amy played the beam around the featureless stone walls. “Here? Really?”

  “Exactly here,” Dan affirmed. “The end of this path is the biting snake and the cross path is the snake it’s biting.”

  They examined every inch of the intersection. If the “Medusa” truly was a map, it didn’t seem to lead to any treasure.

  “They never make it easy,” Dan groaned. He picked up a rock and began tapping at the walls, searching for a hollow sound.

  “Good idea.” Amy reached down for a similar-size stone at her feet. It wouldn’t budge. She pulled harder, using both hands. There was movement, not just from the rock but from the ground under her feet.

  “Dan — help me out with this.”

  The two got down on their knees and pulled with all their might. There was a scraping noise, and a large piece of stone floor lifted away. They pushed it aside and turned their attention to the opening it left behind.

  In the hollow lay a bundle wrapped in ancient cloth that had mostly disintegrated into its component threads. The material parted under Amy’s touch to reveal a rounded piece of cracked and dry wood. When they noted the convex shape, they gazed at each other in wonder.

  “It’s a shield,” Dan breathed. “Just like —”

  “Wait a minute!” Amy interrupted. “Remember the legend? Caravaggio’s ‘Medusa’ was supposed to be based on an earlier shield by Leonardo Da Vinci. It was never found — and this is probably the
reason why.”

  She directed her narrow beam of light onto the object. All that remained of the image that had once been painted there were faint shadings on the wood.

  “It’s gone,” Dan observed.

  “A lot of Da Vinci’s work didn’t last,” Amy added.

  It took a moment to sink in. The shield in her hand had once held an image created by the greatest artist of all time.

  She set it down and they turned their attention to the other item in the ragged bundle.

  “A book?” mused Dan.

  It was a large manuscript, its pages sewn with thick cords and bound into heavy leather covers. Amy opened it to the inside leaf. It was written in elegant calligraphy and fading ink. But what was the language? French? She recognized the word monde, which meant world. But Amy had studied French, and this wasn’t it.

  Pounding feet echoed in the tunnel. The Cahills looked up to find a slight figure coming their way. Amy raised the key chain light beam. Atticus.

  The younger boy was out of breath. “Whatever you’re doing, hurry! Jake went to rat you out to security!”

  Amy slammed the manuscript shut, but not before the prodigy had seen the title page. “Where did you get that?”

  “What—this?” babbled Dan, searching his mind for an explanation and coming up totally empty.

  “It’s The Travels of Marco Polo!” Atticus breathed reverently.

  “No, it isn’t,” Amy denied. “It’s in a weird language — almost like French.”

  The prodigy dropped to his knees beside them. “It is French — Old French. The original title was Books of the Wonders of the World. In Italian they call it Il Milione—The Million.” His hands passed delicately and lovingly over a few pages. “This is an astonishing find! How did you know it was here?”

  The Cahills’ eyes met. They couldn’t tell him. No way.

  “It’s a really long story,” Dan offered, “and I promise to explain it to you one day. But not now.”

  Atticus was too absorbed in the pages to take offense. “There’s an epilogue!” he exclaimed in an awed whisper. “Something I’ve never seen before — and I’ve read Il Milione at least ten times! Do you know what this means? This isn’t just an original; it’s Marco Polo’s original — dictated to Rustichello da Pisa at the end of the thirteenth century!”