Free The Dig by John Preston Page A

remembered that old Bright-ling had never been much of a one for cataloguing. Nor had his successor made much effort to improve matters, not by the look of it. In one drawer alone I found a boxful of Bronze Age arrowheads, three half-hunter watches — one missing the back of its case as well as one of the hands — and a container of Joyce’s anti-corrosive percussion gunpowder, along with several packets of mustard seed apparently from the Garden Tomb in Jerusalem.
    After half an hour my mouth was dry and I wished I’d accepted that tea. Still, it was too late now. I was crouched down, searching through one of the lower drawers, when I saw a piece of purple cloth. It was all tattered round the edges, with threads coming away. I picked up the cloth and realized it had been rolled round something. Something heavy and cylindrical.
    When I unrolled the cloth, there it was. I took out the first piece of iron that I’d found at Sutton Hoo and compared them. The one in the drawer was smaller, but the same shape. Any fool could have seen that. Underneath it was a typed label giving the date of discovery, along with the place where it had been found: May 1870, Snape Common.
    I turned the label over. Handwritten on the back was an identification. Or a possible identification at least — whoever had written it had stuck a question mark on the end to cover themselves. I must have stayed staring at the label for several minutes. Trying to take it in and think through the implications. Steady on, Basil, I told myself. Easy does it. But even as I was doing so, I could hear my heart thumping. As for my mouth, it was drier than ever.
    Rolling up the piece of iron in the purple cloth, I put it back in the drawer with the label. On my way out, I thanked the woman behind the desk for her help.
    “Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.
    “Not sure exactly,” I told her.
    “I do hope you haven’t had a wasted trip,” she said. “Do be sure to give my regards to Mr. Reid Moir, won’t you?”
    “Oh, I will,” I promised. “I will.”
    Needless to say the blasted ferry was on the opposite bank when I got back to Slaughden. I had to stand and wait while it idled its way across. On the way back it began spitting with rain again. I cycled as fast as I could. By the time I’d coveredthe eight miles to Sutton Hoo House I was wheezing away like Puffing Billy.
    John and Will were waiting inside the shepherd’s hut. Mrs. Pretty’s boy, Robert, was in there too. I can’t say I was best pleased to see him. Right at that moment, I didn’t want any distractions.
    “Any joy, Baz?” asked Will.
    “Come with me, will you, lads,” I said. “And bring the tape measure.”
    We went back outside. Before we started, I remembered to take a note of the time. It was just after five thirty. Next, I knelt down where John had found the first piece of metal. I took the tape measure and measured off six inches to the second patch of colored sand. Then, carrying on in a straight line, I looked for another pink patch six inches away.
    There was nothing. I brushed around to make sure. No, definitely nothing. I couldn’t understand this. It must be there, I thought — it has to be. Then I realized I was being an idiot. Naturally they wouldn’t be in a straight line. They’d have to widen out as they went along. Of course they would.
    Moving half a pace to the left, I tried there. This time, I had to go a little deeper, but soon the pinkish sand began to show through, just like before. Within half an hour I had uncovered five patches of pink sand. All of them were the same distance apart, but spreading out towards the edge of the trench. Each one set a little deeper than the one before.
    “What is it?” the boy kept asking. “What have you found, Mr. Brown?”
    I didn’t want to tell him. But it wasn’t just him. I didn’t want to tell anybody. Not for a little longer. Once I did, everything would be out in the open. Then there’d