Page 118 of Hope and Happiness in Bluebell Wood
Today, Tori makes her way across the field towards Merlin and me.
‘We’re good, thank you,’ I reply. ‘How’s it going in there?’
‘Great, we’ve had a bit of luck today, actually.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘It’s a bit odd, really, but I thought of you when it happened because of what you discovered on your bird table.’
My ears immediately prick up.
‘We all arrived this morning at eight, like we usually do, and almost at once we noticed a huge flock of birds circling over a part of the field we haven’t started excavating yet.’
‘Go on,’ I say, keen to hear more. It was beginning to sound very similar to what had happened on the morning of our secret dig.
‘We didn’t think anything of it at first, but the birds seemed to be persistently diving close to the ground, a bit like seabirdsdo when they’re trying to catch fish. This struck me as unusual behaviour for country birds, so a couple of us went over to investigate what they were doing, and we found they were actually digging at the ground with their beaks, disturbing the earth. We were about to turn away and leave them to it, when my colleague noticed that there was something sticking up from the area they were attacking. We didn’t know if we could get any closer to it because the birds were constantly taking turns to dive on the ground, but when we tried, they immediately stopped to allow us near, and then they simply circled over our heads like they were watching us.’
Even though I sensed Tori was struggling to believe this had actually happened, I had absolutely no problem in imagining the scene. I’d seen the birds of Bluebell Wood in action before.
‘And what did you find?’ I ask eagerly, knowing without a doubt that there was going to be something.
‘To begin with it looked like the stone tip of a bird’s wing, of all things. So immediately we got some tools and began to carefully pull back the earth. As we got deeper we discovered what we thought must be a stone statue. Usually when we find things like this, it turns out to be something like a Victorian garden statue or a gargoyle from a derelict building, but very quickly we realised not only were we unearthing a bird, but it looked very much like an eagle.’
‘An eagle,’ I repeat, amazed to hear this. The birds had presented me with many small items over the last few months, but this was on another level. ‘Really?’
Tori nods. ‘We tried not to get too excited at this point. Just because it was an eagle, it didn’t mean it wasn’t still from a modern era, even though eagles are, of course, synonymous with the Roman Empire.’
I hadn’t realised the significance, but I nod anyway.
‘It took a while, but finally we were able to ease it from the ground. We could see then it was very definitely an eagle; it’s missing a part of its wing and a little of its beak, but it’s in incredible condition for its age. I can’t tell you how exciting this is for us, Ava – this eagle is possibly over two thousand years old, according to our initial tests on the stone.’
‘Wow! That’s incredible. What was the eagle used for – decoration?’
‘More than likely in this case it would have been to decorate a mausoleum for burying their dead. People think of Roman legions proudly carrying eagles on their standards as they marched across the country, but they were also a funerary emblem and often stood at the entrances to cemeteries.’
‘There could have been a cemetery here too?’ I say, looking out into the field.
‘Perhaps not right here. Roman cemeteries were usually a little removed from the settlement, so the decaying bodies didn’t infect the water supply. But there would definitely have been some sort of cemetery in the area. The Romans thought a lot about death; what happened to your body after you died was very important to them, and remember we’re not that far from Cambridge here, and the Roman road at Ermine Street, so nothing turning up here would surprise me. Roman artefacts, and coins in particular, turn up all over this area in great abundance, not from Roman soldiers’ barracks necessarily, but more likely from small settlements of people living off the land.’
‘Gosh,’ I say, looking out over the fields, the houses and the trees, trying to imagine Bluebell Wood as it might have been back then.
‘Would you like to see the eagle?’
‘Yes please.’
‘Pop Merlin on his lead, then, and I’ll show you.’
We walk across the field towards a large white tent. Tori opens up the flaps and we go inside.
In the tent a few trestle tables are filled with some of the items the dig has found so far, all lined up and individually tagged. Around that are a few chairs and bags belonging to the dig staff, some tools, and a small stove and kettle next to a table with some mugs, plates and cutlery.
‘I’ve just brought Ava in to see the eagle,’ Tori explains to a woman sitting at one of the tables with a laptop and several large books in front of her. ‘Ava is one of the reasons we’re here in Bluebell Wood.’
The woman nods, and smiles at me.
‘Over here,’ Tori says, walking over to a tarpaulin laid out on the ground. There’s a large mound on the tarpaulin covered in a sheet. She lifts the sheet carefully to reveal what looks to me very much like an old stone garden ornament. ‘Here he is,’ she says proudly.
I stare at the eagle; it’s hard to imagine it could be two thousand years old. It looks just like something someone might have purchased from a garden centre, and had sat discarded in their backyard for a bit too long. Considering its age, I’m surprised I can clearly make out the eagle’s face, beak, and the details of its feathers.
