‘Stay where you are, Emily,’ Garland ordered. He dismounted and approached the vast figure, its back reddened with blood. He knelt by its side and held his fingers to the side of Andros’s neck.
‘He is dead,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘He has been shot in the back.’
‘The sound we heard?’
‘No, he has been dead for some time. We shall have to carry him with us. We must give him a decent burial when we can.’
Garland shouted instructions to his hired men, who reluctantly climbed down from their mounts.
‘Ain’t the only one we might have to bury,’ remarked Quint, who had slid down from behind Giorgios and was standing in the middle of the path, arms akimbo.
‘What the blazes do you mean, Devlin?’
Quint pointed to a small knoll of earth a hundred yards away. Beneath the inadequate shade of a stunted tree was another figure. It was clearly that of a man.
Garland began to walk rapidly towards it, followed at a more leisurely pace by Quint. As they did so, the figure suddenly raised itself on its arms.
‘He is still alive,’ Emily cried.
The two men broke into a trot. As they did so, the figure sank into the earth again and remained motionless.
‘It’s Rallis,’ Garland called, as he neared the crumpled shape. He squatted on his haunches by the side of the Greek lawyer. ‘He has been shot in the back as well, but he is breathing.’
The rock was lying inches from Adam’s left foot. It was a tempting weapon if only he could reach down to pick it up. But how was he to do that with Fields’s revolver trained upon him?
‘Now I have told you all I wish to tell you, Adam,’ the professor said. ‘And I must leave you. Garland, I think, is within a few miles of us. Unlike Prometheus, you will not have to remain in your chains for long. Nor will an eagle devour your liver. Although it will be uncomfortable down there in the mud we have dug.’
Fields nodded in the direction of the trench. Still pointing the gun at his young protégé’s heart, he motioned towards his horse.
‘There is strong rope enough to bind you, I believe. It is looped around the pommel of the saddle on this beast behind me.’
‘I can see it,’ Adam acknowledged.
‘I think it would be best if you took it off yourself. Then drop it at your feet.’
Fields began to back and wheel slowly to his left, allowing Adam a path to walk towards the horse. The young man was about to move forward when he saw that the professor was edging in the direction of two mounds of earth, upturned from the trench earlier in the day. He chose to wait for a moment.
‘Come, Adam. We have not all day.’ Fields gestured impatiently. As he did so, his foot caught on one of the piles of earth and he stumbled slightly. Involuntarily, he swung the gun away from the young man’s body. Adam saw his chance. In one swift movement, he ducked to the ground, seized the rock and threw it at the professor. It struck the older man a glancing blow on the forehead and he stumbled still further. Adam, pushing up from his crouching position, hurled himself towards Fields and the gun. He collided with him just as the professor was recovering his balance and both men crashed to the ground. Winded, Adam still managed to seize the barrel of the revolver with one hand. Fields, spread-eagled beneath him, was clinging desperately to the gun as well. With a strength that belied his years, he succeeded in pushing Adam off him but the young man, realising that his life depended upon it, refused to let go of the gun barrel. The two of them rolled over one another, the weapon trapped between them. Both had their hands upon it but neither could claim possession of it.
As they continued to grapple near the edge of the trench, clouds of dust rose about them. Both men began to cough. The revolver was still caught between their bodies. Adam felt his head and shoulders being forced over the lip of the trench and fought back as best he could but his opponent seemed to possess the vigour of a man decades younger than he was. The young man could sense that Fields was gaining the upper hand. He himself was slipping further and further into the earthwork they had dug. He clung desperately to the barrel of the gun as his feet scrabbled to keep a purchase on the upturned soil. Fields continued to push his upper body over the edge. Adam could feel his balance slowly going but he would not let go of the revolver. That was the only thought that still possessed him. Keep hold of the gun. For what seemed like long minutes, the two men swayed on the rim, spluttering and struggling.
Then the professor, in his effort to hurl Adam into the pit, momentarily lost his own balance and involuntarily reached out a hand to steady himself. It was enough. The younger man was able to snatch the revolver wholly from the professor’s grasp, but as he did so, the world gave way beneath him. He tumbled backwards into the trench. His fall was accompanied by a deafening roar as the gun went off. There was a scream from Fields. Adam, plummeting backwards into the earthwork, struck his head against its solid floor. A black pool appeared before him and he dove gratefully into its depths.
When he came round, Adam was still sprawled in the trench like an upturned beetle. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious. He stared up at the cloudless blue sky. He attempted gingerly to move his arms and legs and found, to his relief, that he could do so. He reached a hand around to the back of his head and winced as he felt an egg-shaped lump on his scalp. Hearing a voice, he froze. Could Fields still be up there on the surface? Surely he would have fled the camp by now? Unless Adam was dead, and this was a poor version of the afterlife, the professor had clearly shown him mercy after his fall into the pit. But he would not have lingered long before departing, would he? The voice could be heard again. Certainly it sounded familiar. What was it shouting? Adam sought to sit up in the trench but he found that many of his muscles refused to obey him. He was obliged to remain where he was. The voice echoed in his head, evoking memories which he could not quite place. He knew the rhythms and timbre of it so well. It must be Fields. As he strove to gather his scattered wits, a dark figure appeared over the edge of the trench and looked down at him. Silhouetted against the light, it spoke.
‘You planning on being down there all day?’ the figure asked.
It was Quint.
Adam found that he could now move. He hauled himself to his feet and reached up his hand to his manservant.
‘Get me out of here, Quint. I feel like Hades in the Underworld.’
Quint seized hold of him and, with his assistance, Adam was able to hoist himself out of the earthwork. Once again on the surface, he brushed as much of the soil from his clothing as he could and shook his hair free of the earth lodged in it.
‘We been shouting for the last five minutes,’ Quint said, in a tone of voice that suggested Adam had been deliberately concealing himself, like a child playing hide-and-seek.
‘We?’
Quint nodded in the direction of the camp. Adam could see horses tethered to posts. Two figures were making their way towards them. Blinking in the fierce sunlight, he could just recognise Garland and Emily.
‘Where’s the professor?’ he asked. ‘Was he still here when you returned?’
‘You could say that,’ his servant said.
‘Well, where is he now? He must be apprehended. His mind is overthrown. He is a danger to us all.’
By way of reply, Quint inclined his head again, this time towards a pile of earth they had upturned when they had all first arrived at Koutles. Lying across it was what Adam at first thought was a pile of old clothes. He moved a step towards it and realised that it was Fields. His body lolled back across the ground as if it had been dropped from on high. The whole of his front was stained red with blood and innards. Adam could imagine only too well what had happened. In falling into the trench, while still clinging to the gun, he had inadvertently pulled the trigger. The full force of the shot had taken Fields in the midriff, virtually eviscerating him. He had staggered backwards to collapse and die on a mound of newly turned Greek earth.