Nose Uncle Page 4

  ‘Are we going on that?’ said Ram, his eyes shining with excitement.

  ‘Absolutely,’ nodded Nose Uncle.

  ‘Isn’t it going to be rather slow?’ said Nisha.

  ‘What’s the hurry? We’re not in a rush to get there. In any case, it will carry our digging equipment, as well as food and drink. We couldn’t have got anything much on the rickshaw. And there’s one more reason that I want to use the bullock cart, as you’ll soon find out. Now, no more questions. Get on board both of you.’

  They climbed the back of the cart while Nose Uncle sat in front beside Siva.

  ‘Now for the disguise,’ he said, and took an old towel from his bag and wrapped it round his head. Amazingly, he suddenly looked like any other farmer on his way to the fields.

  ‘You two just snuggle down,’ said Nose Uncle, ‘and make yourselves comfortable.’

  ‘May I ask one last question?’ said Nisha.

  Nose Uncle peered at her over his half-moon spectacles. ‘Go on,’ he said.

  ‘Well, why do you have to wear a disguise?’

  Nose Uncle tapped the side of his magnificent nose with his forefinger.

  ‘Nose is telling me we’ve not heard the last from the villains, who we disturbed in the field last night. I’m not taking any chances; this could be dangerous. Come on, Siva, let’s hit the road.’

  Siva tapped the bullock on the rump with his long stick and they were off.

  Chapter 9

  The East Coast Road is seldom free of traffic. Buses, both large and small, lorries, tankers, cars, auto rickshaws and bicycles try to see who can go the fastest, except for the most ancient form of transport of all, the bullock cart. Over the centuries, it has gone along at its own speed, taking no notice of anyone else on the road, carrying bricks, hay, wooden poles or anything else needed in the countryside, including, of course, the farmers themselves. But they must never have carried a famous archaeologist with a famous nose along with his young niece and nephew, on their way to an ancient castle.

  The cart creaked and swayed as the bullock steadily plodded along the road. Buses honked and taxis hooted impatiently as they tried to overtake the cart, but the bullock only shook its head, as if it were ridding itself of bothersome flies.

  The children covered their faces with their handkerchiefs, against the black smoke that the traffic left behind. Nevertheless, they enjoyed the ride, noticing things that they would never have spotted from a faster vehicle.

  ‘Look,’ Nisha pointed to the birds sitting on the telephone wires that ran along the side of the road. ‘A bee eater!’

  ‘And there’s a drongo,’ added Ram who, like his sister, had been brought up by their parents as keen bird watchers.

  ‘And a kingfisher!’

  ‘What’s going on back there?’ asked Nose Uncle over his shoulder.

  ‘We’re spotting birds,’ Ram told him.

  ‘Nothing wrong with that,’ said Nose Uncle, ‘but I think you should also keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary.’

  ‘What sort of thing?’

  ‘You won’t know until it happens. Now, keep your eyes skinned.’

  So they took turns to watch the road and spot birds. It was not until about half an hour later that Nisha sat up straight and stared at the road behind them.

  ‘Nose Uncle,’ she called. ‘That red car has passed us before, at least three times. Why would it do that?’

  Nose Uncle, avoiding any sudden movement, casually turned in his seat next to Siva, covering Nose with his hand. He studied the traffic and then slowly returned to his original position.

  ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘I have a feeling that it’s been looking for my rickshaw. Eventually they are going to realize that it isn’t on the road, and then they’ll start looking for it elsewhere. At least we now know we are not alone.’

  ‘But who are they?’ said Ram.

  ‘No friends of ours,’ said Nose Uncle, ‘of that you can be sure. I’ve no idea what they are up to, so keep your faces covered. But just take a few moments to think. Who knew we were going to start digging somewhere else?’

  Nisha and Ram looked at each other and then they got it.

  ‘Lentil Brain!’ they shouted together.

  ‘Right. And why do you think this red car might be looking out for us?’

  ‘To see where we are going,’ said Nisha.

  ‘You’ve got it. Now let’s see if we can give them a run for their money.’

  Twice more the red car passed them, first going one way and then returning on the other side of the road. Not once did the occupants, hidden behind smoked glass windows, give even a second glance at the ancient bullock cart creaking its way along the road towards Alamparai.

  Eventually, Siva clicked his tongue at the bullock, heaved on the reins and the cart turned off the main road. It followed a small tarred but potholed track between groups of small shops down in the direction of the sea.

  At first they passed through several paddy fields and clumps of coconut palms. Then suddenly, after the bullock had strained up a small rise, they saw a cluster of freshly built, but still largely uninhabited, modern houses painted the colour of clay.

  ‘Houses for those made homeless by the tsunami of 2004,’ said Nose Uncle before they could ask. ‘This part of the coast was badly affected, as you’ll soon see.’

  The road fell away towards the sea, and they could now see the ruins of a small temple here, with a new one rising by its side, and then a succession of destroyed mud houses. Beyond, glistening in the morning sun, they had their first glimpse of the sea, now smooth and peaceful and, to the right, the tall brick wall of an ancient fort—Alamparai.

  The cart came to a halt by a noticeboard that gave some of the history of the fort and explained that this was a historic site.

  The children clambered down and ran towards the walls. There they realized that there was not just one but a whole series of walls enclosing a large area and running down to the sea. Inside, there were several mounds of rubble covered by sand and thorny bushes under several tall spindly palm trees.

  ‘It’s huge!’ said Nisha.

  ‘There could be treasure buried here,’ said Ram, who had read on the noticeboard that coins had once been minted here in the time of the Mughal Empire.

  ‘This isn’t Roman, is it?’ asked Nisha. ‘The board says it was built by the Mughals.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Nose Uncle, who had been giving instructions to Siva to unload the cart and telling him the time when to pick them up. ‘But there are also records of Roman material, particularly coins, having been found here. And I mean to see if we can find some more. This was once a mini-port, and my nose tells me that there is much to be found here.’

  ‘But where will we start?’ said Ram.

  ‘Wait,’ said Nose Uncle. ‘Let my nose do its work.’

  The children sat down by a ruined stone staircase leading up to the battlements. They watched while Nose Uncle walked around the inner castle, his nose in the air, much to the bewilderment of a couple of visitors sitting on the grass with a small baby. Ram soon lost interest and started watching two lizards that were scurrying among the brickwork, seeking warmer places to sun themselves. Nisha, however, followed what Nose Uncle was doing.

  Nose Uncle walked up and down in a careful pattern slowly covering all the ground. At the same time, as he sniffed the air, he was also peering at the layout of the ruins, ticking off bumps and mounds in his head. Suddenly he stopped, his nose was quivering and had turned slightly pink. He raised an arm and waved to the children, who ran over to join him.

  ‘Have you found something?’ asked Ram, clearly still hopeful of discovering buried treasure.

  ‘This spot,’ declared Nose Uncle, ‘is at the heart of the fort, but has a different feel about it. In those days, people often built on top of older buildings and I think that is what has happened here. I believe that if we dig here, we shall find traces of an earlier building.’r />
  Nisha frowned. ‘This is an official historic site,’ she said. ‘It says so on that board by the entrance. Surely we will need permission from the central authorities to dig here?’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Nose Uncle, feeling in his pocket and pulling out a crumpled envelope. ‘And here it is.’

  ‘So do we start digging right now?’ asked Ram.

  ‘No. There are people about and it’s better if we have a little privacy. It’ll soon be mid-day, when most sensible people will be off having lunch. That’s when we’ll start investigating. Until then, I’ll mark the spot,’ and he bent down and stuck into the ground a red plastic peg that he fished out of his pocket.

  ‘Now we’ll sit down in the shade of that wall over there and wait. And not just for noon.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Nisha.

  ‘I mean,’ explained Nose Uncle, ‘that for the past fifteen minutes someone has been watching us.’

  Chapter 10

  ‘Stay calm,’ muttered Nose Uncle. ‘Carry on as normal. Don’t give any sign that you think we are being observed.’

  ‘You don’t appear very surprised,’ said Nisha. She was beginning to understand that, with Nose Uncle, things weren’t always what they seemed.

  ‘I’m not,’ said Nose Uncle. ‘I’ve been expecting this.’

  ‘Why?’ said Ram, trying hard not to look around him.

  ‘Because right from the start of this business, someone has been after me and my discoveries. That’s why I didn’t make any secret about what we were going to do next. I guessed that we would be followed and we were. The only surprise is how quickly they realized that we hadn’t taken the rickshaw and then found out where we were. That suggests only one thing to me.’

  ‘What’s that?’ said Ram.

  ‘Do you think we are bugged?’ suggested Nisha who read detective stories.

  ‘Unlikely,’ answered Nose Uncle. ‘No, I think they’ve got lookouts at every known archaeological site in the area.’

  ‘I don’t understand why,’ said Nisha. ‘What are they after?’

  ‘That’s what we have to find out,’ Nose Uncle was thoughtful. ‘I’m beginning to have an idea. Just one other thing bothers me.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I’d always thought Lentil Brain a bit of an idiot, but I never suspected he was into something fishy. That’s worrying.’

  ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘What we were already planning to do—dig. If I’m right, we won’t be left alone for long.’

  It was noon. The sun was high in the sky. The shadows cast by the ruined battlements grew smaller and hotter. The two children really did not want to leave the shade and follow Nose Uncle to the spot he had marked with the red plastic peg.

  ‘Now,’ he began, ‘archaeology is about being careful and thorough. It is no good attacking with a mechanical digger, even if we had one, or with a spade. That way it is so easy to miss evidence. So we begin with our hands and with this,’ and he produced a small trowel and an even smaller paint brush. ‘These are the tools of my trade. Now, you start clearing the sand carefully with your fingers and tell me if you find anything, however small.’

  They knelt down on the hot sand, using their handkerchiefs to protect their knees. Then they began clawing back the surface soil and sand. It was slow work and Ram was impatient to get at what he still called ‘treasure’. But the thought that someone was watching them slowed him down and he tried to concentrate on what he was doing.

  Nisha kept tossing back her plaits that continually swung across in front of her, getting in the way of her digging. In the end, she kept them in check with an old green cap produced by Nose Uncle out of his endlessly deep pockets.

  It took over half an hour of slow and careful activity before they made their first find.

  The hole was now about eighteen inches deep, and it was Ram who found it right at the bottom of the hole.

  ‘Look,’ he cried. ‘Look what I’ve found!’

  He held up a small round object of a greenish colour. It was encrusted with dirt.

  ‘What is it?’ said Nisha, wiping the sweat from her forehead and welcoming the chance of a break.

  ‘Let me see,’ said Nose Uncle. He held the object in the palm of his hand. ‘Well done,’ he remarked. ‘If I’m not mistaken, this is a copper coin.’

  ‘How do you know it’s made of copper?’ challenged Ram, proud of his find.

  ‘The colour,’ said Nose Uncle. ‘Copper usually turns green when exposed for a long time to air.’

  ‘Is it really a coin?’ said Nisha, looking doubtfully at the small dirty blob in Nose Uncle’s hand.

  ‘Oh, yes, I think so. But there’s only one way to find out. Would you please pass me a water bottle?’

  Nisha did as she was asked. She watched with fascination as Nose Uncle poured a small but steady stream of water over the object. Then, very carefully, he began to prise away the encrusted soil.

  ‘See?’ and he held up the cleaned object. They could clearly see that it was indeed a small copper coin. ‘Now, let’s find out if it can tell us when it was made.’

  They were so busy examining their find that they failed to hear someone approaching them from behind. It was only when a shadow fell across them that they looked up and saw that they were no longer alone.

  ‘Hullo, Professor,’ said Rigolet.

  ‘Ah, Rigolet, what kept you?’ asked Nose Uncle, not looking in the least bit surprised. ‘We’ve been expecting you.’

  ‘You have?’ Rigolet looked puzzled. He was dressed in white linen trousers, a blue shirt and a red kerchief round his neck. He was wearing a straw hat. Nisha had to admit that he looked rather dashing. Ram, on the other hand, wished he were a dog so that he could bite Rigolet on the ankle.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But how …?’

  ‘My dear fellow, every time I am working on a dig, you pop up out of nowhere. It’s as if you smell out where we are, in the hope of picking at the bones of our discoveries.’

  ‘That’s not very complimentary.’

  ‘It’s not meant to be. But now that you’re here, you can lend a hand.’

  Rigolet was startled. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You tell me you’re a professional archaeologist, so you can give me your opinion on what we’ve just found,’ and he opened his palm to show the foreigner Ram’s coin.

  Rigolet took off his straw hat and wiped his face. He reluctantly took the coin and took a close look at it. After a few minutes he handed it back.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘It’s very old and worn. I’d need to have it cleaned before I pass judgement.’ He paused. ‘What do you think it is? Mughal Empire?’

  ‘I see you’ve read the noticeboard,’ sniffed Nose Uncle. ‘No, it’s not Mughal. It’s an 18th century British halfpenny.’

  ‘British?’

  ‘Yes, they fought the French here, after the French took over the fort from the local nawab.’

  Rigolet smiled scornfully. ‘How can you be so sure it’s British? Could it not be French?’

  Nose Uncle stared at him. ‘You should do more homework,’ he said. ‘The size is the main sign of where it comes from. I’ll send you some references, including a paper I wrote on the subject some years ago. Now, you’ve obviously not come all this way just for a chat. What do you want?’

  The sun was getting even hotter and Rigolet’s face, despite the straw hat, was getting redder by the minute. Nisha and Ram, too, felt that a spell in the shade would be a welcome break. Nose Uncle must have read their minds.

  ‘Let’s go under those trees over there,’ he said, before Rigolet could answer. They crossed over the burning hot sand and reached the slightly cooler protection of a clump of palm trees where a faint sea breeze brought some relief. From here, the children could see and hear the waves breaking on the shore. The sea was still and empty, save for a small fishing boat heading back to the village.

  ‘R
ight,’ said Nose Uncle, when they had made themselves comfortable and had had a drink from their water bottles. ‘Now speak up, Rigolet. I have work to do.’

  Rigolet licked his lips. His fingers played with the kerchief round his neck as he spoke.

  ‘I need your help,’ he said. ‘There’s something going on and I don’t mind admitting I’m scared.’ He smiled weakly. ‘I know you’ll think I’m stupid, but I think my site is haunted.

  Chapter 11

  ‘Haunted?’ snorted Nose Uncle. ‘Are you referring to that business last night when someone interfered with the dig? Lent … er … Chandrasekar told me all about it. It’s either goondas or thieves, but I doubt very much that ghosts were involved. If it really bothers you, go to the police. They are the ones who should be sorting it out.’

  ‘No,’ said Rigolet. ‘Not the police; none of us want that. In any case, it’s not that business that’s bothering me. It’s, well, something else.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Nose Uncle, making a great play at looking at his watch. ‘But please keep it short. My assistants and I are rather busy,’ and he turned away so that Rigolet could not see his face as he winked at Ram and Nisha.

  ‘Well,’ said Rigolet, ‘you see, it’s happened before. The haunting, I mean. I’ve been digging here in India for nearly six months now and on each occasion things have happened.’

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘At first I didn’t think too much of it, but when it happened again and then yet again, well, it made me think.’

  ‘That’s more than I can do,’ said Nose Uncle. ‘You’re not exactly making yourself clear.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s difficult to pin down, but, on every dig I’ve been on, there have been strange noises in the night. At first I put it down to animals; you know, jackals, monkeys or whatever, but they didn’t sound like animal noises. When my workers ran off back to their villages, I knew that something very eerie was going on.’