Excavating a Monastery 3 By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com.
This excavation had split personality. Part was digging ditches in the same way our ancient ancestors farmed. The other part used sophisticated, space-age equipment and analysis. Radar was a seventy-year-old technology. Carbon dating has been used in archaeology for fifty years. The advanced scanning ability is more recent and was dependent on the development of personal computers. We had personal computers that could do more than older mainframes.
Due to Skippy and Alastair's personal interests, we soon had an outbreak of computer technicians working with us. Some were connected online, but a trailer appeared with a three-man crew. It was loaded with computers and wireless connections to the world. It had solar collectors, batteries, and a windmill array for power. It seemed as if Skippy attracted guys with good ideas like a magnet. Roger ran the trailer operation. Roger struck me as a genius trapped in the body of a social cripple. His pals, Scotty and Bruce could say hello in a convincing way, but they weren't young sophisticates.
They had a 3-D printer and made a full-sized replica of a votive crown from the data gathered from our probe. Through data manipulation they identified damaged objects. We found a cluster of smashed fragments on the floor. Their computers reconstructed the fragments into a gold and crystal chalice. It was the sort of thing we might have been tempted to sweep away.
While Roger lacked people skills, he had an unexpected taste for sheep. He was London born and educated. He had no knowledge of the countryside at all. He liked the sheep and they liked him. When an ewe died after giving, birth Roger saved the lamb and got instructions from the MacCalls on how to feed it. That involved waking at strange hours. That was no problem for Roger, who's hours were erratic anyway. That endeared him to the MacCalls, and they seemed to get on well.
I was working on the church excavation and planning the opening of the cave chamber. Scotty ran computer simulations of ancient wool exposed to fresh air after 1,000 years. Some ancient wool fabrics had been found, so he used them to calculate the strength of our fabrics. Bruce was into trucks and he was working on achieving museum standard climate control on the trucks that would take the finds to museums.
It was strange to be in a situation where money was of no concern. Both Skippy and Alistair were money magnets; everything they touched turned to gold. They both could recognize a good idea with potential and were willing to support it financially.
Our immediate task was related to the recently discovered sculpted slab. The slab was wonderful, but the hollow sound we heard when it was struck by a shovel accidentally was even better. An undisturbed burial of a high-status Dark Age person was unknown. We were clearing the area of a layer of organic material and a layer of charcoal and ash around the slab. We found the original paving and a skeleton.
It wasn't a plain old skeleton, while the skull had been fractured, the rest was intact. We found the metal remains of a helmet and a sword. The design of the items was Viking. We apparently found the body of one of the men who attacked the monastery.
I am not a specialist in Viking materials, but it looked as if the skeleton was an important man. Was he looting the church when the roof collapsed? If he was important, why wasn't the body collected? I wondered if the attack was aborted and the Vikings had to make a quick getaway. Perhaps there was a counter-attack or a potential counter-attack.
We also knew the most important of the monasteries' treasures were hidden. The Vikings may not have had time to search for it. They hadn't found the treasure and didn't have time to recover the body.
The Gustem Hall excavations told us about Romano-Celtic fertility-sex cults, but there was no dramatic story to the place, except for the homosexual-sex rites. This site seemed to have a cinematic story to tell. If a movie were to be made of Gustem, it would have been a homosexual orgy. Sincalum would require a mid-20th Century epic with Errol Flynn or Kirk Douglas.
Of course, the skeleton slowed our effort to see what was under the slab. There was a rainstorm on the way, so we removed the skeleton and put a tent over the slab. By five, the storm was nearing. We could hear the thunder. We had to leave and went to shut down some of the electric equipment. The electronic equipment in Roger's trailer was well grounded and the trailer was secured. Roger, Scotty, and Bruce came to the MacCall house for the night. They had backed up all their data to Oxford and St. Andrews.
Roger got along with the MacCalls. Scotty was a good cook and dinner was impressive. After dinner everyone was tired and went to bed early after a shower.
The MacCalls were smart and perceptive. David and Roger got along well, due to a common interest in sheep. Somehow, David discovered the shortest route to Roger's heart was through his ass. Roger had a little experience, but he had not found a cock that was a perfect fit before David.
Bruce bunked with Mud, and Scotty was with me. Scotty's parents had been Star Trek fans, and he was named after the Chief Engineer. He was a combination of computer nerd and artist. He thought he was just printing out the data of the scans, but they were always beautiful. I think he naturally gravitated towards the beautiful.
Scotty had unruly red hair and a more unruly red beard. He seemed to think he had a German and Spanish ancestry. I don't think red hair is characteristic of that ethnic background. He came with a sleeping bag and was okay on floor. I had some academic books on Celtic culture which he liked. I woke at two in the morning and he was still reading.
The storm passed during the night, and the next day was sunny and windy. Scotty came to the site. He knew it only by computer imagery. Mud and Olivia completed the removal of the Viking's bones, I worked on lifting the stone. I was worried the stone might be thin and prone to crack. Angus knew the stone came from a place ten miles away. He said it was rarely used since it was hard to quarry and difficult to work. He didn't think it was delicate.
We lifted the stone an inch and were greeted with a terrific stench. I was thinking of the curse of the Pharaohs legends so popular in the movies of the 1930s. We let it air and then lifted the stone. The problem was not the curse of the Pharaohs. It was small furry animals that came through a crack in the side and died. Water has seeped in and made a putrid stew. A portion of the skeleton remained. There was a gold pectoral cross and rings. No clothes remained, but Olivia noticed traces of gold thread.
The wind had finally abated, and we were able to photograph the pattern of the gold. It formed a cross. Days later when we removed the decayed animal stew in the bottom of the coffin, we found five, gold leaf medallions. The gold leaf had been backed with wood, that had decayed. The best preserved had an image of a lion, so I realized they were probably the apostles' symbols, and thus was the lion of St. Mark. There was a puzzling inscription. I took a while to realize it was in the Coptic alphabet.
This was a major find. Coptic Egypt was a center of early monasticism. The foil disk indicated a physical connection to Egypt. One fragment of wood survived. It carbon dated to 700 A.D. or so and was carved. The gold leaf covered the disk to make it look more impressive. The gold thread and medallions were part the vestments of the tomb's resident.
It was hard to believe these major finds were almost side shows compared to the objects in the cave. The men working on the cave men were mostly technical specialists who were concerned with the extraction of the finds without damage.
The next day we had to remove the stone wall sealing the chamber along with several especially equipped, constant temperature vans. There was a crew that called itself the Movers. Their specialty was moving delicate objects. The night before a lift arrived. It provided a less barebones way to get to the cave.
Roddy talked with the head of the Crew, Salvatore. It took ten minutes for Roddy and Salvatore to become friends. Salvatore had a Cockney accent and ran a tight ship. Roddy approved. Skippy had provided special equipment including a drill and a saw made of high strength metal and a vacuum that created dust free sawing.
They removed the sculpted panel in the middle of the opening first. That allowed some of the Movers to get into the space to identify and remove items that were in the way. Salvatore's crew expanded the opening to allow easy access. I watched the activity on a video link. We wanted as few people in the chamber as possible to avoid confusion and damage.
Two of the Mover's began removing the illuminated books. As soon as they were out of the cave, they were wrapped in some quilted material and placed in sealed boxes. Earlier, I had counted 23 books. The Movers recovered 42 volumes. It was the complete library. I had a vision of hundreds of doctoral dissertations flowing from those volumes. Only twenty had gold leaf bindings ornamented with jewels and enamels.
The Crew moved the smaller precious items to the vans and sent them off. The large sarcophagus and the fabric remained. We sealed off the cave and went home. I am not much into fabric, but I did recognize the cave might have the only complete set of clothing and vestments dating from this period. It was possibly the most important find of clothing from antiquity. It was the robes of a high-status man and would tell us a great deal about clothes and fabric manufacture.
We returned to the monastery. The cave became the domain of the fabric specialists. They were working out a way to move the fabric without turning the entire collection to dust. Archaeologists tend be obsessive, but we didn't approach the levels of the fabric guys.
The next day was supposed to be an off day for most of the crew. Everyone needed some rest. Many of the men went home. I was with the men who remained. It was a quiet and peaceful dinner and evening. I showered and went to my bedroom with Mud and Scotty. David and Eddie came in as we left. Roger was with the manuscripts at St. Andrews.
Somehow, they all came to my bedroom after the shower. Both Mud and David lacked having a single shy bone in their bodies. Scotty, Eddie, and I took their lead.
"By the way boys, I'm a sucker and a fucker. I top and bottom," David volunteered. "Is that a problem for anyone."
"Do you like to trade sperm?" Scotty asked.
"It's the milk of the gods!" David replied.
It developed into a friendly sexual romp. No one fell in love or discovered a great passion. No one dropped off the list as a potential great love or passionate lover. David and Scotty seemed to hit it off. I discovered that Eddie's cock was as friendly as he was. His cock seemed bigger in my ass than I had guessed.
Eddie was on the local Rugby team and they seemed to have an anal celebration of their victories. Eddie later confessed the sometimes buried their defeats in the asses of their teammates. Eddie's cock was big and a bit of a challenge, but it seemed friendly. It was a stealth cock, and I was surprised I was going to shoot off. David seemed to know I was close, so he and Mud took the load.
I fell asleep, but I dreamed of being repeatedly fucked. When I woke the next morning, Mud was still slowly massaging my ass with his cock. I wasn't sure if it was a dream. He pulled out and Scotty took his place.
"This is a nice way to start our day off," Scotty said.
It was to have been a day of rest and relaxation. Roger was with the manuscripts. The museum staff was not trained in post-Roman Latin or in the Celtic interpretation of it. Somehow Roger got them to allow him to photograph the pages of several manuscripts. Roger had what looked like an upscale cell phone. It was one of Skippy's creations. It produced high quality images and had a color sensor that recorded a color for every pixel. This corrected for the flash or daylight for the colors. He transmitted them to our computers.
Roger was an anal-retentive perfectionist. He quickly found the right settings for the camera and he was able to do remarkable amounts of work in a short amount of time. He could document a book in an hour.
The manuscript of the Homilies of St. Columba was richly illustrated and embellished. One of the Gospels was Coptic and illustrated in a style unknown to me. To the public the discovery of gold and bejeweled items was stunning. The books were the greatest discoveries for the academics. For the first time in the British Isles, we had discovered an entire monastery library. Before that we had a book here and a book there. Granted, the Book of Kells or the Lindisfarne Gospels were magnificent works of art, but they told us little about Celtic-Viking life or thought.
I thought back to my analysis of the Roman fertility rites and orgies of the Gustem Hall excavation. The Sincalum images could not have been more different. The books were beautiful, even the ones that were not illustrated. The lettering was beautiful and after working on two books I began to recognize the handwriting of several monks.
On Sunday, the news of the discovery leaked to the press and Sincalum was flooded with media. I felt sorry for them since I assumed Sincalum was regarded as a hardship assignment. It might have been more comfortable covering a mid-eastern guerilla war.
There was a formal press conference at Alistair's mansion. Alistair, Sparky, and I were the main speakers, but the press discovered Olivia had been involved. She and Mud described the chalice discovery. She looked stunning and Mud looked like something the cat dragged in. Both were articulate and modest. It was played as a beauty and the beast combination. That was good because it diverted the attention from me. I wanted to know exactly what we had discovered before I spoke about it.
The MacCalls took several reporters down the lift to the cave. A few reporters we brave enough to do it, but only one or two did it a second time. The next day we resumed digging at the top of the hill. The fabric people got their finds out of the cave and were happy to leave.
All the while Roger was taking his photographs of the manuscript pages. I started on manuscript called a Book of Days. It recorded the major events in the life of the monastery. Most of it described church holidays and events. I went to the last pages as the monastery was preparing for the inevitable Viking raid.
They had built an embankment and some walls. The plan was for the able-bodied men to man the embankment, while the older monks continuously prayed for forgiveness and victory. There was no mention of hiding the monastery's treasures. I doubted the Vikings could speak Latin, but it was better to be safe and not mention the monastery's wealth. The farmers who tended the monastery's farms had been sent away. There had been talk of having the men defend the monastery, but the Abbott said they needed to protect their families. They sent the farmers and their families inland away from the Vikings. That struck me as a generous act.
The fabric people finally lifted the cloth items in the cave, so we could get into it again. Most of the textiles were wool, and a little DNA testing indicated it was genetically related to the MacCall' s sheep. That was a breed once common in that part of Scotland. The wool was noted for its durability, somewhat waterproof qualities, and its warmth. They also discovered that the weaving techniques of 900A.D. we used up to the 1850s.
I had a trip to St. Andrews University to meet with the men and women translating the Monastery library. The library included illustrated volumes of great beauty. They were works of art. One book listed the rules governing monastic life, and several were the lives of saints. Many of these were unknown Celtic Saints and gave detailed information about "Dark Age" life and history. It was clear there was an active intellectual and religious life throughout the period.
The Life of Arthur was in a sealed biding. The binding had an animal-based glue attaching the leather to a wooden stiffener. At some point the glue dripped onto the pages and they were stuck together. A collection of technicians was trying to figure out how to unstick the book, without damaging the pages. The good news was that they had discovered the book was illuminated. They were afraid the glue might damage the paintings as they opened the book.
I was staying with Magnus Sorenson, the head of the technical lab. Magnus was a giant, six-feet-five, with an intellect to match. He was well known and respected in the small world of book restoration and preservation. There was pressure to move quickly. Magnus had his own speed.
"Since I am working with a work that might be the equivalent to the Mona Lisa of the Dark Ages, does spending extra time make any difference?" he asked me. "If we take shortcuts and damage the work, will anyone say the work was done quickly and damaging the work was a low price to pay?" I agreed with him.
He was all business in the lab, and he had assembled a top-notch crew to work on the books. At home he was relaxed and personable. He was a good cook and was a good conversationist. He knew all about the Gustem excavations since he knew Kenneth Keeper the owner the site. We had discussions of British Latin. I had found formal Latin inscriptions as well as scrawlings on tiles. This was the equivalent of the graffiti on Pompeian walls. It gave a much broader view of Romano-British literacy.
He mentioned that Kenneth told him I was a good man. "He mentioned you were a joy to have as a house guest, and most accommodating," he said.
"Kenneth was the perfect host who was accommodated am odd group of archaeologists without any fuss," I said. "He seemed to enjoy us."
"He mentioned you most tolerant of intimate encounters," Magnus said. "As a professor I avoid any intimate encounters with my students. I am a bit oversized for most of them anyway."
I smiled and asked, "Did Kenneth mention I am partial to oversized men?"
Magnus nodded and said, "I must tell you my intentions are not honorable. It is intensely exciting for me be have my cock inside a man. I know what am doing and what is going to happen. It is so intimate."
"Years ago, I should have been shocked, when a man I hardly knew had his cock up my behind," I said.
"It didn't shock you?" Magnus asked.
"It was so exciting, I hardly noticed," I said. "I have a confession to make. Usually I want more."
Magnus laughed. "Several archaeologist joke that you have the gift, a magic ability to find remarkable things," he said. "Maybe tonight you will find some magic."
Magnus had a small apartment near the university. I was in the guest room, but we shared the bath. We met in the shower. He was a big man, but he was even bigger naked and still bigger erect.
Some well-endowed men simply provide the cock and expect you to do most of the work. It was a good night.