CHAPTER 18

  THE MAP TO SALLUST’S GARDENS

  “Later that afternoon, after your grandma got back from the farmer’s market, I walked down to the university library. The university had several libraries, including an extensive map collection housed in a dedicated map room. I was hoping to find a map of Sallust’s Gardens there. The map room was a large space with huge books of maps that were lined up on bookshelves all around the room. Most of the books were very large, some even requiring two people to remove them from the shelves. In the center of the room were large, angled tables where one had enough space to open a map as large as five feet across.

  The ceilings in the room were very high, and the room had great natural light coming in through a high window. At one end of the room was a reference desk that was about twenty feet long. This counter area had large map books on shelves behind it. Behind the counter was a doorway that opened to a room where round cylinders held an even greater number of rolled maps.

  Upon entering the map room, I noticed there was only one other person in the room. It was a student poring over a large stack of maps at one of the tables. He had at least twenty maps on the desktop, spilling over the side with rolls even on the ground. He was feverishly jotting down notes in a composition notebook.

  I went to the reference desk and was greeted by an older Italian woman wearing the largest glasses I had ever seen.

  “Salve. Inglese?” I asked her in Italian

  “Ovviamente,” she responded to me “Of course.”

  “I am an American professor of sociology here studying in Rome. Would you have any maps of ancient Rome?”

  “Yes sir, ovviamente. What are you interested in particularly?” she asked me.

  “I am doing some research on ancient Sallust’s Gardens.”

  With that, I could feel the young student’s eyes piercing me in the back of the head. He had overheard me mention Sallust’s Gardens, and this piqued his curiosity. I turned around to look at him and smiled. He didn’t smile back. He didn’t say anything to me, instead, he looked back down at what he was doing.

  “It is humorous that you ask. This student here is looking at the only map we have on record of Sallust’s Gardens. It is not an ancient map but one drawn as a possibility for the site that the garden sat on. There is no remaining site map from the ancients. The only thing we have is drawn out by a man who studied the gardens.”

  “And” I asked. “Who is this man?”

  “He was Domenico Bartolo. He no longer lives. He died during the war.”

  I thanked her and turned around and approached the young man who was studying the map. He looked to be in his early twenties. He was Italian and had longer hair than we Americans had at the time. He was very thin and looked to be rather tall, sitting in the wooden library chair. He had not shaved in quite some time. I theorized that he had not taken time away from his studies to shower or shave.

  “Buongiorno,” I said to the young man with a warm smile.

  He looked up at me but acted like he was much too busy to be bothered.

  “Salve.”

  “Do you speak inglese?” I asked him.

  “Yes. You know I do.” He said with some disdain.

  “So, what is your interest in Sallust’s Gardens?” I asked.

  “I am an archaeology student here at the university. As you are an American, I am sure you are aware of the discovery at your embassy?”

  “Yes. I did read about that. And, yes, it is why I am here.”

  In confidence, I pulled up a chair from another desk. He looked at me again with more disdain; clearly he did not approve of me or my type. Like being an American was something he did not like.

  “Do you mind if I look at the map. I would just like to make some notes and take some bearings from it. Then I will be on my way.”

  He answered, “On one condition.”

  “Certainly,” I answered.

  “That you grant me access to the site at the embassy.”

  “You must be mistaken. I do not work for the embassy. I have no access to the site myself. I am a university professor studying here in Rome.”

  “Where do you study?”

  “I am doing research here in Rome for a project for my university.”

  He sat back in his chair. He liked having the upper hand. The fact that I was a professor and he a student made him overly enjoy the idea of making me begrudgingly work for him.

  “So, professor, what is your object of study?”

  I figured I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. “I am an anthropology professor studying the idea that a race of giants once actually inhabited the earth and could, to this day, still exist.”

  He first said, “So you study fairy tales. Giants, elves, and legends like that?” He couldn’t help but smile.

  I quickly answered, “No, not fairy tales or legends - just documented realities, mostly giants. I am serious about my work. It is misunderstood, but I clarify, not misguided.”

  He looked at me inquisitively. Like he was studying my face, and then said, “Do you work with Dr. Bayne, the Giantologist?”

  It was a word I had not yet heard of. But I knew Bayne, it was likely his brainchild to make himself stand out among his peers, myself included.

  “No, I do not work for Dr. Bayne. I am working on my thesis and compiling a documented history of giants in Europe.”

  “Too bad,” he said. “From what I have read, Dr. Bayne seems to be the expert when it comes to the study of giants and finding physical evidence of their existence. If there was proof in Rome, he’d know it.”

  His words burned me more than I should have let them. Bayne only knew enough of the subject to get him in trouble. Most of it was what I told him. Was it not for me, Bayne would not have even cared about giants.

  “If there were proof in Greece, Bayne would have also found it. And, likely, if there is proof in Asia somewhere, I am sure he will make it known whatever he finds.”

  Clearly, he was a fan of Bayne. As it was, most of the scientific communities were talking about him. While most of the scientific community thought he was not to be taken seriously. He was getting the attention of the world, and for this, he was well regarded within the scientific community for the publicity of science in general.”

  The student stared at me some more. Clearly studying my face for some point or reason, although this was not clear to me.

  “And, Sallust’s Gardens. Do you expect to find your giant there?” He was baiting me, and because I had no other choice, I bought it.

  “Here is the thing. My research indicates a history of two giants being buried in the gardens. While not likely there any longer, the discovery made at the embassy coincides with my being in Rome. While it is a stretch for my research, I cannot afford to let any lead go unturned. The map you have of Sallust’s Gardens may or may not help me at this point. But I have no choice but to pursue every possible lead while I am here in Rome. Please do not take this the wrong way, but for me, this is not some simple fairy tale adventure. I have set out to prove something that I think has value. Something that I have waged my own finances on. So would you mind showing me this map by Bartolo so I can be on my way?”

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  He continued to stare at me, but now I felt his pity. He had intended to hold something over a professor in what he thought was a power shift in position. But his power trip quickly became pathetic, as he now judged me as an inferior professor. Inferior to even him, a student. I think he thought I was mad or crazy. I really didn’t care at this point. I was not leaving this library without making notes on what the map had.

  “There is a mausoleum on the map,” he said. He quickly began moving some of his other maps out of the way to find the map of Sallust’s Gardens. He continued, “I doubt you’ll find anything there, though. If a mausoleum still exists, it would have been pillaged by tomb raiders through the centuries. The gardens had a vast history of being pillaged, destroyed, and the property changed hands greatly over a millennium.”

  I pulled my chair closer. “Likely so, but I think it is worth investigating while I am here in Rome.”

  “Have you a team?” he asked.

  I laughed, “No. I have no team. I am here only with my wife and our dog. That is my team.”

  “What is it you hope to find on your own? What if you find a mausoleum? What then? Does that prove anything to you?”

  I answered, “No, it doesn’t prove anything. But perhaps, if I can find this mausoleum, I might be able to prove what I read of giants being buried in the gardens as true. And, if Rome’s history was right about the giants being buried there, then perhaps the discoveries of giants made by the Romans in ancient times are also true.”

  “If A is fact, then B is fact?” he asked, almost questioning my thought process.

  “I guess you could say that. If there is either physical or documented proof in the mausoleum at Sallust’s Gardens, then it could be said that the giants were in fact, buried there. And to be buried there is proof they existed.”

  “It is a leap you make. A foolish leap,” he said.

  “It is a complete leap of faith. One in which you must risk everything to prove what you truly believe,” I said with a smile.

  “Sir, I am a fifth-year archaeology student here at the university. I understand completely having to risk everything to prove yourself. I know this discovery at the U.S. embassy is my ticket as well. Coincidence or not, I know I would be a fool not to use the opportunity at hand. Whatever you intend to do, you will take me with you!”

  I wanted to laugh at his demands. He held no cards in the matter. He had only a map in his possession that didn’t even belong to him. Nonetheless, I enjoyed his sparing and passion. I reluctantly agreed to his help, only because I needed someone local to help me. My Italian was not the best, and he would come in handy in that regard. I knew he thought the idea of giants was foolish. I knew he was using me, but I was using him as well.

  Together, we poured over a plan much the same way Bayne and I had about our trip to Greece. Experience had made me more guarded. This student’s desire for fame more than for fact was a concern. So was his youth. All I kept thinking about was Simon. This young boy in my care relied on me to lead him, and then I failed him. I left him broken. I wanted to take my time with this student and ensure I would not make a similar mistake. We took some time to get to know each other or at least to introduce ourselves. While he knew of Bayne, my name seemed to mean little to him.

  His name was Gianni Maceri. He lived alone in an apartment near the university. He was here on scholarship, as his family did not have much in terms of money. He told me his father and older brother were both killed during the war. It was only him and his mother. He was a smart, young man. I was impressed. His interests were not in giants but in being able to explore the mysterious Sallust’s Gardens. He had done some extensive work with the map. In a short amount of time, he had created a two-part overlay of the map. The base of the map was a copy of Sallust’s Garden map he had copied by hand from the Bartolo drawing in the library. On top of that was an overlay of a sketched map of the embassy compound and the surrounding area of modern-day Rome. Between the two layers was a blueprint-type drawing of the interlocking sewer and water delivery system of Rome for that area. He had gone to the city’s department of water and sanitation and, as a student, been able to see the sewer systems for the area. Oh, the access to things that a student can be granted.

  Ancient Rome, with its famous aqueduct, was a city of modern convenience even in the first century. The aqueduct not only brought water to the city, it also had an elaborate system of removing wastewater. Ancient Rome was built over an inventive system of tunnels and waterways to move and divert water to where it was needed. With such an elaborate underground system, there would be no need for digging or an expensive expedition team to lead us there.

  Gianni’s daily visits to the map room at the library provided him with his research for such exploration. We stayed and talked for as long as the clerk would allow us. We then walked back to his apartment. I told him I needed to call my wife, and I used the phone in the lobby of his apartment building. I wanted to share all of it with Mimi. As she answered, I could hear Mum barking in the background. She asked how I was and where I was. I told her I had been at the library at the university, and she paused. Because of her pause on the phone, I second-guessed myself and decided not to fill her in on all the details. Instead, I told her I had met a student there, Gianni, and I was helping him with his research project. She didn’t ask for any more details after that, and I said nothing more. She then asked if I invite my new acquaintance over for dinner. Gianni eagerly accepted my invitation. I let him know that I did not want to tell my wife about our plans yet. He didn’t seem concerned about it. He was just excited to have a home-cooked meal. I did let Gianni know I was going to call an experienced guide that I knew in Greece to come and help us. He was excited to hear that. I went on to explain the experience I had in Greece with Dr. Bayne and our discovery of the ancient bone. He intently listened as I explained in detail about the entire experience.

  I then called Uri to see if I could persuade him to come to Rome. Before I could even finish asking him, Uri said, “When and where do you want me?” He was ready and willing to take up our cause. I told him that I would wire him money for his trip to Rome. He said he could stay with a friend he knew who was living in Rome once he arrived.

  Uri’s dedication moved me. I told him where I was. I also told him that this would be under the highest secrecy. I let him know that I had not even told Mimi yet of our plans. He seemed surprised. I also let him know that I had a new partner, Gianni. Uri said he understood the situation and then asked, “Would a geologist be of any assistance? I know of a good one, Mr. Jack.” We both laughed. He went on to explain that he and Cadmus had kept in touch in the months following the accident. I had only kept in contact with Uri, who let me know how things wrapped up in Greece. I felt embarrassed and cowardly about leaving so soon after the accident. Uri assured me that things were taken care of and made sure the remaining money from the grant was given to the families of the men killed.

  Uri let me know that Cadmus had been working off and on with a university study in southern Greece. Cadmus recommended Uri on the project, and the two met on several occasions to discuss the possibilities of working together again. In the end, the financiers of the project decided to go with someone else. It seems Uri’s reputation had been damaged for his participation in our project. Mistakes had been made, but they were my mistakes, not his. I felt an obligation toward Uri because of it. I asked Uri to get in touch with Cadmus and see what he was up to. I asked him to meet me in Rome as soon as possible. Uri said he could be there in three days.

  Gianni and I worked day and night during those three days so that we would be ready when Uri arrived. We figured we had limited time, as we were not going to be authorized to work on the site at the embassy. If the Italian authorities discovered us, our exploration would come to a quick end. We spent hours at the library, in the map room, and his apartment. One night, Gianni had come over again for dinner. Mimi was a gracious host. She had fried chicken and mashed potatoes along with an antipasto. Gianni began to feel too much at home during the meal that he let it slip about the embassy and Sallust’s Gardens. Mimi quickly deduced that I was likely up to something.

  After Gianni went home that night, I knew I was in for it. Mimi began to clear the table and wash the dishes, but said nothing. She chose instead to let the silence speak for her. And before long, I was filling in the silence with excuses and confessions. I told her about the article I had read and about my trip to the map room at the university, and how I had met Gianni. We had been working on a plan for the past couple of days. It was not the best plan, but I told her how this opportunity presented itself to me here and now. I told her I needed to take a chance.

  She said nothing, just kept washing the dishes and listened. Finally, as she had finished the last dish, she wiped off her hands with a dish towel and turned around. She looked sad. I pretended not to know why.

  She said, “I knew there had been a change in you these past couple of days. I could see it and feel it. I had hoped it was because you were finally moving on. This trip was only worthwhile because, at last, you were moving on. When all this time, while I was thinking you were making progress, you weren’t. You were moving right back where it had all ended.”

  The sad look in her eyes was disappointment. I had let her down. “I’m sorry,” I said as I moved toward her to hug her.

  “It doesn’t matter now. I was just a fool. A fool for believing that what happened in Greece would have changed you.”

  “Oh, Mimi, it has.”

  “No, it hasn’t. What is your plan?” she said angrily. “You think you are just going to walk into the embassy and they are going to allow you to start digging without asking questions?”

  I felt all alone in that moment.

  “Jack, two men died! Died! And for what? What did you get from it? What did you achieve?”

  I answered back, “You know what, with every step, there is not always success. And, yes, Greece was a setback for all of us. And, yes, men lost their lives, and it was my fault. Mine and mine alone. You don’t think I live with that every day? But, no matter what, that doesn’t mean you just give up everything you believe in. It was a setback, but it was only a setback, not the end. I thought you knew that. What did you expect this trip to Rome to do? Get me to focus on something else?” I had raised my voice.

  She raised her voice even more than I did. “I don’t know what I thought. I thought this trip would be about us - about something different.”

  “So did I, you think I came here with intentions of this happening?”

  “I don’t know, did you?” she asked.

  “No, but it did. Do you think it is a coincidence that we are here in Rome, and they find the cryptoporticus from Sallust’s Gardens? You know I wrote a paper on Sallust’s Gardens and Pusio and Secundilla back in graduate school? You helped me edit it for goodness' sake.”

  “I know! I know,” she screamed. “But why? Why?” She began to cry. I held her. She then said, “Jack, I'm scared. This is not what I planned. When we were in Greece and there was that cave in. I thought I had lost you. But I was lucky enough to find you that day and save you. But how much luck can we expect? I'm afraid. I do not want to lose you.”

  All I could do was comfort her. She knew me well. I also knew her. She was not about to stop me. She was not about to even ask. She knew that if she did, I would have said I would quit. She wasn’t about to put that on either of us.