Curse of the Rhinegold

By  D. J. Belt

Copyright: The characters of Xena, Gabrielle, Mel and Jan, and the Rhinemaidens belong not to me, but to whomever owns them now (MCA/Universal?)  I can never keep that straight.  The other characters are either mine or stolen from history.  The story is mine, however, such as it is...

Sex/violence/other good stuff: Definitely ALT, if labels are necessary.  No graphic sex, but much loving affection between Jan and Mel.  Some violence, but nothing to need medication before reading.

Comments: If you wish, you can always write me at dbelt@mindspring.com.  I love hearing from you.  As always, thanks so much to those who’ve written before, and I hope to hear from you again.  Your encouragement and kind thoughts keep me at it.

Misc. blatherings: You asked for it, you got it.  Another installment in the Mel and Jan miniseries.  I never realized that it would go this long, but I’ve kept writing them because you love them.  Hey, so do I.  So, for you, dear friends, I offer this story into your hands.  Set your watch to the year 1950, get your drink, snuggle into your favorite old chair and get ready for another adventure with our two favorite girls.  Mel and Jan are back and kickin’ butt!

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     “Hey, Doc.  Doc Covington.  Up for a little sparring?”                                                                     

     Jan did not hear the call echo from across the university’s expansive gym.  She was lost in concentration and thought, her gloved hands rhythmically rapping at the speed bag above her face.  It ricocheted back and forth, its steady, staccato drumbeat punctuating her efforts as she drilled herself relentlessly.  Gradually, she became aware of a presence standing near her elbow.

     “Hey, Doc?  Anybody home today?”

     “Huh?”  She stopped, lowered her gloves and looked to her right.  One of the coaches on the university’s staff was regarding her with a teasing twinkle in his eye.  She apologized, “Oh, hello, Mark.  Sorry.  I was lost.”

     “I’ll say.  Hey, do us a favor?”

     Jan pulled the thin practice gloves from her hands and lifted her towel from the nearby bench.  “Yeah, sure.  What’s that?”

     “Spar with Pee-Wee, will ya?  He’s the only featherweight here and he needs some practice.  He’s your size.”

     Jan wiped the sweat from her face with her towel, then looked across the gym at the elevated boxing ring.  Several students were milling around near it, the smallest one seeming rather forlorn next to his larger companions.  “Pee-Wee?”  She grinned, then draped the towel over one shoulder.  “Naw.  I don’t want to hurt him.”

     The coach snickered.  “He’s a tough little bugger.  Come on, Doc.  He needs a partner.  You’re just the right size.”  At her hesitation, he urged, “It’s just sparring.  I promise he won’t hurt ya too bad.”  The coach smiled, then teased, “Although he says that he doesn’t want to spar with a girl.”  Mark had purposely emphasized the last word.

     Jan raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?  Shit, tell him that he’s got a sparring partner.”

     Mark slapped her on the back of her sweat-stained tee-shirt.  “That’s the spirit, Doc.”  He turned and walked back to the boxing ring, Jan following a few paces behind him.  “Hey, Pee-Wee.  Got you a sparring partner.”

     The group of students turned and eyed Jan, taking in her compact, athletic frame.  Their eyes slowly appraised her from her black high-top tennis shoes to her sweaty gray sweat pants, stained tee-shirt and blonde hair pulled back in a pony-tail.  Several snickers echoed from the group.  Pee-Wee, however, seemed uncertain about the turn of events.  “Oh, hello, Doc.  You sure that you wanna do this?”

     Jan shrugged innocently.  “Why not?”

     “Well, I mean, because you’re a girl.  It wouldn’t be fair.”

     “Hey, you want a sparring partner or don’t ya?”

     Pee-Wee eyed her cautiously for a moment, then asked, “You ever box before?”

     Jan smiled.  “Oh, a time or two.”

     The coach interjected, “Go easy on her, Pee-Wee.  Let’s get you two suited up.  Hey Doc, are your hands wrapped?”

     In answer, Jan held up her hands, wrapped tightly from knuckles to wrists in tape.  In a moment, a couple of the students were tugging padded boxing gloves on her hands and tying them at the wrists.  Another student fitted her padded headgear down over her head and fastened it under her chin.  The coach eyed the work, then opened a small cardboard box and lifted a mouth-guard from it, placing it into her mouth.  She shifted it with her tongue, then bit down until her teeth settled into the grooves.  The coach nodded approval, then asked,“You ready?”

     Jan spoke around the mouth guard, “Yeah.”

     “Go get ‘em, Doc.”  He pointed to the stairs.  She ascended, ducked between two of the perimeter ropes, and stepped into the ring.  Pee-Wee was already there, suited for sparring, and waited for her.  The coach appeared between them and issued his instructions to both of them, looking from one to another as he did so.  “Look, this is sparring.  We’ll go for five minutes, then break.  You two, watch your punches.  Now come out at the signal.”

     They both nodded and backed away from each other several steps.  As they waited for the coach’s signal, several hoots and jeers arose from the students assembled at the edge of the ring.

     “Come on, Pee-Wee.  You can handle her.”

     “Yeah, don’t let a girl beat ya.”

     Jan had expected the boys to tease and shout encouragement to their fellow student, but was surprised when a female voice shouted, “Doc Covington’s gonna kick your ass, Pee-Wee.”  Whoops and cheers resounded, and both Jan and Pee-Wee looked toward the new voices adding their jibes to the chorus.  Several members of the university’s female gymnastics team had stopped their drills and were gathering at the opposite side of the ring from the boys.  They began razzing the male students, and the chorus of voices became deafening. 

     The coach blew his whistle and shouted, “Knock it off.”  In the momentary silence, he turned back toward the two sparring partners.  “You two ready?”  They both nodded.  He raised his hand, brought it down between them and shouted, “Go,” then stepped back.

     The chorus of voices began their jibes again as Jan raised her gloves, shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, and bent her knees slightly.  She danced toward Pee-Wee, who approached her cautiously, his guard up, and jabbed toward her with a couple of motions from his right hand, followed by his left.

     Jan dodged the two rights and deflected the left with her glove, then popped his right glove with a sharp jab.  It snapped back and hit his face.  She backed away a pace, then began watching his defense, awaiting an opening.  He stepped in and caught her with a sharp blow to the ribs which she shook off as she mumbled around her mouth-guard, “Good one, Pee-Wee.”

     Encouraged, he stepped in a little closer, allowing Jan the opening she was seeking.  She ducked and drove a glove into his stomach with a solid thump, hearing him grunt.  At that, the girls’ voices echoed in their ears with hoots and cheers.  Pee-Wee swung with a roundhouse right, one which Jan saw coming and easily avoided.  As she straightened up, she popped him on the side of his head with a left.  He took a step back, shook his head, and approached again as his fellow students began to dog him with taunts.

     “Come on, Pee-Wee.  She’s just a girl.”

     “Girl, hell.  That’s Doc Covington.  I got a dollar that says she’ll deck Pee-Wee.”

     Another male voice responded loudly, “I’ll take you up on that.”

     Goaded by the comments, Pee-Wee attacked.  He closed the distance between them, dodging and swinging alternately with his right, then his left hand.  Jan backed away, deflecting a couple of the blows aimed at her head with her gloves and feeling one land home on her stomach.  She saw it coming and tensed her abdomen.  As the glove connected and forced a grunt from her, she lashed out with her left hand and caught the young student squarely on the side of his head.  He staggered, then backed up, recovering from the blow.  A chorus of hoots from the gymnastics team caused his face to redden under his headgear, and he attacked again.  Jan danced away from him, then closed and peppered his torso with several sharp jabs.  He found himself caught by surprise at her attack, emitting a loud wheeze when one of her punches caught him just under the ribs.  He backed away, then grumbled, “Come on, Doc.  You hit like a girl.”

     Jan felt a slow burn grow from within her.  “Oh, yeah?  Then come and get it, Pee-Wee.”

     “You’re kissin’ the mat in ten seconds, Doc.”  With that, he danced in close and swung hard.  Jan saw the blow coming and raised her left glove.  It deflected the blow, and his glove connected with her shoulder.  As she felt herself turned by the force of the punch, she lashed out with her right hand and caught him squarely on the chin.  He staggered, then backed up as the chorus of cheers and jibes became louder. 

     Jan was not listening, however; she was concentrating on her opponent’s moves and smiled inwardly when she saw what she wanted to see.  She backed away a few paces, gloves up, waiting for his next advance, and teased, “Come on, Pee-Wee.  Ya got three seconds left.  Gimme your best shot.”

     His eyes widened.  “You asked for it, Doc.”  As he began his attack, she guessed that he was going to lead with his right hand.  He did.  Jan stepped in toward him, and as his right hand nailed her left glove and the side of her head, she swung hard with her own right.  It caught him squarely and solidly on the left side of his face.  He spun around, then staggered drunkenly, dropping his guard slightly.  That was all the opening Jan needed.  Her right hand flashed out once more and he hit the canvas like a dropped sack of potatoes, not moving. 

     A pandemonium of cheers and hoots broke out on the side of the ring populated by the gymnastics team as Jan shook her head and attempted to focus on the prostrate form of her sparring partner.  The blow to the side of her head had left her slightly dizzy; she took a moment to shake it off, then stared down at the mat.  The coach was leaning down over Pee-Wee, gently slapping him on the cheek.  Voices echoed through the air.

     “Told you.  Doc Covington is a bad-ass.  Where’s my dollar?”

     “Shit, she decked Pee-Wee.”

     “Hey, Doc.  Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

     Jan spit the mouth-guard out into her glove, then looked over at the group of students gathered at the ropes and staring up at her.  She grinned, then replied, “Catholic school.”

     Laughter greeted her reply, and one of the male students shouted, “Sister Mary, huh?  Yeah, I used to date her.”

     Jan’s eyes twinkled at the joke and she replied,  “So did I.” 

     Another round of hoots and laughter resounded and a voice shouted, “Hell, we all used to date her.”

     Yet another student joined the chorus of jibes.  “Hey, lay off Sister Mary.  She’s my momma.”

     The coach looked up, grinned widely, and shook his head.  “You guys are all goin’ to hell, you know that?”  He returned his attention to Pee-Wee, pullied an ammonia capsule from his pocket and snapped it under the unfortunate student’s nose.  The head jerked, then the eyes opened uncertainly.  Pee-Wee blinked, then slowly sat up.  The coach pulled the headgear from the young man’s head and looked into his eyes.  They were glassy and unfocused.

     Pee-Wee mumbled something, then spit the mouth-guard out.  As it bounced on the canvas next to his leg, Jan knelt down next to him.

     “Hey, Pee-Wee.  You okay?”

     The student looked up at Jan and blinked owlishly.  “Wha’ the hell happened?”

     The coach answered, “You got KO’ed.”  He held up his hand.  “How many fingers do you see?”

     Pee-Wee attempted to focus, then replied, “Shit, I don’t know.  Three?”

     “Yeah, you’re okay.  Go lay down for a while.  If you’re not better in a few minutes, I’ll have a couple of the other fellas take you over to the infirmary.”

     Pee-Wee looked over at Jan, squinting.  “Damn, Doc.  You kicked my butt.”

     Jan apologized,  “I’m really sorry, pal.  I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”

     “Oh, s’okay.  Fair fight.”  He blinked again, then added, “First time I’ve ever been knocked out, y’know.”

     “Really?  You got some good moves and you’re fast.  You let your left down when you lead with your right, though.  That’s how I got you.”

     Pee-Wee thought about it for a moment, then looked toward the coach, who just affirmed, “I warned you about that.  Next time, watch it.”

     “Next time, hell.  I’m gonna take up wrestling.”

     Jan patted him on the shoulder with her gloved hand.  “You’re excused from my class tomorrow.  Get some rest.”

     “Huh?  Class?  Oh, yeah.  Thanks, Doc.”

     Jan stood, holding out her gloves as a student unlaced them and pulled them from her hands.  Freed from the hot leather and padding, she flexed her fingers and then pulled the headgear from her head, handing it to the coach’s assistant.  The group of students was still gathered at the ropes, and one of them looked up at her.  “Hey Doc, what do you teach?”

     Jan smiled down at him.  “Archaeology.”

     “No kiddin’?  Isn’t that dangerous?  You know, the curse of the mummy and all that?”

     Several hoots of laughter sounded at that, and Jan just shrugged as she leaned on the ropes.  “Oh, it has its moments.”  She ducked between the ropes and dropped down onto the gym’s hardwood floor.  The crowd of male students parted respectfully for her, and she nodded to them as she walked to the bench and found her towel.  As she wiped her face and arms, a wonderfully familiar voice addressed her.

     “Jan, are you ready to go?”

     Jan looked up.  Mel was leaning against the wall, watching her, her tall form still muffled in her coat and scarf, her long, black hair pinned back, her metal-rimmed glasses down on her nose.  Jan smiled broadly, then replied, “Yeah, Mel.  Thanks for coming for me.”  She lifted her sweatshirt from the bench and slipped it over her head, then picked up her towel.  As she did, two of the larger male students carried Pee-Wee between them, one arm over each shoulder, through the door.  As he was carried by, Jan called after him, “Take it easy, will ya, Pee-Wee?”  A groan answered her.      

     Mel watched as he was carried by, her face a mask of concern.  “My goodness, Jan, what happened to him?”

     “Oh, boxing.  He caught one.  Glass jaw.”

     “He isn’t badly hurt, is he?”

     “Naw.  He’ll be okay, I imagine.”

     “Whoever did that to him?  They should be ashamed, beating on that poor boy.  He’s not much bigger than you are, Jan.”

     Just then, a gaggle of female gymnastics team members passed them by, and one of them reached out and patted Jan on the back.  “Way to go, Doc.  You really kicked his ass.  Score one for the girls, huh?”  They continued on toward the locker room, giggling and talking among themselves.  Jan nodded sheepishly in reply, then looked back at Mel.  She noted Mel’s posture, the crossed arms, the expression of chagrin as she studied Jan.  For a moment, there was a thick silence, and then Mel just sighed.

     “Janice Covington, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

     “What?  It was a fair fight.”

     “Really, Janice.” 

     “Just a little friendly sparring.”

     Mel clucked her tongue in disapproval, then waved a hand.  “Come on, dear.  Let’s go home.  Just for that, you can take me out to dinner tonight, you bellicose little cutie.”

     Jan chuckled as they exited the gym and walked toward their car.  “You got a date, gorgeous.”

                                                            **********************

     “So, are you ready for Stockholm, Jan?”  Mel delivered the question in a slightly teasing manner as she attacked her salad with a fork.  Jan glanced around the restaurant, slightly self-consciously, and grinned as she placed her wine glass down.

     “Still seems like a dream.  I can’t believe that they’re gonna give us the Nobel Prize.  Hell, me, the daughter of Harry “Grave-Robber” Covington, winner of the Nobel Prize?  Nah.  You, though, I can understand.  Your dad earned one in nineteen twenty-four.  Like father, like daughter.  I know he’s proud.”

     “As your daddy is of you.  You earned it, Jan.  Sappho’s home and remains excavated.  It’s really a marvelous thing you accomplished.”

     “I didn’t earn it, Mel.  We all did.  I couldn’t have done it without you and the others.”  She smiled across the table.  “Especially you.  Your translations of her works were incredible.  I think that’s what made them choose us for this honor.”

     “You’ll never convince me of that, Jan.”  Mel watched her as she absent-mindedly massaged her right hand with her left, then pressed, “Did you hurt your hand again?”

     “What?  No.  Pee-Wee had a hard head, though.”

     “I still can’t believe that you knocked that poor boy out.  His male ego must be suffering tremendously.”

     “Probably, but the girl’s gymnastics team loved it.”

     Mel snickered as she recalled the scene.  “Janice Covington, whatever shall I do with you?”

     Jan raised an eyebrow.  “Love me?”

     “Done.”  Mel raised her wine glass.  “To Stockholm, Jan.  I’m looking forward to a relaxing trip.”

     As Jan clinked her glass against Mel’s, she teased,  “So when have we ever had that?”

                                                            ************************

     The trip to Stockholm was a long one.  Jan chafed at the inactivity and was soothed only by Mel’s marvelous company as she chattered pleasantly in her polished southern drawl, charmed the flight attendants and prodded Jan to give some thought to her acceptance speech.  Finally, Jan relented and scribbled some notes on a stenographer’s pad.  After a while, she surrendered and closed the pad, handing it to Mel, and flipped open an issue of National Geographic, noting an expansive article on Viking culture and history.  She perused it with interest, then thumbed back to the beginning of the article.  After a moment, she prodded Mel with her elbow.

     “Hey, Mel.  Look at this.”

     Mel adjusted her glasses and peered over at the article where Jan’s finger was pointing.  “Why, Mack is listed as one of the authors.”

     “Yeah, good old Mack.  He knows his history, doesn’t he?”

     “I’m so glad that he and Sallie will be there.”  After a pause, Mel asked, “Will your father come?”

     Jan shrugged.  “I told him about it.  He said he would.”

     “I wonder how he and Alais are getting along?”

     “Aah, newlyweds.  Great, probably.”  Jan chuckled, then added, “I still can’t imagine him and Alais together.  Being married to an immortal has its perks, though.  No plane tickets.  Just snap your fingers and ‘bang’, you’re there.”  After a moment, she whispered, “I still can’t believe that my new stepmother used to be Aphrodite two thousand years ago.”

     Mel thought about that revelation for a moment, then asked, “Jan?”

     “Hmm?”

     “If a few of the Greek gods are still around, do you think that the Norse ones are, too?”

     “Dunno, Mel.  Interesting question, though.  If they are, they’re living like Aphrodite and Ares, in anonymity among the human race.  Quite a falling off for them, isn’t it?”

     “Quite, but I suppose we’ll never meet them.”

     “Don’t be so sure, Mel.  One thing I’ve learned is that anything is possible.”

     Mel gazed over at Jan.  “Darlin’, hanging around with you, anything is possible.  Now why don’t you relax and try to nap?  We’ve got a long way to go yet.”

     “I’m not tired, Mel.  You sleep, though.  I’ll just read for a while.”

     Mel hummed pleasantly, then removed her glasses and leaned against Jan’s shoulder, snuggling in for a nap.  Jan smiled at the feel of Mel’s head against her, the pleasant fragrance of her hair, the way that Mel tenderly rested her hand on Jan’s leg as she snuggled against her, then returned her attention to the magazine in her hand.  After a few moments, a flight attendant passed by, smiling down at them.  She returned in a moment holding a light blue blanket with “Pan Am” stenciled on it, opened it, and leaned down, spreading it over Mel. 

     Jan looked up into the pleasant face.  “Thanks.”

     “Of course, Doctor Covington.  May I bring you something?”

     “I could do with some hot tea, if it’s not too much trouble.”

     “Surely.”  She left, and in a couple of minutes, returned with a steaming ceramic mug.  As Jan gratefully accepted it, the flight attendant hesitated, then asked, “May I ask something of you, Doctor Covington?”

     Jan looked up.  “Huh?  Sure.”

     She produced a book and held it out to Jan.  “Will you autograph my book for me?”

     Jan took the book from her hand and gazed down at it.  The title stared back at her: The Xena Legends.  Underneath it, in smaller lettering, it read: J. Covington, PhD.  Jan raised an eyebrow in surprise.  “Well, I’ll be darned.  You’re reading my book?”

     “Oh, yes.  History is a hobby of mine, you know.  Xena, she was a remarkable person.  There is even a mention of her traveling to the Norselands in your book, is there not?”

     “Yeah.  Gabrielle mentioned it, but only in passing.  We know nothing of the details.”

     She shrugged.  “Well, perhaps you will learn something of it in Stockholm, no?”

     Jan raised an eyebrow.  “Perhaps.  I do intend to visit the museum there.”

“Go and see a Professor Handellson at the museum.  He is a wealth of information about Norse legend.”

     “You know of him?  I’ve heard mention of him.”

     “Yes, I was born and educated in Stockholm.”

     “Thanks.  I’ll ask for him.”  Jan rummaged in her jacket pocket and produced a fountain pen.  “What’s your name?”

     “Ah.  Lotti will do.”

     Jan nodded.  “Lotti it is, then.”  She uncapped the pen and scribbled a long note in the front cover of the book, then blew on it to dry the ink.  As she handed the book back to the young lady, she added, “Thanks, Lotti.”

     “Thank you, Doctor Covington.”  She accepted the book, clutched it to her breast, and proceeded up the aisle between the seats, holding on to the overhead racks as she walked.  Jan watched Lotti’s extremely pleasant behind in motion as she negotiated the aisle and thought, Oh, yeah.  You bet, honey. 

     Mel shifted slightly and purred, “What’s that, Jan?” Her hand squeezed Jan’s leg, causing a wave of silent guilt to assail the little blonde as her mind chided, Covington, you’re a dog.

Lowering her eyes, she puzzled for a moment, shrugged, and then mused, “You meet the most interesting people on international flights, don’t ya, Mel?”  As she returned her attention to the magazine article in her hand, she cast a guilty glance over at Mel’s sleepy form, the head of black hair tucked against her shoulder, and raised an eyebrow at Mel’s dreamy response.

     “She certainly is pretty, isn’t she, Jan?”

     “Yeah, sure is.”  After a second’s pause she added, “But not half as pretty as you, Mel.”

     Jan smiled as Mel rewarded her with a purr of contentment and an affectionate squeeze from the hand resting on her leg.

                                                            ********************

     Their arrival in Stockholm began a whirlwind of activity.  They were met at the airport, spirited through the tidy, picturesque Swedish city to their hotel, and ushered to their room.  Their guide briefed them as to where they were to be and when, handed them a manila folder with their entrance tickets and a program of events for the award ceremony, and gave them direction to the auditorium where the Nobel Prize ceremony was to be conducted.  He recommended an early dinner, as there was a social function to which all the Nobel laureates and dignitaries were invited that evening.

     Still suffering from the effects of their long trip, Jan and Mel summoned their resolve and shook off the inclination to just crawl into bed and die, instead bathing and dressing.  They partook of a light dinner in the hotel’s restaurant and then donned their best suits for the social occasion, bundling into their coats and scarves and taking a cab to the evening’s festivities.

     It proved a pleasant but rather stressful evening as the crowded room, replete with academics, dignitaries, and scientific types overwhelmed Jan, who felt rather like ‘a gypsy in the palace’.  Mel, however, rose to the social occasion and exuded her magnificent southern charm, attracting and holding a constant following of assorted professors and dignitaries who, much to Jan’s chagrin, seemed to gravitate to the statuesque American beauty and listen to her every word.  At first, Jan felt irritation, but found herself becoming ever more amused at the circle of accomplished men who, in front of Mel, seemed reduced to boyish shyness, their stiff European formality dissolving slightly as they found themselves put at ease by Mel’s social grace.  As she stood by Mel’s side, she held her drink in one hand and surreptitiously scratched with the other, watching them and delighting herself with her thoughts.  Jeez, these guys are falling all over Mel.  Look at ‘em.  Bunch of eggheads.  None of ‘em probably got laid in college.  Hell, half of ‘em probably don’t get laid now.  I’m getting a Nobel Prize like some of you guys and I got laid a lot in college.  Jan felt her face broaden into a wide grin as her thoughts finished with, Eat your hearts out, you suckers.  I’m sleeping with her tonight.

     Jan’s fun was interrupted by a familiar voice near her shoulder.  “Hey, ol’ buddy.  You look about as out of place here as I feel.”

     She jerked her head around, then looked up.  Standing next to her, grinning widely, Mack MacKenzie reached out and wrapped an arm around her, hugging her to his side. 

     “Mack, you old son of a--”  Jan caught herself, chuckled, and returned the hug.  In a moment, a second set of arms hugged her, slender arms accompanied by a pair of mischievous brown eyes peering from beneath a mop of unruly, dark curls.  “Sallie!  Glad you two could make it.”

     “Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”  Sallie released Jan and edged over to Mel, who turned at her touch, squealed with delight and embraced Sallie.  As she did, she leaned over slightly, extended a graceful hand, and it was enveloped in Mack’s grip.  Then, remembering herself, she turned to her group of admirers and made introductions, presenting Mack and Sallie and praising their involvement in the Sappho dig to the delight of the assembled academics.  They treated Mack cordially, fell in love with Sallie’s unrestrained Brooklyn accent, and the presence of the two newcomers made Jan finally feel at home in the stuffy surroundings.

     After some time, they excused themselves, exited the gathering as gracefully as could be expected and bundled themselves into their coats, hailing a cab.  As both couples were staying in the same hotel, they rode together, stopping in the hotel’s bar for conversation and a nightcap before cramming themselves into the elevator and finding their rooms. 

     As Jan closed and locked the hotel room’s door, Mel draped her coat across a chair and fell onto the bed, kicking her shoes off and allowing them to thump onto the floor.  “My God, I’m glad that’s over with.”

     Jan raised an eyebrow at that comment.  “I thought you were having the time of your life, Mel.  You had those eggheads slobbering over you like you were a high school prom queen.”

     Mel sighed, “So many men, so little inclination.”

     Jan pulled off her shoes, then turned to hang her dark suit-coat in the closet.  “Glad to hear it.”

     “I only have eyes for you, you jealous little cutie.  After almost ten years together, you should know that.”

     Jan turned and smiled down at Mel.  “I know.”  She said nothing else, just gazing down at Mel with an odd, pleasant and unreadable expression.  Mel noted it and leaned up on her elbows.

     “Why Jan, what’s going on in that head of yours now?”

     Jan shook herself from her thoughts and sat gently on the side of the bed.  “Just thinking.”

     “Care to share it?”

     “Almost ten years, and you’re more beautiful now than I ever remember you.”

     Mel sat up on the bed, leaned forward and kissed Jan.  When she drew back, she answered, “Ten years, and you’re still an absolute doll to me.  I’m a lucky girl.”

     “Naw, Mel.  I’m the lucky one.”

     Mel raised a hand and allowed her fingers to play through Jan’s loose, shoulder-length blonde hair.  “I just love you with your hair loose like that, you know.”

     “I know.  I wear it this way just for you.”

     Mel hummed pleasantly, then narrowed her eyelids as she regarded Jan.  “Well, you lucky girl.  Feel like gettin’ lucky tonight?”

     “What, you have to ask?”

     “Then let’s clean up and go to bed, darlin’.  Tomorrow’s a big day.”

     Together, they rose from the bed and undressed, sharing the bathroom.  Mel emerged first, crawled under the thick down comforter, and pulled it up to her chin, awaiting Jan.  A few minutes later, Jan emerged from the bathroom, clicking off the light and sliding under the covers.  In a moment, her voice whispered in the darkness, “Mel?”

     There was no answer.  Jan scooted closer in the bed, allowing her skin to press against Mel’s warm flesh and spooning against her back.  “Mel?”

     A slight snore answered her.  Jan sighed, then chuckled in the darkness.  “Oh, well.  Ten years.  Guess the honeymoon’s finally over, huh?”  She settled down in the darkness to sleep, an arm draped over Mel’s side, and closed her eyes.  After a moment, Mel’s dreamy voice broke the silence. 

     “Jan?”

     “Huh?  I thought you were asleep.”

     “No.  May I ask you a question?”

     “Sure.”

     “Were you really jealous tonight?”

     “Naw, Mel.”

     Mel’s voice betrayed a slight hurt.  “You weren’t?  Not the least bit?”

     Jan paused, then confessed, “Well, okay.  Yeah, I was jealous.  Sure I was.”

     “Really?”

     “You were the hottest woman in that room.  I mean, those guys were slobbering all over you.  Damned right I was.”

     Mel turned in bed, facing Jan.  In the dim light, their faces were very close.  “Why, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard all day.  C’mere, you jealous little cutie.”

     “Hey, I’m here.  You got me, gorgeous.”

     “And I’m keepin’ you.”

     “Mel?”

     “Yes, darlin’?”

     “Just what is it about me that you love so much?”

     “Hmmm.”  Silence reigned for a moment, and then Mel answered,  “I guess of all your wonderful qualities, it would have to be--”

     “Yeah?”

     Mel giggled.  “That ‘thing’ you do with your tongue.”

     Jan snorted in laughter, then wheezed, “Jeez.  Glad to know that I have one redeeming talent.”

     “Oh, you do.  You should get a Nobel Prize for that.  Now, are you goin’ to use that wonderful mouth for talkin’ or kissin’?”

                                                            *********************

     “Are you nervous?”

     Jan looked up at her lover.  “Shaking in my boots, but I’ll be darned if I’ll show it.”

     Mel giggled.  “That’s my Janice.”

     They stepped from the taxi and joined the throng of people filing into the large auditorium, nodding to the occasional greeting.  As they checked their coats in the spacious anteroom, an usher met them.  She addressed them in English.

     “Doctor Covington?  Miss Pappas?  Come, I will show you where to wait.”

     “Thanks.”  Jan squinted at her name tag.  “Hilde.  We must seem quite lost.”

     The usher laughed, then waved them forward with a hand.  “This way.  We will put you with the other laureates, behind the stage.  You will be brought out when the ceremony begins.”

     They followed her through the picturesque, aging auditorium to a side door, passing into a hallway.  Soon, they were deposited with a distinguished-looking group of men who nodded and expressed greetings to them.  As they spoke quietly and shuffled in nervous anticipation behind the stage, Jan took the opportunity to peek out from behind a thick curtain toward the auditorium.  Crowds of people were milling about, seeking out their seats and settling down for the awards ceremony.  She attempted to study those people whom she could see and detect familiar faces when a voice from behind her caught her attention.

     “Doctor Covington?”

     Jan turned and looked up at a gentleman who stood near her elbow.  “Yeah, that’s me.”  She pointed to the auditorium.  “Just lookin’ for a friendly face.”

     He smiled at the joke, then asked, “Is your associate Miss Pappas nearby?”

     “Sure.  Hey, Mel.”  In a moment, Melinda was by her side and the man spoke to both of them.

     “I am Henri Jaldessen, this year the Chairman of the Swedish Academy of Sciences.  I will be officiating the ceremony and introducing you when it is your turn to be recognized.  The ceremony will be in English, so you will have no need of a translator, I presume.”

     Mel addressed him in her languorous, cultured southern accent.  “Well, I’m not sure, sir.  We are Americans, after all.”

     His eyes twinkled.  “A delightful joke.  Ah yes, I have no doubt that you will charm us all with your remarks.”  He pointed to the stage.  “We are entering.  Your names are on the chairs.  Please, after you.”

     They joined the group and filed out onto the expansive stage, finding and taking their seats in a long, single row of chairs which faced the audience from behind the podium.  A table sat next to the podium, cases containing the Nobel medals neatly stacked, diplomas in large, white envelopes underneath each one.  They found their seats at one end of the row of chairs.  As they sat, Jan could see the audience peering up in anticipation.  She looked down at her own dark suit, then over at Mel, who sat straight-backed, looking immaculate in a long black dress and matching short jacket, and felt a bit slovenly next to her.  She was shaken from her thoughts by Mel’s whispered voice.

     “What’s the matter, Jan?”

     “What do you mean?”

     “I can feel your discomfort from here.  Try to relax, will you?”

     “You look fantastic, Mel.  I feel like a slob next to you.”

     “You look wonderful, darlin’.  Not a hair out of place.”

     “Ahh--”  She did not get the chance to finish.  Jaldessen strode out and took his place at the podium, nodding to the applause from the audience and beginning his remarks.  As he droned on, Jan nervously cast her eyes around the auditorium, then returned her attention to the podium.  One by one, that year’s recipients of the Nobel Prize in the different categories were announced.  One by one, they rose to applause and strode to the podium, receiving their medal and diploma and then assuming their place in front of the microphones at the podium to make their remarks to the sea of faces stretching out in front of them.  Jan listened as each one spoke, attempting to gain a feel for what they said and how long their remarks lasted.  She was not acquainted with their names or reputations, as they had dedicated their careers to the physical sciences.  She had not.  Chemistry, physics and such were subjects through which she had to struggle in college.  The human story was her forte.

     Her head turned, however, when the recipient of the prize in literature was announced and William Faulkner rose from the opposite end of the row of chairs to approach the podium.  She poked Mel in the ribs with an elbow and whispered, “Look.  It’s really him.  Man, he’s famous.”

     Mel smiled indulgently and whispered in reply, “So are you, darlin’, and don’t you forget it.”

     Jan was taken aback at the remark, blinking in disbelief at the thought.  She was famous.  The years of poverty, the constant professional disdain which she endured because of the Covington name, the academic scoffing at her insistence of the truth of the Xena legends, all that was vindicated.  This day would assure that.  She felt her chest swell with pride at that thought.

     Jaldessen resumed his place at the podium when Faulkner finished his remarks and returned to his seat.  His next words caused Jan’s heart to pound in her chest and her palms to sweat.

     “The nineteen-forty nine Nobel Prize for Anthropology is awarded to two recipients this year for their remarkable work in excavating the home and remains of the poetess Sappho and their peerless, beautiful translations of the lost works.  May I present Doctor Janice Covington and Miss Melinda Pappas?”  He turned and smiled toward Jan and Mel, and they rose and approached the podium.  As they did so, the auditorium resounded with applause.  As they stood at Jaldessen’s elbow, he waited for the applause to quiet, then added a final thought. 

     “Miss Pappas has the distinction of being the second in her family to receive this prize.  Her father, the noted archaeologist Doctor Melvin Pappas, stood here to receive this same award in nineteen twenty-four.”  Again, applause sounded at the comment, and as it died away, Jaldessen picked up two thin blue boxes and two diplomas wrapped in their white envelopes.  He presented the first to Jan, shook her hand, and then presented the second to Mel, who received the award with a gracious smile.  That task completed, he motioned toward the microphones and retreated from the podium, seating himself to await the remarks which were expected of them. 

     Mel and Jan stood shoulder to shoulder at the podium, peering out over the sea of expectant faces, then looked at each other, their eyes locking.  For a moment, neither said anything, but hazel eyes locked with bright blue ones, and the look spoke volumes.  Then, Jan motioned for Mel to speak first, and Mel nodded.  She turned to face the audience, cleared her throat, and spoke simply.

      “Dear friends, I am a simple translator.  I suspect that the magnificent honor which the Academy of Sciences has given me for my translations has more to do with the timeless beauty of a great poetess’ genius than my own humble efforts.  It is in her memory that I accept this honor, and I thank you all deeply for it.  None of it would have been possible, however, without the incredible work of my dearest friend and colleague, Doctor Janice Covington, whose persistence and skill brought these works, lost to us for centuries, to the light of day again.  In that light, allow me to surrender the podium to her.”

     An applause sounded.  Mel smiled down at Jan, clutched her blue box and diploma, and returned to her seat, leaving Jan alone at the microphone. Jan watched her depart, then turned back to the audience, taking a deep breath and formulating her thoughts.  Then, she began to speak.

     “Members of the Academy, honored colleagues, and friends: In our celebration of the advances of science and of the achievement of human intellect, we’re represented here today by a gathering of some of the finest scientists which the human race has to offer.  Miss Pappas and I find ourselves grateful to be included.  Our quest has not been to explore the mysteries of the atom or to further the attainment of medical science.  Our quest has always been to bring to light the story of the human race. 

     “That story is unfolded to us through the remains of long-lost generations.  We scratch it from the earth by backbreaking effort and slow digging, by contemplation of the artifacts which rise from the dirt at our hands, and by piecing together the personal histories of some of the most remarkable personalities ever to have tread the face of the earth.  Sappho is one of those personalities.

     “In an age in which epic poets celebrated war and conquest, in an age in which savage armies brutalized the earth in their search for power and riches, Sappho glorified a different human yearning. Sappho, in her timeless poetry, in her grand presence, glorified love.

     “We celebrate the achievement of human intellect today, but I submit to you that it is the human heart which truly raises us above the animals.  The capacity to love and be loved, deeply, unconditionally, mystically; this quality is the true glory of our human race, and Sappho personified it.  Her timeless words ring out to us through the centuries and touch each of us deeply.  Her magnificent lyric poetry explores the depths of a world more vast than the stars, more perplexing than the atom: the human heart, and our uniquely human ability to love one another.  For what good is our science to us if we do not love?

     “In the record of human history, what stories are they which affect us most?  Is it the conquest of Europe, the brutality of the Crusades, or the resurrection of science in the Renaissance?  No.  It is not Caesar and Napoleon which bring us to tears; it is not Lionheart and Saladin which wring our emotions; it is the timeless stories of romantic love, sung in every age by the ancient bards, the medieval troubadours, and the modern poets.  The ancient Greeks may have feared and respected Zeus, king of the gods and Athena, goddess of wisdom, but who did they worship with adoration and tears?  It was Aphrodite, the goddess of love.

     “While generals and kings are studied dispassionately, the great lovers in human history are revered with a devotion which kings would envy.  Helen and Paris, Romeo and Juliet, Anthony and Cleopatra; are they remembered for anything else but their devotion to each other?  Marie and Pierre Curie stood on this very stage to receive the Nobel Prize, but they are remembered for their love for each other as much as their scientific prowess.  And what of the warrior Xena and the bard Gabrielle?  Their soul-bound love, timeless, selfless and pure, humbles  us all and makes electric the ancient bard’s stories, thrilling new generations two thousand years after their deaths.

     “So, I must submit that human love, that desperate, magnetic attraction of one heart, one soul for another, moves our race and our history as no other motive can.  The poetry and life of Sappho, beautiful, tragic, loving and mesmerizing, rendered into exquisite English by my dearest friend Melinda Pappas, will stand as a symbol to our children’s children of that most glorious aspect of the human condition: our capacity to love each other with purity, with fire and with selflessness.  It inspires us to dream, to accomplish the impossible and find real meaning in our lives.  This is a timeless truth. This is the message of the great poets in every age.  This is the message of Sappho.”

     Jan paused, only then noticing the rapt silence in the auditorium.  Not a cough sounded; no shuffle of feet was detected.  She breathed deeply, picked up her medal box and diploma, and finished with a simple, “Thank you.”

     After a second’s silence, thunderous applause erupted in the auditorium.  Jan stood quite still, overcome with the noise.  It was not merely a polite applause; rather, it was overwhelming.  She stood amazed at the response to her words, gazing down into the audience, and then turned and strode to her seat.  When she settled into it and the applause quieted, she leaned over and whispered to Mel, “Did I do okay?”

     In reply, Mel squeezed her forearm and whispered, “You did very okay, Jan.”

     After a few more remarks by Jaldessen, he asked all the laureates to stand.  The audience received them with a standing ovation, and they filed off the stage.  As they withdrew behind the curtains, Jan found herself caught in a bear-hug.  Mel’s arms were wrapped around her, and she was literally lifted off of her feet.  In her ear, Mel’s enthusiastic voice rang out.

     “Oh, Jan.  I’m so excited.  I wonder if Daddy felt this way.”

     “Ummph.  I’m sure he did, Mel.”  She felt herself dropped to the floor again as a male voice addressed her.  She turned in its direction and her mouth dropped open in surprise.  William Faulkner stood at her elbow, peering down at her.  He smiled at her and extended his hand.

     “Most impressive remarks, Doctor Covington.  I was enthralled.  Was that impromptu?”

     Jan took his hand and pumped it.  “Mister Faulkner!  Gee, what an honor.  Um, yeah, for the most part.”  She shrugged, then added, “I teach college.”

     He eyed her critically, then asked, “Tell me, have you ever considered writing for a living?”

     Jan seemed surprised.  “Ah, no.”

     Faulkner smiled, then replied, “Glad to hear it.  If you write with the same passion with which you speak, then I’m in big trouble.”  He grinned widely at his own joke, then finished with, “Honored to meet you, Doctor Covington.”

     “Yeah, same here.”  In a moment, he had turned and disappeared into the crowd backstage, leaving Jan standing, still open-mouthed in amazement.  Mel tapped her on the shoulder.

     “Jan?”

     “Yeah?”

     “Close your mouth, Jan.”

     “Huh?  Oh, sorry.  But that was--”

     “Yes, darlin’.  I know.  Come on, let’s press onward.  We have the public to meet in the lobby, you know.”

     “Huh?  Oh, right.  Yeah, let’s go, Mel.”  Jan grasped Mel’s arm, and they wormed their way through the crowds toward the expansive lobby.

     As they entered, Jan took one look at the crowd and muttered, “Oh, Jeez.”

     Mel, knowing her mate’s dislike of crowds, placed an arm around her shoulder and prodded her forward.  “Come on, dear.  Only a little more.”

     They began working their way through the crowd, responding to salutations and offers of congratulations, clutching their diplomas and medals to their chests, until a strong hand placed itself on Jan’s shoulder and a rough, amused voice spoke to her. 

     “Way to go, Tiger.”

     “Dad!”  Jan looked up into her father’s face.  “You made it.”

     “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Janice.”  Again, she felt herself engulfed in a bear hug.  “I’m proud of you, kid.”

     “Thanks.  I did good?” 

     Harry Covington smiled down at her.  “You always did good, Tiger.  Always.”

     “Thanks, Dad.  You have no idea what that means to me.”  Jan looked around.  “Is Alais here?”

     In answer, she felt herself embraced.  An elegant woman with sad, deep eyes and an endearing smile kissed her on both cheeks, then spoke to her in that musical, indefinable accent which was so uniquely Alais.  “I am here, Janice.  I, too, would not have missed it for all the world.”  She leaned forward again and whispered into Jan’s ear, “Thank you for being so kind to Aphrodite.”

     As she straightened herself, Jan noted the pride in Alais’ timeless, ancient eyes and nodded.  “She is the goddess of love, after all.  She always will be to me.”

     They were interrupted by a loud squeal as Sallie bounced through the crowd, mop of unruly curls flying, eyes sparkling.  She hugged Jan, then Mel in turn, and was followed by Mack’s jaunty smile and handshake. 

     Mel took charge with the suggestion, “Jan is about to faint from the press of people in here.  Will you all join us for dinner?  Perhaps we can sneak away.”

     Mack brightened at the suggestion.  “Great idea.  Let’s get our coats and scram.”  He looked over at Harry and Alais.  “You’ll join us, of course?”

     “You bet.”  Harry looked down at his daughter.  “Hey, Tiger.  I hear that a fat check comes with that medal.”

     Jan nodded.  “Yeah.”

     “Great.  You’re buying.”

     Jan looked around at the expectant, amused faces.  “Well, what are we waitin’ for?”

     With that comment, she led the group to reclaim their coats and exit the auditorium as quickly as they could, looking forward to a meal and the company of good friends for the evening.

                                                            *******************

     The following day, Jan and Mel breakfasted with Mack and Sallie in the hotel’s restaurant and then bundled into their coats and scarves, seeking out the museum.  A short cab ride brought them to the expansive building.  As they entered, Jan turned and spoke to the group.  “Listen, guys, there’s somebody I want to try to find.  Hang on a minute?” 

     At their nods, she left the group and spoke to a woman behind the entrance desk, who dialed a number on her telephone.  When she replaced the receiver, she said, “Professor Handellson will be here in a moment to meet you.  He seemed most excited that you were here.”

     “Thanks.  We’ll wait over there.”  They retreated to some nearby benches, and as Mel and Sallie perched on the seats, Mack looked over at Jan.  “Who’s this Handellson, Jan?”

     “Never met him.  Just talked to him on the phone.”

     Mel interjected, “He is very anxious to meet with us.  He has some interest in Xena, you know.”

     Mack raised his eyebrow at that, but never got the chance to speak.  The swift tapping of shoes on the marble floors approached them, accompanied by a voice tinged with breathless excitement and a charming Scandinavian accent.  “Ah, Doctor Covington.  Miss Pappas.  Delighted, so delighted that you could make it.”

     “Professor Handellson?”

     “Yes, yes.”  He stopped in front of the group and extended his hand to Mel.  “Doctor Covington, honored.”

     Mel coughed, then pointed to Jan.  “This is Jan Covington.”

     “Oh.  Excuse, please.”  He greeted Jan, and she made introductions all around.  Professor Handellson waved them forward with an animated gesture, then spoke as he began walking, the Americans falling into step with him.  “As I say, I am so glad that you could visit me.  I have some things to show you which I think you will find very interesting.  Perhaps you could even tell me something about them.”

     “We’ll do our best.”  They followed the animated little man at a fast clip through the museum, the sounds of their feet echoing through the cavernous building. 

     Professor Handellson was a small man, but full of enthusiasm and with a lively step.  He sported a head of thick gray hair and some rimless glasses worn down on his nose, a delightful twinkle in his eyes, and a worn cardigan sweater with patches on the sleeves.  He rather reminded Mel of the pictures she had seen of Albert Einstein, except that the ever-present pipe was missing.  She couldn’t help but smile at the image of the stereotypical scatterbrained professor which he projected.  It was almost as if he had popped out of a comic movie somewhere.

     He stopped, the crowd behind him almost bumping into him, and turned.  His finger was indicating a huge glass-fronted case against the wall.  “Do you see this tapestry?  Most magnificent, yes?”  Jan, Mel, Mack and Sallie all perused it and nodded their agreement.  “We estimate it to be roughly two thousand years old.”

     Sallie stepped forward and examined it more closely.  “It’s incredible.  Look at the artistry.”

     He smiled.  “Beautiful, yes?  It portrays Norse legend.”

     Depicted across the tapestry was a line of warriors mounted on horses.  They were elevated above the tops of the trees, all females and clothed in silver armor, hair flying from beneath winged helmets.

     Mack asked, “Valkyrie?”

     “Even so.  Now, look closely at the Valkyrie.  Examine each one, and tell me what similarities you notice about them.”

     The group perused the tapestry, then Mel offered a thought.  “They all seem so-- Nordic.”

     Professor Handellson almost giggled.  “Yes, yes.  All with the light skin and hair of the Nordic peoples.”  He pointed and corrected, “Except for that one, there.  Note the darker skin, the black hair.  I have often wondered about that one, why she is so different.”

     Jan conjectured, “To draw the eye to her?  Is that the leader?”

     “Brunhilda?  No.  This one, I believe, is Brunhilda.”  He indicated the foremost one.  “This darker one, she is a mystery.”  He looked over at Jan.  “Until I read your delightful work on Xena.  Tell me, Doctor Covington, was Xena ever in the Norselands?”

     “Yeah.  Gabrielle indicates that she had traveled as far north as the Rhine River and Denmark.”

     “Ah.  And what did she do when she was there?”

     Jan shook her head.  “Don’t know.  The trip is a mystery to me.  Nothing else was written about it.”  She glanced again at the dark Valkyrie, then at the Professor, and felt a thrill wind up her spine.  “What makes you think that this was Xena?”

     “Well, look here.  Note the armor, the weapons.  All exquisitely rendered by the weaver, yes?  Well, what do you see about her that the others lack?”

     Mel placed a hand on Jan’s shoulder.  “Oh, my.  Look at her hip.”

     Handellson nodded gleefully.  “Yes, yes.  Tell me, what is that circular device?”

     Jan’s voice was a whisper.  “It’s a chakram.”

     He almost bounced on his toes in delight.  “Thank you, thank you.  I had suspected it, but I wanted to hear it from you.”  He waved his hand again.  “Now, come.  I have something to show you that will astound you.  Perhaps you can help me with it.”  Again, he began his energetic walk through the museum, the four friends following him at a rapid clip.  He led them to a door, then opened it and ushered them inside.  It was a large room replete with files and shelves of cardboard boxes, all labeled.  Once inside, he turned to them.  “Come, I will take your coats.  Make yourselves comfortable.”  He collected their wraps, disappeared into an office, and returned with a pair of white cotton gloves in his hand, thrusting them into the pocket of his cardigan.  “Moment, please.  I must find something.”  Again, he disappeared, leaving the four to look about the room.  It had the feel of an artifact storage room as one would find it anywhere in the world.  From the shelves about them, they could literally feel the presence of history.  The collected remains of ancient cultures lent an aura of timelessness to the large room, humbling the four visitors. 

     In a moment, Handellson reappeared, a binder under his arm.  He walked to a large table and placed it down, opened it, and waved them over.  “Here, look.  This, you will find fascinating.”

     They gathered around, peering down at the contents of the binder.  The professor looked over at Jan above his rimless glasses.  “What do you see, Doctor Covington?”

     “A diagram of a dig.  It looks like a grave site.”

     “Ah, very good.  Yes, it was unearthed this autumn, here in Sweden.”

     Sallie leaned forward.  “It’s the grave of a warrior.  Someone important.  Look at the weapons, the armor, the artifacts buried with him.”

     “Exactly.”  The professor looked over at Sallie.  “You are an archaeologist, as well?”  Sallie nodded.  “You know your business.  This however, is not your typical warrior.  This is what makes this find so exciting.”

     Jan cut right to the bottom line.  “Any idea who he was?”

     “Yes.”  The professor smiled.  “Excuse me, please.  Let me show you something else.”  He scurried off, returning in a moment with a large cardboard box which he sat on the floor next to the table and opened.  From his pocket, he drew the pair of white cotton gloves, donned them, and reached into the box.  From it, he lifted a crusted, dull helmet and placed it on the table.  “This is the helmet which we recovered from this grave.  Look at it.  See the craftsmanship, the ornamentation on it?”

     It was rough with age, dull, but speckles of silver shone through.  On the sides of the helmet, a pair of silver wings jutted back.  Jan nodded, her voice reflecting her fascination with the artifact.  “It’s magnificent.”

     Sallie studied the helmet closely.  “Where have I seen a helmet like this before?”

     Mack chuckled.  “On the tapestry we just viewed.”

     Handellson clapped his hands in glee.  “Exactly, Doctor MacKenzie.  I applaud you.”

     Jan whistled.  “Damn, Mack.  Good eyes.  You’re right.”  She looked over at Handellson.  “Are you saying that this is a Valkyrie?”

     He grinned, then held up a gloved finger.  “Wait, look at what else we found.”  He bent down, reached into the box and produced a large object, resting it on the table next to the helmet.  It was a breastplate, crusted and worn with age, decayed from the centuries in the soil, the leather straps long disintegrated.  “This was on the warrior.”

     Jan’s exclamation spoke for them all.  “Holy crap.  Look at that.”

     Sallie took in a sharp breath.  “Incredible.”

     Mack’s comment was more sardonic.  “I love it.”

     Mel looked around at the group, then back at the breastplate.  “Why, what is it, Jan?”

     “Look closely, Mel.  What do you see on this breastplate that you don’t normally see on most chest armor?”

     Mel blinked at the question, then returned her attention to the artifact.  “Well--”

     Sallie answered for her in her blunt New Yorker fashion.  “Hooters.”

     Mack chuckled.  “Knockers.”

     Jan grinned.  “Yeah, boobs.”

     Mel’s eyes widened.  “Ahem, yes.  I see what you mean, Jan.”  She looked over at the professor.  “Were women warriors common in the Norselands?”

     Handellson shrugged.  “Unusual, but not entirely unheard of.  In legend, there is some mention of the occasional female warrior.  Mostly, though, it was a man’s culture.  Female warriors were rare.”

     Jan looked up from the breastplate.  “Then this was a Valkyrie, wasn’t it?”

     Sallie was excited at the revelation.  “That explains her exalted burial pit.”

     Handellson nodded.  “Yes, yes.  You have it, my dear.”  He looked at Jan.  “But this is not the most impressive puzzle we found.  Look here.”  He pointed at the diagram of the dig.  “Here, we found something most unusual.  It was a pottery jar with an incredible find inside.  It is this find which I wish your help with.  Come, this way.”  He waved a hand and led the group away from the table.  They crossed the large room to a file cabinet consisting of long, flat drawers, each about three inches thick.  He trailed his finger down the labels, then tugged one open.  “This is what we found inside the jar.”

     A collective intake of breath sounded from all four of the observers.  Sallie leaned forward, then exclaimed, “It doesn’t look like parchment.”

     “No, it is not.  It is papyrus.”

     Jan was shocked.  “Papyrus, in the Norselands?  That’s fantastic.”

     “Even so.  But more fantastic is the script written on it.”  He turned to Jan.  “Tell me, Doctor Covington, do you recognize the letters and the language?”

     “You bet.  It’s Greek.”

     “Yes!”  The little professor was literally bouncing in his enthusiasm.  “Yes, yes.”  He held up a finger.  “But do any of you recognize the hand?”

     “Mel, you’re the translator.  What can you tell the professor about it?”

     Mel leaned over it, examining it as she pushed her wire-rimmed glassed up on her nose.  “The characters are written with a large, bold hand.  Um, the language is not expert.  I would say that this person was not a prolific or practiced writer.”

     Mack asked, “Then it’s not Gabrielle, is it?”

     “Oh, no.  I would recognize her hand instantly.”

     The professor looked up at Mel.  “Can you give us a cursory translation of it?”

     “Well, I’ll try.  It will be rough, you understand?”  He nodded very enthusiastically.  Mel tugged the drawer out a little further, then studied it for a moment.  As the others in the room waited, they saw Mel straighten up and gasp.  “Oh, my God, Jan.  It can’t be.”

     “What, Mel?”  Jan could see that Mel had paled.  Her hand was shaking as she touched her glasses.  “What?”

     “It’s not Gabrielle’s hand, but it’s addressed to Gabrielle.  Oh my, this is fantastic.  If this is what I think it is--”

     “C’mon, Mel.  What?  What?”

     Mel took a deep breath to calm herself, then said, “Let me read it to you.”  She again studied the papyrus, then began to read slowly, her finger keeping place as it hovered above the delicate material, her translation halting as she studied phrases and grasped for just the proper word. 

     “Gabrielle, I have gone to attend some unfinished business.  This mission is so dangerous, I have fear-- no, that’s not right-- am afraid that I will not survive.  I cannot ask you to die with me once more, once again.  Whatever happens, know that my love for you is endless.”

     Mel stood.  “It’s signed, ‘Xena’.”

     A shocked silence reined in the room for a moment, broken by Jan’s voice.  “Professor Handellson, do you realize what you have here?”

     “Yes, yes. A document in Xena’s own hand.”

     Jan became animated.  “I mean that no other such document exists.  In all my research, I never once found anything written by Xena.  Hell, I thought that she was illiterate.  Gabrielle wrote everything.”

     Mel raised an eyebrow.  “That explains the unpracticed hand.”

     Handellson’s eyes twinkled brightly.  “A priceless find, indeed.  Ah, but there was another, longer document in Greek found along with that one.”  He closed the file drawer and opened the one just beneath it.  Lying in the drawer were several papyri.  Mel gasped.

     “This is Gabrielle’s hand.”

     Handellson nodded.  “Can you give us an idea of what it says?”

     “I’ll try.”  Mel leaned down, studying the neat rows of characters, then began translating.

     “I know that Xena would not have done this if she did not feel, believe that this was something that she had to do by herself.  I--”  Mel squinted as she searched for just the right word.  “Debated whether to respect her wishes.  I cannot.  Her path is my path.  I have been-- chasing?  No, following-- yes, that’s it-- following her now for weeks.  The trail has taken me north, directly north, farther north than I have ever been before.”  Mel pointed at the papyrus.  “That’s all on the first page.”

     The professor reached in with his gloved hands.  “I will show you the second one.”  He gently lifted the first papyrus aside.  Mel squinted down at the second page and resumed her slow translation.

     “I do not know the details of Xena’s mission, but I am beginning to understand her goal.  She wants to correct, to right some great wrong she did in the past.  My dear friend’s curse is to spend the rest of her life-- seeking?  Yes, seeking-- a redemption that she will never allow herself.”  Mel looked up.  “That’s all on the second page.”

     The professor replaced the first page.  “You are becoming tired, Miss Pappas.  Please, there is much more, but too much for today.”  He looked up at her as he gently replaced the first page.  “Perhaps you would like to translate this for us at your leisure?  I’m quite sure that the museum would pay you handsomely.”

     “Professor Handellson, I’d love to.  It will take me some time, though, and I’ll need my reference books and notes.  They’re all in America.”

     “No problem.  We shall send you photographs of all these papyri, large ones.  You can translate them at your leisure in America, yes?”

     Mel glanced over at Jan, whose bright eyes urged her to accept.  She smiled down at the professor and nodded.  “I’d love to.”

     He nearly burst with enthusiasm.  “Good, good.  This is most exciting.”  He turned to Jan.  “And you, dear Doctor Covington, of course you will have all access to this for your research.”  He smiled as he added, “You are, after all, the foremost Xena scholar in the world.”

     Mack chuckled.  “She’s the only one.”  Sallie laughed, then dug an elbow into his ribs to silence him.

     “Yes, yes.”  The little professor waved them toward his office.  “You will have some tea with me?  I have a most astounding story to tell you.”

     Jan looked around at her companions, then nodded.  “You bet.  I’m always up for a good story.”  They followed Handellson across the spacious room toward his office, again passing the table with the artifacts resting in the light of day.  Jan studied them again as they passed by.

     “So, whose grave was that?  Did you ever figure it out?”

     “What?”  The professor stopped, then thought.  “Ah, I never said, did I?  Excuse me.  Yes, the rune-stone marking the grave has recently been translated.  Difficult language, you know.  It indicates that it was the grave of Brunhilda, leader of the Valkyrie.”

     Mack spoke for them all.  “Fantastic.  Then she really existed?  It wasn’t just legend?”

     Handellson beamed at them.  “The basis of legend is often truth, not so?”

     Shortly, they were settled into his cluttered, comfortable office, tea-cups in their hands and listening as the energetic little man spoke.  “Now, I have already had a cursory translation of the papyri done by someone at the university.  It was not nearly as expert as yours will be, though, my dear.”  He indicated Mel, who nodded thanks.  “It speaks of a legend which, if true, could be the richest archaeological find of the century.  This, Doctor Covington, is where you come in.”

     Jan sat up in her chair.  “Well, tell me about it.”

     He prefaced his story with an apology.  “I am an old man now, and this will be an arduous undertaking.  I regret that it must fall to those younger than me.  Your reputation precedes you as an archaeologist and adventuress of courage and daring.  You, I believe, would be the right one for this quest.” He paused, then spoke again, more softly.  “And your recent reputation is one of impeccable honesty and integrity.  Most essential, as the nature of this find, if true, could destroy a lesser person.  Now, let me ask you a question.”

     “Sure, Professor.”

     “This bard Gabrielle, she was accurate in her writings?  I mean, did she tell stories, or have you found it to be truth, what she writes?”

     Jan squinted as she sipped her tea, then lowered the cup and replied, “She has consistently been very accurate in her writings.”

     He nodded approvingly.  “Yes, yes.  I thought so.  You have said as much.”  He leaned against his desk as he spoke, warming to his story.  “Now, as I have said, a cursory translation of Gabrielle’s writings has been attempted.  She spoke of their adventure in the Norselands, and in it, she mentioned not only the existence, but the location, of a most magnificent hoard of wergild.”

     Jan looked up.  “What?”

     Mack looked over at Jan.  “Viking culture, Jan.  Wergild is money paid in compensation for the killing of someone’s relative.”

     Handellson beamed.  “Yes, yes.  You see, in Norse, in Viking society, if I were to kill a relative of yours, then you would be honor-bound to kill me, and so on.  A blood-feud would develop between our families.  Now, to forestall that, it would be customary for you and I to come to agreement on some amount of money which my family would pay yours in compensation for the initial killing.”

     Jan puzzled over that.  “A large amount?”

     “It can be.  Tell me, Doctor Covington, are you familiar with the Volsungasaga?”

     “I remember reading it in college, but my expertise is Greece.”  She shrugged apologetically. 

     The animated little professor looked over at Mack.  “Doctor MacKenzie, are you?”

     Mack smiled over at his wife.  “Sallie’s the expert on Northern Europe.  She knows more about it than I do.”

     The professor gestured.  “Perhaps, then, we should hear from the other Doctor MacKenzie?  My dear, you are familiar with the legend?”

     Sallie nodded enthusiastically.  “Well, yeah.  In The Saga of the Volsungs, there is mention of such a thing.  Ottergild, I think it was called.”

     “Yes.  Please, tell us the story.”

     Sallie leaned forward on the couch, her mop of unruly brown curls bobbing as she spoke in her unrestrained Brooklyn accent. “Well, as I remember it, Otr, son of Hreidmar, loved to fish.  During the day he would magically change himself into a large otter and fish in that disguise.  One day, as he was sunning himself in his otter’s form on the riverbank, he was found by Odin’s son Loki and killed.  He, his brother Hoenir and the god Odin skinned the otter and displayed the pelt very proudly to Hreidmar, not knowing that it was the guy’s son.  Hreidmar demanded a ransom, a wergild from the three gods in exchange for Otr’s life.  It was a huge amount of riches, enough to cover the pelt completely.”

     Handellson nodded.  “Do you recall from where they obtained the riches?”

     Sallie nodded.  “It was from the dwarf king Andvari.”

     Handellson agreed, “Yes, just so.  Now, other legend says that this gold was cursed, bringing a bad end to the remaining sons of Hreidmar.  It eventually was sunk into the Rhine River, guarded in a subterranean chamber by the dwarf king, Alberich.”  He waved a finger in the air enthusiastically.  “Now, we come to the best part.  This Ottergild lay beneath the Rhine, as I say.  Alberich deeded the guarding of this hoard to the Rhinemaidens, three young and exceedingly beautiful ladies whose purpose was to protect it from theft.”

     Jan interrupted him with a question.  “Were they warriors?”

     Handellson’s eyes twinkled at the question.  “No, no.  They had a weapon far more devastating than a sharp blade.  They had their beauty, you see.  Alberich had deduced that any attempt at theft would be by a warrior, as that is what Viking warriors did quite often; that is, steal what was others’.  In this, they gained wealth and reputation.  Well, ah, where was I?”  He puzzled until Sallie gave him a verbal nudge.

     “The Rhinemaidens?”

     “Ah, yes.  Thank you, my dear.  Well, these Rhinemaidens protected the hoard with their beauty.  They were so enchanting that any warrior would fall hopelessly under their spell when he confronted them, obsessed by their charms, and be dissuaded by them from stealing the treasure.  Now, in order to assure that his maidens would not be similarly smitten by a handsome young warrior, he gave them eyes only for other women.  They were not moved by a man’s charms.  Being exceedingly beautiful, they fell in love with each other.  So, they remained in the Rhine, guarding the hoard of treasure, and their love for each other kept them bound to the spot and to their duty.  A clever plan, yes?”

     Mack wondered aloud, “What about the curse?”

     “Ah.  According to legend, Alberich placed a curse on a particular piece of gold known as the Rhinegold, a curse which would bring disaster to anyone who touched it.”  Handellson smiled.  “A further protection for his hoard of treasure.”

     Sallie asked, “What kind of curse?”

     “One diabolical in its intent.  According to legend, it would steal from one’s heart and mind that which they loved most; their sense of self, their memories of love.”  He paused to allow his words time to take effect, then added, “Only one who had forsaken love entirely, who had hardened his heart to affection, would be immune from it.”  He shrugged.  “But who among us has done that?  None, I daresay.”

     Jan placed her tea-cup down.  “Fascinating, but what has this got to do with us?”  He did not answer immediately.  Her eyes widened.  She leaned forward and asked, “Are you saying that you know where this stuff is?”

     He nodded slowly, then spoke.  “I believe that I have deduced it.  Gabrielle’s writings, I think, will confirm it.  I suspect that she has described it in some detail.  Your expert translation, Miss Pappas, will give us the accuracy that we need to find it.”  He looked over at Jan.  “Would you have an interest in such an undertaking, the recovery of the Ottergild and its crown jewel, the Rhinegold?”

     Jan grinned widely.  “Hell, yes.”  She looked over at Mel and asked, “Do we have any plans for this summer?”

     Mel’s bright blue eyes connected with Jan’s.  “I believe, darlin’, that we have just scheduled a trip to Europe for this summer.”

     Jan looked over at Mack and Sallie.  “You two with us?”  At their enthusiastic nods, Jan stood and offered a hand out to Professor Handellson.  “You’ve got yourself an archaeological team.  June or July okay?”

     He grasped Jan’s hand and pumped it.  “Excellent.  Oh, this is wonderful.  Yes, the summer is the perfect time.  The Rhine is much too cold to explore just now.  Ah, you have some expertise with scuba?  You will need it.”

     “No, but it gives us four months to learn.”

     “Oh, certainly.  You can learn by then.  In the meanwhile, I will clear our efforts with the German authorities.”  The professor eyed Jan critically.  “The hoard, if found, will belong to the German government, you understand.  I am afraid that we shall only receive, ah, how do you Americans call it?  ‘Bragging rights’, and whatever they choose to allow us to display here at the museum?”

     “That’s good enough for me, Professor.  I never expected to get rich as an archaeologist, anyway.”

     “Exactly.  Of course, these new writings of Gabrielle will more than compensate you, if I judge you correctly.”

     “You read my mind.  Thanks.”

     “Thank you, Doctor Covington, and thank you all, dear friends.  We will keep in touch during the next months, and I wish you godspeed in this quest of ours.”

                                                            *************************

After their return to the United States, Jan and Mel anxiously awaited the arrival of the photographic copies of Gabrielle’s record of her Norselands trip and arranged for training in the use of scuba gear.  Good to the professor’s word, the photographs arrived about two weeks after their return.  Mel immersed herself in their translation with a passion as Jan returned to her classes.  Every afternoon, she would arrive home, shake the cold from her bones, and sit down to read what Mel had written that day. 

     The scrolls slowly revealed a shocking, occasionally horrific story of a Xena filled with a lust for possession and power, of her acquaintance with the Norse god Odin, and of her induction into the Valkyrie, the elite of Odin’s warriors.  It also chronicled Gabrielle’s long, frantic trip north, following her soul-mate’s path as Xena resolved to undo the damage she had inflicted on the Norselands some thirty-five years earlier. 

     As the story unfolded, it gave the two scholars much pause.  The Ottergild and its crown jewel, the Rhinegold, began to represent to them not just a quest to rediscover ancient riches, but a symbol of a lust for power and of the renunciation of love which such lust for power demands in its disciples.  Jan was the first to voice her concerns as she sat one evening, perusing Mel’s handwritten translation.  She placed the legal pad down and regarded her lover’s profile as Mel sat, curled into her favorite chair and lost in the act of reading a book.

     “Mel, are we doing the right thing?”

     Mel looked up from her book.  “Why, what do you mean, Jan?”

     “The Rhinegold.  Is this something that we should really bring back to the world?”

     Mel placed the book down on her lap.  “Getting cautious, darlin’?  That’s not like you.  Are you worried about the curse?”

     “I mean that if this Rhinegold actually has the power to destroy, it might be better to just let it go.”

     Mel considered the statement, then adjusted her glasses.  “If it does, then who but us will recognize its power?  What if someone else brings it to light?  They won’t heed Gabrielle’s warning.”

     Jan nodded.  “Ah, it’s probably just her recounting of the legend, anyway.”

     “Perhaps you’re right.”  Mel lifted the book from her lap and began reading again, leaving Jan alone with her thoughts.  After a few moments, Jan rose from the couch.

     “I’m goin’ for a walk.  Need some time to think.”

     Mel looked up from her book.  “Need to talk with someone?”

     Jan smiled.  “Yeah.”

     Mel’s eyes reflected understanding.  “Bundle up, Jan.  It’s still quite cold outside.”

     “You bet.  Be back in a bit.”  With that, she walked to the hall closet, shoved her feet into her boots, wrapped a scarf around her neck and slipped on her coat.  She headed out the front door, softly closing it behind her, and tread out toward the street.  The night air was frosty, her breath coming in clouds of vapor as her boots clumped over the remnants of patchy snow which still clung to the stone walkway.  When she reached the sidewalk, she turned and began slowly strolling down the darkened street, occasionally casting glances at the houses which lined the pleasant residential block.  At the corner, she stopped and looked up into the winter’s sky.  The stars twinkled brightly and the moon was half-full.  She closed her eyes and whispered, “Gabrielle?”

     She listened, not only with her ears, but with her heart.  After a moment, she repeated the name.  A voice, whispered on the wind about her, seemed to echo in her soul.

I’m here, Janice.

     “Thanks for hearing.”

I am always near, my distant daughter.

“We’re going after the Rhinegold.”

We know.  Be careful.  It can steal what you love most.

“Then the legends are true?”

Read my scrolls, Janice.  Then, heed my warning. Greed seduces one; the lust for power is an intoxicating lover.

Janice hesitated, then whispered, “Can we find it?”

If anyone can find it, you can. 

“Should we?”

I would trust you with it more than any other person.  Remember my warning, Janice.  It is extremely dangerous.  If you find it, do not touch it.

“I’ll remember.  Thank you.”

I will be near you, as Xena is for Melinda.  Our love for you is our duty.  Godspeed, my distant daughter, and be wary.

With that, a gentle, icy breeze touched Jan’s face and the presence was gone.  Jan opened her eyes, peered up at the night sky, and smiled silent thanks.  Then, she turned and headed back toward the house, suddenly feeling chilled to the bone.

     In the kitchen, Mel awaited her with a cup of hot tea.  Jan gratefully accepted the cup, sipped at it, and then sat at the kitchen table.

     “Well, Jan?”  Mel eyed her with an expectant gaze, her arms crossed across her chest as her tall frame leaned against the kitchen counter.

     Jan looked up from her tea cup.  “It’s a go for the Rhinegold, Mel.  The whole story’s in the scrolls and the legends are true.  It’s dangerous as hell.”

     “Well, then.  We’d best be very careful, darlin’.”

     Jan chuckled.  “Aren’t we always?”

                                                            ***********************

     Spring neared and then blossomed, chasing the cold from the air and bringing a renewal of life to the earth.  Mel and Jan met Mack and Sallie three evenings a week at a local dive shop, learning the manipulation of the underwater dive gear, and strengthened their swimming aptitudes by daily exercise in the university’s indoor swimming pool.  In the meantime, Mel labored intently over Gabrielle’s newly-discovered writings, further unfolding the story of Xena’s early lust for power and of the tale of tragedy and redemption which befell them both some thirty-five years afterward.  In it, the Rhinegold figured prominently.

     In her scrolls, Gabrielle confirmed its ability to corrupt and destroy; how Xena had charmed and seduced the Rhinemaidens with her beauty, stolen the gold from them and forged it into a ring which promised incredible power to its wearer.  It had transformed Brunhilda, chief of the Valkyrie, into a ravaging monster.  It had affected Xena herself, stealing from her for a year that which she valued above all other things: the memory of her beloved Gabrielle.  In the end, though, it seemed that the power of which Jan had spoken at the Nobel ceremony, the redemptive power of love, was the only physic which could undo the tragic turn of events.  It was a moving story.

     The most exciting part of the tale, however, concerned Gabrielle’s recollection of the location of the hoard on the Rhine River and her description of the Rhinemaidens.  In her florid style, she painted in intimate detail the geography of the region and the cliffs and waterfall near which the Rhinemaidens frolicked as they persevered in their duty to guard the Ottergild and its crown jewel, the Rhinegold.  This information, they correlated with research which Professor Handellson provided, and painstakingly narrowed the possible location of the object of their search to a short span of the Rhine River directly west of the city of Frankfurt am Main.  There, the Rhine cut a deep gorge into the countryside, becoming possessed of a rolling current, and was often flanked with cliffs and hills.  It was near there, at the Cliff of the Lorelei, that legend recounted the story of the maiden who enchanted sailors with her song.  There, too, it was rumored that Siegfried, epic hero of the medieval German saga Nibelungenlied, had stolen a hoard of gold, and there that it was secreted forever after Siegfried’s untimely death at the hand of the warrior-queen Brunhild.

     Mel had cause to laugh at that last legend, for she was currently finishing her translation of the real origin of the story.  Her outburst of humor caused Jan to squint in puzzlement as she looked up from her dinner.

     “What, Mel?  Do I have a noodle hanging from my chin or something?”

     “No, darlin’.  I was just thinking about the Nibelungenlied, and how close it is to Xena and Gabrielle’s adventure.”

     “Oh, yeah.”  Jan patted her mouth with her napkin.  “That legend was written from The Volsungs.”

     “And that, in turn, probably came from accounts of Xena and Gabrielle’s story, told and re-told through the generations of Norse bards.”

     Jan raised an eyebrow in exclamation.  “The basis of legend...”

     Mel reached across the table and playfully tapped Jan’s forehead with her spoon.  “I know, Jan.  Now eat your soup.  You’re going to need your strength tonight.  It’s our final class in scuba.”

     “You know, Mel, I’m going to miss those classes.”

     “Oh, you enjoy them?”

     “Nah.  I just love to see you squeeze yourself into that wetsuit.”

     Mel’s mouth dropped open even as her eyes brightened at the compliment.  “Jan Covington, you’re a bad girl.”

     Jan pointed her finger across the table.  Her hazel eyes sparkled as she took her opportunity to tease Mel.  “Me?  Don’t think I haven’t noticed you checkin’ out Sallie when you think nobody’s looking.”  A bright red blush touched Mel’s cheeks.  She cleared her throat uncomfortably, then lowered her eyes to her soup bowl.  Jan thumped her fist on the table triumphantly.  “Ha, finally got you, didn’t I?  After ten years, too.  It’s about time.”

     Mel mumbled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

     Jan laughed.  “Yeah, right.  Then how come you’re as red as a beet?”

     “Am not.”

     “Are, too.”

     Mel said nothing for a moment, instead turning and gazing out the kitchen window.  Finally, she turned, looked at Jan, and her bright blue eyes assumed a mischievous twinkle as she spoke.

     “Ahem.  It should prove to be an interesting summer, shouldn’t it?”

                                                            ******************

     As final exam week approached, the preparations for their Rhine River trip neared completion.  Professor Handellson, in Stockholm, had corresponded faithfully with Jan, piecing together the most probable location of the Ottergild hoard, and Mel’s careful translation of Gabrielle’s writings added much information.  Finally, the four explorers carefully crated and shipped their diving gear to Germany, to the address of one Vak Valtham, a German national who was knowledgeable in Rhine legend and owned a salvage boat which they would use to search for the illusive site.  Professor Handellson had provided his name and arranged for his services; Jan had never met the man, but trusted the odd little professor’s judgement in the matter.

     Finally, final exams over and the hundred and one arrangements made, the two couples caught the train to New York City and made their flight across the Atlantic Ocean.  As usual, Jan chafed at the inactivity, Mel soothed her with her unwavering charm, and Sallie chattered pleasantly as Mack divided his time between a book and napping.

     After endless hours and refueling stops in Greenland and England, the large Pan Am liner began slowly losing altitude for its approach to Frankfurt.  As they descended through the clouds and finally broke out over the green, rolling topography of the German frontier, Mel pushed her glasses up on her nose and peered out the window.                      

     “Oh Jan, look.  The country is absolutely beautiful.”

     Jan leaned across Mel, attempting to peer through the port.  “Yeah, magnificent.  I wonder if they got as torn up from the war as France did?”

     “We’ll soon see.  We ought to be on the ground in an hour or so.”

     “Good.  I can’t wait.  My ass thinks I’ve forgotten how to walk.”

     Soon, the plane began banking, the wing near their port dipping and then returning to a horizontal plane as the engines drummed rhythmically.  They felt it descend again, then again, and soon, the outskirts of Frankfurt came into view.  As they flew over the city, its details became quite apparent to their eyes.  Damage from bombing was still apparent, five years after the end of the war.  Whole city blocks were devastated, jagged walls of buildings jutting toward the sky.  Square miles of city stretched out below them, the horrid aftermath of concentrated bombing still scarring the city.  Along the streets, though, traffic crawled, buildings were being reconstructed, and the city buzzed with life.  Birth and death, Jan mused; destruction and rebuilding.  Such was the human condition throughout history.  Rome, Athens, Constantinople, they all had been ravaged and returned to blossom anew, like flowers after the winter’s cold hand.  Human civilization, it seemed, was a hard thing to destroy.

     When the wheels touched runway, Jan breathed a heavy sigh of relief.  Her celebrations were premature, though; the slow trek through the customs inspections, the examination of their passports, the endless questions taxed her patience anew.  Only Mel’s gentle voice and hand soothed her as she sighed at the lines of travelers ahead of them. 

     After what seemed hours, they found themselves piling into a black Mercedes taxicab, their luggage squeezed into the trunk.  The driver spoke little English, but Sallie, who had a modest command of German from her graduate studies and a much better command of Yiddish from a childhood spent visiting with her grand-parents, was able to fall into a conversation with the pleasant, portly man as he deftly wound the large taxi through the bustling Frankfurt streets, finally delivering them to the door of their hotel near the huge central train station.

     The next day found them on a train bound for the small town of Kaub on the banks of the Rhine River.  It was just upriver from the Lorelei cliffs and was the location of the salvage boats which Vak Valtam owned.  That would be their base, and boasted the docks from which they would undertake their systematic exploration of that section of the river.

     The passenger cars were crowded with humanity, but they were able to claim seats together and find room for their four suitcases on the racks overhead.  The languages spoken about them were mixed, hearing a smattering of German French, and Dutch spoken around them, interspersed with a Texas drawl or an east-coast accent from the dozen or so American soldiers on the car. 

     The train made frequent stops, and after a couple of hours, Jan fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat.  “Jeez.  Kaub should be comin’ up soon.”  Sallie giggled at her restlessness, then rose and wiggled her way out into the aisle.

     “I’ll find out how close we are.”  No sooner did she speak than a conductor, replete in his blue coat and peaked hat, appeared behind her.  She turned and asked, “Wohin sind Wir?”

     “Kaub,” he replied.

     “Danke.”  As the conductor squeezed by, Sallie noted, “We’re there.”

     Jan was out of her seat in a moment, standing on tiptoes to reclaim her suitcase as the train slowed and then ground to a halt, and soon the four travelers were standing on the platform of the train station, the large orange sign over their heads reading, “Kaub”. 

     They asked directions from the station officials, then caught a taxi to seek out their accommodations, an inn near the river’s banks and docks.  As usual, Sallie led the way, doing most of the speaking, and in a while, they found themselves settled into two of the several rooms on the upper floor of a picturesque little gasthaus, or inn and tavern.  Mel was fascinated by the view from the quaint stone balcony attached to their room, the docks and the majestic Rhine River in the near distance, but Jan was all business.  She led Mel to Mack and Sallie’s room, banged on the door, and in a moment had marched everyone downstairs to seek out the docks and Herr Valtam’s place of business.

     It did not take them a long time; the town’s waterfront was small, and everyone knew Valtam.  When they entered his dockside office, a tall, blonde man with an eyepatch over one eye rose from behind his desk.  He did not wait for them to speak; instead, he greeted them politely.

     “You must be the archaeological team.  So pleased to meet you.  I am Vak Valtam.”

     “Yeah.  Jan Covington. This is Mel Pappas, and Sallie and Mack MacKenzie.”

     “Of course.  Professor Handellson mentioned your names and gave you all great praise.  Ah, you would like to get started?”

     “You bet.  You received our dive gear?”

     “Yes.  It is in the back rooms, and I have tanks for all of you.  Today, though, let us just explore the charts.  It is too late to dive.”  He led them through a door, and in a large back room lined with dive equipment, spread some charts of the Rhine River out on a table.  “Now, what can you tell me about the geography of the place which you seek?”

     “Well, according to Gabrielle’s scrolls, there is a waterfall which springs from cliffs surrounding an area of the river which is wide and secluded.  It lay in a section of the river which seemed rather calm.”

     “I know the place.  Here.”  He pointed to the chart.  The four travelers squinted down at the place he had indicated.  “Now, the geography may have changed somewhat over two thousand years, you understand.”

     Jan nodded.  “Does this fit with Professor Handellson’s guess as to where the site is?”

     “Ja, perfectly.”  He straightened up, then eyed Jan with his good eye.  “Tell me, what exactly are we seeking?”

     “The Ottergild and the Rhinegold.”

     His expression showed surprise.  “Really?  It has been sought before.”

     “Oh?  When?  By whom?”

     Valtam smiled.  “During the war, by the Nazis.  They were unsuccessful.”

     “They didn’t have Gabrielle and Professor Handellson to guide them.”

     Valtam scratched his chin.  “What makes you so sure that it even exists?”

     Jan replied evenly, “Gut feeling.  It feels right.”

     “Well then, Doctor Covington, we shall trust your ‘gut feeling’.  After all, it has obviously worked for you before.  Your reputation is impressive.”

     “Thanks.”  Jan looked back at the chart.  “When do you suggest that we get started on this?”

     He looked at his wrist-watch.  “Tomorrow.”  At Jan’s crestfallen expression, he smiled.  “Enjoy the sightseeing today.  The Cliff of the Lorelei is nearby and it is a wonderful place to visit.  Have a good dinner, get some rest, and we shall start at eight o’clock in the morning.  I have an extra car which the four of you can use.”

     Mel placed a hand on Jan’s shoulder.  “We can wait until tomorrow.  Let’s take his advice, Jan.  It’s a lovely idea.”

     Jan looked up into Mel’s bright blue eyes, then over at Valtam, and nodded.  “Deal.  Thanks for the loan of the car.  We’ll be here at eight.”

     “Until then, Doctor Covington.”  He walked over to a hook pegged into the wall near the back door and pulled a key from it, handing it to Jan.  “Black convertible sedan, in the back.  The petrol tank is full.  Enjoy the sightseeing.”

     Jan smiled thanks and they left through the back door.  As Valtam watched them start the car and drive off, he sighed and thrust his hands into his pockets, then lit a cigarette.  As he stood in the yard, surrounded by dry boat hulls and salvage equipment, he noted a black raven alight on a railing nearby.  He studied the raven for a moment, then spoke.

     “Well, Huginn.  What have my eyes and ears to tell me today?”  The bird squawked and flapped its wings slightly, settling down on the railing and fixing its eyes unerringly on the man.  “Of course.  The game just begins.  Follow and report to me.”  With that, the raven flapped its wings and left the salvage yard, ascending into the sky. 

     Valtam turned and walked back into the building, seating himself in the chair behind his desk.  As he leaned back and crossed his feet on the worn desk, he smoked and pondered his four visitors, only looking up when he heard a flap of wings at his open window.  Another raven, similar to the first, alighted on the window sill and began picking at the cracker left there.  Valtam watched him, then chuckled.  “Muninn, you are all appetite.”

     The raven looked up at him and uttered a shrill cry.  Valtam grinned as he replied to the unspoken question.  “You worry too much, Muninn.  If she is true to her reputation, she will find it for me.  I can almost feel the power of the Rhinegold now.”

                                                            ************************

     The next morning found the team aboard a roomy salvage boat, the diesel engines drumming as the boat slid along one side of the wide river.  Valtam was at the wheel and squinted as he pointed toward a section of low cliffs.  “I think that you are seeking this spot.”

     Jan noted the short waterfall, then nodded, her pulse racing.  She studied the cliffs, then observed, “I anticipated the waterfall being higher.”

     “Two thousand years ago, it probably was.  It has cut into the rocks over that time.”

     “Makes sense.  What’s the depth of the river here?”

     He considered the question, the answered, “Oh, twenty-five or thirty feet in the center.  More shallow at the banks, where we will dive.”  He looked behind him, then turned the wheel.  The boat slid through the current toward the cliff-lined bank.  “We will anchor just over there, near the waterfall.  I will put out the diving marker, then we can begin, ja?”

     “Now you’re talkin’ my language.  We’ll get into our wetsuits.”

     When Jan re-appeared on deck, Valtam and Mack had anchored the boat just upriver of the waterfall and were placing out the divers’ marker buoy.  Vak gathered the four explorers about him and offered a few final words of caution.  “Now, the river’s currents can be surprisingly strong in places.  Be careful.  We shall start here, as you have instructed, and work our way down the bank on this side.  The water can be silty at times.  You should not have to dive deeply; that means that you can stay down for some time.  Stay close to each other.  If one of you has difficulty, or when you are finished with your dive, come to the surface and light a flare.  We will use the launch to get you out of the water.”  He indicated the wooden boat tied to the stern of the cruiser.  “All is understood?”

     Four nods replied affirmatively, and he smiled.  “Then good hunting.”  With that, they donned their weight belts and tanks, tested their equipment and, one by one, dropped into the water.  Jan was last.  With a hand gesture, she waved her companions toward her, and they ducked beneath the water’s surface and began their short swim to the bank of the river.

     The water was cold and somewhat murky, but enough of the sun’s light penetrated to allow them to see through the brownish dusk.  The beams from their lights helped illumine the way, and they gradually descended to about fifteen feet, feeling the muck of the river’s bottom just beneath them.  Mack inflated and released the first buoy, marking the southernmost boundary of their search area, and they slowly began paralleling the underwater edges of the cliffs, their lights flickering back and forth in an attempt to examine every yard of the watery environ.  After some time, Jan felt a tap on her shoulder.  Mel was next to her, gesturing toward her wrist-watch.  Jan nodded understanding at the message, pointed to Mack, and then toward the surface with a thumb.  Mack set another buoy’s weight on the silty river bottom, inflated it, and allowed it to bob to the surface.  Then, all four slowly returned to the surface of the water.

     They had made some distance from the boat.  Jan lifted her face mask, pulled the mouthpiece from her mouth, and gasped, “Sallie, pop a flare.”  In a moment, Sallie was waving a flare above her head, and in answer, they saw the boat’s launch depart and head toward them.

     Back aboard the boat, they were enjoying a light lunch as Valtam recharged their tanks with compressed air.  Above the noise of the compressor, Jan and the others huddled and spoke as they carefully marked the extent of their explorations on their chart.  Finally, the noisy machine was silenced and Valtam sat with them.  “So, any luck, Doctor Covington?”

     “Call me Jan.  No, not yet.  Didn’t really expect it, though.  We’re not close enough to the waterfall yet, I think.”

     He nodded in understanding.  “You will get closer on your afternoon dive.  Give your meal a chance to settle, and then we shall try again.”

     The afternoon’s dive was equally unsuccessful.  Slowly, the divers negotiated the murky, cold water in their efforts to examine the base of the cliffs, and were picked up by Valtam’s launch at the end of the dive.  In reply to his questions, Jan just shook her head, but Sallie giggled.

     “We found a Mercedes.”

     Mack added, “Yeah, and parts of a Willis Jeep.”

     Valtam found the remarks amusing.  “Ja, you can find almost anything in the river.  They are from the war, no doubt.”

     At that, Mack became concerned.  “Any chance of unexploded ordinance?  Bombs, mines, that sort of thing?”

     Valtam nodded.  “Of course.  If you find it, mark it and I will telephone the authorities.”  He shrugged.  “We are still finding it all the time here in Germany.”

     Sallie huffed and blew some wet curls away from her face.  “Nice.”

     “Do not worry.  Here, there was not much fighting.”

     “Well, that’s good.  Guess it’s time to call it a day.  Same drill tomorrow?”

     Valtam nodded.  “Help me pull in the divers’ marker and we shall go home.”

                                                            ************************

     The next two days went as the first one did, with morning and afternoon dives and careful scrutiny of the river’s bank near the waterfall.  At certain times, the silt degenerated the team’s sight considerably; at others, they found the water fairly accommodating.  On the afternoon of the third day, as the weary divers hauled themselves back aboard the salvage boat, Jan shed her tank and sat on a seat, a disgusted aura about her. 

     “This is bullshit.  I know it’s here somewhere.  We’re missing something.”

     Sallie attempted a joke. “Yeah.  We’re missing the cave.”

     Mack, busy securing the air tanks in a corner of the boat’s wide cockpit, looked up.  “Jan, what if it’s covered in silt?  We could pass over it and never see it.”

     Jan scratched her chin.  “Hm.  It has been two thousand years.”  She looked over at Mel.  “Hey, you got your translation of Gabrielle’s scroll handy?”

     “It’s in the cabin, Jan.”

     “Let’s hear it again.  Maybe there’s something that will help us.”

     Mel disappeared into the cabin, emerging in a moment with her notes.  As she flipped through the pages, she scanned the rows of neat handwriting.  “No, no-- ah, here.  She says that she did not enter the cave.  Only Xena did, and that was thirty-five years before they returned the Rhinegold to the Rhinemaidens.”

     Mack hummed thoughtfully, then said, “That’s no help.  It had to be close enough to the surface, though, that Xena could make it in there with one breath.”

     “Let’s look further.  Here, Gabrielle describes the maidens’ beauty, their appearance-- my, they were rather skimpily clad.  She describes them in some detail, if I remember.”