The Etruscan Net by Michael Gilbert

drunkard. He will have to go.’
    Broke said, ‘I was partly to blame. The boys were shooting at crippled birds. I interfered.’ He pointed to the dead pigeon and the two captive birds.
    Ferri said, ‘I will have the birds destroyed. I see that you have brought a torch with you. Good. Allow me to lead the way.’
    The tumulus rose, gently as a breast, from the body of the earth. It covered an acre of ground. They went down three steps, through a gap in the stone girdle, along a man-made cleft, and into the tumulus itself. There were small chambers, cut in the rock to right and left, all quite empty.
    ‘These, and the two beyond, were ransacked long ago,’ said Ferri. ‘Fortunately the vandals got no further. The passage was a false entrance. We found another on the other side. That, too, led to an apparently blank wall of rock.’
    ‘Which you broke down?’
    ‘Certainly. With modern implements it was not difficult.’
    ‘What did you find?’
    Ferri chuckled. ‘We found that we were back in the first passage. They were intercommunicating. An Etruscan joke. There were some interesting terracotta figures in the tomb which lay off the second passage. Some the Professor has kept. Others he has given to different museums in Italy. Also two caskets of alabaster containing ornamental jewellery.’
    They made their way down the central passage, which dipped and curved to the right, then started to rise again. By the light of his torch Broke could see the chiselling of recent excavation in the rocks. Daylight showed ahead. Broke was counting his paces. It was sixty-five yards before they emerged at the far side of the tumulus. Ferri led the way round to the left.
    ‘Here we broke in again,’ he said. ‘We are working here now. You will find this more interesting, I think.’
    Broke scrambled through the hole which had been cut in the rock and turned on his torch. He was in a tiny room, some eight foot by six, with the usual rock shelf around two sides of it. The walls above were covered by a continuous painting. It was a seascape. A curly border, half-way up the wall, gave a formal representation of the surface. A multitude of fish and strange marine creatures swam below it and from the rocks along the bottom anemones grew, and crabs lurked in stylized fronds of weeds. Higher up, porpoises broke the surface. And on the water there floated, as centre-piece to the picture, a single open-decked ship, with high poops at each end and a line of rowers in the waist.
    Broke drew in his breath sharply. He said, ‘This is very fine. Has it been recorded?’
    ‘The Professor has had colour photographs taken of it. He places it as fifth century, I believe.’
    ‘Sixth or fifth,’ agreed Broke. He had out his glass and was examining the ship carefully. ‘This is a representation of a pirate ship. You can see the iron beak at the prow which was used for ramming. The man at the back is armoured too. The captain, or pirate chief, one presumes, since he is wearing such a splendid helmet.’ It was an elaborate contraption, like a dowager’s Ascot hat, but constructed in metal sections. At the front, in the centre, was a small lion’s head.
    ‘It is interesting that you should say that. This cluster of tombs is thought to have belonged to a pirate and his family. His name seems to have been Thryns. It is supposed that he ruled over this settlement. He may have owed allegiance to the Lucomie of Volterra, or he may have been independent. His name had been seen on the lintel of a door at Vada, on the coast.’
    ‘Fascinating,’ said Broke. ‘Winter quarters here. A summer house on the coast, near his ship. If he was really a big-shot, his burial chamber would be worth finding.’
    ‘Of course. That’s what we’re hoping for.’
    ‘What have you got so far?’
    ‘Some interesting mirrors, and some small alabaster figures. Come, I’ll show you.’
    With a last look at the pirate chief, erect in the stern of his galley, peering