ames really hated gardening but it was either that or divorce. He had thought long and hard about it but chose gardening. The back yard was in a dip and a river ran along the fence line, although the fence was little more than some wire strung between timber posts, and the river, a meandering creek that spent a lot of its time dry or, at best, stagnant.

It was said that in another time this place was magic. Now it was just a communal estate built a little too far away from everything and with just not enough services to support the community. "Panorama Estates" was now an old and overlooked collection of 1960's brick two-ups/two downs, quietly getting on with being forgotten.

It must have been about 3.30pm on that late summer's afternoon when it happened. James was digging the other side of the fence. Until then he had kept on his side, not for any territorial reason, just that he hated all there was to hate about gardening and to move over that side increased the area he had to tend; not good tactics by a long chalk. In this instance he was overruled, the command was issued from the back porch. "Jim, do the cooch grass over the fence will you, it looks unruly."

"Unruly!" he mumbled to himself as he parted the wire and stepped through the gap between the top and second strands. The ground was lush and soft with long green grass that, until now, had been left well alone. He started at the long runners of weed, hacking and cutting with the blade of his shovel.

The afternoon toiled on inexorably towards evening, the shadows grew longer and the pile of cut grass larger. Except for a short tea break he hacked away, and, to his disgust, the grass stayed as "unruly" as it had begun. When James was seriously considering packing it in for the day his shovel shuddered as it hit something solid in the soft peat. It was totally unexpected and surprised him so that he uttered an expletive that would have caused a grave look if it had been heard by his wife, one not for swearing of any kind, at any time.

The shovel was almost to its hasp, his toes on the peat and the blade stopped and met his instep, protected only by the thin sole of a Hush Puppy slip-on. It hurt and he withdrew, hopping comically in a circle around the spade's handle, itself vibrating from the event. James was prepared there and then to be done with it, but his curiosity was piqued. He remembered talking to Mr. Donaldson, one of the original "Panoramarians", about how the foundations and plumbing work had been so easy because the ground was soft; without any rocks of any kind.

For this reason, James was interested... he had found a rock.

He started to explore the area. Not one to dig aimlessly; too much forced gardening had made sure of that; he used his brains. He radiated out from his first strike in a straight line, pushing the spade in until it hit, lifting it, moving it and pushing it in again. This went on for about 30 minutes and his impromptu boundary marking had produced a perfect square of about two meters.

James was a math teacher, he knew that there were no perfect squares in nature. No crystalline forms made squares and there was no way any igneous formation would do it. He knew it was not a square in the strictest sense because squares are two-dimensional. His analytical mind dictated a square because he had only found two dimensions. To find the third he would have to dig.

That night he tossed and turned. It was early morning when he finally gave up and went down stairs to the kitchen to make a cup of Ovaltine. "Christ, Ovaltine" he thought, remembering his student days in the '70's. Drinking till dawn, smoking the best Jamaican and solving the world's problems on the way to Hyde Park for the rally.

"Drinking Ovaltine" he sighed and shook his head. "Sitting in the kitchen of a middle-income comfortable two-up/two-down in suburbia, Jeez". What would Donny Bronley and, God, what was the name of the girl, the one he took to see the Stones on Eel Pie Island, and had in Donny's bed while he slept on the floor, pissed and as high as a kite; Mary? No Marigold, that was it. What would they think now?

He looked out the back window and saw the spade handle sticking up proudly from the peat, the moonlight quite bright at that time. As he watched, a cloud must have covered the moon and it disappeared into the black shroud that replaced the light.

He went back to bed and, for the first time, realized what the tossing and turning was all about. It was the spade and the square rock under it. It was a hint, just a touch of excitement that the unknown tends to bring. Made more outstanding by the completely flat and lack luster palette his life was. Any excitement would have increased his awareness. And, thus, awareness increased, he finally fell off to sleep, a sleep fed by the joy of a quest.

He awoke, filled with that delightful feeling one has when they awaken on a day that holds an adventure.

His wife was in the kitchen and he could hear the radio playing the local radio classical FM station. He listened and identified it was Greig, The Peer Gynt Suite, In the Hall of the Mountain King. For some reason it seemed apt and he sprung out of bed and was dressed before his wife called him for breakfast.

James entered the kitchen and kissed her on the neck, something he had not done much of lately and she was quite surprised by it. She served his breakfast in silence as he told her of his discovery and his plans to uncover it.

By mid morning James had dug down one side and, as he had expected, had reached rock. It was a strange bluish colour, not unlike the blue metal he had seen quarried to the south about 100 miles away but definitely not anything he had seen around the riding.

The little he uncovered illustrated that this thing, for he was thinking now of it being a thing, was man made. It had been cut and finished to an almost mirror like sheen. It was a dark colour and it was flecked with silver and gold. He spent the rest of the afternoon digging. It ended up not being a cube with its dimensions being two meters by two meters by one meter.

Late in the afternoon, with the thing showing completely, James rested. Now that the brute work was done, it was time to study it. He felt a little apprehension, knowing that in his haste to uncover it, he had not been all that scientific and, where he had used a Tolsen's Number 5 Shovel, he was sure archeologists would have been at work with hand spades and fine brushes.

Still, it was done so no use worrying about it. In front of James as a relic of importance, he was sure of that. It sat gentle in its solitude in the early evening heat of a hot summer's day. Its even dark colour alive with the silver and gold flecks, its cut perfect and absolutely precise in its masonry.

James was in awe. He moved to it now, resolute and breathing slowly. He touched the corner nearest him and found his hand tingled slightly. He quickly removed it and moved away, it was not unlike one of those shocks you used to get in the Haunted House on Show Day.

Further inspection showed that the top right hand corner was engraved with symbols and words. The form was foreign to him although he could identify letters and bits of words. The language was not modern, he believed he would have identified the cursive form if it were. No, this was ancient. About 15cms in from the edge was a fine line which James saw was a lid join. The top must be removable. Reasoning that this thing must be hollow he started to search for a way of opening it.

There was too much mud and clay on the thing to allow James to inspect it much so he started to use his math teacher's mind again to reason a plan of attack. Obviously he would have to clean it. Water was the best way but it would fill the hole, so he started to dig drainage channels to allow the water to flow away to the creek. Thank God the bank was dropping quite steeply here and he could see that it would only require about 2 meters of digging to get it done.

His wife was calling him now for supper and had come down once during the afternoon to survey proceedings. She did not appear interested in any of it, and her only input was to point out that he was making a "...blessed mess..." and that he would have to fill the hole when done.

It was darkening quite quickly so, reluctantly, he decided the rest would have to wait until tomorrow. He had classes in the morning but would be able to get back by 2pm and would complete the work then.

For the first time in years, James felt excited about tomorrow.

Morning came quickly and James was up with the sparrows, something he never did. He found he could dig the drains, finish breakfast and be ready to leave by the time he normally dragged himself out of bed. The morning was great, he was a man with a mission, and relished in the new found or re-won state.

He made a call to his old friend Toby Daniels. Toby was a lecturer at the local university specializing in Polynesian Chicken Sexing or Love and Ancient Civilizations or some such. He told him of the find and swore him to secrecy, but only after Toby elicited the right to visit that afternoon and study the thing with James. The agreements were made and James was home by 2pm as he had planned.

He suited up in his gumboots and made his way to the dig with the garden hose. It was another warm day and he could see that the peat had dried quite dramatically since yesterday. The water would not be a problem. He started to play the stream over the face of the thing and was delighted to see the mud and clay wash away, leaving a clean, machine-like surface in its wake. As he had thought, the water drained away pretty well and by the time he had rolled up the hose and cleaned up a little, most of it had gone.

Toby arrived and James made them a cup of tea, bringing Toby up to speed on the events, waiting while the afternoon sun got to work drying the area and making its less muddy by the minute.

Finally, the time came to venture back to the thing, James in his jeans and tartan shirt, Toby in his worsted trousers and white cotton business shirt and tie; quite the duo for archeological activities.

They stood on the lip of the hole, the thing there with its dark stone glinting in the afternoon sun. James, arms crossed like the proud father of the center who just stolen the ball and ran it all the way for a goal, Toby with his mouth agape and repeating... "my God, my God..."

The inspection Toby gave the thing was like an Arab Sheik with a million pound stallion. He went over every inch of it, noticing, as James had, that touching it gave a shock or tingle of sorts. It was not uncomfortable once the initial concern had mellowed. There was no noise, just a tingle against the skin when you put your hand against it.

"I think it is a box, James. There is no doubt the writing is ancient. Perhaps Druid; may even predate them. Out of my area of expertise I am afraid, we need to get Buffy Masters down to have a squiz, what do you say old man?" Toby asked as he walked around the thing, stroking it and touching its flanks, as if working out how it would run at Ascot.

James thought long and hard on it then decided, against his heart, that Toby was right. It was time to get the professionals involved.

"You know, James, this will make you famous. I reckon that whatever it is, it is bound to be an interesting find. God, I wish I knew what it was." The look on Toby's face illustrated his honesty in the comment.

"Why do you think it is here, Toby?" James asked while he jumped down into the hole.

Toby shrugged, "'spose it has to be somewhere, Jim my boy".

James could not argue with that. It did indeed have to be somewhere and that somewhere was here.

Buffy Masters was a lovely lady. James had not felt to use such terms in a long time, but, here, standing in front of the thing in the dawn light, she was a woman of most magnificent beauty. Dressed in light dungarees and matching shirt, gumboots and woolen pullover around her neck, this lady just looked like a Goddess.

"Well, James" she said observing the thing "this is wonderful. I have never seen anything like it."

"I told him, Buffy old thing" Toby recanted with a pride that the realization his understanding of proceedings were correct. Dr. Masters nodded to her somewhat pompous college.

She turned to James, a smile as wide as she could muster crossed her face and he was amazed at the warmth that smile caused in him.

"I am blowed if I know what it is but let's see what we can see." She said as she dropped into the hole. James followed her for no other reason than he felt at that time that he would have followed her anywhere.

"It is Druid..." she said as she studied the top of the box. Studying the inscription as neat as handwriting but a little larger "...I can not make it out, it seems to be a riddle, a rune more like. I am sure it is a Dolmen of sorts."

James had spent the evening prior reading up on the Druids and replied "I thought Stonehenge was a Dolmen, this is a lot smaller." As soon as the words had left his mouth he wished he hadn't said anything. He was sure it just sounded silly but to his delight she smiled at him, continuing.

"Well, in a way, you're right. They are usually quite large but there is no rule to it. They can be huge and small, although this is quite small."

She walked around it and continued studying it.

"They are chambers..." she said, watching James who was nodding, basking in his new found knowledge having forgotten how much he used to enjoy learning "...as a rule, Dolmens are surrounded by a circle of megaliths collectively called a Cromlech, they are usually burial chambers."

She looked around at the peat moss and nodded absentmindedly. "There may be other stones in a circle around here, the Cromlech is important."

"Do you think it is a burial chamber?" James asked, a shudder passing through him, subconsciously moving back a little.

Buffy shrugged, "Well, burial chamber is literal. They used Dolmens as containers at times, to hold or trap things." She smiled at James again, and he enjoyed it. "They were Mages James, their magic had elements of containment, sometimes Dolmens were believed to have been used to hold or store magic, both good and bad."

She seemed distant for a second. "Good and bad"

She took a piece of rice paper, about the size of an A3 sheet, from her pack and placed it over the inscription. She celotaped it to the stone and rubbed over the sheet with a piece of charcoal causing the characters to appear in reverse.

"I am damned if I can make this out and I don't want to rush it. I will need to take the rubbing back to my rooms and makes sure of one or two things." She said as she completed the work. James was standing behind her and looking over her shoulder, she moved back when he didn't expect it and pushed against him. She laughed and James apologized as they untangled themselves.

"What now?" he asked, sort of having expected a far bigger production, something akin to the discovery of Tutankhamen with a party the size of Lord Carnarvon's. Buffy turned to him and said.

"Well, you can come and watch me translate and help decipher it if you like."

"But, what about the thing?" He said, expecting something, just not sure what.

"James, it isn't going anywhere and its solid stone. It must be 2500 years old, I think it will be all right, another eight hours is not going to hurt. Anyway it must weight tons, it isn't going anywhere." Buffy completed with a laugh.

James watched Susan Masters, Doctor of Archeology, Buffy to her friends, named so for the time she ran naked through Stonehenge on a field trip in her first year at University. James watched this lady, 14 years his junior, lift her body out of the hole and was feeling a warmth that had long been missing.

She turned and smiled at him. "You coming, James" and walked away with Toby, leaving James to follow, excited to be on this quest, excited for a number of reasons.

Over breakfast, the day was planned. James had morning study hall and agreed to meet Susan at the campus at 3pm. Toby extended his deepest regrets but had been called away to London to a board meeting of the college or some such. It seemed Toby was interested in the political side of university life and was growing his stature with all tools available. James was not in the least bit upset about Toby's departure although crowed a few well-rounded disappointed words.

He couldn't understand why but he just felt glad he was going to be alone with Susan Masters and more's the point, she seemed a little glad he would be able to be there herself.

His wife was a little non-plused by the goings on and let James know. He dismissed her with a "...it will be all right, you'll see, this is exciting..." She went back to writing in her diary. Tonight she was going to stay with her Sister in Bathgate and would be gone for two weeks.

Her only instruction to James was to "...clean up any mess before she returned..." This annual pilgrimage to Bathgate was James' respite, perhaps his wife's as well.

The fortnight was his time for being a mess again. Something he was always very good at and something his wife had put right amongst other things. She was a nurse, now a matron, and had met James the night he and Fred Daley fell into the canal at the back of the Bull and Hair.

Both blind drunk and full of canal water, he broke his leg and, during his convalescence, they became lovers. In bed 4E ward 7 at 3am to be precise. At the time her "differences" were attractive, now, they had just made him bland. He loved his fortnight.

His morning ran like a train and he was at the university at 1.40pm. Susan had given him instructions on how to get to her room and had said she was free anytime after 1pm. She promised she would wait for him before starting. He liked the way she had offered to do that, acknowledging James' right to be there without it being said.

He got lost, but that was to be expected, he was a klutz with a map at the best of times. Finally, with the assistance of an elderly lady from the Bursar's office, James found Susan Masters. The lady pointed to the door and smiled. "Be nice to Susan, she is a gentle soul." She said as she tapped on the door for James, then turned and walked away. James was taken aback by the candor but didn't have time to worry about it because the door opened and Susan was there.

He smiled and stammered an apology about getting lost and a lot of other things, his mind out of sync with his reality. She stood before him in a lightweight shift dress, a pastel blue with violets, square at the neck, showing a hint of cleavage and short above her knees with a drop waist. She had dark blue socks and a pair of Bluntstones. No make-up and her hair tied up in a ponytail.

Smiling, she opened the door further, "Come in James". He entered her office and was delighted to see they were alone. "God, stop it..." he thought "...this minute". She closed the door behind him and motioned to the sofa near the window. They were on the second floor of the east wing and overlooked the soccer fields and the woods beyond. It was a peaceful scene.

"I have taken the time since to read a little." She looked at James and must have sensed his mood changed ever so slightly. "No silly..." she said with a delightful laugh in her voice, "...some text books, I promised I'd leave the scratching till you got here". She patted his hand and he felt a shock not unlike that off the Dolmen "I would never do that".

Their closeness filled the room like water. The sounds that heretheto were intruding disappeared like some huge curtain had been lowered. James was looking into Susan's eyes and she his. He felt an urge so strong to kiss her he was lost to it. Their lips met and she moved to him thirstily, their embrace fired from some source that was foreign to James.

Then, as quickly as it had happened, the noises returned and reality crashed in. Susan moved away from James with the sudden movement, her face was red and she exhaled in a "whhhoooo".

"Susan, I'm so sorry..." he stood and moved towards here and then stepped back, feeling the weight of the closeness as he neared her "...please, please forgive me... I never...."

She had an expression on her face that was akin to surprise, amazement and something else, none seemed to be anger. She coughed and James just held his hands in supplication.

"Goodness me..." she said, her breath coming in starts "James, what... what happened ... to... us?"

He felt the heat of his blush move from the pit of his stomach up to his head like an army of ants chasing sugar syrup.

"I... don't..."

She smiled and moved back to James, putting her hands on his shoulders, moving into him putting her head against his chest and her lips against the skin of his neck, his shirt opened and one button loose. He felt his hands move to her back and the softness of her skin was evident through the wafer-thin material of the dress.

"shhhhssssss" she said, "what ever it is... I want more"

He was lost. His lips moved to hers and they kissed, drawing from themselves and floating together. The embrace lasted and lasted, James' hands moving down her sides and holding her hips against him. Delighting at the feeling of her pressure as she pressed back against him, trapping his sex, now erect and extended and moving it to hers.

They were lost. Susan moaned and broke the embrace... Turned and locked the door, with a single pull of the cords, the venetians dropped to the floor and made the room darken considerably. James reached for her again and she moved to him. There, in her room, James with the most beautiful person he had ever seen, erect, solid with his lust, light with the euphoria of this, she gave herself to him.

At the moment their bodies united, the Godhead one with his dragon, time stopped still. Neither being aware of any feeling beyond this and completely full. Their lovemaking was wild, passionate, maddening. As it finished, as the physical overrode the emotions, 20 miles away, in a hole in the garden, it started.