“We know quite a few facts,” said Albrecht. “Mundzuk was buried in 418. Attila was born in 406, so he was twelve when his father died and his uncle Ruga became King. I’ve sometimes thought that even in that generation there might have been dual kings—that Mundzuk and Ruga might have shared the throne the way Bleda and Attila did later. At the time of Mundzuk’s death, the Huns were making a big leap historically. The great migration, their conquest of much of Asia and Europe, was already well under way. We know that they were in contact with the Romans near the Danube around the year 370, so it’s almost certain Mundzuk’s body was brought back to the eastern homeland for burial only. Attila would have stayed for it and then returned west. In those days, young princes from all over the Roman Empire and beyond were kept in Rome for a few years at a time to encourage their families to keep their treaties with Rome, and Romans were sent as hostages to neighboring kingdoms. Once Attila’s father was dead, Attila became a convenient choice as a hostage. He was sent to Rome.”

“That must have been quite an experience for a twelve-year-old,” Remi said.

“Yes, I’m sure it was. Either before or during the trip, he learned Latin, which the Huns and others considered a soldier’s language, something likely to be useful to members of a ruling family. Later, Latin would help him communicate with allies and subjects from hundreds of tribes and with emissaries of the Empire. Attila met lots of aristocratic Romans, saw how the Romans governed, and certainly came away with lots of information about the Roman armies.” Albrecht paused. “But I’m going on, aren’t I? What we need to do is find the tomb of Mundzuk. Do you have any ideas yet on how you’ll proceed?”

“Cautiously,” said Sam. “We’re in a town where we don’t speak the language and just a few speak ours. We know there are anti-American groups operating here. We’ve just been to the supposed site, which is a central market in a big city, so there’s barely space to stand on, let alone to perform an excavation. The problem is that by the time we get it done, the treasure will be gone, split among Poliakoff and his friends, and the gold melted down and converted to cash. This is like salvage archaeology. Either we do it now or we’ll never get another chance. And this is the final treasure, the one Attila’s message said we had to find to get to his tomb.”

“I know,” said Albrecht. “But treasure is never something worth getting killed for.”

“Agreed,” said Sam. “We’ve already pushed our luck to the limit. But we may have a way to push the limit.”

Chapter 27

TARAZ, KAZAKHSTAN