If this is a tomb, then where’s the body?” Beth swept her flashlight over the empty bier against the wall. The couch was big, bronze, and impossibly well preserved. The Celt buried here must have been at least six foot. She could imagine his strong limbs and broad shoulders resting atop the soft furs. She stifled an impulse to stroke the downy pelts. Everything inside the mound was too fresh, too pristine, too perfect, from the spirals and...