The Jubilee

By Valeria Reece

In the summer of 1888 King George I of Greece is preparing to celebrate his Silver Jubilee in Athens. Simultaneously, a team of archaeologists from Cambridge University departs for Greece in a ship laden with equipment to boost the recently founded British School, cheerfully unaware of the dangers ahead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Valeria Carneiro dos Reis
• Release date: Jan 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9781739183585

Book preview

The Jubilee

By

Valeria Reece

Copyright © 2020 Valeria Reece

Ebook Edition

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored, in any form or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Cover design by Scott Gaunt: [e-mail]

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 1

From the window of Sir Richard Wilson’s office Andrew was observing the immaculate garden outside, which was beginning to exhibit the subtle signs of an early spring. He was always inspired by Cambridge’s academic atmosphere, and an excuse to return to the University, even for a quick chat with his former professor, was very welcome.

He remembered when he first arrived at Cambridge years ago, excited and full of dreams. He had read so much about Greece and Egypt whilst studying at Cambridge that he probably knew all the details of the excavations by heart – dates, relics and, most importantly, the museums in which they now resided.

Years had passed, and some of his dreams had been lost somewhere, sometime, along the way. The world, Andrew had discovered, was not easy to understand, if one didn’t have dreams: it would be like being divested of all purpose, turning the course of life into an arid and stony path with no corners, no shade and no surprises.

So Andrew had decided that he would address his dreams again, and that this expedition would be the last one of its kind. In future, he would plan his own travels and excavations, and dedicate a little more time to his property during the winter. Travel and excavation restricted to the summer months would be much better; perhaps he could finally find someone who would share his passion for the past and excitement for the present, along with an intense yearning for the unknown that framed his ideas for the future.

For now, Andrew was determined to engage fully with the latest challenge and commit to it. For this reason, he could not stay for afternoon tea, as he only had five weeks until he left for Greece, and there remained a vast amount work to do. One of his research fellows, who should have been the translator of Ancient Greek and Latin, had some accident of some kind or other and would not recover in time to join the expedition. Andrew therefore had to appeal to his friend Sir Richard, to find him a new translator who would join him on the venture at short notice. From his seat next to the window he addressed his friend, who was sitting comfortably behind his desk in a luxuriously expensive chair, regarding a very large oil painting of Queen Victoria on the wall. He was listening, but seemed a little evasive.

‘Oh come on, Richard! The fact that you cannot go to Greece doesn’t mean you should deny me one of your post-graduate students. My schedule is quite tight; I don’t even have time to go to Oxford. Think about it – your student will couple the name of Cambridge with this expedition. What do you say?’

‘Well, I do have two students who would be available for this venture. However, one of them is... a woman.’ Sir Richard responded cautiously, turning to look at Andrew, then steepling his fingers and waiting for his reaction.

‘What woman? Are you out of your mind? You don’t have any girls here, do you?’ asked Andrew, quite surprised at this news.

‘Eh… err, yes, we do. One. We refused her application for a degree in Classics here a few years ago; however, she then obtained one in the United States.’

Andrew was going to interrupt Sir Richard, but the professor held up hand. ‘She obtained a PhD and when she finished she came back to us, highly recommended from above; we could not refuse her again. If I recall, you were in the Sudan at the time, trying to save antiquities from being looted by the rebels fighting Gordon at Khartoum. We have managed, though, to keep her away from the classrooms, so far.’

‘If she was highly recommended, why do you want to get rid of her? I’m sorry, Richard, we are not going on a jolly to London; we are going to Greece, and there is too much tension around Athens at the moment. I don’t care about the other student’s qualifications, as long as he can translate Ancient Greek – with a dictionary if need be – it’s fine. Send him to me.’

As he spoke, Andrew looked out of the window and saw a young woman walking towards their building. She was wearing a long brown, medieval-style hooded cloak, as if she were a character from some mystery fiction or other. She somehow managed to conjure up images of ghosts, and all sorts of macabre elements in his mind at that moment. It was impossible to see her face from his vantage point; the only thing not covered by the hood was some light brown hair that fell below her shoulders.

As he watched he witnessed a bizarre occurrence. A couple of students stopped in front of her. They spoke to her, seemingly amused by what they said, then as she responded, a large eagle-owl suddenly swooped across their path in a shallow dive. The two young men then scurried away, looking very flustered.

The woman continued on her walk as if nothing at all untoward had happened, yet the episode gave Andrew the chills. It occurred to him in that moment that this could be the very student that his friend was offering as an assistant. Growing increasingly uneasy, Andrew decided to leave the university as soon as possible. He hoped that his unease was unfounded, but he could not blame his old friend for trying to get rid of her, if indeed she was the woman in question.

‘Well Richard, it is time for me to go. I have to check the ship’s crew and equipment and I have several boxes of books that were donated to the library of the British School of Athens that need careful packing, so unfortunately I cannot stay for tea. But we will be in touch, please don’t forget to send me your student.’

After taking his leave from Sir Richard, he descended the stairs and met the mysterious woman coming up. As they passed on the broad stairway, she slowly turned her face to Andrew. Her hood was lowered so he could now see her face, and he noticed that her brown cloak had a golden lining, like the colour of an owl’s eye.

The woman continued her ascent, delaying her step slightly to look at him; it had been many years since they’d last met, but she recognised him. She turned away again, a faint smile on her lips as she whispered to herself: ‘And we will meet again.’

Seated in his office, Sir Richard was feeling a little frustrated, but also relieved. He did try, after all, but Andrew was not that naïve. He worried that the College might think that he didn’t try quite hard enough, but retirement might not be so bad, he thought. Perhaps he could finally return to Greece? He smiled to himself at that day-dream as he trimmed the wick of an oil lamp on his desk.

Sir Richard cast his mind back to his youth, remembering that it had its disadvantages. He recalled his vanity and pride, which made one easy prey for those who knew exactly how to take advantage of one’s lack of experience. He sighed and looked at the pile of paperwork on his desk. A little praise and flattery and then, before you know it, you are head of some department, director here, supervisor there, member of the council, research funding manager; and you end up doing what you hate. He despised all the paper work, forms, budgets, charities, boring meetings, accommodation for visitors; all of which made him forfeit all the beautiful dreams that he once nurtured. He remembered when he reached the first step of that magnificent building for the first time. He sat back in his chair and stared at his big office door: when he’d entered this room, the dreams had to remain at the bottom of the stairs, in the past.

A knock on the door woke Sir Richard from his reverie.

‘Come in,’ he said.

‘Excuse-me Sir Richard, did you ask to see me?’ It was Mr. Clark, his assistant.

‘Yes, I want you to make an appointment for me with one of the students, Joseph Brown, for tomorrow afternoon at half past two.’

‘Yes Sir Richard, of course.’ .

‘That is all, thank you.’ Sir Richard waved him away.

The next morning, Sir Richard arrived early at his office; there was a great deal of paper work that he had to get rid of, including a letter to the College containing the name of the student selected for Andrew’s expedition.

He decided, however, to first make some enquiries about ticket prices and hotels in the Balkans, just in case he could rescue some of his dreams, before they were buried forever.

Later, after lunch, a timid young man arrived at Sir Richard’s office.

‘Ah, Mr. Brown. Joseph. I have a wonderful opportunity for you,’ said Sir Richard, as the earnest post-graduate student closed the door behind him.

‘Please, sit down, Joseph. You have probably heard about Sir Andrew Enfield, one of our most distinguished alumni?’

‘Yes indeed Sir. I have read most of his academic papers,’ Mr. Brown replied, excitedly

‘Well that’s good!’ beamed Sir Richard, nodding encouragingly. He’s leading an expedition. They’re going to Athens to take a lot of books for the library there, and equipment for the excavations under the supervision of Professor Davies. He needs a translator and we think you’re the best person for the job – it will be great for your academic future, and of course, I would be very grateful if you do this. I know it’s short notice, but you will reap the rewards." Sir Richard smiled.

The student seemed hesitant. So Sir Richard continued,

‘His contributions to archaeology in Britain and abroad, especially in Greece, have rewarded him with a Directorship of the academy, and countless invitations to conferences and lectures,’ Sir Richard continued, ‘you too will make some excellent connections there in Greece.’

‘He is brilliant, Sir Richard,’ the young man replied, ‘but I also read what he wrote about the conflict in the Balkans endangering valuable archaeological sites. It seems a bit dangerous.’

Sir Richard was keen to play down any hint of danger in what he was proposing so he tried to put the young man at ease,

‘Christians, Jews and Ottomans have been controversial for more than two thousand years, without coming to any firm conclusion about who came first in the Holy Land, which is the focus of all the problems since then. Athens is very far from all these conflicts,’ he adjusted his hair before continuing,

‘Meanwhile, we get along with our lives, developing our industry, railways, health, transport, modern agricultural techniques. Nobody can stop our Empire, eh?’

‘But what about the Russians?’ Mr. Brown insisted.

‘Russians? What Russians?’ Sir Richard asked, caught by surprise.

‘I read, again, in one of Sir Andrew’s articles, that since the Russians were defeated in the Crimean War, the situation between the Russians and the Ottomans is getting gradually worse, especially because we didn’t allow Greece to get involved, or support the Russians,’ the young man said.

‘Thank goodness we are not politicians or soldiers! We are only scholars, scientists, a select and independent group of missionaries, whose first and only order is to search for the truth by evidence and with facts only. Whilst politicians and militaries fight for power, and Muslims and Christians over religion, we fight for wisdom, which will deliver the real truth." He nodded in satisfaction at his little speech.

‘Interesting, Sir Richard. But Sir Andrew, in his writing, seems to be well engaged in the political atmosphere of the Balkans,’ Mr. Brown countered.

‘Papers, articles, whatever; sometimes we have to write what the publisher wants to read only for the purpose of selling copy. That is the reason why we academics don’t waste our time with tabloids. We are Cambridge! We stand quite apart from the routines of ordinary people. This was what you had in mind when you applied for Cambridge, isn’t it?’ Sir Richard looked at him directly, victoriously.

"If you go to Greece to work as a translator for Sir Andrew for a few months I guarantee it will have a great influence on you qualifying this next year, and in future, obtaining your doctorate, young man, I will see to it myself’. Sir Richard said, smiling.

Appealing to vanity and ambition was always successful, Sir Richard thought. Being a part of Cambridge was more than just sitting passively in the classroom for an aspiring soul. It was like sharing the life of a thinking organism, which carried a rudimentary and promising ideology of a bright future for humanity, especially, in this case, for Britain.

Sir Richard’s lofty rhetoric had the desired effect: eyes shining, Mr Brown declared: ‘Thank you Sir Richard. Of course, I am honoured by your invitation, and I shall give you an answer tomorrow after lunch, if I may.’

You don’t have to like or dislike gossip to be aware of it, as it always finds an easy way to reach you. Kate decided to make use of it and set about gathering as much information as possible about Andrew’s visit to Cambridge. She went to the tea lounge, where most of the students and some professors would gather to chat, and where she had the unenviable privilege of being the only woman, to see what she could find out.  Soon enough she was approached by the young student. He approached cautiously and introduced himself.

‘Miss Tiverton, my name is Joseph Brown, and I started my Master’s degree in Ancient Greek this year. I heard that you have lived in Greece, and I wondered if you are well-informed about the living conditions there and, of course, access to resources for proper research? I am to join a new expedition you see, so any insights would be most valuable, given the current climate.’

‘Nice to meet you, Mr. Brown, my name is Katherine, you don’t need to call me Miss,’ she replied with a smile. ‘Yes, I lived there when I was a child, before my father was killed by the rebels.’

‘Rebels?’ Mr Brown turned pale.

‘Yes, they are everywhere. Unfortunately, the Greeks are still trying to emancipate cities and islands from the Ottoman Empire; some cities are now liberated, but then there are the Arabs, so one never knows what will happen next. I heard that the Austro-Hungarians are having problems with Serbians and Bosnians on their borders. But of course we’ve brokered an agreement with the Ottomans now, and they’ve agreed to give Thessaloniki to Greece. Ah! Politicians! They are so good with their rhetoric, and yet the unthinkable and unpredictable always happens...’ she said, looking disconsolate.

‘Thank you Miss Tiverton, you have no idea how important our meeting has been,’ said Mr. Brown, who now looked very worried.

‘Wait, I forgot to mention,’ Kate continued, ‘the British School of Athens was only opened two years ago; so there’s no library yet. But if your French is very good, you can use the library of the French School of Athens; it is not too far, they opened in 1846. Forty two years ago! What an achievement, and during such turbulent times. I have to admit that we are a little behind, Mr. Brown.’ She smiled, sweetly. ‘Would you like a cup of tea? We could talk some more about Greece.’

‘I am so sorry, Miss Tiverton, but I have to speak urgently with Sir Richard.’ He excused himself, and left in a hurry.

She watched him with a barely disguised smile, as he beat a hasty retreat from the tea room.

‘That was an easy battle,’ Kate thought. It was the opening salvo of what might be a long campaign. She was one of only a handful of women to graduate from a bona-fide university in the United States, but the academic situation in Britain was even worse. The pillars of society were however, now being shaken, and after so many years of hard work and fighting countless battles for academic recognition, nothing was going to divert her from this path, or from him, ever.

The following morning, Kate breakfasted on just an apple and a cup of tea. She could feel anxiety starting to build, creating a battle between mind and body. A tortured mind could not be nastier to the body, Kate thought, but she would drive herself to starvation if necessary, until she heard from Sir Wilson. She went to his college.

Kate lost count of the number of times she had paced from the window to the door of the little study and back, waiting for a summons to see Sir Richard. ‘What has happened with communication in this country?’ she asked herself. She skipped lunch, not daring to leave in case she missed him. Then, late in the afternoon, there was a knock and the door opened.

‘Yes?’ She said, unable to disguise her excitement.

The elderly Mr Clark was standing there. ‘Miss Tiverton, Sir Richard would like to have a meeting with you in his office, if you are not too busy at the moment?’

‘Yes of course.’ She grabbed her coat and followed the doddery old man, politely slowing her pace, so he could lead the way and knock first on Sir Richard’s office door.

Come in! She felt the same as the first time she entered the big lounge at Boston University: Welcome, we were waiting for you, they had said then.

However, welcome was not exactly what she saw in Sir Richard’s face,

‘Sit down Miss Tiverton,’ he commanded. ‘I will not insult your intelligence by asking you stupid questions, as we both know what happened with Mr Brown. Really, Miss Tiverton! Athens is hundreds of miles away from those borders!’ said the old man, barely concealing his anger.

‘You terrified that poor fellow, with your tales about rebels and Heaven’s only knows what else. He came to see me first thing this morning and said he couldn’t go to Greece. He was a nervous wreck.’

‘Oh dear! I didn’t know he was quite so fragile, poor boy.’ Kate smiled, sweetly,

Sir Richard sighed,

‘For a fleeting moment I was quite enjoying the possibility of visiting the Greek islands, which is still part of my future plans. If you swear to God that you will be miles away from my ship, and keep out of my way, I will consider writing a letter to the College on your behalf, which I know they will sign immediately. I will also write to your tutor, Sir John Manley, who is the primary sponsor of this expedition. I will omit the details of the change of plans, as long as you give him, personally, the explanation that he deserves, and explain that you got rid of the other chap so we had to send you instead.’

‘Yes Sir Wilson, I will tell him all the details, and precisely what I did. Poor Mr. Brown, but I only told him the truth about Greece; it is not my fault if his Geography is poor...’ May I go now? I have to pack my belongings. I will leave tomorrow with your letter. Thank you Sir, you will be proud of me,’ Kate enthused, feeling quite elated.

‘No, I finally will get rid of you. And take your crazy birds with you,’ he said with a crossed brow.

For a moment Kate, already at the door, turned to him and asked, confused,

‘What birds? I don’t have birds.’ she said.

‘Oh forget about it. Just go, I want to have my tea in peace.’ Sir Richard sighed, opening his coat and sitting heavily on his chair.

Chapter 2

Kate found it very difficult to sleep that night – she was so excited at the prospect of her dream coming true that it kept her awake. Since she had seen Andrew at Cambridge, she started to pack everything, including her little treasured friend, who was always the first person she greeted when she woke, and the last to kiss before she slept.

From her window she observed her luggage being placed in the carriage; with so many boxes and suitcases Kate was sure that there would not be space for any other passengers on the trip from Cambridge to Exeter. Not that she was complaining. As a consequence, her views of the countryside during the travel would not be disturbed by people chattering their frivolities about the Jubilee in Athens, or gossip about the Royal Family, or whatever silly things they busied their minds with.

It was time to say good-bye to Cambridge, so she penned a little note to Sir Richard, who she had not seen since the morning. Kate did not dislike him, quite the opposite, he had a peculiar sense of humour, and for some reason she seemed to be the only one able to notice some kindness and loneliness in his eyes, even when his severe (yet patently fake) snarling demeanour tried to indicate the opposite.

Some people like to say good-bye, others not, and Kate fell firmly into the second category. How can we say good-bye to someone when we have the strong feeling that we will never come back? She loved Cambridge, less for its magnificence than for the fact that Andrew was there before her, touching and reading the same books, having tea in the same lounge, and walking through the same gardens and corridors; it was like she was breathing the same air he had. Not exactly the same placid air though, it might transform into a tempest of thunder and lightning when he found out she was on his passenger list she mused, smiling to herself.

Challenges always excited her, so Kate took one last backwards look at Cambridge then got into the carriage, with a smile upon her face, and a heart full of dreams.

During the travel, from the window of the carriage she watched the passing landscape and the new green spring leaves blessed by the shy rays of the sun that early afternoon. Although she was about to leave this country behind her, she knew that when she had the ocean between her and that beautiful green land, her heart of hearts would miss England.

After a couple of hours, these images were intermingled with images of the past, reflected on the window’s glass of the carriage; some of them coming alive as sweet and soft kisses, others, hard and painful, like a kiss of good-bye. A scene from her past unfolded in her mind’s eye,

‘Give it back to me!’ she cried.

‘No, I will burn it forever; and I will burn you too, if you try to take it from me!’ the boy replied, trying to scare her.

She shouted, ‘No!’ picked up a stone and ran at him; she kicked one of his legs, and took her precious treasure from his hand. She immediately ran and hid under the large wooden garden seat, her treasure in one hand, holding the stone in the other, as if she was prepared for a war.

Meanwhile she heard somebody approaching, shouting loudly,

‘Robert! What are you doing?’

‘It is none of your business Andrew, keep away from us; I will burn that abominable creature!’ Robert shouted furiously, hands on hips.

When Andrew reached him he demanded,

‘What is going on here?’ when suddenly he heard a little voice coming from under the wooden chair,

‘It is not a bonibu; it’s Mr. Bear!’

Andrew looked at her but addressed Robert,

‘Are you scared of a toy bear?’

‘It isn’t a toy, and it is not ‘bonibu’; the right word is ‘abominable’, like you!’ Robert said, turning to her, taunting. Before addressing Andrew, he continued, ‘She’s a witch, and she speaks with this creature!’ Robert gesticulated, trying to disguise his panic, whilst pointing at the toy bear.

‘You cannot say things like that!’ Andrew declared, then turned to the little girl and asked, ‘What is your name?’

‘Kate, Sir.’

‘And how old are you?’ asked Andrew kindly.

‘Six, Sir,’ she replied, promptly.

‘Shame on you Robert, she is six and you are twelve!’ Andrew chided him, ‘Don’t you ever touch Mr. Bombu again.’

‘It is not Bombu; it is Mr. Bear,’ she corrected Andrew.

Robert couldn’t stand it any longer and hurried away, leaving Andrew and Kate to their own business.

When she felt safe, she left her shelter and sat on the chair with ‘Mr. Bear’.

‘May I sit?’ asked Andrew.

‘Yes Sir.’ she consented, and immediately asked him,

‘How old are you, Sir?’

‘Fourteen. Why?’ He