Chapter 1 #2
Grandad walks around his desk, standing before me, taking firm hold of my hands, his grin wide. “I cannot believe I’m saying this, but yes, the department and Vice-Chancellor finally approved the expedition. We’re going to see where the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World once stood.”
Tears form in my eyes, and in the corners of Grandad’s. The Seven Wonders have been our lifelong work, our passion. It is our dream to go on an expedition to visit all seven sites and excavate where we believe the lost six wonders once stood, destroyed by nature thousands of years ago.
In our research, we’ve narrowed the locations to a tight radius, where we can excavate and search for any surviving remnants. And now, after years of asking, Oxford is finally sponsoring our expedition, giving it legitimacy in the eyes of the academic world.
I know what this must mean for Grandad. Due to his duties as the Earl of Claremont, he was never able to continue his studies in ancient world history or pursue a career in archaeology.
Having been invited to only one expedition in Egypt—thanks to his close relationship with the academics involved—this upcoming journey will mark the first to identify him as an Oxford scholar and to be solely his to lead.
And then, I’m struck with an epiphany.
This expedition will undoubtedly change everything for Grandad, but it can also do the same for me.
For five months, I’ll be traveling and excavating at historic landmarks—an opportunity I didn’t have weeks ago.
A chance to make a discovery that can evolve into a dissertation, one that might force the department to reconsider my admission.
If they want to claim it as an Oxford discovery, they must admit me.
My body goes into shock at the newfound hope I’ve uncovered.
This expedition is not only my chance to prove myself as a true historian and archaeologist, but also my last fighting chance to enter the postgraduate program.
I daresay—is it possible that in a few years I can become Dr. Clara Fairfax, renowned ancient world historian and archaeologist?
“How?” I ask, after I’ve somewhat processed these sudden developments. “We’ve been asking them for years to approve it. What changed their minds now?”
Grandad shrugs, a perplexed look on his face.
“I wish I could tell you why. I ran into the Vice-Chancellor while I was having luncheon in central Oxford a few weeks ago, and the topic of our expedition came up. He was confused as to why the department heads in archaeology never approved it, given that I’ve offered to monetarily fund it and only needed them to be attached to it for academic credibility.
He believes it would be an excellent accreditation for the University and would see to it that the department approves it.
And to his word, he convinced them to agree to it. ”
Although I should question the Vice-Chancellor’s sudden interest in our expedition, I put all those reservations aside—hindsight tells me it simply does not matter.
We finally got the approval we’ve needed to make our expedition academically legitimate.
Brimming with excitement, I rise to my feet and throw Grandad the biggest embrace imaginable.
“I’m so proud of you, Grandad. I know you worked tirelessly for years to convince them of the academic merit and recognition this expedition can bring to the university. But most importantly, we are now being given the opportunity to discover unknown insights about our ancient world.”
“I didn’t do this alone, Thena,” he says near my ear, his use of my old nickname bringing a smile to my face.
“Without your work and encouragement, I wouldn’t have had the courage to keep pestering them about it.
It’s not just me who did it. We did it.” Grandad breaks away from our embrace, cradling my right cheek, a proud smile on his face.
“You’ve grown to be the most intelligent and headstrong young woman, my Clara.
Like the goddess you aspire to be. You are my proudest achievement. ”
Tears trickle down my cheeks. “Now I don’t think you will be saying that once we’ve finally reached the Mediterranean,” I say with a chuckle.
Grandad’s eyes sharpen with intent, his expression shifting from lighthearted to serious. “No discovery will ever take precedence over raising you. Don’t ever forget that.”
In moments like this, I wish I were hearing these exact words from someone else. From the one person who should have raised me instead of Grandad. The man who should have stayed here in England, rather than running off to whatever foreign country the British Army sent him to.
That man being my father.
The grief of losing my mother was too much for him to bear, and so his own father took on the mantle of being mine. Although I never could have envisioned my life any differently, just the two of us, history bibliomaniacs against the world.
After we had our moment to celebrate with tears and joy, Grandad kisses my cheek, then moves behind his desk, resuming his search for something I assume should be there—unless he’s misplaced it elsewhere in the house.
“What are you looking for?” I ask, wiping away my dried-up tears as I sit back down.
“The list of attendees,” Grandad replies, lifting a stack of books to search underneath.
“The university has already selected the scholars who are to join us on the expedition?” I ask, shocked by how quickly everything is coming together.
“Well,” he says with a slight, mischievous grin, “I may have gotten a bit over my head after running into the Vice-Chancellor and doing some. When the department informed me of their decision, I handed them the details of the expedition I’d planned weeks ago.
” Still carrying the stack of books, he continues searching his desk.
“I had it on here earlier. Now, where did it go?”
Watching Grandad search feverishly for the list, I squash any feelings of betrayal or hurt before they can form.
I know there was a valid reason he didn’t involve me in his planning weeks ago and waited to tell me about the expedition until we received official approval.
It simply comes down to him not wanting to shatter my dreams if the Vice-Chancellor couldn’t persuade the department.
Grandad is a man of assurance and consideration.
He would much rather bear the pain of false hope himself than let us feel it. That’s just how he is.
“Where could it…unless…” Grandad scrounges around until he places the books down and reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “Ah! I had it on me, of course.”
He starts searching again, this time for his glasses. Before he wastes any more time, I lean over the desk and pluck them from the top of his head.
“Looking for these?” I ask, handing them over.
A side smirk spreads across Grandad’s face; he knows he’s been caught misplacing his glasses once again. He takes them from my hand and perches them on the bridge of his nose.
“At first, the department scrunched their noses at my plans, but as I reminded them, I’m primarily funding this expedition. That’s why I took the liberty of selecting the scholars I wanted to accompany us. We deserve nothing but the best and the brightest for this journey.”
He looks down at the now-unfolded piece of paper and begins reading the list to me.
“Our first of three scholars is Dr. Gabriel Alarie from Sorbonne University, Paris, France.
He is one of the French scholars who famously discovered the Code of Hammurabi in Mesopotamia, now Iraq, a few years ago.
If you recall, you met Dr. Alarie when he came to the university to give a lecture on the Paris Catacombs.
He also helped me in researching details about the Lighthouse of Alexandria.
He will be a great addition to the team.
Next,” Grandad continues, “we have Dr. Amina Baccar from Ez-Zitouna University, Tunis, Tunisia. She is one of a few scholars who has become an expert in hieroglyphics, Latin, and ancient Greek, and she also knows seven modern-day languages. I had the honor of meeting the esteemed Dr. Baccar during the expedition in Egypt—such an extraordinary historian and linguist.” Grandad peers up at me with a smirk.
“I think you’ll particularly enjoy having her on the expedition. ” He punctuates it with a single wink.
Before I know it, my mind is swept away by the fact that Grandad secured the remarkable and highly acclaimed Dr. Amina Baccar for our expedition.
Her background alone is one filled with accomplishments I’ve never seen anyone else attain.
No man in academia comes close to matching her level of brilliance.
I’ve read all her work and admired her for years.
She truly is remarkable—one to take inspiration from—and I finally get to meet her.
My head jerks to the right at the sound of a loud thunk hitting the floor. Grandad has knocked over the top book from the stack on his desk, having carelessly swept it aside with his left arm. He doesn’t seem to notice, continuing to pace behind the desk as he talks.
Guilt creeps in from having drifted away, and I fear I may have missed important details, like who our third scholar is.
When I tune back in, I realize he isn’t talking about the third scholar or the expedition at all, but rambling about dead languages.
A sigh of relief escapes me upon this realization, followed by a chuckle.
Those who say Grandad and I are similar would be correct, as it seems we’ve both fallen into our own tangents of side thoughts at the same time.
The only difference is that Grandad voices his thoughts aloud, whereas I keep mine to myself.
I wait, listening for the right opportunity to remind him of what we’re supposed to be discussing.
“And who did you select as the third scholar to join us, Grandad?” I ask when he pauses to bend down and pick up the fallen book.