Chapter 4 #2
A small smile forms on my face as I take a sip of water, still feeling uneasy despite how well the interaction went.
I was prepared to be belittled for interjecting a point, something I’d grown accustomed to at Oxford.
And yet here I am, having one of my theories praised by one of the world’s most intelligent and decorated historians—a man, too, if I may add.
I never thought I would experience a moment like this.
“Even if the statue was structured on one side or both sides of the harbor,” Mr. Ashford chimes in suddenly, “you must consider what happens to the bronze—or any part of the structure—if it has been submerged in deep salt water for millennia.”
My eyes silently pierce him like daggers for chiming in after I presented my theory—unprompted, I may add.
“Corrosion is our enemy here,” he continues.
“Even if the mass of the bronze is substantial, over a few hundred years, the material will corrode enough to the point that it is indistinguishable from its original form or has become nonexistent altogether. The worst outcome for us is that any remaining pieces left untouched were submerged in the water thousands of years ago, as those pieces would be long gone by now.”
Henry’s eyes land on mine, and an unplaceable emotion swims inside them.
“I hope you are right about your theory of how the structure was built, as it would mean there is less of a chance those pieces fell into the water, and a higher chance that any that remained are waiting for us on solid soil, not on the seabed.”
I push down the irritation rising inside me, and instead, I give Mr. Ashford a small smile to cover up my annoyance. Must he upstage me in my own area of expertise? Why does it feel like we are playing a game of proving who is the better academic?
Dr. Alarie leans back in his chair and tilts his body toward Grandad. “Now I understand why you brought on an archaeology architect to this expedition.”
Before I could defend my theory, the discussion of the Colossus of Rhodes was quickly pushed aside as Mr. Ashford asked Dr. Alarie his opinion on one of the greatest historical discoveries in the world: the tomb of Tutankhamen, uncovered less than two years ago.
“Clara, did I overhear Lord Claremont call you Thena earlier today? Or have I misheard?” Amina whispers, the others enraptured in their own conversation.
Glancing to my left, I notice Grandad listening intently to Dr. Alarie, smoking on his pipe. I cast my gaze back to Amina, not wanting to give the person in front of me a single ounce of my undeserved attention.
I smile, one of embarrassment, knowing she overheard Grandad and me talking about her as she boarded the ship.
Feeling caught red-handed, I know better than to claim it was a simple misunderstanding.
Besides, we weren’t speaking ill of Amina behind her back.
On the contrary, in fact. Yet I still feel like I owe her for doing so, regardless.
“Indeed, you did hear that correctly.”
Amina plops a blueberry into her mouth. A slight smirk rests on her face from toying with me. “An interesting name to be called. How exactly does one get it?”
“From mispronouncing the name of the Greek goddess of wisdom, I became enthralled with at five years old,” I answer.
Slowly, I watch the pieces come together in Amina’s mind as she tries to understand how a young child could pronounce her name, assuming one might easily do it without enunciating the first vowel.
“And how did you know about the Olympians at that age?” she asks.
I know what she’s implying: How did a young girl raised in English high society know about Greek mythology, when we are instructed to focus solely on embroidery and etiquette?
“Who do you think told me about their stories?” I ask, directing my gaze over at Grandad.
“While he was reading to me about the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, Grandad also started to teach me about the Olympian deities. Even at five years old, I became captivated and mystified by the history of the Seven Wonders, and ever since then, my passion and curiosity about them have grown. It’s the reason why I studied ancient history and wanted to become an archaeologist. If you were to trace back through my history to determine how I became the person I am today—” I nudge my head toward Grandad. “—it all goes back to him.”
“I’ve always appreciated that about your grandfather,” Amina says.
“He never judged me based on my gender, and I’m happy to hear he raised you in the same way.
It speaks a lot about the kind of man he is.
If only there were more like him, then it wouldn’t be so hard to convince the world we are just as much human as they are and deserve to be treated the same way. ”
I hum in agreement, take a sip of wine, and roll my eyes at the fact that we still live in a world where women and minority groups are denied their basic human rights.
“To live in a world where we aren’t constantly belittled, deemed dense or incapable of being more than just a wife and mother, seems like a fantasy that could only be written in fiction. ”
Amina places a hand on my arm. “I know it’s tiring to keep fighting, to defend your place in this world constantly, but how can we make change if we remain silent and simply appease their ways?”
“It shouldn’t have to take this much effort to make them see reason. That hurts the most out of all of this.” I look out the window into the pitch-black darkness of the world, taking another sip of wine.
Memories swarm into my mind all at once.
Memories of experiencing the strife of this conflict firsthand, feeling the anger and fatigue of constantly pushing the boundaries of what is deemed acceptable for a woman to do and to be in this day and age.
But mostly, I feel the pain and sadness of rejection inflicted on me all over again, as though a wound has been reopened—fresh and raw from a scar that never quite healed.
Amina leans closer, our heads now a few inches away from one another. “Lord Claremont told me you applied to the post-graduate archaeology program at Oxford.”
She must have noticed the dismay on my face—how else would she have inferred it? As a woman trying to make her way in this field, she must have experienced exactly what I’m going through now.
Desperate to unburden myself to someone like me, I don’t shy away from my feelings. How else can I be mentored if I don’t share the challenges I’m facing?
I look sheepishly at Amina and nod. “I’m assuming Grandad also told you I was rejected.”
Amina squeezes my hand that’s under the table. “He did.”
I shift to face her, longing for her guidance. “How did you do it? How did you get to where you are today?”
Amina takes a sip of wine and waits before responding, likely gathering her thoughts, deciding how much of the truth she wants to tell me.
“You think it's uncommon now for a woman to get a higher education?” A snort escapes her as she shakes her head.
“It was extremely rare back in my day. Everyone talked about me behind my back, as if I were a wild animal in a cage. No one took me seriously. I doubted my self-worth every day. But I knew I was smart, and they knew it too. In fact, they were frightened of me.”
“Once I mastered my seventh language and made grand discoveries on two archaeological expeditions, I was suddenly viewed as one of them—an esteemed and respected scholar from their university. My gender was no longer a problem. Over time, I became a novelty to them, a prized possession to showcase to the world. And then I noticed they stopped saying the word ‘no’ to me. Because at that point, I didn’t need them anymore. They needed me.”
“Did it bother you, being used like that, as an object to flaunt?”
Amina gives me a knowing look. “Of course it did. But if it weren’t for that, they never would have been able to see me beyond my gender.
That is how I was able to be seen as an equal to them finally.
” She looks intently into my eyes. “You need to find a way to make them see you as an equal. You must make yourself a novelty to Oxford.”
Amina’s words sit between us as I process.
I glance at Grandad, still attentively listening to Dr. Alarie.
All my life, he encouraged me to fight for what I want, to believe I can achieve anything.
But he knows I’ll never follow the same path as any man.
No matter how fiercely I fight, I will never fit into their mold.
How could he guide a young woman to chase her dreams in a society determined to dehumanize her?
He did what he could, and I could never blame him for trying.
And now, finally, I understand what I must do.
If this is a game I must muster to be seen as an equal, then they better be ready for a tough match.
“If it’s a novelty I need to be,” I say, “then a novelty I shall become. I will get my spot in the post-graduate program. Thank you for telling me what I may not want to hear, but what I need to know.”
Amina smiles. “You can always ask me anything, Clara. I truly mean it.”
A warm sensation courses through me. It’s a feeling I only get when I know I can trust someone, which doesn’t happen as often as I’d like.
I return Amina’s smile, showing my appreciation, then glance at Grandad.
I understand why he asked Amina to join our expedition.
Beyond her exemplary accreditations and qualifications, he knew I needed someone like her, now more than ever.
Grandad must sense my eyes on him, as his gaze meets mine.
He tilts his head, silently asking me if everything is alright.
I mouth a ‘thank you’ and shift my glance toward Amina.
A smile spreads across his face, pleased to know he picked the right mentor for me.
He shakes his head slightly, signaling there’s no need to thank him, but I still want him to know I appreciate him looking out for me.