Anonymous - The Secret Chronicles of Henry Dashwood, Vol. 2

Indeed, Professor Pachnos and I were just discussing the vexed question as to whether the British Museum should return the Elgin Marbles to Athens. Are you familiar with the sculptures, Mr.

Dashwood?' 'Of course, and I remember what an impression they made on me when I first saw them,' I said, though this was being somewhat economical with the truth for I was only twelve years old at the time and was disappointed that on our two day visit to the capital my parents had not taken me to the London Zoo. Nevertheless, I was not being insincere when I added: 'Certainly I can well understand why the Greeks want them back.' I was delighted when Miranda Franklin nodded her head in agreement and remarked: 'So do I, Mr. Dashwood, although sadly I cannot see the Government yielding to any such request.' Then she turned to Charles and asked him: 'And what is your view on this subject?' Now I might have answered in the same fashion as my new friend, because I do hold strongly to the view that on most occasions, telling the plain, unvarnished truth at the end of the day will have proved to have been the most rewarding course of action in a difficult situation. But naturally there can be exceptions to this rule, and really this was a time when Charles should have used more discretion instead of blurting out: 'I'm afraid I've never seen these statues, Miss Franklin, and frankly I must confess that I know very little about them.' 'Shame on you,' she said lightly. 'We're talking about a group of Greek sculptures well over two thousand years old which originally decorated the Parthenon but were shipped to Britain by the Earl of Elgin some eighty years ago. But now members of the Greek government are calling for Britain to return them and whilst I think they have every justification to make this demand, it is most unlikely to be met.' Be that as it may, Charles's candid admission effectively left the field open to me, although my brain had to move into top gear when Professor Pachnos grunted something in Greek and Miranda Franklin replied in the same language. Alas, the lessons in Ancient Greek which had been drummed into me at school were of little use in trying to understand what was being said, and I commented as much to the Professor. He smiled gently as he replied: 'You must forgive me, Mr. Dashwood, it is most impolite to have spoken in a language with which one's company is not familiar.'

'I don't think you should apologise over-much, Professor,' I said, although my eyes were fixed upon Miranda Franklin's pretty face.

'The British are so insular that we always expect Johnny Foreigner to speak English and we make little attempt to learn any other languages.' 'Oh come now, Henry,' Charles protested heatedly.

'Many good schools now offer French and German as well as the classics. But it's hardly surprising that Europeans are more needful to learn our language because English is the world's most important lingua franca.' 'I'm afraid that I must side with Mr. Dashwood,' said Professor Pachnos. 'On the other hand, an English colleague of mine who died some years ago spoke perfect French, Italian and Spanish as well as being fluent in Arabic, Hebrew and Farsi.' Childhood memories came back to me of how distressed my mother had been to hear the news that a cousin of hers, who was a famous archaeologist noted for his linguistic gifts, had died suddenly and I asked the Professor: 'Would you be talking of the late Henry Layard, by any chance, sir?'

'Yes, I am,' he answered. 'Henry and I worked together on 'digs' in Crete and also briefly in Constantinople. But why do you ask? Have you read his scholarly treatise on the remains of Nineveh?' I replied with a hint of pride: 'We have a signed copy of the first edition at home. That's hardly surprising though because he was my mother's first cousin and indeed I am named after him.' This should put me in good standing with Miranda, I speculated, and indeed to my great delight, these thoughts were instantly confirmed when Miranda said with a warm smile: 'How very interesting, Mr. Dashwood.

And do you possess his talent for languages?' I turned to her and beamed: 'Not exactly, I can get by well enough in French and German, but then Henry Layard was hardly a typical Briton. He came from Spanish stock on his mother's side and he was educated in France and Italy.' 'In that case the gentleman can hardly be counted as British,' commented Charles, but Professor Pachnos voiced his disagreement and said: 'Oh, I don't know about that. After all, if a man was born in a stable that does not make him a horse!' Then he said to me: 'What is more important though is that no-one would deny that Henry Layard was an exceptional man and you may be proud to have him as a relative. Did you know that after Henry retired, Disraeli appointed him to be the British Ambassador to Turkey?' We spent a few more minutes discussing the merits of my distinguished relative and then, sensing that he was way behind me in the struggle to gain Miranda Franklin's interest, Charles gracefully withdrew from the contest and left the field open for me to see if I could make any further progress with her. He swung round to Professor Pachnos and said: 'Don't you agree that the white wine being served to us today is extraordinarily good, sir. But not from your country of birth, I would think, though I'm fond of the jolly old retsina.

The professor was a sportsman for he replied: 'So am I, my boy, but you won't find any in Oxford and you would probably have great difficulty finding a bottle of retsina except in the cellars of the largest London wine merchants. However, as you say, the wine being served this evening is very pleasant. Actually I happen to know from which country it originates and this information quite surprised me.'

'Let me guess,' said Charles and taking a sip, he rolled the wine around his mouth before swallowing it. 'H'm, it's a sound wine with a fruity taste and a crisp, fresh edge. A Sauvignon '98 perhaps or an Italian white from the Abruzzo region?' Professor Pachnos shook his head and said: 'You're way off target although I'm sure that many experts would have agreed with you. I won't ask you to make another guess for the answer is Australia. Some years ago, a tutor at the college went out there to teach at the University of New South Wales in Sydney. As a hobby he bought an interest in a large vineyard near the University and Miss Franklin's stepbrother, Dr Barnes, told me that after he sent over a case, the college placed an order for a regular annual supply.' 'Shall we find a waiter to fill our glasses?' he concluded and Charles mouthed 'good luck' in my direction as we moved away with the professor. 'No doubt Kit purchases two dozen bottles every week from the college store, and more if he is planning any entertaining in his rooms,' said Miranda dryly as they left us. I looked at her in surprise. 'Kit? Surely you are not talking of Dr Barnes?' 'Yes, I am,' she nodded grimly. 'I'm not accusing my stepbrother of being a toper but in my opinion he has been drinking too heavily these last few days. It's understandable because poor Kit has been under great pressure from the Dean to tone down the controversial nature of his lectures and on top of that he is behind schedule in finishing the book on State Socialism he is contracted to write for the Oxford University Press.' 'Well, from what I have read of his views, your stepbrother and I are on the same side of the barricades, and I am looking forward to studying under him. But forgive me, Miss Franklin, I am really more interested to know if you will be staying in Oxford for a while. I do hope you are not rushing straight back to London tomorrow morning.' To cut short this entry, I will now simply record the fact that I elicited from the stunning Miranda the information that she was staying in Oxford for only a three further days at the Randolph Hotel before going off to visit her father, General Arthur Franklin of the Eleventh Bengal Lancers, now living in retirement in a small village near Nottingham.