Chapter 6: Forging a Bond

Monday, 23 May 1955, Indianapolis, Indiana

They arrived at The Seville promptly at 8:00, a little late to dine in Indiana, but about right for Doc and Margaret. Doc began the story of what had brought them to Wesley. He was careful to downplay the supernatural elements of the City of the Gods, though Rebecca seemed quickly to comprehend that aspect. They explained that Professor Wilton had disappeared after making the initial discovery and that Wesley’s key was a page from Wilton’s notes.

“We’ve been here interviewing you for one purpose, Wesley. We want you to join us on an expedition back to the City of the Gods this summer. To us, your services in translating or interpreting the stories and legends inscribed in the area would be invaluable. For yourself, it would give you the opportunity to gain a primary source for your study on communication and language. Imagine an entire city inscribed with the symbols you have used in your papers. What do you say?”

Everything fell into place in Wesley’s mind and he began to feel very foolish about suspecting Doc and Margaret. They were there for his benefit as well as their own. Still, he could not completely turn himself over without losing his pride. He hesitated for a moment.

“I am flattered, but you’re sure I’d have ample opportunity to conduct my own studies in communications and music and that I wouldn’t just be there to translate for you?” Doc nodded. “I don’t know. What do you think, Rebecca?”

“I think we should have a talk. Dr. Heinrich, Dr. Jacobsen. Would you excuse us for a moment?” Rebecca stood and walked away from the table up the steps to the front door. Wesley excused himself and followed.

Doc looked at Margaret questioningly.

“You can’t be serious, Phillip,” said Margaret. “There isn’t a shred of hard scientific evidence in all his work. They’re a charming couple, but why?”

“Because it works. I could feel the story he played for us more concretely than if I had been reading it. Tell me it didn’t work for you and I’ll call it off.”

“It worked,” answered Margaret, “but it’s not evidence we can produce for scientific purposes. I don’t know how he does it.”

“And if he knew, he would quit,” said Doc. “I look at it as a trance-medium state. There was once a balalaika player that I knew who did something quite similar. Wesley has built his pseudoscientific evidence structure around it because he could never accept himself as a medium. It’s a black art and he is a Christian. We can get a translator to work on the material when we get back but it could take years that you and I don’t have to construct the literal translation.”

“It’s really just for us, isn’t it, Phillip?”

“I suppose so. Margaret, my dear, Wilton told me in 1937 that when I found his sign, my doubts would disappear. I’ve looked for it for eighteen years. I’m not getting younger. I don’t need to vindicate Wilton or prove his thesis. I simply need to know what he knew.”

“I see. What next?”

“Champagne?”

Once outside the restaurant, Rebecca began walking around Monument Circle at the center of town. Wesley caught up with her and began to chastise her for leaving the table.

“It was far less rude than to let you sit there and insult people who have just made you the offer of a lifetime. Why can’t you just admit that you were wrong for a change and accept what comes your way? Wes, if you turn this down or insult them enough to make them withdraw the offer, you’re just a fool.”

Wesley stuck both hands in his pockets in a grown-up version of a pout. “Of course, you’re right. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re a good man, Wes. Just don’t try to push so hard and let things happen. Something good might turn up.”

She leaned toward Wesley to kiss him. He looked around nervously as if expecting the college president to be watching and then responded warmly—perhaps even passionately. They walked back to the restaurant where Doc and Margaret were patiently waiting with champagne glasses filled.

“Doctor Heinrich. Doctor Jacobsen. I hope I have not offended you with my lack of good manners. The truth is that I can’t think of anything I would rather do than join in your expedition. Especially ... Well, it was going to be a long lonely summer with our marriage delayed by Rebecca’s study abroad. If you think you can put up with me, I accept your invitation.”

“Hear, hear! A toast to our new partnership,” Doc said, raising his glass.

“I ... uh ... don’t...” Wesley hesitated as he caught Rebecca’s eye. “Oh well,” he said, raising his glass. “To our partnership.”

Friday, 27 May 1955, Indianapolis, Indiana

Doc and Margaret stayed in Indianapolis for several days, planning the expedition and introducing Wesley to Wilton’s other writings. Friday morning, they drafted a list of equipment and supplies they would need. Wesley needed a musical instrument and experimented with a guitar. When he adjusted his notations and added his voice, it worked as well as the piano had.

Nor was Rebecca forgotten. Margaret was a veteran traveler and assisted Rebecca in planning every article she would take to Scotland. Rebecca stacked the folded clothing on her bureau.

“Well, it looks like you have everything you could possibly need except better walking shoes,” Margaret said.

“I don’t know how I’d have done it without your help. I can hardly believe it’s only a week until I leave.”

“I shan’t be much longer, myself. I’m going to Athens by way of Sweden. The three of us will arrive in Greece at different times and from different places.”

“Is it really that dangerous? I worry about Wesley.”

“Not so much danger as simply not wanting to draw attention.” Margaret looked at Rebecca’s bags distractedly. “Rebecca, do you have a walking stick?”

“No. Why?”

“Oh, I just knew something was missing. You can go almost any place in the world on a dollar a day, but you can’t walk the hills of Scotland and Northern England without a walking stick.”

“Where would I buy one?”

“I recommend you ask Phillip. He hardly goes anywhere without his.”

They found the men in Wesley’s study and once Margaret explained the situation, Doc suggested a drive in the country. It was just what was needed to conclude the visit in Indiana. Wesley volunteered a location and they packed a lunch.

“We have decided to go by air tomorrow instead of by train, Wesley,” Margaret said as they sat watching Doc and Rebecca choosing the right piece of wood a few yards away. Once on the subject, Doc had taken Rebecca aside to explain everything there was to know about choosing a walking stick. He talked about weight, wood, length and thickness, how well seasoned the wood should be and the various benefits of stripping off the bark versus leaving it on.

“It’s really no problem to drive you back up to Fort Wayne,” Wesley said to Margaret. “Or even Chicago if you’d like.”

“It’s not a matter of convenience, really. Phillip gets nervous when he’s planning an expedition. Without his library and maps he’s an absolute child,” Margaret laughed.

“I guess that’s a side I haven’t seen.”

“Nor are you likely to when we are in the field. It’s a secret between him and me. But he is anxious to get back and finalize things. I leave in just over a week. Flying will cut a day off our time away. And that meant spending today with you and Rebecca instead of trying to get today’s train.”

“She’s sure something special, isn’t she?” Wesley smiled. Rebecca turned to come back holding her stick up for them to see.

“Yes, indeed,” Margaret agreed.

“Look!” shouted Rebecca. “Isn’t she wonderful?”

“She? Is it alive?” asked Wesley.

“Doc says all walking sticks are alive and take on a personality of their own,” answered Rebecca. “This is definitely a she.”

“Well, you are right. She is beautiful. And so are you.”

“Ahem,” coughed Doc, breaking up Rebecca and Wesley’s spontaneous embrace. Wesley could only think how amazingly free and relaxed he felt when away from campus, even in the presence of the two distinguished professors. This summer would be more fun if he were going to Scotland with Rebecca, but he was more relaxed now that he was going to have his own adventure.

“If I could interrupt for just a moment,” Doc continued, “there is still one small item of business that we need to take care of. I think it is appropriate to do so out here in the open where we can’t be overheard without knowing it.”

“What?” asked Wesley.

“Well, because of the history of the people we are going to see and because of my own history, I believe that we need to consider our expedition confidential.”

“Of course. We talked about that,” Wesley said.

“No, not about this part. Archaeological sciences have changed a lot in the past twenty-odd years. For the better, I might add. But there are still a few of the old type around. Adventurers, fortune seekers. You never know when they will pop up. Wilton’s lost City of the Gods and the missing goddess would be just the kind of thing that would bring them flocking. Especially with me connected with it.”

“What are you saying?” asked Rebecca.

“Just this: that the less said the better. Rebecca, that goes even in Scotland. And Wesley, frankly I wish I was taking you with me tomorrow. You must have all the information I can give you and I trust your discretion. I’m just saying,” Doc stammered on. “Just be careful. They’re a rough lot if they think there could be riches to be had.”

“Are there riches to be had?” Wesley asked.