“We will find you another sword in my time,” he says as I return it to the box. “Or from even earlier, when they were more commonplace. I am thinking a cutlass. Perhaps a rapier?Non. A cutlassanda rapier.”
I smile at him. “I will hold you to that.”
“As you should. You are parting with something precious. Returning it to the world for others to study and enjoy when you could easily hide it away for yourself. I am in awe of your resolve and your commitment, and I only hope that I could do the same in your place. That deserves a reward.” He lifts a hand. “And yes, you are not doing it for reward or recognition but because it is right.”
I lean over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for understanding.”
“And while you do not require a reward, you will accept one,non?”
“But of course. We are talking about historical swords that I might wield without guilt. I will most happily accept them.”
“Then it is done. Now, let us look at this clothing Helen delivered and decide what we shall wear for the day.”
We haveseveral options for clothing. I try on three pairs of trousers and decide I rather like a tailored pair that fit as snugly as men’s riding breeches. Those I pair with a soft sweater and a rugged pair of boots. Nicolas looks stunning in jeans with a button-down shirt and loose-fitting jacket.
We reach the museum ten minutes early, and our contact—Dr. Leung—is already in the designated meeting spot.
“Miranda?” she says my name carefully, as if I might not respond to what she must presume is a false one.
“Yes,” I say. “And this is Nico.”
Dr. Leung puts out her hand to me first, and I realize I’m supposed to shake it, as if we were male colleagues. I do so most happily, and then Nicolas does the same. Then Nicolas passes me the case, which he has been carrying.
“That is the gladius, I presume,” she says, eyes glinting even as her face remains professionally impassive.
“It is.”
She smiles. “I cannot wait to see it. Come, then, and we’ll go inside.”
The handoverof the gladius is everything I could have wished. When Dr. Leung sees it, she is speechless. She handles it with gloved hands and awestruck reverence, and then she asks permission to call in a colleague. An older woman arrives, and her reaction is the mirror of Dr. Leung’s. Whatever careful hopes they had for the gladius—from the photographs Bronwyn supplied—the reality far exceeds their expectations.
“It will need to be analyzed, of course,” the older woman says. “But if it is what it seems to be...” She impulsively reaches to clasp my hand. “Thank you. That’s all I can say. Thank you. I know this has been a valued family heirloom.”
“Yes, but the historical significance means it belongs here.”
“Where it will be appreciated more than you can imagine.” She reaches a gloved finger to touch the hilt. “I can’t imagine how it’s remained in such condition. I see no signs that it’s a reproduction, which is truly incredible.”
“I told myself a story that it had been stolen from a Roman soldier by a Celtic princess, who used it to defend her village and then buried it so it could be dug up if they ever returned.”
The older woman beams. “May I make note of that as a family legend?”
“Certainly.”
“As for how your family came to find it, Dr. Dale explained, but we would love to hear it from you.”
I glance at Nicolas. “Nico should tell this. He knows the family legend well, and I have a tendency to embellish.”
Nicolas tells how “my ancestor” found the gladius, framing his own story as if it were my family legend. I will admit to discomfort with this part. Credit should fall where credit is due, and there is something particularly distasteful to me about an English family taking that credit from a man of his background, and I do not mean the part of Nicolas’s background that is French nobility.
I’d wanted to flip the narrative to him.Hisancestor found it. It has been inhisfamily for generations. But, as he pointed out—and Bronwyn reluctantly agreed—that raised another issue. If his family originates in France and Martinique, then why donate it to the British museum?
As Nicolas also pointed out, I was the one who recognized the value of the gladius, and he had gifted it to me, which makes it mine to donate. Still, it irks me, and all I can do about that is ensure he tells the story—what the peddler said about where the gladius was found and other details that will be critical to the historical significance.
He relates that, and Dr. Leung records it with all the detail Nicolas can provide. She brings out a map, and he tells her where it was allegedly found—which I already know is the location of an ancient Roman road through the North Yorkshire moors—and also when it was found and where it was taken from there.
“That’s an astonishing amount of information,” she says.
Nicolas shrugs. “I am a casual student of history, with a particular interest in the latter part of the eighteenth century. When Miranda told me the family story, it fascinated me, and we dug into the family journals for the details.”