Looking for the King by David C. Downing

Author:David C. Downing
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paraclete Press
Published: 2021-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

8

Oxford

The end of May

Tom stood and gazed at the Martyr’s Memorial, a Victorian monument that looked like a church spire rising out of the ground. The inscription explained that it was a tribute to the Protestant bishops executed in the reign of Queen Mary. Tom was equally amazed that people could die for something as speculative as religion—or to kill for it.

“Ah, there you are!” he heard Laura call out, as she crossed St. Giles and joined him. She was wearing a floral dress, with a lacy hat and white gloves, and carrying an elegant umbrella.

“You look like you’ve just come from church!” said Tom.

“A lady wants to make a good first impression,” said Laura. “It’s not every day she gets to meet an Oxford don and a well-known author.” Laura looked at Tom’s casual slacks and short-sleeved shirt and added, “And you look like you’ve got on your Sunday attire as well,” she said. “All set for the golf links.”

Tom grinned and they started walking north. In less than a block, they came to the Eagle and Child, and Tom stopped to admire the pub sign. “This is where I took a drop with Lewis, Tolkien, and the Inklings last week, he explained. “Charles Williams was there too.”

Laura kept looking up at the pub sign.

“What are you thinking?” asked Tom finally.

“I think those old Greeks were dangerously lax in their child safety laws,” Laura replied. Then she looked up and down the street and added, “Which way to Professor Tolkien’s house?”

“This way,” said Tom, taking a few steps north, away from the town center. They walked up Woodstock Road, then took a right in front a group of stately Victorian buildings behind an iron fence. “This is St. Hugh’s,” said Laura, “one of the women’s colleges.” She had been walking in her usual brisk stride, and Tom was surprised to see her stop, grip the railings and peer into the college courtyard, almost like a child at the zoo hoping to see a tiger come out of its den.

“It’s still several more blocks,” prodded Tom gently.

“Of course,” said Laura, shaking off her reverie and resuming her stride. “I appreciate your inviting me along for this meeting,” she added.

“Tolkien said he thought he saw a pattern in your dreams. A scarlet thread, he called it. He said there was quite a story behind it, and I thought you’d want to hear it for yourself.”

“Thanks, Tom,” she said, touching him lightly on the arm. “That was thoughtful of you. And, yes, I certainly do want to hear the story for myself.” After a few more steps, she asked, “Tell me, what’s he like? What should I expect?”

“He and Lewis are great friends,” said Tom. “Lewis is the one who encouraged him to submit The Hobbit for publication.”

“Like two peas in a pod then?” asked Laura.

“Not really,” replied Tom. “Lewis has a big, round face and a booming voice. And he’s a slovenly dresser. His manner is hearty and self-confident, but he’s a bit clumsy and fumbly with his hands.

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