Icejacked

Talking Our Way around

My heart was pounding, the room was full, and it was hot, stuffy, and claustrophobic. The professor who had ushered us in ten minutes earlier was now at the microphone, introducing Leddicus and me to the one hundred-odd people who had packed into the hall. He turned to me. I stood up, and as I walked over, I took some long, slow deep breaths to calm myself. A host of flash cameras went off as I took my position at the podium.

“Hello,” I began rather croakily. I took a quick drink from the glass of water on my right and tried again. “Hello. It’s very good to be here.” I was having to wing it. The wretched PowerPoint would not function. After approximately ten minutes of gabbling about I know-not-what, I introduced Leddicus and sat down. Shaking and exhausted from the trauma, I was sweating profusely and groped thankfully for the cooling coffee that had been placed in front of me. Perhaps public speaking was not for me.

The fear I experienced at the first few venues had long since receded, and I was now becoming an expert at public speaking, and I had got the PowerPoint show down to a fine art. The tour felt like a blur. We had not stopped since Julie dropped us off at the Tube to King’s Cross on a Monday morning almost three months ago.

On that first train ride, Leddicus had bombarded me with questions, “How fast? How long? How it began?”

I was happy to pass the time with a history lesson beginning with George Stephenson’s rocket. After all, history was my subject.

Now on train journeys, he sat quietly in his seat, totally at home, tapping away on his laptop or watching the scenery fly by. How Julie managed to get hold of a brand-new, fully configured laptop from when she left us the evening before the tour commenced to when she collected us in the morning remained a mystery.

Leddicus’s English had dramatically improved. He was a smart guy and a very quick learner. Now he used the language almost like a native-born Brit. He would eventually be better than I was. He was beginning to pick up cultural nuances and getting his head around English humour, in that he was ahead of me. Perhaps that was due to my German roots.

The organisation and support from Joe Simmons’s office had been fantastic. Every two days, I received an updated schedule, either by fax or e-mail, sometimes both, covering every base. We had been staying at the best hotels. We hadn’t had to think about transport, either from rail or bus stations. A nice person was ready and waiting to whisk us to our hotel. On the whole, the venues, which were usually universities, but also included colleges, schools, and historical societies, had been well organised.

Leddicus had developed into a confident public speaker, fielding questions with clarity and precision. My nerves had long since ebbed away, enabling me to give clear details about the story so far, his discovery on the mountain, his stay at the hospital, and what studies were currently being carried out about him.

The money we were making was very, very good. I was still amazed at what people were willing to pay to hear us speak. Joe really knew his stuff. Every detail of the trip was covered, so we were not spending anything at all. Our UK bank accounts continued to increase by impressive amounts. I wasn’t sure Leddicus understood what it was all about, especially not the financial aspect.

Leddicus, alongside his fluency in English, had also become an avid user of the mobile phone I bought him all those months ago. In any spare moment, he was either texting or calling. You could guess who most of his contact was with. Julie Bright. I didn’t know why she bugged me, and I supposed I should have been grateful. She did after all introduce us to Joe Simmons, who had come up trumps. I didn’t mind in the least if our tour had turned into a gravy train for his company and him. I didn’t begrudge him that in the least.

Leddicus had also taken to computing like a duck to water. I found a training website for him, the idiot’s guide to the web dot com. He worked through each session again and again until he grasped the concepts. Each evening after supper, we would both sit in the hotel lounge on our laptops, me working flat-out to keep uni, Archiv, and Mr. Calabro abreast of developments and Leddicus doing who knows what, but always with a very intense look on his face.

The whistle-stop blur of a tour was now over, and we were on our way back to . Most of the time, I didn’t know what town I was in or even if it were , Wales, or England. We hadn’t touched yet. One of the places that stuck in my memory was Bristol. First, Julie joined us that weekend or, should I say, joined Leddicus. Second, Priscilla Morrison from the press office turned up. Third, we had a day off.

The presentation at went like clockwork. I was sitting on the platform listening as Leddicus concluded his talk on his experiences since he had woken up in the morgue, and as usual, he threw it open for questions. A hand went up, and Leddicus indicated the questioner had the floor. I immediately recognised Priscilla Morrison as she stood to her feet.

“Do I conclude that you, your family, and all your relatives were in possession of slaves?” Her tone of voice was hard and bitter, and as she continued, she implied that Leddicus was responsible for the actions of the whole of the Roman Empire.

I groaned in dismay as I looked at her standing there. Her face was set. Her demeanour was as frightening as a cornered Rottweiler.

“Thank you very much for your question. I seem to remember you asked something along similar lines in , am I correct?” Leddicus disarmed her with his broad smile.

“Yes, you are correct,” she replied curtly.

“Slavery is disturbing in all its forms, and I cannot answer for the whole of the , although I appreciate my privileged position as a free and educated Roman citizen.” He paused and took a drink of water, pacing himself. “I am still struggling to understand your world. Please forgive me for calling it your world, but I still do not totally understand where I am. However, I have researched some of your history. I know, for example, that you celebrate in this country what you call the end of the slave trade and the first abolition bill was passed in 1807. At that time, four million people were enslaved. Today, the number is estimated at twelve million. So are you staying you have a better world today?”

Leddicus looked across at Morrison and waited for her to comment. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Leddicus continued, “Two girls are taken as slaves every minute, and well-researched statistics state that between two and four million men, women, and children are trafficked across borders and within their own country every year.”

I noticed Morrison was looking rather peaky. She had turned from a cornered to a cowering Rottweiler.

“More than one person is trafficked across a border somewhere in the world every minute. This equates to five jumbo jet plane loads every day. Financially, this trade earns twice as much worldwide revenue as that dark, fizzy drink I have just discovered. What is that called?”

Someone in the audience called out, “Coca-Cola!”

Leddicus was now in full control of the situation. He knew well enough the name of Coke. He drank it every day. He smiled and nodded. “Yes, that’s it, and I would like to add that I don’t want to protect my society, but I think you need to think about yours, too. I understand I am the headline person here today, and of course, my world intrigues you, but we need to think of the current global picture, don’t you think so?”

Morrison crumpled into her seat without saying another word. The audience gave Leddicus some extended and enthusiastic applause, and I had to work hard to keep my mouth from dropping open. I was astounded at his complex, detailed, and articulate response. Then I spotted Julie right at the back of the hall with a big grin plastered on her face, giving Leddicus the thumbs-up. I looked across at Leddicus, and sure enough, he was returning the grin.

I thought back to earlier in the day when Julie arrived. I had been stuck in the corner of the lounge on my laptop, finishing an article for Archiv. I had left Leddicus and Julie to their own devices. I occasionally glanced over at them, and every time, they had been deep in intense conversation while poring over Julie’s laptop with Leddicus frowning in concentration. The light dawned. The little minx had briefed Leddicus and accurately anticipated Priscilla’s line of questioning from the first encounter in . As much at Julie irritated me and frequently grated on my last nerve, I had to hand her this one. She had enabled Leddicus to pull off a masterstroke.

I was jolted from my reverie as the wretched Morrison woman recovered her composure and made a second attempt, but she directed her question to me this time.

“May I ask a further question?” she asked curtly. “This is directed to Gerhardt.”

There it is again. She’s using my first name as if she knows me.

She glared at me. Her eyes were hard and emotionless. “I would like to know why you are fronting this tour, what is your precise qualification, and why you think you are any sort of expert in history?”

I was stuck dumb. What does she want me to say? There was no George to rescue me this time. I sat there trying to conceal my panic. My brain raced in a hundred directions, but came up empty. Rescue swiftly arrived in the form of Leddicus.

He stood up and smiled sweetly. “Although your question is directed to Mr. Shynder, I need to stress that Gerhardt is my friend. He has been alongside me from day one, ever since my traumatic time in hospital in . In my opinion, that is qualification enough for him to front this tour. I trust that is a sufficient answer to your question. As you are aware …” He paused, smiled sweetly, and met her steely gaze. “Our time here has now overrun, and we must bring this session to a close.” He swept his hand theatrically across the auditorium. “Thank you everyone for your questions. I trust you have enjoyed your time with us.” He tilted his head forward with the merest hint of a bow.

The crowd applauded, and I was off the hook again. As we had made our way back to the hotel later that evening, Julie and Leddicus confessed they had spent all afternoon swatting up on the history of slavery to enable Leddicus to do what he did in the event that Morrison asked the anticipated question.

“Well, mate, I can’t thank you enough. You were fantastic. I’m especially grateful to you for jumping in to rescue me from that nut job.”

“Gerhardt, my dear friend, I could not let you be tossed to the lions, not when I could rescue you!”

We all laughed at how well he had pulled it off. Leddicus laughed louder than I had ever heard him laugh before. Tears were streaming down his face.

He eventually wiped his eyes and looked at us both. “I haven’t had so much fun since I can’t remember when.”

He put his hand on Julie’s arm and looked her in the eyes. “Thanks for your help. I couldn’t have done it without you.” For the first time ever, I saw Julie appear a trifle embarrassed. She looked at the floor and giggled softly.

As planned, the next day was a rest day, and as usual, Julie had everything in place for a tour of Bath. The highlight was a visit to the Roman Baths. In the entrance is an exceedingly clever piece of theatre. Behind a huge glass panel is a computer-generated scene, looking realistically like ancient Romans making their way across the terrace to the baths. Part of the panorama includes a young boy driving a goat.

As we rounded the corner and Leddicus caught sight of it, he almost jumped out of his skin. He let out a yelp of shock. Julie turned, caught sight of his stricken face, and rushed over to put a comforting arm around him.

“What’s wrong, Leddicus? What is it?”

He leaned his head against her shoulder, took a few deep breaths, and put his hand over his eyes in confusion. “For a minute there, I thought I was back in my own time,” he said softly.

Julie hugged him. I gave him a shove and told him to pull himself together. Then we moved on. The incident was quickly forgotten.

Later that evening, after a relaxed meal and some excellent wine, we bid good-bye to Julie, who needed to be in early the next morning. Leddicus looked rather forlorn as we made our way back to the hotel lounge.

In the last few days, Joe and I had chatted regularly about his plans to promote Leddicus in different fields. I hadn’t mentioned any of this to Julie, mainly because I expected that Joe would be keeping her in the loop. To date, there had been approaches by a TV company who wanted to produce a documentary and a publisher with a ghostwriter on standby should we agree to an autobiography, although Joe was keen to push the writing work in Julie’s direction. A company also wanted to produce a movie should the proposed book be a success.

As Leddicus and I settled down with a nightcap, I briefed him about the proposals, but I didn’t think he grasped the concepts, plus he was not giving me his full attention because he was checking his mobile every five minutes. I gave up, topped up my lager, and decided not to worry about it. The tour was ending, and in a few days, I could talk it all through with Joe face-to-face.