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Maru's Various Charries (mm_maru) wrote in morningstar_mnr, @ 2010-05-26 23:21:00

Ashford museum, Wednesday afternoon -- Urquhart and Ruth
Dr Ruth Mitchell smiled grimly as she pressed 'send' on her latest email to the Head of Egyptology.

"Take that," she murmured. "And I hope you choke on it."

That would teach him to encroach on her department's storage area.

The phone rang and she stared at it, assuming it was the recipient of the email then she answered and listened and nodded. "Very well," she said. "Send him up."

She put the phone down and went to get the box from her cupboard.

There was a knock on the door. This time, Urquhart had found the way quite easily by himself.

"Come in," Ruth called, putting the box on the table. Then she directed her attention to opening it and unwrapped the partially reconstructed kylix with great care.

"You can almost see what it used to be," Urquhart said after he had entered the room. "Hello, Dr. Mitchell. It's good to see you and that vase both looking so well."

"Um - thanks," Ruth said and shot him a brief smile. "As you can see it's holding together very well. Now I have a very tricky piece to do - lots of tiny pieces to be consolidated before I can make the next join. Sadly the point of impact splintered quite badly."

Urquhart nodded. "Makes sense. That's where it hit the ground first when it fell, right?" He came closer to look at the partially restored vessel in her hands. Again, he felt a brief guilty pang about destroying it in the first place.

On the other hand, his plan seemed to be working.

"Yes, that's right," Ruth said, smiling again. "I may have to do some filling and painting to get it back together but it should look almost as good as new."

"Wonderful," Urquhart said. "I like the way that satyr is holding his hand. So cheerfully drunk!"

"And summoning someone to bring him more wine, presumably," Ruth said. "Though, of course, with satyrs one can never tell what they might be contemplating - and better not to speculate."

"Well, they do make you speculate," Urquhart said, smiling. "Very suggestive beasties, satyrs."

Ruth raised her eyebrows. "Speak for yourself," she said. "They are supposed to depict the animal side of men just as Maenads are supposed to depict the animal side of women. Of the two satyrs are far less dangerous, but that's the Greeks for you."

"If I remember rightly, women weren't exactly equal in Greek society," Urquhart says. "On the contrary, weren't they rather suppressed? So I guess the men were mortally afraid of the real strength of women which they tried to control."

"I - um - hadn't thought of it that way," Ruth admitted. "I just meant that they weren't much interested - got better things to do."

"They did, for their own definition of 'better'," Urquhart says. "I personally think -- ah well, you won't want to know."

"Probably not," Ruth said with a chuckle as she returned the pot to its box. "However, to make up for my shocking lack of interest I am prepared to offer you coffee."

Urquhart smiled at her. "Yes, I should probably feel offended that you're not interested in my opinions about women," he chuckles. "They are good, you know. But yes, I'll take coffee instead. Can I get us some cake to go with it?"

"I don't think we have any," Ruth said. "I was going to get us a couple of cups from the staff room. If you're hungry it might be better to go to the museum restaurant."

"If I may invite you to it?" Urquhart says. "You get the coffee, I the cake?"

Ruth considered for a moment. Did she want cake? Not really but the company wasn't unpleasant.

"Deal," she said.

Urquhart looked at the vessel again; he didn't like to part with it so soon again; but then, he tore himself loose and opened the door, holding it for her.

"Thank you," Ruth said, stepping past and headed for the restaurant with a little smile on her face.

When they were seated with coffee and cake, all politely and civilised, Urquhart leaned back with the cup in his hand, and asked, "Well, what do you do when you don't mend Greek vases that some stupid Scottish oiks broke?" The smile reached his eyes; she'd see he really wanted to know. Unless her almost Asperger-like fixation on her work made her oblivious to that sort of small subliminal signals.

Ruth glanced up from her plate and smiled in return. "I read about Greek vases," she said. "Sometimes, for a change, Roman ones. And I've been looking at some of the Oriental ceramics but so far haven't found anything that quite catches the imagination the way the classical stuff does. Why?"

Ah. That confirmed his impression. But then, women came in all shapes, colours and sizes, and in a great variety of mental states, and almost all of them were in some way worth paying attention to. His contacts had said Ruth was the best option among all the choices he had...

"Well, most people do things that aren't work," Urquhart says. "You know, on evenings and weekends? But you seem to have turned your passion into a profession, so what else would you want to do?" It would be fun to take her out of her depth. Put her on inline skates. Introduce her to a tamed tiger or bear. But he wasn't here to amuse himself with experiments.

Ruth was immediately out of her depth. "Want to do?" she repeated frowning. "You mean other than read about my profession? I - don't know. What do you do?"

"Lots of things," Urquhart said. "Whatever there is, really, that sounds interesting. Go to wild places. Learn new sports. Cook people dinner. Listen to them talk of what they really care about, and let them show it to me. I like the enthusiasm of experts. Sometimes, that makes me end up with some board under my feet or a harness around my body, going down steeply in really creative ways." From bungee jumping to BDSM, there was little he hadn't tried when the opportunity arose and it was conducive to doing his job well.

Her expression slightly appalled, Ruth said, "Anything beyond my control is no fun. Even driving. I know what I'm doing and where i'm going but the random lunatics around me make every journey testing. So the thought of doing something similar for fun - no. I am glad you enjoy it, but it's not for me."

"The world can't be controlled," Urquhart said. "Things happen, and they can never be undone." Like a jeep running over -- no, he wouldn't think about it. "The trick is not to avoid uncertainty, but to surf it. Skate on the edge of chaos. Be part of the flow. I know you can do it. Breaking a cup is entirely random; it doesn't follow any laws and can't really be calculated, and once it happened, it can never be undone. You take whatever random happenstance throws at you and deal with it. That's the way to do anything. The world is a bloody mess -- so let's make black pudding. Metaphorically."

"Even for making black pudding one needs a recipe," Ruth pointed out. "You don't just throw all the ingredients together and hope for the best."

Urquhart nodded. "Yes, that's where the experts come in. The passionate enthusiasts, the professional geeks. People who deeply care about things and issues and pursue them year in, year out. In comparison, I'm a random dabbler in lots of things and an expert in nothing." Except death. But that wasn't to be talked about aloud. "I guess it's just that you're very much a farmer, and I'm very much a hunter. But even farmers go and have dances in the spring where they romp through the greenery."

Ruth frowned as she tried to apply his metaphor to herself, then her expression eased slowly into a genuine smile. "Well, once a year I do allow myself a treat and visit one of the really good collections as a guest. I suppose that could qualify as romping in the greenery."

Ah. Urquhart almost smiled at all the earnest, geeky passion in that woman. "Which are the really good collections?" he asked.

"Berlin, London, New York, Munich, Athens and Paris," Ruth said without hesitation. "There are places with more but the pirates tended to go for quality."

"Well, Athens isn't exactly pirates," Urquhart says. "It's Greece, where it's all from. The others are, of course. I saw the ones in London and Munich. The latter's a bit overshadowed by the antique statues opposite, I'm afraid."

"I haven't been to Munich yet," Ruth admitted. "And of course there are always the private collections. Some of those are incredible but they are virtually impossible to get into without a personal introduction to the owner."

"You might want an introduction to my friend whose vase it is?" Urquhart asked. "I don't know if I can do it. His collection is rather on the shady side, as far as export papers are concerned."

"Oh - dear," Ruth said. "Probably not a good idea then. I sort of HAVE to disapprove of such things, even though I know that there's a lot of very good stuff floating around uncatalogued. such a pity."

"Well, he meticulously catalogued it it all," Urquhart extemporised, "but of course, just in his own private files, not in publicly accessible lists. I think some of the things came from Greece at the end of World War II. He's old, of course. I don't know what his niece will do, eventually."

"She'll probably put it on Ebay," Ruth said bleakly. "That's a place that should be closed down."

"I don't think that's going to happen," Urquhart said. "Neither closing down eBay, nor the collection ending up on there. She knows it's important, as far as I can tell. We'll see. I hope he gets many more years to enjoy it all."

"So do I," Ruth said. "And then I hope she hands it on to a suitable collection where it can add to the body of knowledge."

"Hopefully, one that's going to forgive the patchy provenance, and in the same country so no pesky customs officials get to mess with it," Urquhart said.

"Oh yes," Ruth said with a wry smile. "They can play havoc with ones exhibition plans."

"Would it be all right if I referred them to you, if anything like that pops up?" Urquhart asked. There were no people, no collection, and nothing going to pop up. But before that would become apparent, he'd be long gone, the job done and a dozen more, most likely.

"Of course," Ruth said. "Any local collector is welcome to call upon the Ashford for help. We are," she smiled, "here to serve. Though I believe that some of my colleagues sometimes forget that."

"Oh?" he asked, quite willing to listen to her grievance. Women liked to be listened to.

Having merely stated a fact, Ruth smiled at him and sipped her coffee. She replaced the cup on the table and said, "This is one of the most complex restorations I've ever attempted. Thank you for putting it my way."

"You actually like it complicated?" Urquhart said. "For the challenge? For the artistry?" He sometimes took a similar view of his own assignments, but he couldn't really talk about that, could he?

"Er," Ruth raised her eyebrows. "I guess - for being able to put something right that has gone wrong?" she suggested. "Also most jobs I do are impermanent and must be able to be undone - they are conservation not restoration. Sometimes restoration is nice for a change."

"At least it can look right again," Urquhart said, nodding. "It can never be right again, of course. Whatever's broken can never be unbroken, only fixed."

"Sometimes fixed is almost as good," Ruth said. "In fact there was a crack, an old one, that I've been able to clean up and glue properly. That part will be stronger now than it was before it was shattered."

"You mean it had been broken before?" Urquhart asked, immediately feeling less guilty. It shouldn't have been such a relief, should it?

"Not broken, no," Ruth said. "A hairline crack where the bowl merges into the base. It wouldn't have been visible, I don't think, but it weakened the structure. If it was a funerary offering, perhaps that was why."

"Why?" Urquhart asked. "Did they symbolically kill the vessels for that?"

"No," Ruth said, puzzled. "If you're going to put something in the ground, so it can never be used why use a good one? One with a small invisible flaw will do."

"Oh," Urquhart said. "How oddly sensible of them!"

"I don't believe that anyone ever suggested that the fourth century BC Athenians were stupid," Ruth said with a smile. "And they were very practical."

"I guess I imagined them more, well, mystical," Urquhart said, "with those robes and processions and sacrificed bulls and columns and blood and oracles."

"I think those are a bit more ancient," Ruth said. "They enjoyed their festivals and oracles and were keen on doing things that had always been done but were very modern in some of their other outlooks. Democracy for instance - as long as you were male and free and sensible."

"Oh," Urquhart said. "Were politics ever sensible?"

"Of course they were," Ruth said, "back in the day when one could be ostracised by big men with swords rather than by the gutter press."

"I'm a big man myself," Urquhart said with a smile. "Who would you ostracise, if it still worked that way?"

"Oh my goodness, I can't think of anyone I actually want dead," Ruth said. "But if I could scratch the name of the head of Egyptology on an ostraka and have him safely transported to Cairo so he can interfere with THEIR storage systems I'd be mightily relieved. I'm sure he feels the same about me."

"Then there would be one vote against each of you," Urquhart said. "How would you go about getting more? I mean, how did they? How come not everybody wrote down their least favourite neighbour?"

"I've never given it any thought," Ruth said. "Why would they? Ostracism was serious business," she said it straight out, never having seen 'srs bsns' and unaware that it might be construed as a cliche, "why would they make a mockery of it?"

"So they ostracised famous people?" Urquhart said. "Politicians? Lawyers?"

"Mostly politicians," Ruth said and took another bite of cake. "We have a few ostraka in our collection, though thousands have been found. So enticing to see tiny pieces or what must have been spectacular vessels."

"What kind of vessels did they break for ostraka?" Urquhart asked. "Not good ones like the one I broke, surely!"

"Broken pottery was plentiful," Ruth said. "They used it as note paper."

"Well, actual papyrus was probably expensive," Urquhart pondered. "You wouldn't write the shopping list on it."

Her mouth being full, Ruth just nodded. "And it only happened once a year - if they felt like it."

"And if they didn't?" Urquhart asked, sipping his coffee. "No ostracism that year? Who decided?"

"The demos," Ruth said. "And all it means is that you were banished for ten years. You didn't lose your possessions, and you could be recalled. They used it a a means of distancing people who were getting too powerful or who were abusing their power. Some people are too pushy for their own good."

Urquhart finished his cake. She was right -- he didn't want her to distance him, after all. "Oh, definitely," he said. "We should really reintroduce that. But I guess I should be going. I think I ought to look up a few things."

"Oh?" Ruth felt a vague and unaccustomed sense of regret that their strange little meal was over. "Well have a good trip," she said. "I have your number and will call when the kylix is complete."

Urquhart stood. "Or I'll drop by before that," he said. "It's fun to hear you talk about your work and the ancient world."

"Fun - er - yes," Ruth said and smiled. "It was nice to see you. Do come again."

"You can be sure," he said, with a smile, getting up.

Hook. Now for the line and the sinker.

"I definitely will. See you soon!" And with that, he sauntered off, turning back at the cafeteria door to give her another nod of goodbye before leaving.

Ruth smiled and raised a hand to wave goodbye then lowered it again. There was a little cake left - waste not want not.