Besides, she had something she needed to ask him, and she needed to warm him up first.
Start with flattery. ‘I read Thought, Light and New Worlds,’ she said. ‘I thought it was absolutely brilliant.’ And actually she had. Both read it and admired it. Beccari had achieved the historian’s holy grail of putting across ideas that were both original and complex in an entertaining way. The sixteenth century wasn’t her period, but there had been so many glowing reviews in the press that she had decided to ask for the book for Christmas two years before. Her mother had given it to her, and she had devoured it.
‘I’m glad,’ said the professor, with a total lack of surprise or even pleasure at the praise. Eygló found the arrogance a little off-putting, but he probably had earned it more than Einar.
‘You know you are a very good TV presenter,’ said Beccari. ‘You really make the subject come alive. And you have a certain Nordic charm that gives your words a real power.’
Eygló blushed at the compliment. She didn’t know whether he was simply returning her flattery, whether he was hitting on her, or whether he believed what he said to be true. She decided to believe the latter.
Professor Beccari was one of the most renowned historians in the world. His words meant something. Her former colleagues back at York or the University of Iceland might think she was a lightweight, but who were they when compared to Professor Marco Beccari?
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You must have done loads of television stuff yourself?’
‘Not really,’ said Beccari. ‘I usually avoid it. I used to suffer from that common suspicion among we academics toward popularizing history. Dumbing it down. Distorting the truth to make it entertaining rather than accurate. Slaughtering nuance.’
Eygló winced inwardly. She noted how the ‘we academics’ excluded her. She wanted to argue, to explain that her enthusiasm for history was perfectly genuine, and there was nothing wrong in sharing it. But she kept her cool.
‘Used to suffer?’ she said. ‘You have changed your mind?’
‘I think perhaps I have,’ said Beccari. ‘Sometimes we professional historians forget what drove us to the subject in the first place: the love of the past, the pleasure of imagining what life was like in another century, the vicarious excitement of experiencing a battle or a war or a great international crisis. Or the discovery of Vinland.’
Eygló smiled.
‘So I should play my part in encouraging future historians,’ Beccari went on. ‘As long as I am not misrepresenting the truth, or oversimplifying.’
‘I hope you don’t think we are oversimplifying?’ said Eygló.
‘No,’ said Beccari. But he hesitated. ‘A little perhaps. But I can see it is unavoidable and I need to remind myself of that.’
That was accurate enough, thought Eygló.
‘I am looking forward to doing the scenes in Rome,’ she said. ‘With the Columbus letter. I can’t wait until it is right there in front of us. Will I be able to pick it up?’
‘Oh, I am sure you will. With gloves, of course.’
‘How do you feel when you touch something actually written by Columbus?’
Beccari laughed. ‘Oh, I have touched so many things written by all kinds of famous people from the past. You get used to it. But Carlotta Mondini was very perceptive. This particular letter is something special.’
‘People have been trying to figure out how far south the Vikings got for years. And now we know the answer.’
‘It’s much more than that,’ said Beccari. ‘It will change the whole way we look at Columbus and the discovery of America.’ Beccari’s voice warmed. ‘For a couple of decades now, Columbus’s position has been precarious. For centuries he has been seen as the man who discovered America. The Founding Fathers venerated him; the United States is full of places called Columbia, including the capital. There is even a country named after him. But he was looking for China. The Norsemen discovered America first, if not the Irish. And when he got to the New World, he was pretty brutal to the people he found there.
‘Now, when I...’ Beccari hesitated and glanced at Eygló. ‘When we announce to the world that Columbus knew all about America before he got there because the Icelanders told him, I believe it will tip him over the edge.’ Beccari chuckled. ‘Some people won’t like that — my old compatriots back in Italy, for instance.’
This was making Eygló nervous. She was very happy to bring her heroine Gudrid to the attention of the wider world. Trashing one of the most famous men in history was a different matter.
‘I had some fruitful conversations with my publishers in New York before I flew out here,’ Beccari said, chuckling again. ‘Very fruitful. I have an idea for a book that is going to shake Columbine studies to its very core.’
Eygló was struck with a flash of jealousy. She and Suzy had a deal with a small British publisher to produce a slim volume of photographs and text about Gudrid to go with the series. And now this professor was going to make ‘very fruitful’ amounts of money from their idea!
But then he was the brilliant world-renowned historian and she wasn’t.
Their discussion reminded Eygló forcefully of the question she needed to ask him. She wasn’t sure how to ask it indirectly; so she asked it straight. ‘Could it be a fake?’
Beccari’s eyes fixed on her. ‘Why do you ask that?’ he demanded.
‘Oh, I didn’t mean to suggest...’
Beccari grimaced in a complicated Italian expression that seemed to convey doubt and agreement at the same time. ‘No, it’s a perfectly fair question. I was suspicious at first, naturally, but it is genuine, I am quite sure of that. I will stake my reputation on it — I have staked my reputation on it.’
And it was quite some reputation. Which was fortunate, because the letter pointed to the authenticity of the wampum; they each supported the other. ‘Good,’ she said.
‘You sound relieved?’ said Beccari, a glimmer of suspicion returning to his eyes.
‘Oh, no,’ said Eygló. ‘It’s not that at all.’
‘Because I am having to take the wampum find on trust,’ said Beccari. ‘Are you certain about it?’
‘Einar is,’ said Eygló. ‘And he is one of the best archaeologists in Iceland.’
‘But you?’ Beccari’s thick eyebrows were arched under his shining forehead.
‘Yes, yes of course I am,’ said Eygló. ‘But it is comforting to hear an expert like you confirm the letter is real.’
Beccari still looked troubled. ‘Well, I hope Einar knows what he is about.’
‘Oh, he does, he does. He has total confidence in the wampum. He understands objects — he is not so good with paper. Which is why your opinion is so important to us.
‘Ah, here is Suzy,’ said Eygló with some relief as she saw the producer approaching them.
‘Eygló? Marco?’ Suzy said. ‘We are leaving in ten minutes.’
Eygló had wanted to check if there was a seed of doubt in Beccari’s mind about the Columbus letter. Well, there wasn’t. Or there hadn’t been — Eygló was a little concerned she had just planted one. Einar would be furious if he found out.
But she hadn’t told the professor the complete truth. She had heard something while they were filming in Nantucket that had raised a doubt in her mind, a doubt that would not go away...