A Lucid Description, Pt. 1

Gus's t-shirt depicts the Mona Lisa with sunglasses. Art Guy is wearing a leather jacket and an orange sweater. The duo is in Cairo.

"Aren't you warm in that get-up?" says Gus.
"Aren't you embarrassed to be wearing that t-shirt, Gus, we're in the medievalist's bar."

Indeed the bar they have chosen (non-alcoholic of course) is specifically a secret hangout for traveling medieval experts. Cyril Mango vacates his seat next to the two of them and exits the bar.

"Why didn't you talk to Mango?" says Gus.
"Are you kidding? One does not simply talk to Cyril Mango," says our hero.

A one-day plane layover has naturally landed Art Guy and Gus in Egypt before heading to Cyprus then through the land of Byzantium. For research purposes? No. Art Guy just wants to see the sights. It's his first vacation in a while, and he wants to reflect on what jobs will suit him better in the future. His last adventure, involving tomb shards of Etheldreda, ended in a certain incompatibility of ideas with the museum world.

"What did you think about the art we saw this morning, Mr. Guy?" says Gus.
"Amazing, I was loving it."
"Do you think that Coptic art's Egyptian influences can be seen in the medieval west?"
"I have no idea. I'm on vacation, Gus."

Our hero sips some water.

"Just look at the Osiris pose," says a gruff voice behind them. As they turn they see a Byzantinist bedecked in a great wool burqa. Three leather pouches and a flask hang from her torso.

"26 of the heavy stuff," she says across the bar.
The bartender says, "Sorry, we don't serve alcohol in this country."
"The heavy water then," she says.

Art Guy and Gus exchange looks.

"Don't get this one started," whispers our hero to Gus.
"Excuse me," says Gus to the stranger.

She drinks from a large mug of water as if it has alcohol in it. "Yes?"
"What about the Osiris pose?" says Gus.
"It's one of the ways Coptic art probably influenced the monastic communities of Ireland. I've shown it to relate."

Both our hero and Gus notice a distinctly Irish brogue.

"Ireland?" says Gus. "That's hard to believe, eh, Mr. Guy?"

Art Guy sinks into his chair and wishes he were on the other side of the world.

"What did you say," says the stranger.
"Just, Ireland is so far from Egypt, how do you figure that would work?" says Gus.

Art Guy interjects before Gus has a chance to lose his front row of teeth:

"I'm sorry, we're just on vacation, we didn't realize this was a medievalist's bar."

The stranger is silent and returns to gulping mug after mug of water as if it was indeed heavy stuff. At long last she speaks again,

"And you, skinny man in jeans? Do you know anything about the import of Coptic imagery into the monastic art of Ireland?"

Our hero feels about two feet tall.

"Well, I study more late medieval."

"So you are a medievalist."

"Well, yes."

She rolls her eyes. "Do you know anything about Coptic art and Ireland?"

"No."

"There's a well-known import of ideas between the Coptic monastic communites and the Irish monks. They were some of the most clever monks ever known to art history. But I'm not going to bore you with the art if you're not familiar with it. It just sounded like the two of you were having a discussion about Coptic art and the medieval west, and I happen to know a thing or two, that is all. Tell your non-medievalist friend that it was insightful of him to pick up on that at the Coptic musem."

The three of them sit at the bar in a chilling silence known only to Khufu's tomb.

The stranger again breaks the ice. "My name is F.B. Irish."

"Dr. Irish, I'm Art Guy in Jeans."

"I can see that."

"No, that's actually my name, not just my descriptor."

"And who's Mr. Coptic?"

"That's Gus."

"Hi!" says Gus.

The three of them begin to get along.

"Cyril Mango was sitting here before you got here," says Art Guy.
"I could take him or leave him," says Irish.
"Hey, we're travelling through Byzantium," says Gus. "Do you have any idea what we could do for fun there?"
"Where specifically?" says Irish.
"Cyprus," say Art Guy and Gus.

Suddenly Irish grabs the two of them by the shoulders and shakes them and pulls them into a huddle. Our hero and his trusted companion are terrified.

"I need you to do something for me," says Irish.
"Shoot!" says Gus.
Art Guy's head is swarming with warnings from Byzantine curators across the world not to get involved in mafia-headed archaeological schemes in the medieval East.

"I need you to investigate a Last Judgment cycle," she says.
Art Guy says, "Why do you need us to do that? I hate to say it, but we're trying to take our first vacation in years."
She says, "They won't let me near it after last time. There's a restraining order. They had these lights shining on it that were clearly damaging the wall paint, so me and my buddies got together and destroyed all the light apparati with crowbars. Now they won't let me back to the site. I need you two to write a clear description of the scene. It's the only chance I have to incorporate this site into my studies. I'll pay you handsomely in sterling."

"Would you like me to take a try at the iconography?" says our hero.

"No thanks," says Irish.

"So, just a description and some photos?"

"Yep."

Our hero turns to Gus.

"I'm in, Mr. Guy! This is exciting. I feel like I'm in an Indiana Jones movie."

"Take it back," says Art Guy.

F.B. Irish pulls out a disposable exhibition catalogue and carves a map on the back cover with a swiss army knife. "Now, look. I just want a description. Every figure, every movement, every gesture. If you're not clear on who it is, don't guess. Just take a photo. I should be able to figure it out. Okay? Lucid description. No crazy theories, none of this 'overpaint makes it difficult to surmise the intentions of the original artist' crap. This'll look good on a C.V."

"Thanks," says our hero with transparent exuberance.

"Meet me back in this bar in exactly two weeks time. That's the only time I plan to be in the vicinity of this dry bar," says Irish.

"Got it." Art Guy and Gus head for the door.

"Hey," says Irish.

They turn back.

"This is really what my career needs," she says. "God bless the two of you."

They smile and salute.

"Can we take flash pictures?" says Gus off-hand.

The Byzantinist's expression changes. She looks Gus dead in the eye and pats the distinct shape of a crowbar under her burqa. "See you in two weeks."

--- to be continued...