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annwfynAfter the funeral, they went to the Bird & Baby. Where else would they have gone? It had been Diggory Kirke’s favourite drinking spot, and now he was gone, it seemed like the only appropriate thing to go was to return to that place, to lift a glass in his honour.
“Do you remember,” one said “how Kirke used to come here before he took supervision with Spooner because he said it was the only way Spooner made sense?”
There was a rumble of laughter around the room. “God knows,” another said, “how he and Spooner made it through his DPhil.
“God knows how any of us made it through our DPhils under Spooner!” another said with feeling. “Kirke was one of Spooner’s favourites, you know? Spooner always said the man had a natural gift for Divinity. He once said that just before he threw a book at my head!”
More laughter rippled around the bar. More anecdotes and memories of the late professor were shared, as a new round of drinks arrived.
“Do you remember those tall tales he’d tell when drunk?” one of the shortest of the dons said with fondness. “The other worlds he said existed just over the horizon,”
“I wish he’d written half those tales down,” one man said regretfully. “His tales would rival the Illiad, I am telling you,”
He threw a sideways look at the shortest of the academics. “Be just as good as your stuff, Tollers.”
The largest of the man around the table added in “ah, but Kirke wasn’t like Tollers, throwing in elves for the hell of it. Kirke had something to say…”
“Oh god,” Tollers muttered under his breath. “Not allegory. Please not allegory,”
The taller man glared, defensively. “That’s what I think Kirke’s stories were. They were allegory. Think about it – the lion was Jesus, hence the sacrifice. The witch was Satan. Well, maybe that was the bird thing…”
“Or maybe, Jack,” Tollers said firmly, “the great lion god of the land beyond the stars was just a great lion god. It doesn’t always have to be allegory,”
Jack shook his head firmly. “Allegory. That’s why the children couldn’t stay…” and then an awkward silence fell over the conversation because, after all, not only Diggory Kirke had died in the train accident. Three of his dear young friends – the youngest only nineteen years old – had perished as well. Even Jack’s bombast was stilled, and he stared into his drink for a minute.
“Lucy,” he said quietly at last. “My goddaughter is called Lucy as well. That’s what got Kirke talking about the whole subject. Our goddaughters had the same name,”
Tollers placed a gentle hand on Jack’s shoulder, before he moved to the bar to order new drinks.
At the bar, the younger man lingered by him a while. “Jack’s taking it pretty hard,” he said quietly. “He makes all that noise to cover it up. He’s devasted by the accident,”
Tollers sighed. “Yes. I think we all are. Kirke was a very good man,”
He hesitated and then said “he was the first person I told about my hobbits, you know. When I found that battered old red book in a junk shop and started trying to translate it. He took it quite seriously when no one else did,”
The younger man rolled his eyes. “We’re not going back to that red book nonsense, are we Tollers?” he asked.
Tollers half smiled and then shook his head. “Of course not, Roger. Now, let’s get back to Jack,”
Across the room, the conversation had moved on to other stories about Diggory Kirke – his love of horses, his skill with a rifle, his endless and remarkable calm. Only once did the strange worlds he talked of come up once again when Jack Lewis lifted his glass at the end of the evening.
“To Diggory Kirke!” he said firmly. “Scholar, gentleman and custodian of the greatest of tales which should never be forgotten.”
The others raised their glasses in unison.
“To Diggory Kirke!” they said, as Jack downed his glass and finished with “and I’ll make sure they aren’t,”
There was a general agreement from all, against the small Tollers in a corner. “Sorry, Kirke,” he murmured to empty air. “I know you didn’t like that allegory nonsense either. Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen. Or if we’re lucky, the lion god will turn up and eat Jack’s face too, when he gets in one of these moods,”
And, for a minute, Tollers was quite sure he could hear the laughter of his old friend.
“Do you remember,” one said “how Kirke used to come here before he took supervision with Spooner because he said it was the only way Spooner made sense?”
There was a rumble of laughter around the room. “God knows,” another said, “how he and Spooner made it through his DPhil.
“God knows how any of us made it through our DPhils under Spooner!” another said with feeling. “Kirke was one of Spooner’s favourites, you know? Spooner always said the man had a natural gift for Divinity. He once said that just before he threw a book at my head!”
More laughter rippled around the bar. More anecdotes and memories of the late professor were shared, as a new round of drinks arrived.
“Do you remember those tall tales he’d tell when drunk?” one of the shortest of the dons said with fondness. “The other worlds he said existed just over the horizon,”
“I wish he’d written half those tales down,” one man said regretfully. “His tales would rival the Illiad, I am telling you,”
He threw a sideways look at the shortest of the academics. “Be just as good as your stuff, Tollers.”
The largest of the man around the table added in “ah, but Kirke wasn’t like Tollers, throwing in elves for the hell of it. Kirke had something to say…”
“Oh god,” Tollers muttered under his breath. “Not allegory. Please not allegory,”
The taller man glared, defensively. “That’s what I think Kirke’s stories were. They were allegory. Think about it – the lion was Jesus, hence the sacrifice. The witch was Satan. Well, maybe that was the bird thing…”
“Or maybe, Jack,” Tollers said firmly, “the great lion god of the land beyond the stars was just a great lion god. It doesn’t always have to be allegory,”
Jack shook his head firmly. “Allegory. That’s why the children couldn’t stay…” and then an awkward silence fell over the conversation because, after all, not only Diggory Kirke had died in the train accident. Three of his dear young friends – the youngest only nineteen years old – had perished as well. Even Jack’s bombast was stilled, and he stared into his drink for a minute.
“Lucy,” he said quietly at last. “My goddaughter is called Lucy as well. That’s what got Kirke talking about the whole subject. Our goddaughters had the same name,”
Tollers placed a gentle hand on Jack’s shoulder, before he moved to the bar to order new drinks.
At the bar, the younger man lingered by him a while. “Jack’s taking it pretty hard,” he said quietly. “He makes all that noise to cover it up. He’s devasted by the accident,”
Tollers sighed. “Yes. I think we all are. Kirke was a very good man,”
He hesitated and then said “he was the first person I told about my hobbits, you know. When I found that battered old red book in a junk shop and started trying to translate it. He took it quite seriously when no one else did,”
The younger man rolled his eyes. “We’re not going back to that red book nonsense, are we Tollers?” he asked.
Tollers half smiled and then shook his head. “Of course not, Roger. Now, let’s get back to Jack,”
Across the room, the conversation had moved on to other stories about Diggory Kirke – his love of horses, his skill with a rifle, his endless and remarkable calm. Only once did the strange worlds he talked of come up once again when Jack Lewis lifted his glass at the end of the evening.
“To Diggory Kirke!” he said firmly. “Scholar, gentleman and custodian of the greatest of tales which should never be forgotten.”
The others raised their glasses in unison.
“To Diggory Kirke!” they said, as Jack downed his glass and finished with “and I’ll make sure they aren’t,”
There was a general agreement from all, against the small Tollers in a corner. “Sorry, Kirke,” he murmured to empty air. “I know you didn’t like that allegory nonsense either. Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen. Or if we’re lucky, the lion god will turn up and eat Jack’s face too, when he gets in one of these moods,”
And, for a minute, Tollers was quite sure he could hear the laughter of his old friend.
