Page 76 of The Sea Siren of Broadwater Bottom
Edward bit back a groan. So his absolute least favorite task, putting words in the mouth of an ancient great, was the very thing he would have to do.
Perfect.
Having finished his list, the vice-chancellor continued, “One more matter before we begin. Write your name upon a sheet of paper, then fold it into quarters and seal it. If the mystery translator would be so kind as to indicate as much after the first fold. You will place this within your composition. In this way, your entries will be judged anonymously, and only the winner’s name will be revealed. The remaining names will all be burned.”
Edward had participated in contests that employed this system to ensure that entries remained anonymous before, but he hadn’t known the judges would be using it today.
The judges would only open the name of the winning entry. This meant that no matter how atrocious Edward’s attempt might be, no one would ever know that he had been the one to create it.
His shoulders unknotted. As rusty as he was, that tiny detail came as a considerable relief.
They all filed to the front of the room and selected one of the ten works to translate. Back at their table, Edward and Elissa exchanged a quick smile, then settled down to work.
CHAPTER28
Two hours later, the contest concluded. Elissa folded her entry into a packet around the sheet of paper bearing her name and added it to the growing stack on the table before the Dean of Oriel College. Edward offered her his arm, and they headed outside.
There was now a two-hour break during which the judges would select the winner.
Edward was strangely relaxed. “We may as well take in some of Oxford’s famous sights while we wait,” he said, leading her across the grassy quadrangle. “Let’s start with the Bodleian Library. It’s just across the street.”
Elissa tried to attend to the things Edward was showing her. Really, she did. But she was so anxious, she couldn’t seem to stop babbling about the translation she had just completed.
“… and I’m fairly certain I rendered it in the indicative imperfect, when of course it should have been the optative aorist—”
Edward pressed her hand where it lay upon his arm. “I’m sure your translation was wonderful. With such limited time, nobody’s submission will be completely free of errors.” He gestured down the street. “The gardens of Magdalen College are particularly fine. Would you like to see them?”
Elissa peered up at him. “Why are you so calm? I would have thought you would be in agony over the outcome.”
“I am, a bit. Part of it is that I’ve given up. I have no realistic chance of winning.”
“Edward!” She squeezed his hand. “I don’t believe that for a second.”
“I do. I told you I haven’t opened a lexicon since I left Cambridge. I didn’t even manage to study these past few weeks. I just wrote from my gut. It won’t be the same quality as the other submissions, but at least the judges will toss it into the fire and no one else will ever read it. Although…” He gazed down at her, and his blue eyes were so tender, she forgot to breathe. “Maybe I’ll try to re-create it, just for you to read. You see, I chose Sappho 31.”
Elissa gave a startled laugh. Sappho 31 was arguably the most romantic poem in all of classical verse. “Did you truly?”
“I did. And I reworked the missing section to dedicate it to you.”
Elissa could feel that she was blushing, the curse of being a redhead. “I would like to read that.”
“It’s not very good. But I’d like for you to read it. I realized something back there. I realized—”
“Yer blocking the pavement!” barked a man approaching with a wheelbarrow laden with vegetables.
Edward stepped back, frowning as he drew Elissa out of the way. “That is no way to speak to a lady,” he muttered.
Elissa’s heart was still racing. She tugged on Edward’s sleeve. “What was it you realized?”
He glanced up and down the crowded street. “I’ll tell you once we reach the gardens.”
“As you prefer.” She allowed Edward to steer her down the pavement, but after a few steps, her body stiffened as she came to another unfortunate realization. “Oh, my gracious—I am fairly certain that I rendered the word ‘sky’ in thethird declension—”
“Careful, darling,” Edward said, gently but firmly pulling her back up onto the curb. “Oncoming carriage.”
“Oh! Thank you, Edward.” They had taken all of three steps before her mouth resumed babbling of its own accord. “The third declension. Of course, it should have been theseconddeclension.”
Edward made a sympathetic sound. “Quite tricky, those declensions.”
