The Prophecy

24

To better explain his translation of the letter, Ulster took his materials into the teaching studio, located in the basement of the Archives, and set up a secure video conference with Payne and Jones. An antique desk and leather chair sat in the middle of the soundproof room. On the wall behind Ulster was a dryerase board and a silver tray filled with a rainbow of markers. In front of him was a video camera mounted on top of a large monitor. It allowed the trio to have a confidential conversation, protected by the latest firewalls and encryption programs.

Meanwhile, Payne and Jones sat next to each other in the main conference room at the Payne Industries Building. The chestnut-lined chamber was equipped with the newest audiovisual gadgetry — computers, plasma screens, and fibreoptic connections. On the lacquered table, they had set up a camera and monitor that worked the same way as Ulster’s. Thanks to their screen, they could see him and speak to him as if he was sitting across from them.

Ulster stared at Payne and Jones via his monitor. ‘First of all, please allow me to apologize for the lengthy delay. Your riddle was a stubborn beast, one that took me a while to slay.’

Jones smiled at the colourful metaphor. Only a few hours had passed since their initial conversation. ‘To be honest, we’re surprised you finished the translation so quickly. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until late tonight or tomorrow.’

Ulster waved his hand dismissively. ‘Tomorrow? I should think not! How could I have slept knowing armed men are running round your city, gunning for your blood?’

‘The same way I slept on the battlefield. Left eye closed, right eye closed, goodnight.’

Payne pointed his thumb at Jones. ‘He’s not exaggerating. I’ve seen this guy sleep through a mortar attack. Enemy shells dropping from the sky like rain, and he’s curled up in a trench, snoozing away. Must’ve been dreaming, too, because he had a big-ass grin on his face.’

Jones shrugged. ‘What can I say? I love naps.’

Ulster chuckled at the image, amazed that they could stay so cool under pressure.

‘Anyway,’ Payne said, ‘we appreciate you getting back to us so quickly. We can’t wait to hear about the letter.’

Ulster held up his copy. ‘As you know, the original message was a mixture of several ancient languages, none of which seemed more important than another. Therefore, I’ll list them in alphabetical order: French, Greek, Hebrew, Italian, Latin, and Provençal.’

‘What is Provençal?’ Payne asked.

‘Provençal is a dialect named after the Provence region in southern France. Today it is spoken by fewer than a half-million people, mostly in France, Spain, Italy, and Monaco. Strangely, it is also used by a few wine communities in and around Napa, California.’

Jones grunted with surprise. ‘Really? I’ll have to remember that.’

‘Centuries ago, Provençal served an important role in French culture, because it was the language used by troubadours.’

‘Is Provençal different to Middle French?’ Payne wondered.

‘Linguistically speaking, they are both Gallo-Romance languages that were shaped in France, but there are some major differences between the two. Let’s start with a timeline.’

Without warning, Ulster swivelled in his chair. One moment he was staring at the camera, the next he was facing the board behind him. After selecting a black marker from the tray, he drew a horizontal line across the centre of the white surface, then divided the line with three vertical slashes, approximately two feet apart. From left to right, he labelled the slashes: 1000 AD, 1500 AD, and 2000 AD. Next he grabbed a red marker and drew a horizontal bar that ran parallel to the timeline for its entire length. Drawn two feet above the timeline, the red bar started just before 1000 AD and extended slightly past 2000 AD. He labelled it Provençal.

‘Can you read my writing?’ Ulster asked.

Payne stared at the screen. ‘Yes.’

‘Good,’ he replied as he grabbed a green marker. ‘Then I shall continue.’

A foot below the red bar and a foot above the timeline, Ulster drew a green bar. It started eight inches to the left of 1500 AD and stopped four inches past it. He labelled the bar Middle French. When he was done, the long red bar was on top, the short green bar was in the middle, and the black timeline was on the bottom.

Turning his head towards the camera, Ulster said, ‘The red bar represents Provençal. The green bar is Middle French. Jonathon, what can you tell me about them?’

Payne suddenly felt like he was back in grammar school, getting picked on by his teachers because he was the biggest student in his class. ‘Provençal has been around much longer.’

Ulster nodded. ‘Records show that it has been spoken for more than a thousand years. Furthermore, as I mentioned earlier, it is still spoken today in some parts of the world.’

‘I’m guessing that isn’t the case with Middle French.’

Ulster pointed at the green bar. ‘Middle French evolved from langue d’oïl, also known as Old French, somewhere in the middle of the fourteenth century. Many grammatical changes occurred at that time — technical things that I won’t bore you with. However, it is important to understand that these changes can be traced to this particular era. In fact, it is crucial.’

Jones grimaced. ‘I don’t get it. Why is that crucial?’

Ulster smiled into the camera. ‘Because it gives us a starting point.’

‘A starting point?’

‘Tell me, David, what do you know about the letter’s origin?’

He shrugged. ‘Not a whole lot.’

‘Do you have the original in your possession?’

‘No, just a photocopy.’

‘What about the name of the author?’

‘Nope.’

‘How about the date it was written?’

‘No idea.’

Ulster smiled wider. ‘Are you sure about that?’ Jones furrowed his brow and studied his copy of the letter, carefully searching for a date. Meanwhile, Payne sat next to him, doing the same thing.

‘Gentlemen,’ Ulster said, ‘the answer isn’t in your hands. It’s on the board behind me.’

The duo glanced at each other, confused, then focused on the monitor. Each of them trying to figure out the answer before the other. Several seconds passed before one of them caught on.

Jones asked, ‘You’re not talking about a specific date, are you?’

‘No, not a specific date. More like a window of time.’

‘Then I got it. Middle French started in 1350 AD, give or take an inch. The person who composed this letter used words from Middle French. Therefore, we know that this letter was written after 1350 AD.’

Ulster clapped his hands towards the camera. ‘Bravo, David! Bravo! Thanks to the inclusion of Middle French, we have our starting point. We know, without question, that this letter was composed sometime between the mid-fourteenth century and yesterday.’

Payne nodded in understanding, not the least bit surprised that Ulster had taken so long to make such a minor point. He had been around Ulster long enough to realize that his rambling was actually a part of his teaching process. Instead of giving a two-minute briefing where he summarized the key facts, he preferred to work in layers, slowly providing background information until an academic foundation had been established. Once he was confident that everyone had working knowledge of a topic, he would discuss the major points.

But in a situation like this, where time was critical, Payne knew he would have to stay on top of things or Ulster’s digressions would go on all day.

‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Payne said, ‘I’m thrilled that you narrowed things down, but six hundred and fifty years is a large chunk of time. Did you learn anything else from the letter?’

Ulster grinned in triumph. ‘Fear not, my boy. I’m just getting started.’