The Prophecy

48

Payne pointed to the two chairs on the other side of the desk. Megan walked over first and sat in the far seat. He gave her his notebook as he joined her. ‘Take a look at my notes. On the left are the words in English. On the right are their original languages.’

Megan glanced at the two columns, amazed by the effort that everyone had put into this project. Since she was unfamiliar with Provençal, Payne explained it was a dialect still spoken in parts of France. Jones could have told her a lot more about the foundation of the language, but he was busy solving the second half of line number two.

‘Where should we start?’ she asked.

‘Let’s start with your gut feeling. You said something feels off about the word lover, so let’s begin there.’

‘Great. So how do we do that?’

He shrugged. ‘Actually, I have no idea.’

She laughed at his honesty. ‘A guy who isn’t afraid to admit how clueless he is. That’s a very attractive quality in a man.’

‘Really? Then you’ll love me. I don’t know squat about anything.’

‘Keep in mind, I didn’t say stupidity was attractive. I simply said that…’

Payne stared at her, waiting for her to finish her thought, but she didn’t seem to notice. Instead, her gaze had shifted to the notebook she held in her hands. ‘What is it?’

‘What?’ she asked, not looking up at him.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong. It was just something you said.’

A quizzical expression filled his face. ‘What did I say?’

She ran her finger down the left column. ‘You mentioned the word love.’

‘And?’

Megan glanced at him. ‘The list is wrong.’

Payne inched his chair closer. ‘How so?’

‘On your chart, you have the word choice. But in the poem, you use the word chosen.’

Payne nodded, then explained that Ulster was forced to change the form of certain words for the poem to make sense. This was necessary because some of the languages had conflicting rules when it came to grammar. For example, where an adjective needed to be placed in order to modify the appropriate word in a sentence. ‘Does that make sense?’

‘Perfect sense. It also explains what’s wrong with the second line.’

Payne put two and two together. ‘Does this have to do with love?’

She flashed him a smile. ‘Everything has to do with love.’

‘Wow, my flirting must have been contagious.’

‘Tell me,’ she said, ‘how much Italian do you guys know?’

Payne shrugged. ‘A few words, here and there. Mostly related to food.’

Jones said, ‘I know a lot more than Jon, but I’m not exactly fluent.’

‘Trust me,’ she said, ‘you don’t have to be fluent to know this. When you mentioned love, it got me thinking about the second verse. What if the word lover was the wrong form of the word? What if it was supposed to be love instead?’

Jones took his finger and erased the r from the board. Now it read:

Payne studied the subtle change, but the solution still didn’t click in his head. ‘I don’t get it. How does that help us?’

‘And,’ she added, ‘what if the word was never meant to be translated? What if it was meant to be read in its original Italiano?’

Jones wasn’t an expert, but like many people he knew the Italian word for love. He erased the English version and wrote it in its original language.

‘I’ll be damned,’ Payne said from his chair. ‘That’s really clever.’

‘What’s clever?’ Jones demanded, still not connecting the dots. He took a few steps away, hoping the big picture came into focus. ‘What’s clever?’

‘Certainly not you,’ Payne teased, ‘or else you’d see it.’

‘See what?’ Jones snapped.

Payne smiled at Megan and encouraged her to speak. ‘Go on. Tell him why you’re so confident this line is about you.’

‘I don’t care who tells me,’ Jones growled. ‘Just give me the damn answer!’

Smiling from ear to ear, Megan stood up and walked to the board. She grabbed a red marker and made a slash through the middle of the Italian word. Now it read:

‘Do me a favour,’ she said to Jones. ‘Read this phonetically.’

He did as he was told. ‘A more from the lost line.’

A few seconds passed before Jones understood the pun. ‘Holy shit! They used your name in the verse. A Moore from the lost line. I have to admit, that’s pretty cool.’

Megan bowed theatrically. ‘Thank you very much.’

‘It’s cool,’ he admitted, ‘but is it good news?’

‘What do you mean?’

Jones smiled. ‘Now that we know the poem is about you, there’s no getting rid of us. You’re gonna be stuck with us until the bitter end.’