Chronica by Paul Levinson Read Free Book Online Page A

Appleton said. "Everything we are doing in this time travel business is dangerous. But you risked your lives, and others perished, in obtaining Heron's scroll. What was the point of doing that if it languished, untranslated and unread, in a dusty cubbyhole in my desk? And anything that Jack Astor may guess about what we're doing will go down with him on the Titanic, won't it?"

    "That is almost 20 years from now," Sierra said, "a long time to keep a secret."

    The waiter approached with their teas. Behind him was a thin man, also with a moustache but a cravat not a bowtie, and much younger than Appleton. "Jack!" Appleton rose. "Did you leave something here?"

    "I had an additional thought," John Jacob Astor replied, and smiled at Sierra and Max.

    "John Jacob Astor, Sierra Waters and Maxwell Marcus," Appleton intoned the introductions.

    ***

    Astor kissed Sierra's hand, shook Max's, and told the waiter who was still hovering that no, he wouldn't be staying more than a few minutes, and wouldn't require anything more to imbibe.

    "Call me Max, please," Max said to Astor, with a smile.

    "Of course," Astor replied. "And my friends call me Jack – please do."

    Appleton explained that Sierra and Max were part of the team that had acquired the newly unearthed scrolls by Aristotle and Heron in Egypt the year before and were here in New York for a consultation. Fortunately, Sierra and Max both were well versed in the circumstances of the real discovery of two leaves of Aristotle's Constitution of Athens in Egypt in 1879 and the longer text in 1890, and had no difficulty appearing knowledgeable about the subject to Astor.

    He beamed at both of them, especially Sierra. "It is gratifying to see such a comely woman making such a contribution to our store of knowledge. Who knows what other treasures of the past and its intellect are waiting in the sands of Egypt!"

    Appleton nodded. "Jack and I were talking about the problem of obtaining a suitable translator for the Chronica ."

    "Poor Jowett's of course no longer with us," Astor said. "I had an idea about contacting Frederic Kenyon – he translated The Constitution of Athens for the British Museum – but they are being very peculiar about that, as William knows."

    "Something shady about how they got the papyrus codex out of Egypt, is my guess," Appleton said. "My contacts at the Museum refuse to discuss it, and they are discouraging Kenyon from having any discourse about translation of ancient texts. I am not sure Kenyon has the requisite science for it, either."

    "Which brings me to the reason for my unscheduled return to the Millennium," Astor said, with a flourish and a loud whisper. "I was walking up Fifth Avenue, and I saw one of Samuel Clemens' books in Brentano's – his wonderful Yankee in King Arthur's Court . He has a keen interest in the miracles of science. He knows about time traveling, of course—"

    Sierra tensed slightly at the mention of time travel, and hoped it didn't show – at least, not to Astor. She couldn't help thinking that Mark Twain was buried in Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx, not very far from the grave of Socrates . . . and that he would live in Appleton's beloved Wave Hill for a few years after Appleton died.  

    Appleton winced slightly for different reasons, thinking that if he had been better tending his publishing business in 1889, he would have made more of an effort to talk Clemens out of publishing this book with his own damned Webster company, and cast his lot with Appleton's instead. He looked for a moment at Sierra, thinking it was her mentor Thomas – who was actually so much more – who had diverted his best attention from publishing for most of that year. But in all fairness to Thomas, Appleton in 1889 had still not gotten completely over the loss of his beloved wife Mary just five years earlier. He grieved for her still. He always would.

    Astor continued, apparently oblivious to Sierra's and Appleton's demeanors. "But Clemens is