07: CHURCH AND OFFICE

Jonathan arrived at the church almost an hour and a half early to observe the surroundings. His many years in many campaigns taught him to be cautious in direct dealings with an adversary and equally, if not more so, with an acquaintance. Although he had just met Sir Chester, he had no understanding of the man, and despite being in the man’s home, that encounter was both mundane and puzzling. The former, as it was just a meeting with a respected politician, his wife, his daughter and all the usual pleasantries. The latter was what worried him. How Sir Chester’s attitude changed, and how he requested St Croix’s immediate dismissal.

There was a large statue of Magnus in the chapel. Although he had a reputation for piety and gentleness and was canonized in 1135, the statue showed him dressed in what looked like a Roman leather tunica or tunic, a fierce Viking helmet with long horns placed on his head, and a large battle axe. On the blade of the axe were red leaves, which, at first glance, looked like dried blood.

It appeared to be an unreasonable attempt by early Christians to apply and appropriate the looks and styles of the conquered pagan peoples, which never ceased to amaze St Croix. He felt it was almost like, “Our god is just like yours, but from now on, you can only worship our god.”

The Reredos behind the altar was a massive, ornately carved piece of exquisite art. Two angels flanked it on the corners, and massive sculptured newels topped the centre pillars. A prominent Christ figure on the cross hung above it all.

The round vaulted ceiling towering over his head was as white as pristine snow despite the centuries of use of tallow candles. It was held up by the slender white Ionic columns topped with gold. This was a source of fascination for him, and this sort of splendorous edifice could have been built during such a dark period of man’s history.

A voice calling out his name cut short his study of architecture.

“Mr St Croix, Jonathan, excuse me, but I wanted to see you again. I heard my father say he would meet you here, so I wanted to come before he arrived.”

“Ahh. Miss Harwood, good morning. I, too, wanted to see you again. If you wish and are able, come to my office at about 3:15 tomorrow. I will have my clerk schedule an appointment for you.

Now you should leave before your father arrives. Good day, madame. I will see you tomorrow.”

The younger Harwood left the church five minutes before the elder arrived. However, he was not alone. When he announced himself, he was accompanied by Mr Charles Dodson, his secretary, who had brought the message to St Croix’s office. And a tall, thin Irishman, Mr Abraham Stoker, a clerk from Dublin Castle.

After introductions, the church minister joined them and guided them into the church vestry for discussions.

“Mr St Croix, if I may dispense with any further pleasantries, I would like to get to the heart of today’s meeting.”

“But, of course, time is of value to all of us.”

“Good. Are you familiar with the Treaty of Hünkâr İskelesi between Russia and the Ottomans?”

“Yes, it was signed about fifteen years ago and regulates the right of passage through the Dardanelles.”

“Correct, however, since with the diplomatic acts of France, the Austrians and ourselves, we have effectively voided all the contrary issues of the treaty.  We are trying to encourage Sultan Khaleefah Abdul-Majid I not to re-engage the Czar with any problems, but he is reticent. To that end, we would like to send Mr. Stoker to meet one of the Sultan’s emissaries in Vienna, and as I believe you have met the Sultan, you could grant Mr. Stoker the benefits of your knowledge.

As this relates to the ‘bridge incident’ of last week, the note from the gentleman in question was related to this to inform us of an attempt by the Czar to have the Sultan grant exclusive control of the Christian shrines in the Holy Land and the responsibility of Christians residing there to the Orthodox Church. This, of course, would threaten our interest in the Levant and the rest of the region.

This meeting suits our interests. As with the Austrians seizing Krakow and the continued Russian interference in Moldova and Wallachia. We would need Ottoman support in a war of any European power against the Czar.”

“I understand completely, and I do see the wisdom in the actions of the Crown. If Mr Stoker is willing, I could inform him of all I know this Saturday if he wishes to attend my home at that time.”

Harwood concluded, “Good. So, we are all in agreement; thank you, Mr St Croix. I would like you to read this packet of dispatches soon.”

The next day, Evelyn Harwood arrived at Jonathan's office at precisely 3:15. She was ushered in by one of the clerks working in the forefront of the building.

Unlike the spacious office of her Barrister, Sir Percy Tyrol, St Croix’s was lined with bookshelves holding what looked like bound manuscripts, rolled maps, scrolled parchments and small boxes wrapped with twine.

He explained when he saw her looking at the shelves with a bit of shock. “Old gold and silver prices, documents of trades for years before I bought this brokerage. Old maps of old mines and mineral surveys from the colonies, from Hudson’s Bay to the Bay of Bengal and back again. The boxes are ore samples and such. When I am not exchanging gold and treasures for, or on behalf of the Crown or clients, I keep myself occupied with the study of geology and cartography.”

“Oh, that is fascinating; I love stones and gems. Not the cut and polished, mounted stones of jewellery pieces, but the more rough and rugged stone in their natural setting as they were created and found.”

St Croix walked to a corner of the office and retrieved a small box from the uppermost shelf.

“Well then, Lady Evelyn, perhaps you would find this interesting.” “This is a simple crystalline carbon rock with a trace of boron; it was found near Lake Argyle in the god-forsaken location of northern Western Australia. It is rather clouded, but it does reflect light quite clearly.”

“Oh, this is beautiful, and don’t be tempted to confuse me with any chemistry talk; I know this to be a flawed but pale blue diamond.”

“You are correct, and as a reward for being so astute on the subject, I will reward you with ownership of the rock in question.”

“I cannot accept such a gift from a gentleman I barely know. What would society say?”

“Be damned what society says, as they are not here and if they were; they have no presence nor providence in this office; I say that that diamond is yours as its colouration in the light both reflects and mimics the colour of your eyes.

Looking closely at the gem, she murmured, “A diamond gift from a man I want to become my friend. A diamond gift from a man that I could quickly grow to love.”

With Jonathan's heightened hearing, he smiled and stepped toward her, and she toward him. She reached up to put her arms around him, and he reached out to gently cup her face in his hands. Stretching up, arching her back, he lowered his face towards hers; as their lips met, the diamond dropped from her hand to roll across the floor.

At the Saturday meeting with Abraham Stoker, Johnathon told the Irishman all he knew about the Sultan, the more delicate intricacies of Ottoman diplomacy, and how it differed from dealing in the European nations in a more European manner.

How a Dublin city clerk was enlisted to be an intermediary between the government of the Queen and a foreign nation could be explained simply as a gesture of a new and broadening expression of cooperation between many of the facets of the British Empire and the Ottoman Empire.

Harwood had also asked Johnathan to update Stoker on details from the briefing papers that he was handed on behalf of the Foreign Office concerning the dealings the Czar had recently concluded with the French and Prussian and the Kingdoms of Denmark and Sweden.

Upon leaving, Stoker asked, “Sir, if I may ask, how is it that you, at such a young age, as you are not my age of being near fifty, know so much about the affairs of foreign nations, the nature of Ottoman politics and are empowered to both instruct others on diplomacy and manage gold exchanges for the Crown?”   

“That my fine man, Mr Abraham Stoker, is because I am both well-travelled and may not be as youthful as I appear.

“You are quite an enigma, Mr St Croix, quite an enigma.”

Over the next few weeks, Evelyn had increasingly convinced her father to invite Jonathan to dinner or events. Harwood tacitly agreed to it, as St Croix would be a pleasing escort for his daughter until a more suitable suitor was found. St Croix was a fine gentleman; even though he was a gold merchant, he was still only a merchant.