Passenger (Passenger, #1)(69)

Something nagged at her as she thought back to the Dove, the Artillery Park, but she brushed it aside as Nicholas said, “Lecture…lecture, lecture, lecture…”

He spun toward her so quickly, he almost knocked her back a step. His eyes lit up, making the planes of his face seem almost boyish. “Is it possible it’s referring to St. Paul’s Areopagus sermon?”

Etta returned his eager expression with a blank one.

“Heathen!” Nicholas teased. “Acts 17:16–34. The Apostle Paul gave a sermon—a lecture, in fact, as it was against Greek law to preach about a foreign deity—in Athens, at the Areopagus.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

He chuckled, absently brushing a featherlight finger along her chin. He didn’t seem to realize he’d done it, but every inch of Etta’s skin was sparking with awareness.

“The Areopagus is the rocky area below the Acropolis. It served as the city’s high court of appeals in ancient times,” he explained, and Etta felt both impressed at his knowledge and terribly inadequate in the face of it. “I’ve read of it. Captain Hall saw himself as a philosopher as much as a seaman—he was educated at Harvard, if you can believe it—and kept any number of treatises around in the hope that Chase or I would stumble upon them one day. And Mrs. Hall was rather stringent in our biblical education.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Etta muttered. The only service she’d attended inside of a church had been the funeral of Oskar, Alice’s husband. Considering the role of religion in the eighteenth century, the depth of Nicholas’s knowledge shouldn’t have surprised her. She found herself leaning toward him, something sparking and warming at the center of her chest as she reappraised him in light of this. For the first time, Etta was truly grateful he had followed her through the passage.

“The sermon is something to the effect of, ‘Ye men of Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are too superstitious. For as I passed by, and beheld your devotions, I found an altar with this inscription: To the Unknown God.’ The sermon was centered on his distress at seeing the Athenians worshiping false idols—the Greek pantheon of gods.”

“And the connection between London and Ancient Greece is…?” Etta prompted, hoping he’d have the answer, since she didn’t.

“Architecture, law, statues, and art,” he offered. “I’d imagine that it’s a place or thing you have a personal connection with. Have you visited this city before?”

Etta nodded. Any number of times. She, her mom, and Alice had flown back to visit, spent summers in rented flats to escape the sweltering heat of New York. Alice had grown up in London, and…well, she’d always been told her mother had as well, though that seemed up for debate now. The truth and fiction in her stories had started to bleed together, damaging them, like a waterlogged painting.

During their holidays, they’d rented any number of flats, but remembering them now, none of them stood out from the others. They’d walked all over the city, visiting the parks, the house Alice had grown up in—they’d gone to the theater, museums—

“Oh!” she said. It felt like the thought reached up and slapped her in the face. She turned to Nicholas, almost giddy that she could finally explain something he might not know. “This idea is crazy, but…London—the British Museum—has a ton of artifacts from ancient Greece, doesn’t it? The most famous set were removed—or looted, depending on who you’re talking to—from the Parthenon by a British lord, Elgin, who brought them back here and sold them to the British government for the museum. It’s a whole legal mess.”

Etta rocked back onto her heels, looking up at the clouds and smoke trailing overhead. “I might be reaching here, but the Acropolis, and the Parthenon, are so close to the Areopagus, it feels like they’re linked. It’s been a while since I visited that room of the museum, and I can’t exactly remember what the Elgin Marbles depict—some kind of battle, I think. But there are statues of men and women…”

“Go on,” Nicholas urged.

“I was trying to figure out the ‘deaf ears’ part, thinking of real, living people, but what if it’s talking about the statues themselves? They can’t hear or see or feel.”

“Do you recall ever hearing any strange noises while in their proximity?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Based on the way your mother used the clue about Nathan Hale’s execution, it’s likely the passage is in the museum, near where those statues are housed. The British Museum of my time is likely quite different than the one you know; I’ve never been granted access to it, nor was I ever given the full record of where all of the known passages are located—I’m a bit lost as to what to suggest.”

Frustration pooled in the pit of her stomach, rising with each passing moment. Nicholas watched her, waiting. “I don’t know—are we overthinking this? Should it be something simpler? More obvious?”

He stooped slightly to look her in the eye. “It’s all right. Perhaps it would help to think aloud? Anything, however small, might help us.…”

She nodded. He could help her clarify her thoughts, and might catch something buried in the words. “Mom works for a museum, but in New York. There’s been a lot of renewed debate recently about whether or not the Elgin Marbles should be returned to Greece—it’s been all over the press. The British Museum is just the British Museum, you know? Or, well, I guess you don’t. Yet. But…Alice used to give us her own special tours. Her father was a curator. She told me the whole story about how they came to be in the museum’s collection.”