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Minnesota Moore and the Emperors' Treasure

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Praefectus Praetorio said:
, Barbara had had to fend off more than her share of very rude and very groping senior academics in her student life and early career.
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Such as the head of her department, that notoriously uncouth drunkard .. Professor T.H. Tree ...along with the suave, but lecherous university chancellor, D. Wragg, whose stuffy faculty gatherings at the Chancellor’s Mansion, Cruxton Hall, were known to often turn into orgies by the early morning hours.

Praefectus Praetorio said:
She was steadfast in refusing to use her physical charms for advancement.
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With the exception of Dean Windar, who held the purse strings to her research funding in his stingy grip and insisted on quarterly reviews of her tight little budget with her bent earnestly over his big oak desk ... so as to better read the fine print. Misallocations of funds and minor budgetary discrepancies were dealt with severely. She often emerged from his inner sanctum red-faced with streaked mascara and was known to avoid sitting for days afterwards.
 
Praefectus Praetorio said:
Barb was less inhibited and developed a deepening affection for the older man. Over several months, this attraction became more physical.
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Hum, yes, but I've some others views of that (a squirrel was taking some photos :D )
He had a so much big "sausage" ... :oops:

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... and a so much hard "coup de rein" ! :rolleyes:

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... that after some "preliminaires" ... she was entirely inclined ... :p

tumblr_nc13jdsp4Z1tk6crdo1_500.gif ... :firedevil:
 
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windar said:
I understand this is a work of fiction, but we ought to strive for some minimal plausibility, shouldn't we?
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Barbaria1 said:
Such as the head of her department, that notoriously uncouth drunkard .. Professor T.H. Tree ...along with the suave, but lecherous university chancellor, D. Wragg, whose stuffy faculty gatherings at the Chancellor’s Mansion, Cruxton Hall, were known to often turn into orgies by the early morning hours.



With the exception of Dean Windar, who held the purse strings to her research funding in his stingy grip and insisted on quarterly reviews of her tight little budget with her bent earnestly over his big oak desk ... so as to better read the fine print. Misallocations of funds and minor budgetary discrepancies were dealt with severely. She often emerged from his inner sanctum red-faced with streaked mascara and was known to avoid sitting for days afterwards.
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messaline said:
Hum, yes, but I've some others views of that (a squirrel was taking some photos :D )
He had a so much big "sausage" ... :oops:

View attachment 705910
... and a so much "coup de rein" ! :rolleyes:

View attachment 705911

... that after some "preliminaires" ... she was entirely inclined ... :p

View attachment 705912 ... :firedevil:
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[Editor's note] There seems to be a slight disconnect between Dr. Moore in the novel and the Barbara we all know and have (made?) loved (to?).

Put it down to author's prerogative and Pulp's newness to the site.
 
Barbaria1 said:
...along with the suave, but lecherous university chancellor, D. Wragg, whose stuffy faculty gatherings at the Chancellor’s Mansion, Cruxton Hall, were known to often turn into orgies by the early morning hours.
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Indeed, 'encouraged' to turn into orgies... :devil::):rolleyes: :ladiesman:
 
Chapter 3

Geoffrey’s encyclopedic knowledge of history was enough for him to know much of what was implied by Barbara’s dropping of the bombshell, “Emperors’ Treasure.”

The Roman Emperor Diocletian (Gaius Aurelius Valerius Diocletianus Augustus – Geoff remembered these things) was born in Salonae in the Roman province of Dalmatia, (now Solion Coatia). After an extremely successful reign of twenty-one years (284 CE to 305 CE), reorganizing the entire Empire, he became the first Emperor to retire voluntarily. He lived out his retirement in the palace he built on the Dalmatian coast, tending to his vegetable gardens and his goats. His palace was located in the Modern-Day Croatian City of Split. When he died in 312 CE, it was rumored that he had left a fantastic fortune of gold and silver.

After the civil wars following the retirement, the victorious Emperor, Constantine the Great sent a picked group of agents to search the palace for the reputed treasure, but they came up empty. For centuries thereafter, treasure hunters followed, none reported any success.

Frederick I, (King of Germany - 1152, King of Italy – 1155, Holy Roman Emperor – 1155, King of Burgundy – 1178; known in Germany as Kaiser Rotbart – red-bearded Caesar and in Italy as Barbarossa – also red-beard) was one of the great and legendary rulers of the Middle ages.

In 1189, Barbarossa embarked on the Third Crusade, leading a grand army of 100,000 including 20,000 Knights. Taking the overland route, The Emperor was rumored to have left the army briefly to visit the Dalmatian Coast and pay homage to his great Roman predecessor. According to legend, he discovered the lost treasure of Diocletian. Bound by his oath to continue on the Crusade, he re-hid the treasure and continued on toward the Holy Land. On 10 June 1190, Emperor Frederick Barbarossa drowned near Silifke Castle in the Saleph river in Modern day Turkey. He took the secret of the treasure (if he had one) to his grave. Ever after, it has been called the “Emperors’ Treasure” for two Emperors, the one who assembled it and the one who, temporarily, recovered it.

Between the inconceivable monetary value of the hoard of gold and silver and the historical connection to a Roman and a Medieval Emperor, finding evidence of its real existence, let alone actually unearthing the treasure, would be the greatest historical discovery of the last century!
 
Praefectus Praetorio said:
Between the inconceivable monetary value of the hoard of gold and silver and the historical connection to a Roman and a Medieval Emperor, finding evidence of its real existence, let alone actually unearthing the treasure, would be the greatest historical discovery of the last century!
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little-caprice-wallpapers_607780582.jpg Wow! When I make a discovery ... $$$$$ ... I make a discovery! ;)
 
Barbarossa with his sons, Henry IV (left) who succeeded him as Emperor, and Frederick V (right) Duke of Swabia
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The Barbarossa Chandelier in Aachen Cathedral, a tribute by Frederick to Charlemagne.
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Praefectus Praetorio said:
Chapter 2

Geoffrey Chaucer was the only child of a moderately renowned English Poetry Professor at Balliol College, Oxford. His father’s love of the early English poets and the coincidence of his surname with the greatest of these led him to name his son Geoffrey. Unfortunately, though the son had many talents, writing poetry was not among them. In fact, despite Herculean efforts, Geoffrey had never managed to write a passable line of poetry in his life. To the oft-repeated questions about his poetry, he had learned to modestly demure. Over time he became inured to these small humiliations.

However, Geoffrey was endowed with a steel-trap memory and an uncanny ability to organize and retrieve information. Over the years this allowed him to develop an encyclopedic knowledge in many areas of the Humanities. This in turn had stood him well in his chosen field, Libraries. Twenty-one years ago, just before he turned fifty, Geoffrey has reached the top of his career by being named the Head Librarian at the Bodleian in Oxford. The holder of this position is jocularly known as "Bodley's Librarian.” As the director of oldest and second largest Library in the United Kingdom, and one of the most renowned Libraries in the World, he had obtained his life’s goal.

Fourteen years ago, his name had been placed on the New Year Honours list by a senior Minister who had studied under Geoffrey twenty-five years earlier and never forgotten his demanding leadership and gentle qualities. Geoffrey wryly liked to note that, though his name’s sake did “write some doggerel, he was never a Knight Bachelor.”

Five years ago, to Geoffrey’s utter astonishment, he was raised to a KBE.

It would seem that Sir Geoffrey had achieved everything he could want in life. But there was something missing. He was terribly lonely. A life-long bachelor, he had never been able to connect with the Ladies. Painfully shy around attractive women, never able to make the first move, he had numerous female friends, but, other than a very few unproductive dates, he had always been alone.

Then, four years ago, Dr. Moore arrived to do some research. They hit it off instantly. She enjoyed his incredible knowledge, wry wit and gentle manners. An extremely attractive young woman, Barbara had had to fend off more than her share of very rude and very groping senior academics in her student life and early career. She was steadfast in refusing to use her physical charms for advancement. She immediately recognized and appreciated Chaucer’s quiet, sweetness. On his part, Geoffrey was energized by the brilliance and charm of the beautiful young scholar.

They spent much time together, discussing her work, and history in general. They would spend hours in the evening at his favorite pub, The Turf Tavern, sipping Riesling and real ale and talking dirt on inferior colleagues. Geoffrey was much too shy and too intimidated by the age difference (she was less than half his age), to make any moves.

Barb was less inhibited and developed a deepening affection for the older man. Over several months, this attraction became more physical. One evening, after several glasses of wine, she insisted on walking him home to his flat. Once there, she took charge and soon they were both naked in bed and making slow and wonderful love together.

Over the last three-and-one-half years, they had maintained, with surprisingly little effort, a long-distance affair. Their mutual intellectual interests gave them plenty to communicate about during the long periods of separation. Geoffrey was happier than any time in his life and thankful for any time they could be together. Barbara was busy with her meteoric career, but nevertheless was impatient with their times apart and frequently found excuses to visit Oxford, the Bodleian and Geoff. When they did get together, they quickly made up for the time of separation.
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A real love story on CF! And written soooo sweet! (And no, that´s not meant to be ironic)
 
Chapter 4 April 4, 2018

It only had taken a few minutes of Barbara reading the medieval Latin manuscript to know what is was about. Even more familiar with the legends than Geoff, she saw that the copyist was describing not only the treasure, but what had become of it and where it was.
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After she had described the document to Geoffrey, and they had shared the wonder of such a discovery, Barb posed the problem. The box containing the manuscript was part of an “estate” donation made to the Library in 1941. “While your people were trying to save their precious items from Nazi bombs,” she said. “They had no time to properly catalog some obscure estate gift. They just shoved it on a shelf in the basement.”
“Surely the acquisition log will tell us the origin. From there, we may be able to establish the provenance.*” suggested Geoffrey.
“You just hit on the dead end.” Said Barbara with a sigh. “The record was brief and that log was damaged in your fire back in 1956.”
“Ah, yes. THE fire. That’s why you have to read that declaration oath when you enter the stacks.”
“Which you don’t have even me exempted from,” complained Barbara.
“Beyond my authority, dear girl. I think you have to take that up with God. But is there any record left?”
“It only has a date and a box number. The rest is gone forever.”
“Without any provenance before 1941, the value of publishing the manuscript will be limited.” opined Geoff. “Limited but still remarkable!”
“That’s not good enough.” Said Barb with emotion. “I want to confirm the document and present the world with a true contemporaneous Medieval account of the Emperor’s Treasure.”
“But how? You just said there is no way to trace how it got to the Bodleian.”
“What if I trace it from the other end? Go to the Balkans and find its origin?”
“I thought you were tired. You were going to take some time off.”
“This will be a vacation. I hear the Dalmatian Coast is lovely this time of year.”
“No. A real vacation, you know, just hang out here and rest.”
“You just want me here to fuck my tight little ass, you dirty old man.”
“Well, the thought has occurred,” said Geoff, who blushed slightly. “Barb, you’ve only been here two days!”
“Then we’d better make the most of the time. Were you still thinking of that experiment you suggested with your old Cricket Bat?”
“The experiment involving your tight little? Maybe when I recover my strength.”
Barb reached under the cover and felt for evidence. “It seems like you are recovered already, old man!” she said, lovingly stroking her new find.
“You have that effect on me Barb. You hail from cold climes. You must have heard the saying, ‘Just because there’s snow on the roof, doesn’t mean there’s not a fire in the furnace.’”
“Ok, old Geoff, get that Bat and see if you can light a fire in my ass!”
“Don’t worry Barb, I shall be gentle.”
“Isn’t that your middle name, Geoffrey?”
“No, that’s Canterbury.” Geoff said with a frown.

* Geoffrey hit on the key idea. Provenance is the chronology of the ownership, custody or location of a historical object. It is the key, the sine qua non, for authenticating an historical document or object.
 
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Praefectus Praetorio said:
“No. A real vacation, you know, just hang out here and rest.”
“You just want me here to fuck my tight little ass, you dirty old man.”
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Got that right :rolleyes:

Praefectus Praetorio said:
“You have that effect on me Barb. You hail from cold climes. You must have heard the saying, ‘Just because there’s snow on the roof, doesn’t mean there’s not a fire in the furnace.’”
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never heard that one before :confused:
 
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