The Way of the Warrior-Wizard

Duncan had just finished meeting with the last of Donaldson’s grad students, a dark-skinned, bespectacled youth who was wearing a plaid vest and bow-tie to match. All of the students that he had worked with that day had been curious to meet him, but Jack Kingston had been an especially friendly, open-minded man who was delighted to listen to Duncan’s suggestions for the first draft of his thesis.

“I can’t thank you enough, Professor MacGregor,” he beamed, as if being guided by a child eight years his junior was the most natural thing in the world for him, “I’m going to incorporate several of your suggestions with regard to my analysis of the fall of the Roman Empire.”

“I’m glad to have been of service,” Duncan replied politely, relieved that at last something had gone well for him, “but please, call me Duncan. I’m sure Professor Donaldson has informed you that I don’t deserve to be referred to as ‘Professor’ at the moment.”

“Say, Duncan,” Jack responded, frowning as he peered at his young tutor’s bruised eye, “Are you sure you’re all right? Professor Donaldson didn’t hit you, did he?”

“No, indeed,” Duncan assured him, secretly gratified that Jack thought Donaldson might be mean enough to actually hit him, “This black eye that I’m sporting is entirely my own fault. I got into a fight with a young fellow who was bullying me and my siblings down at the lakeshore. They were stronger and bigger than us, but they pretended that we had been the aggressors when Professor Donaldson, of all people, happened upon the scene. That’s why I’m helping students individually this week, but not teaching classes. It’s a bit like a suspension, because I’ve disgraced myself and my position by getting into a fight.”

“It sounds like you didn’t have much of a choice,” Jack noted, “Donaldson really can be quite a pompous ass, can’t he? I don’t like him, to tell you the truth. I’d much rather work with you.”

“I...uh...” Duncan stammered, suddenly embarrassed that he had shared the incident so openly with a student.

He would need to tread with care while referring to his colleague, Donaldson.

“I shouldn’t really get into critiquing my colleague,” Duncan finally responded, “As I said, it was my own fault, really. I ought to have done something differently.”

Jack re-adjusted his glasses, as if to get a clearer look at the young prodigy.

“I don’t think that you can be faulted for defending yourself, Duncan,” Jack reassured him gently, “I know...I was bullied frequently when I was your age, and somehow I always got blamed for it.”

“Thank you, Jack,” Duncan answered, genuinely grateful for his support and empathy.

As the young professor packed up his briefcase to go home for the evening, Jack lingered a little longer. It was as if he wanted to ask Duncan something but was hesitant about doing so.

“Do you have any more questions, Mr. Kingston?” Duncan inquired, attempting to convey a more professional stance.

In his eagerness to tell “his side of the story” Duncan realized that he may have inadvertently erased the boundaries between tutor and student; and that might create further tensions with Donaldson.

“It’s just...” Jack began awkwardly, “I’ve heard a rumour from my younger sister, who goes to your younger sister’s school...it’s about your family’s farmhouse. Is it true that you have ghosts in it?”

Duncan sighed. Evidently, Cara had been telling her classmates all about the night that they had sat up waiting to take a picture of “Bogle Charlie”. This would not bode well for his relationship with Donaldson, nor would it enhance his reputation as a rational-minded Professor. He already had enough trouble over this latest incident with Josh the Bully, and he did not really need more fuel on the fire.

“Well, I’m sure there is a logical explanation for whatever Cara told your sister,” Duncan replied with what he hoped would be perceived as detached nonchalance, “my siblings do tend to have over-active imaginations.”

“It’s all right, Duncan, you don’t have to pretend to be the essence of reason around me,” Jack told him, “I have a hobby, you see. In addition to being a history buff, I’m an amateur ghost-researcher...and I wonder if I might study the phenomenon in your family’s house. If the ghost in question is a bothersome one, I may even be able to bring in my Aunt Luanne, who’s a medium. She directs trapped ghosts towards the Light of Heaven.”

Duncan stared at the rather eccentric young man before him. He wasn’t sure for a moment if he was serious or whether he was simply havering, as his father would say of someone who was chattering on nonsensically. One look at his earnest expression, however, told Duncan that he was indeed serious.

“I...well, normally I would always encourage research, but I don’t think you’d be very interested in noisy water-pipes, truly. That’s all I believe was happening that night.”

He was not telling Jack the entire truth about what had occurred during that strange nocturnal vigil that he and his brother and sister had engaged in, but he did not want students from the University coming over to study the “phenomenon” in his family’s home. He certainly did not want a visit from a medium! He was trying to keep that kind of thing at a distance so that he could advance more easily in his chosen career. The topic of ghosts was not exactly one that would aid him in being seen as a serious scholar of the past.

Jack handed him a business card that read: Jack Kingston, Investigator of Ghosts.

Duncan glanced at the card before pocketing it, just in time for Professor Donaldson to witness it as he walked into the office. Jack grimaced and beat a hasty retreat as Donaldson frowned at Duncan.

“May I ask what that student just gave you?” Donaldson not so much asked as demanded.

Duncan felt angry at the inference. It was as if the older man thought that young males could only ever be up to no good. What did he think Jack had given him, drugs? He wondered if Donaldson assumed that simply because the student in question had a darker complexion than they did. He decided the best policy was simply to show the inquisitive Professor the card—it would quickly smash any preconceived notions in Donaldson’s mind.

“Jack was interested in researching supernatural phenomena within my family home,” Duncan explained as he handed him the card, “I told him the rumours about the MacGregor house being haunted were highly exaggerated.”

Donaldson frowned as he looked at the card.

“What a strange business,” he muttered, handing the card back, “I hope you will not be entertaining this guy’s superstitious illusions, Professor MacGregor? I’m afraid young Kingston may need psychiatric help. This is not the first time he’s alluded to his so-called 'Ghost Investigation' endeavour. I believe he needs to be discouraged from engaging in fantasies like this. He’s a smart kid, but he needs to focus on his thesis, not on daydreams of the paranormal. Do you concur, Professor MacGregor?”

“Absolutely, Professor Donaldson,” Duncan replied, trying his best to ignore Donaldson’s mildly sarcastic tone, “Is there anything else I can assist you with before I leave to go home for the evening?”

“No, you have done very well today,” Donaldson admitted grudgingly, “the students were all very complimentary towards you, and I approved most of your suggestions regarding their work.”

“I see,” Duncan replied, somewhat dejected that Donaldson had thought that he needed to oversee and “approve” all of his suggestions to the students, “well, thank you, Professor Donaldson. Will that be all?”

Donaldson hesitated for a moment before speaking. Duncan waited patiently, and when the older man finally spoke, his earlier condescending tone had gone into remission.

“I know you think that I’m a pain in the ass, Duncan,” he said, “but believe it or not, I do care about your maturational development. I don’t agree with Dean Andrews or any of the others that you should be here at your age, and apparently I am in the minority when I express my views on the matter. Nonetheless, it must be admitted that you are a very intelligent, articulate, and capable young man. I apologize for having misjudged you previously. Dean Andrews has made me aware that the boys whom you and your siblings fought were well known for bullying behaviour, and I understand from your father that you were indeed honestly defending yourself and your family.”

Duncan stared at his colleague-supervisor, not quite sure that he had heard correctly. Had Jerome Donaldson just apologized to him? Not only an apology, but gave him a number of compliments, no less?

“For once, you’ve been rendered speechless, Duncan,” Donaldson noted in a far kinder tone than he had ever heard the man use before, “Go on, you little gremlin, get out of here before you win me over with your blasted charm...and watch out for those damn ghosts.”