I groaned. “Who might this be, then?”
“Dr. John Wallis.”
“Who?”
“He is the Savilian Professor of Geometry, and was deep in the confidence of the Commonwealth by virtue of his skill with codes. Many a secret letter ot the King’s did he reveal to Thurloe’s office, so they say.”
“Should have been hanged, then…”
“And now he performs the same service for His Majesty’s government, it is rumored. Lord Mordaunt told you the documents incriminating your father used a cipher—if so, then Dr. Wallis might know something of the matter. If you can persuade him to help…”
I nodded. Perhaps for once one of Thomas’s ideas was going to be useful.
Before either Mr. Wood or Dr. Wallis could do much to help me, I had an opportunity to repay some of my debt to Thomas by rescuing him from one of the most absurd pieces of ill-judgment. The circumstances were highly amusing, if a little worrying. Everyone knew that Old Tidmarsh the Quaker held some grotesque conventicle in his little house down by the river. Illegal, of course, and considering the trouble such lunatics had already caused, they should have been crushed mercilessly. But no; every now and then a few were locked up, then they were let out again, free to resume their loathsome ways. In fact, they seemed to take pride in it, and blasphemously likened their own sufferings to those of Our Lord Himself. Some (I heard) even claimed to be the Lord in their arrogance, and ran around, shaking their heads and pretending to cure people. The world was full of such madmen in those days. Imprisonment is not the way to deal with such people; half measures merely feed their pride. Leave ‘em alone or hang ‘em, in my opinion. Or better still, pack them off to the Americas, and let them starve.
Anyway, I was walking down by the castle a few evenings later when I heard a lot of noise and the sound of running feet. For once, it seemed the magistrate had decided to do something. There were sectaries everywhere, jumping out of windows, running this way and that, like ants bestirred in their nest. Never let these people tell you, incidentally, that they sit still and sing psalms when arrested. They are as frightened as anyone.
I stood and watched the sport with merriment until I saw, with great surprise, my friend Thomas all but falling out of the window of Tidmarsh’s house, and running up an alleyway.
Instantly, as any friend would, I gave chase. Of all the stupid people, I thought, he was perhaps the stupidest. Here he was, risking his future by indulging his ridiculous piety at the very moment when absolute and total conformity was required.
He was no sportsman, and I caught up with him without any trouble. He almost fainted, poor soul, when I grabbed him by the shoulder and brought him to a halt.
“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”
“Jack!” he said with the most profound relief. “Thank God. I thought it was the watch.”
“And so it should be. You must be mad.”
“No. I…”
The explanation for his absurdity was cut short, however, for two men of the watch now hove into view. We were in an alley, and running would not get us out of trouble. “Keep quiet, lean on my shoulder and leave it to me,” I whispered as they approached.
“Good evening, sirs,” I cried, slurring my words like one very much drunker than I was.
“And what are you two doing?”
“Ah,” I said. “Missed the curfew again, have we?”
“Students, are you? Colleges, please?” He peered at Thomas, whose impression of being drunk was sadly lacking. Had he just a little experience of inebriation he might have done better.
“Where have you been for the last two hours?”
“In the tavern with me,” I said.
“I don’t believe you.”
“How dare you doubt my word?” I replied stoutly. “Where do you think we were?”
“Attending an illegal assembly.”
“You must be joking,” I said with a fine demonstration of merriment at the absurdity of the idea. “Do I look like a fanatic? We may be drunk, but it is not with the word of God, I’m glad to say.”
“I meant him.” He pointed at an ever-paler Thomas.
“Him?’’ I cried. “Oh, dear me no. Ecstasy has been his tonight, but very far from divine. I’m sure the lady concerned would vouch for his devotion, though. Don’t let the clerical air fool you.”
Thomas blushed at my words, and fortunately this was interpreted as shame.
“I, for my part, have been playing cards, with some considerable success.”
“Really.”
“Yes. And I am in a splendid mood; I wish to share my good fortune with all the world. Here, sir. Have this shilling and drink my health.”
He took the coin, looked at it for a fraction of a second, and then greed overcame duty. “And if you are chasing Quakers,” I continued happily once it was tucked away in his pocket, “I saw two gloomy types running up the street over there not three minutes ago.”
He looked at me and grinned, showing his gaping gums. “Thank you, young sir. But the curfew is on. If you’re still here when I get back…”
“Have no fear. Now run quickly, or you will miss them.”
I breathed an enormous sigh of relief as they ran off, then turned to Thomas, who showed distinct signs of being sick.
“That’s a shilling you owe me,” I said. “Now, let’s get out of here.”
We walked back in silence to New College; I needed to talk to him but could not possibly do so in my own lodging, crammed in as I was with my tutor—who, I imagined, was already in bed. Thomas, however, being now a senior member of a wealthy college, had the freedom to come and go without bothering about the curfews which plagued my life. Small and poky though his room was, he did not have to share it with his students—a luxurious innovation which caused much comment when introduced.
“You must be out of your mind, my friend,” I said vehemently when the door was closed. “What on earth were you doing? Indulge your sentiments in private if you must; but to advertise them and risk jail when you are trying to secure yourself a living and a wife is madness.”
“I was not…”
“No, of course not. You just happened to be amongst that band of Quakers not knowing who they were, and climbed out of the window and ran away for the exercise.”
“No,” he said, “I was there deliberately. But for a good reason.”
“No reason is good enough for that.”
“I went to talk to someone. Win their confidence.”
“Why?”
“Because I fear I may not get my parish after all.”
“You certainly won’t if you behave like this.”
“Will you listen to me?” he pleaded. “Grove is pressing his case and is winning over several members of the fellowship whom I assumed were on my side. And now he is talking to the warden.”
“What can he say?”
“Simple. That he is old and a bachelor, while I will undoubtedly marry and have a family. His needs, in contrast, are simple, and he will hand over a third of the annual revenue from the living to the college.”
“Can he do that?”
“If he gets it, he can do whatever he wants; it’s his money. He is calculating that it is better to have two thirds of eighty pounds a year than none of it. And Woodward is very mindful of college funds.”
“And you can’t match the offer?”
“Of course I can’t,” he said with bitterness. “I wish to marry. The girl’s father is only just willing to support the match if I have the full amount. What would your reaction be if I went along and said I’d given a third away?”
“Find another wife,” I suggested.
“Jack, I like her. She is a good match, and that living is mine.”
“I see your problem. But not what it has to do with climbing out of windows.”
“Grove is unsuitable to be in charge of a flock. He will bring scandal onto the church, and drag its good name in the dirt. I know this well, but as long as he was kept away from a living it was not my affair.”