George Bennet, a recent addition to their circle, had been gazing with dreamy bemusement at a painting on the wall. Now he turned and spoke for the first time. "We cannot answer these questions sitting here in Padua, milord."
"No. No, we cannot. And that being so . . ."
"It is necessary to go see."
"So it is, James. And further, this is no task to entrust to strangers. I understand that all too well." The earl gave him a sharp look. "I know your thought; I see it on your face. But this is no simple light-hearted adventure. It requires, above all, circumspection. If you go there, can you keep your eyes open and your mouth shut while you discover whether William Oughtred lives? Whether he needs rescue, or funds, or some other thing? Can you?"
"Yes. Certainly. Am I some witless maiden, to babble whatever comes into my head?"
"Good. And I have seen you at practice with arms, often enough. You've a fair hand. Still, it would be foolish to go alone into uncertain circumstances."
Bennet was looking their way as he leaned casually against a heavy reading table. "You'd wish me to ride with young James? Well, perhaps it's time to see other parts of the world once more."
"If you would, George. All right, let us consider details. It should be possible to join an armed party traveling in that direction for strength against ordinary brigands; I will have inquiries made. Probably best to communicate through the ordinary postal service; it's regular enough. Your letters can be made to appear as family correspondence. And on no account ask prying questions about the Ring's Fire, lest you attract attention you cannot fend off. If you come across common knowledge of the jewel, well and good, but Oughtred and the Mortons before anything! Once safe, then find some way they can get their messages to us again. Perhaps through Hartlib in Leiden."
Rothrock gave him a half-bow. "Just as you say."
May 4
Rothrock was bewildered.
Like many of these hill towns, Chiusa was beautiful. Vineyards stretched up toward the castle. Ceccoletto’s inn was most comfortable, and it would have been pleasurable to stop a while, but this was not meant to be some leisurely tour. Bennet had been no stranger to drink and the gaming table while in Padua, even to opium, but this obsession was something new. For two infuriating days, it proved impossible to pry him away from a card game with others of the party. Was this change only because they were no longer under Arundel's eye? When Bennet did emerge, he was filthy, not only with the dirt from the road, but also with grease and wine stains, and had a wild look at times. About four miles out of town Bennet decided to bathe in a cold stream. Unclothed, he exhibited livid purple bruising all over his torso. And his breath smelt bloody, like rotten meat.
Innsbruck was worse. Bennet went prowling for companionship; no whore would touch him after seeing his bare flesh. His conversation became truly foul; he spoke words Rothrock would not have repeated to a sailor. Bennet's headaches, the invariable coughing-up of blood with any exertion, were distressing to the entire party.
The air of relief was palpable as they passed Kamsdorf, and the party began to scatter upon private business. Rothrock and Bennet crossed into Grantville's awe-inspiring circle with the last of their companions.
****
"This? Do you imagine we are paupers?"
"Have you looked at the cost of accommodations in the town, George? Aside from that, milord Arundel bade us strenuously avoid attention. What do we need for the time we are here, beyond a place to sleep and keep our possessions? Small it may be, but it's clean, and the other tenants do not seem given to riotous living. And as far from the center of things as this rooming house is, the 'tram' is close by and not expensive."
"No, it's merely a rabbit warren full of common laborers. Well, I suppose it will do. We took enough time tramping about to find it."
"So we did. Let us speak to the landlord, then, and set about our business."
****
"This is a fool's errand, James!" Bennet turned over the last page of the months-old newspaper before him and dropped it onto the pile at his left hand. He glanced at the twilight outside the library's window. "At least let us go find something to fill our bellies, before the last of the light goes." One of the graybeards scribbling notes at the next table cast them a black look, and pointed a finger at the "Quiet, Please" sign on the end of a bookcase.
Rothrock leaned forward and spoke in a much lower voice. "Supper, yes, and perhaps a short stroll to relieve the kinks in our bones. Then we resume." His chair scraped as he rose and turned toward the main door. It was fortunate that there were cheap places to eat nearby if one did not insist on exotic up-time cookery, but then, not all of the scholars flocking to this place were blessed with jingling pockets.
Bennet fastened a sneer on his face as they headed down the driveway. "Do you really expect that we will happen on the trail of you-know-who this way? He whose name must not be spoken? The reference librarians supposedly can find out anything; why not just ask them where he is?"
"I wish, George. I wish we could know what is safe and what is not. I wish this town had one main square, where we could watch and wait, and be sure that everyone would pass by sooner or later. Slow and laborious it may be to winnow through telephone directories, and business directories, and newspaper archives looking for a hint, a clue, but it has the great virtue of anonymity. Until we know what has happened and what forces are at work, that counts for a great deal."
"The man himself seems to be anonymous. Who's Who in Grantville was disappointment enough. Perhaps he's not considered somebody, regardless of his accomplishments."
"Hardly. The preface explained clearly enough that it's merely a first attempt to list and describe the up-timers, of whom there will be no more. We must cast a wider net, and persevere."
A few minutes' walk brought them to the modest eatery they had settled into the habit of patronizing. It felt distinctly odd to be in a foreign place, and be addressed in English by the counter man. Not any sort of English they were accustomed to, or even the Americans were accustomed to, but English nevertheless, and mostly understandable. It was just as well; the man spoke no Latin, and they could afford little time as yet to make a serious start on German. Equally odd was the complete lack of table service, but perhaps that helped to explain the reasonable prices.
"How very dull this is! Be sure to boast to His Lordship of how well we dined in Grantville."
"George, your complaints grow dull. Perhaps, if all goes well, there may be enough left in our purses to sample other fare before we leave, but for now, it's as well to keep far away from the places the notables frequent. Until matters become clearer. Finished?" Rothrock rose from the bench and deposited his empty bowl on the shelf outside the kitchen.
It was a warm, pleasant night, with tiny creatures chirping everywhere. People dressed in all styles of clothing were leisurely strolling along the street; though the sky was full dark by then, there was no difficulty seeing their way. Enough of the lights on the poles outside the high school and library were kept in operation, that it was impossible for anyone to approach unobserved at any hour of the day or night. Master Oughtred's letters had made it all too clear why that was.
Rothrock managed to keep Bennet at the work for another hour. After that, he simply wandered off-presumably to a gaming table somewhere. I wish milord Arundel had sent someone else. Almost anyone else. He must have muttered it aloud; the Dane at the far corner of the reading table glanced at him for a moment and went back to his page-turning. Rothrock kept on until he could no longer absorb the words in front of him. Then he brought everything to the returns desk and set off for their lodgings. The tram ran at all hours.