‘I’m truly sorry to hear it. Can you read?’
‘Alas, no. It’s a curse. How are your sister and nieces? I was sad to hear of Andrew’s death.’
‘They thrive, thank you. The girls are as bright as buttons. Polly will make someone a very demanding wife one day.’
‘Ha. And your writing? Still persevering, I trust.’
‘Still persevering. And still reading Montaigne.’
‘That old cynic. I don’t know what you see in him.’ He paused. ‘Thomas, my eyes are one reason why you’re here.’
‘But not the only reason, I gather.’
When Abraham laughed, his eyes still sparkled. ‘What has that priest been telling you? He never could keep his holy mouth shut.’
‘Very little, in truth. I hope you will tell me rather more.’ Thomas looked around the room. It was little changed since he had last seen it. Simple wooden furniture, oak panelling, a door leading to a small bedchamber, and books. Piles of books on the table and on bookshelves. A scholar’s room. A scholar who could no longer read. It was a cruel thing.
‘Come and sit near me, so I can see your shape against the light. There’s wine in the corner if you’re thirsty. At least Silas has managed to keep some of our cellar intact. Brasenose and New are reduced to ale and sack. Their lodgers have had every bottle of wine, along with every piece of plate.’
Thomas found a dusty bottle of claret, poured them both a glass and sat by the window. ‘How’s that, Abraham? Can you see me here?’
‘Well enough. Now, as time is our enemy, I shall tell you what I can. My old friend Erasmus Pole, with whom I shared lodgings fifty years ago, was the king’s chief cryptographer. His position was known to very few. He dealt with all the messages and reports coming in and out of Oxford, and decrypted the intercepted ones. They never amounted to much, but they did keep us informed about our enemy’s ciphers — inferior to our own, I’m pleased to say. Until my eyes betrayed me, I helped him whenever he asked me to. It wasn’t often. Erasmus was a fine scholar.’ Abraham paused for a sip of wine. ‘He was also a creature of habit. On Wednesday evenings, he always dined at Exeter. Exeter serve venison on Wednesdays. Alas, Erasmus’s taste for it may have been his undoing. It was a Thursday morning when his body was found in Brasenose Lane on the south side of the college. His throat had been cut, and he’d been robbed.’ Abraham took another sip from his glass.
‘Such deaths are not uncommon, Abraham,’ remarked Thomas quietly, thinking again that this was not the Oxford he remembered, or should have returned to. His place was with his family, not here among murderers.
‘Indeed they’re not, especially now. I daresay he’d enjoyed the hospitality of the evening, but Erasmus was a cautious man. He would not have walked in the dark down that foul lane. And remember that Erasmus was the king’s cryptographer. He had access to almost every order and report to and from the king’s commanders. He knew a great deal.’
‘As do you, my friend. Yet, happily, I find you alive and well.’
‘Happily, you do. But there’s another thing. I knew Erasmus as well as any man. In the weeks before his death, something was troubling him. He didn’t speak of it and I didn’t ask, yet I’m sure of it. I wish I had asked. Erasmus might be with us now. As my sight has deteriorated, so my hearing has become more acute. Interesting how the body works, don’t you think? I could hear fear in his voice. Fear, and something else. I think it was guilt.’
‘Guilt? But why?’
‘I believe his role was discovered by an enemy, and he was being threatened. There are many spies in the town. One of them may have got to him, and frightened him into betraying secrets.’
‘And killed him when he refused?’
‘It’s more likely he was killed because the enemy thought he was about to be exposed as a traitor to the king. If so, he would have suffered greatly, and would eventually have revealed the identity of the spy.’
‘Had they grounds for thinking that he was under suspicion?’
‘Possibly. When a message arrived from Lord Digby informing the king that he planned to attack Alton, the town garrison was immediately strengthened. The attack never took place. It looked suspicious.’
‘If you’re right, there is a vicious traitor in the town.’
‘And not just one, Thomas. Oxford seethes with unrest and deception. There are two worlds here now — one you can see going about its daily business, and another which lurks in the shadows and listens at keyholes. I doubt we shall ever know who killed Erasmus.’
‘Already you make me wish I had stayed at home, Abraham.’
‘But you are here now.’ Abraham’s voice was suddenly brusque. ‘Thomas, the king, with reason, trusts almost no one. I’ve persuaded him that you’re the best cryptographer in the land, and that I would gladly put my life in your hands. We need you. We want you to take Erasmus’s place.’
‘Abraham, you know my views on this war,’ replied Thomas evenly, ‘and on any war. On the journey here, I asked myself again and again why I was coming to take part in something I am so opposed to. And, when I saw what has become of the city, I very nearly turned round and went straight back to Romsey. Beggars, soldiers, whores, poverty, destruction, filth. Barely a scholar to be seen.’
‘So why did you come?’
‘I’m still not sure. The pleasure of seeing you, of course. The vain hope that I might hasten the end of the war. Perhaps even loyalty to the king. He is the king, after all, for all his faults. I would not have done the same if the summons had been from Pym.’
‘Of that I am sure, Thomas. But will you do as I ask?’
Thomas took a deep breath and spoke slowly. ‘For your sake, my old friend, I will. I would not see you embarrassed before the king, and, in any case, I have no wish to climb straight back on a horse for four days. But it’s some time since I worked on ciphers. I shall need help.’
Abraham found Thomas’s arm, and laid his hand upon it. ‘And you shall have it. Tomorrow morning I’ll take you to meet the king, or rather you’ll take me as I shall need your arm for guidance, and then we’ll talk. It’ll be just like it used to be.’
‘Only a little more serious.’
‘Yes. A little more serious.’
Outside they heard the clatter of boots on cobbles, the clash of sword and armour, voices raised, orders being given. Thomas rose and gazed out of the window. ‘Who would have imagined it?’ he asked, as much to himself as to Abraham. ‘Pembroke College a soldiers’ billet. Our beautiful place of learning turned into this.’
‘I still awake some mornings having forgotten what has happened. Then I hear the war outside my window and it all comes flooding back. Is it as bad out there as it sounds?’
‘Worse. The college is in ruins. I haven’t seen a scholar since I arrived, and there are soldiers everywhere.’
‘So Silas tells me. He found you a room, I trust?’
‘He did, and thank you for your help. I gather the previous occupant was less than happy at being asked to leave. A nasty beggar, Silas called him.’
‘So I believe. I had to enlist the help of Tobias Rush to have him removed, but he was one of the few with a passable room to himself, so he had to go. We couldn’t have the king’s crypto grapher sleeping on a bench.’
‘Who is Tobias Rush?’
‘He’s an adviser to the king, perhaps his most trusted adviser. Not a man I would invite to dinner, but useful to know if you want something done. You’ll meet him tomorrow, I expect. Call for me at ten.’
‘I will, Abraham, and it’s a joy to see you again.’ Thomas rose to leave. As he did so, he saw the old man’s eyelids droop. He was asleep before Thomas had closed the door.
Thomas, too, was tired. Four days in the saddle and three nights away from his own bed were taking their toll. His shoulders ached and his backside was sore. But his legs needed stretching, he wanted to see the old sights again, and he was famished. In his room he splashed his face with water from the ewer, adjusted his dress, carefully locked the door behind him, and then went to find Silas Merkin.