But I was swiftly reassured, for he soon descended to greet me himself, and made a great show of welcoming me to the house. Whatever resentment he may have harbored for my name did not rise to the surface.

“I am astonished to see you, Jack,” he said cordially. “What brings you here? Surely term is on at the university and you are still a student? I am surprised you were given permission to leave the town. Such laxity never existed in my day.”

“This was a special dispensation, and I have an indulgent tutor,” I said.

“Well, I am pleased you are here,” he said. “It has been too long. We have a fine fire in the parlor, so come and warm yourself immediately. This hall is as cold as charity itself.”

I was dumbfounded with relief by this reception, and upbraided myself for doubting his kindness. Amiability was Sir William’s natural demeanor and he was very much the country gentleman in that regard. Thickset, and with a florid complexion, he had a simple directness that made him devotedly loyal to such causes and people as he clasped to his heart.

I was too cold and tired to pursue that question at that moment; rather, I allowed him to lead me through to the great fire, and sit me down within the aura of its warmth, which made such a delightful contrast with the chill of the room beyond the flames’ influence. There I was served hot wine and food by a servant, and left alone in peace until I had finished my meal. Sir William excused himself, saying he had small business that would not wait, but that he would be back in a half hour.

I was almost asleep when he returned; not that he took such a long time, but the heat and the drink drugged my mind and made me realize how dreadfully weary I was. I was also saddened as I sat there, so warm and comfortable. Not long ago, this had been my home and I found that, despite everything that had happened, I still felt it to be such. I had spent more time in the company of his family than I had in that of my own; this house I knew better than that abode which was no longer mine even in name. In a conflict of slumbering emotions I sat quietly by the fire drinking my wine, pondering such strangeness until the return of Sir William forced me back into some semblance of alertness.

It is at this point that I must return to one essential purpose of my narrative, or at least to that matter which caused me to reach for pen and paper to start with. I must discuss my dealings with Signor Marco da Cola and the worth of his narrative. As I said much earlier in this account, I find his memory a strange one indeed, for he discourses at length on the trivial, and ignores studiously matters of much greater import. I do not know and, at this great distance, I care less, why this is; my only concern here is to correct his account in those passages where I am directly concerned.

The first was that evening at Sir William’s house, for by his side when he returned to the fire was Marco da Cola.

I must assume that he had some good reason for falsifying the story of his arrival in England, for I can attest that it is erroneous. He cannot have arrived as he said; he did not come to London, then proceed more or less directly to Oxford. He was in this country many days beforehand. A strange little fellow I found him, too; his clothes, all lavender and purple with the strangest of cuts, were such as would draw attention in such a place, and the aroma of perfume that entered the room long before he did was quite unforgettable. Later, when he saw me in prison in the company of Lower, I could almost tell who my visitor was long before the jailer opened the cell door, so strong was the smell he gave off.

But I took to him, odd though he was, and only later discerned that there was more to him than instant appraisal suggested. To meet, he was short and stout, with merry eyes and an easy laugh. Everything amused him, and everything attracted his interest. He said little, not being greatly proficient in English (though much better than I at first imagined) but sat quietly, bobbing his head and chuckling with appreciation at our conversation, as though he was hearing the best jokes in the world, and the wittiest of conversations.

Only once, during that first encounter, did I even have half a suspicion there might be more to him; when Sir William and I were talking, I saw a flash in his eyes, and the most fleeting glimpse of cunning passed across that chubby, harmless-looking face. But who pays attention to such details, when all else indicates the opposite? It was a trick of the light only; a reflection of the flames in the dimness of the room, and nothing more.

As he was unwilling, or unable, to play any manful part in the conversation, Sir William and I talked instead, and gradually almost forgot the presence of the foreigner in our midst. Sir William introduced him as a man with whom he had dealings in trade, for as Master of the Ordnance (his paltry reward for his labors on behalf of the king) he was thrown in contact with many foreign traders, and Cola’s father was, it seemed, a man of great power in such matters. Moreover, said Sir William, he and his family had been good friends to the great cause over the years, and now naturally wanted to supply some of those goods His Majesty needed.

I wished them well, and hoped they would both profit from the association for, if Sir William’s position gave him little standing, it held out instead the probability of considerable wealth. A dedicated Master of the Ordnance, taking what bribes and profits came his way, could amass a considerable fortune in a short time by controlling the army’s supplies, and Sir William was not wholly discontented with his position. He had, it must be said, greater need of money than honor at that time.

I suppose I can see why the presence of such a man would need to be kept discreetly quiet, although Cola’s delicacy in hiding such matters so long after the event strikes me as being excessively fine. For Sir William (as I have mentioned) was in dispute with my Lord Clarendon, and any man who angered the Lord Chancellor had to tread very carefully in the execution of his office. It mattered not that Clarendon had so joyously looted the treasury himself since the moment the king returned; his enemies had to beware, for what was encouraged in Clarendon’s friends was used to tear down his enemies. The more isolated he became, the more the attacks on those who wished to be rid of him grew in violence. The most ordinary behavior could be turned into a weapon, for Clarendon was not a lawyer for nothing. Taking the fruits of office could, in a twinkling of an eye, become bribery and corruption, and such matters have swept many an honest person from office.

“And now, Jack,” said Sir William after we had talked awhile, “you must allow me to say something in all seriousness. And do please listen until I have finished.”

I nodded.

“You are, no doubt, all too aware of the great matter that passed between your father and myself. I would like to make it as clear that I in no wise associate you with those events, even though you are his son. You will always be welcome in this house and my acquaintance.”

Partisan of my father though I was, I was aware of the deep goodness of that statement, if it came from true sincerity. I was inclined to believe that it did, for he had not the guile to dissimulate well, nor the hardness of heart to toy so cruelly with another. This made him a loyal friend, and a bad conspirator. The simplicity of his own soul made him unsuspecting of base motives in others, and so made him the perfect instrument for those wishing to bend the truth to their own ends.

“I thank you for those words,” I replied. “I did not expect such a welcome from you. I was afraid that circumstances had engendered some bitterness between us.”

“So they had,” he replied seriously. “But that was an error on my part. I wanted you out of my sight, because I could not stand the reminder your presence brought me. I now see this was cruel. You have never done me harm, and have suffered more than anyone.”