that direction now. Besides, I have my work.”
“And what important work it is, too, I must say.”
Even in his relaxed state, he sensed a warning in the words. “Again, I fear you have me at a disadvantage, my lord earl-”
“Burleigh, if you please-just Burleigh.” He spread a bit of soft cheese on a chunk of bread and raised it to his mouth. “You will find that I am not one to put on airs.”
“An admirable trait,” granted Arthur. “Still, I greatly fear that our mutual friend has misled you. I am not an adventurer of any sort. I merely travel for my own amusement and the few business interests that keep me in coin.”
“I believe you are disingenuous, sir,” countered Lord Burleigh quickly. “Thomas was most emphatic that we should meet.”
“I can hardly think why,” protested Arthur. “Really, there is very little to say of interest to anyone-”
“Stop! I simply will not permit it.” Burleigh raised a hand. “If we are to get on together you must resist this false modesty. It does not become you in the least.” His tone was light, but his meaning sharp as a dagger in the ribs. Placing his hands flat on the table, he straightened in his chair. “Let us speak frankly. You have a most rare and peculiar gift, Mr. Flinders-Petrie. It is no use trying to deny it. I have seen it in operation for myself.”
“I must protest,” said Arthur, sobered somewhat by the man’s abrupt change in manner. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“These travels you speak of-they are not always by way of common transportation, are they?” His tone had become accusatory. “In point of fact, they are not on the physical plane of this earth at all. They are, in fact, otherworldly.”
“Really!” said Arthur, shooting up unsteadily from his chair. “How dare you presume-”
Lord Burleigh waved aside the objection. “Please, do sit down. We are not finished yet.”
Against all his instinct and better judgement, Arthur sat.
Burleigh poured more sherry into the cups and pushed his companion’s nearer to him. “I have gone to some considerable trouble to arrange this meeting, and it is my sincerest hope that you will hear me out.” The earl gave him a sly smile. “We are two Englishmen far from home. We can at least listen to one another.”
“As you say,” Arthur allowed, but did not reach for the cup again.
“Now then,” the Earl of Sutherland continued, “you have borne the burden of your gift alone until now. You have had to guard it jealously. I understand. Indeed, I respect you the more for it. There are not many men who, put in your place, could have resisted the impulses to power, wealth, and who knows what all else-but you have, and I commend you.” The dark man leaned forward, narrowing the distance between them. “But it seems to me that you could use a partner.”
Arthur stared at the man before him. “What sort of partnership do you have in mind?”
“I propose to supply a ship and crew to sail at your express command wherever you wish to go for as long as you have need of it. Further, I am ready to outfit an expeditionary force of any practicable size, and this also to be placed at your command. In short, any and all material assistance for the advancement of your work is to be extended to you-along with a generous stipend for your personal use, of course. All decisions concerning the disposition of support staff and use of resources would be yours and yours alone.” He seemed to be about to add something more, but paused and concluded simply, “What do you say?”
Fatigued by the sherry, the conversation, and his ordeal with the tattoo needles, Arthur felt himself to be very much at a disadvantage. “Well, sir,” he replied after a moment, “I hardly know what to say.”
“Then say me a simple ‘yes,’ and let us join forces at once and without delay.”
“You haven’t told me what you hope to receive in return for such largess.”
“Only this,” replied the earl with a modesty that had not been much in evidence before this moment, “that I may be allowed to follow in your footsteps; to walk, as it were, in your shadow; to nurture in my own small way your fabulous work.”
“I see,” said Arthur doubtfully.
“I am a very wealthy man,” Burleigh continued, parting company with his modesty. “I make no bones about it. Why should I? I am as rich as few men can ever hope to be in this lifetime. But riches of themselves bring no lasting fulfilment, a curious fact which I am certain you can appreciate. In the time I have left on this earth, I hope to use my material means to further the reach of my fellows-fellows such as Thomas and his colleagues at Mr. Bodley’s library-in the acquisition of knowledge for the improvement of our race. Nothing less.”
Arthur gazed at his host silently, considering how best to respond. “Well,” he began slowly, “I am flattered you would consider me of sufficient worth to aid you in your noble quest. However, I cannot help but think you have made rather more of me and my peculiar endeavours than is warranted. You praise me too highly. My work may one day find a practical application, but try as I might-and I have tried, mind-I cannot think what it might be. Moreover, I have no need of ships or expeditionary forces. My own wealth, though certainly less than your own, is sufficient to my needs. Add to that the fact that what I do is best done alone, and you will see that the partnership you suggest is of very little use to me.” He pushed his chair back slowly and stood. “In short, I am sorry, but I must decline your exceedingly generous offer of assistance.” Stepping away from the table, he bowed slightly. “Thank you for the excellent sherry. I will wish you a good night, and a pleasant sojourn in Macau.”
“I understand,” sighed Lord Burleigh heavily. “Yet, I must ask-is there no chance you might be persuaded to change your mind?”
“I think not,” replied Arthur, looking for the door. “Farewell, my lord earl.”
Burleigh rose then, as if to shake the hand of his departing companion, but instead he made a furtive gesture and clicked his fingers.
Out of the shadows appeared two heavy-shouldered, rough dockworkers. One carried a short, thick cudgel, and the other a long, thin knife.
“Take him!” commanded the earl, on his feet now and moving swiftly towards a shocked and alarmed Arthur Flinders-Petrie. “If he gives you any trouble, you know what to do.”
PART THREE
Black Mixen Tump
CHAPTER 14
In Which the Intrepid Travellers Are Nobbled
The road into Oxford was busy, and busier still as it dropped down Headington Hill, through the East Gate, and into the town. Draymen and their heavy horses clogged the narrow road, their great wagons heaped high with barrels, casks, and nets filled with coal, dung, and in one instance, cabbages. Around and amongst them, like small fish swimming in the protection of larger beasts, darted pushcarts and barrows and men toting wicker baskets from the ends of wooden yokes across their shoulders.
Approaching the centre of town, they passed the newly finished facade of Queens College, now recast in Cotswold limestone. The sun was low and soft, setting the honey-coloured stone alight with a warm, buttery glow. The clear autumnal air held the dry scent of falling leaves. Sir Henry directed his driver to the Golden Cross, a coaching inn off Cornmarket Street, and there he booked in for the night. Kit was relieved to learn that he would be allowed to explore the city, provided he remained in the company of either Sir Henry or his great-grandfather.
The room was large enough for two beds and a low couch, a table, two chairs, and a tallboy wardrobe; a single window opened onto the courtyard below, and there was a simple brick fireplace in one wall. Kit thought it a small space with the three of them sharing-but, as Cosimo informed him, they wouldn’t be spending much time in the room. “We’re away as soon as we’ve washed off the road dust. Follow me, Kit, old son-I hear the call of the nightjars!”
The main room of the inn was bustling with a brisk trade, but they found a table and ordered three jars of the best. When the ale came, the publican brought a bowl of roasted and salted cobnuts. Sir Henry raised a toast, and
