Victory

‘A pretty problem, I’d wager,’ Kydd chuckled, ‘as is taxing a mind like yours, m’ friend!’

Renzi gave a wan smile. ‘I do ask pardon, dear chap, my mind’s on quite another tack – a hard beat to wind’d, if you will.’

‘Ah! You’ve seen a sight ashore as is testing your theories, I’d believe. Now, let me see – you’ve not stepped off since the Med, so it must be . . . the Ionians? Or can it be your Diolkos? But there’s no humankind we saw there and your study is man and his response to life’s challenges . . .’

Renzi winced. ‘I’ll grant you, Sardinia was of interest. I was gratified to find your Sard is the most nearly pure Latin of any tongue on earth, granted a forbearance of the barbarisms of Phoenicia within and . . . and . . .’

‘Nicholas – there’s something wrong, I’d believe,’ Kydd said, in concern.

Renzi gave a half-smile. ‘There is, brother. You’ll recall our earlier conversation about the difficulties in the publishing of my work. I’m now, dear friend, utterly convinced that unless I cast it in the form of a purple traveller’s tale or enter upon literary circles to cry up the piece then it will never attract the interest of a publisher.’

‘If it’s just a matter of the cobbs, Nicholas—’

‘It is not. Without an academic tenure of some colour I will never be able to command the attention of a serious nature that it deserves.’

‘Oh. So you’re saying to me . . .’

‘That my dabbling in natural philosophy is of no consequence in the larger sphere of learning and publishing. That it were better I accept this and cease my futile labouring.’

‘No! Damn it, you’ve a right trim-rigged intellect as should set a course to—’

‘But can you conceive of the triste and heavy burden it is to know that as you toil your striving is in vain?’

Unsure what to say, Kydd stayed silent.

‘Never fear, dear fellow, I am reconciled, hoist by my own petard indeed, for is not this as a society unable to change its ways in the face of altered circumstances of nature? I must bring the ship of my soul about and lay over on another tack.’

‘Er, then . . . ?’

‘Quite. My cursus vitae is now without purpose. Whither shall I wander? is my constant cry.’

‘Nicholas, it can’t be quite so bad.’

‘No? Then consider. Saving your kindness, I have no future. As your confidential secretary I am content – but this is a device only to allow me the felicity of space and time to bring forth my magnum opus. Without this . . .’

‘Why, you’re . . . that is, you have, um, every—’

‘A woman is known by her marriage, a man by his occupation. What is it that I am, then? A failed word-grinder, a man of the sea who is not, a wretched—’

‘That’s it, m’ friend – you are now quite cured of your fever as was. Shall you not petition the King to resume your lieutenancy and re-enter the Navy? A fine profession, your sea service – to be an undoubted gentleman with regular income and rattling good prospects.’

Renzi paused and reflected. ‘This does attract, but has two flaws. One, that the eminence of officer is secured by a constant devotion to duty, which I would now find hard to bear, accustomed as I am to the freedom to reflect . . .’

‘And the other?’

‘The other – that . . . that we must necessarily part, and being content with the . . . civilities of friendship, for the present I would find that . . . onerous.’

‘You must allow, Nicholas, it’ll give you the standing and income to ask for Cecilia’s hand in marriage.’

‘Possibly.’

‘Or, if we’re talking of hypotheticals, have you considered an atonement o’ sorts, an approach to your father, which—’

‘Never! There are matters of principle, of high moral standing, involved, which utterly forbids that course.’

‘Then we are at a stand, Nicholas. I can’t see how you—’

‘We?’

‘As Cecilia’s brother, I have a mort of interest,’ Kydd said evenly.

‘Then allow me to put your fraternal concerns to rest,’ Renzi said coldly. ‘It may have escaped you that Cecilia has advanced in society beyond ordinary expectation and must now be accounted a beauty by any measure. She will have a field of ardent admirers – there’s no reason to suppose she would place the attentions of a . . . a penniless wanderer before those of a gentleman of means.’

‘What? For a philosopher you make a fine juggins, Nicholas! I . . . I happen to know she has feelings for you and unless you clap on more sail she’ll think you a sad dog in pursuit who’s not worthy of her.’

‘You don’t perceive it, do you? This saddens me. In your sight does it seem, then, an honourable thing to press my suit when she might aspire to a marriage of substance and style, without want?’ He held up his hand at Kydd’s protests. ‘It’s for her that I take this course. She may indeed harbour a sisterly affection for me but for her own sake I release her from any sense of obligation to wed whom she may. She’ll now be in receipt of my letter to that effect.’

Kydd sat back in amazement. ‘Good God! Don’t you think her own feelings might be consulted at all? Does she not have a view on the matter you might discover if you asked her?’