Ring of Fire III

Cap and Gown

On the Ely road

Summer 1634

It was when he heard the split-second hiss of Nathan drawing his sword that Richard realized he was in a bad spot. He was down on one knee in the road. He broke off searching for whatever had gotten into his shoe, and flicked his eyes upward. Nathan was a few yards away, pivoting to face two men rushing from a thicket with knives in their hands.

Richard didn’t need to be a soldier like Nathan to grasp the geometry of the tactical situation. These were robbers, and they were separating, trying to catch Nathan between them.

Richard swept back his coat from where it had fallen forward, and frantically snatched at the pistol on his belt. There was no way to get a clear shot at the farther attacker, but Nathan was turning toward him and stepping forward to strike first with his longer reach. The nearer man, though-no time to aim properly. The instant he fancied that his gun pointed the right way, he fired. The man cried out, and spun around to charge Richard. Richard barely had time enough to get his pistol up to eye level in a two-handed grip. He aimed it roughly at the middle of the man’s chest, as he’d been taught, and fired again. The man staggered, but didn’t fall. Not yet. Richard thumbed the hammer back and was about to fire a third time, when Nathan struck his adversary from behind and ran him through.

Richard glanced behind Nathan, to see what had become of the first robber. He would never threaten anyone again. He was lying in a heap. Richard turned his weapon aside and carefully lowered the hammer.

Nathan did no such thing. Without a moment’s pause he freed his sword and whirled to face the bushes again, poised to thrust or slash at need. He snapped, “Let’s be away, Richard. There could be another in hiding.”

Richard leapt to his feet with his traveling bag in one hand and his gun still in the other, hurrying to keep up. Nathan was watching over his shoulder as much as he was looking at the road ahead. Finally he slowed after a couple of hundred yards, where the view was open on either side. He looked over to Richard.

“That wasn’t badly done, for a cloistered scholar. I think perhaps you saved my life just now.”

“You saved mine, for certain. It seemed to me that you drew before those men even appeared.”

“I did. I misliked the place. Those bushes were too thick and too close to the road. There was that stretch of mire we’d just passed, where we couldn’t have run with any sort of burden. It seemed a perfect spot for an ambush. So I put my hand to my sword. Then I heard a sound from within the bushes. I didn’t wait to see what would come out.”

“And so you ambushed them instead.”

“We were unreasonably lucky. They were stupid, and they were most likely new to this game. They should have run when they saw my sword at the ready.”

“Perhaps they were afraid you’d follow them into the thicket and take them from behind.”

“Then I’d have been the fool. There was no way to know whether I’d run straight into more of them. And that one you kept from my back should have known that a good many travelers carry pistols that can shoot more than once, leaving aside that fancy little German revolver you carry.

“And, Richard?”

“Yes?”

“You won’t stop beside any more such places, will you? Whatever poets may imagine, soldiers really don’t crave such excitement. After three years in the Germanies with hardly a scratch, it would be embarrassing to be killed by a pair of clumsy louts like those.”

“No, Nathan. Learning lessons is what I do.”

“I’m profoundly relieved to hear it. Well, it’s not over five miles from this place to my family’s home. Perhaps you’ll stop with us for some moments before you go on to Cambridge. I think my father would be most interested to hear the things you’ve been telling me, and he could surely find some wine that would be to your liking.”

Nathan led the way around the side of the warehouse to the office door. As he and Richard entered, old Edmund looked up from some papers he was frowning over.

“A good day to you, Edmund!”

Edmund Blake stared over his spectacles. “And you are?” He paused. “Young Nathan! Well, not so young any more! You were clean-shaven when I saw you last. A moment, I’ll call your father.” He stepped through the inner doorway. “Master Brantley! Nathan has come.”

Sounds of heavy things being moved came from within, followed by rapidly approaching footsteps.

“Nathan! It’s good to see you, indeed! And who is this you’ve brought? A companion from the German wars?”

“No, Father. I present Scholar Richard Leamington, of Trinity College. We met on board the boat from Lynn, and traveled together since. Even so, we lately became comrades in arms, after a fashion. Richard, this is my father, Master Mercer Jeremiah Brantley.”

“Welcome, Scholar Leamington. Edmund, I’ll take these two hungry-looking fellows to the kitchen. Dinner is past, but no doubt Cook has some odds and ends that will serve.”

“Why, Father! I’d think on such an occasion you’d bring out some of the best.”

“What? The best we have cost a pretty penny, and it had better fetch a pretty penny, or we won’t be in business for long. Drink it ourselves…”

He seemed to catch sight of the corners of Nathan’s mouth, turned up beneath his mustache, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“Arrr! You always were one for a straight-faced jest. Well, if you don’t have the soul of a merchant already, you’d best grow one quick. I’ll be relying greatly on you.”

“Yes, Father. Of course.”

With bowls of thick stew set before the young men, Jeremiah poured three glasses. Nathan took his up and tasted, and smiled. Nectar of the gods it most certainly was not, Jeremiah well knew, but it was a respectable wine. Entirely respectable.

“I believe your mother will be home shortly, Nathan. She’s gone to deal with some matter with a greengrocer, which Cook wasn’t able to settle. Daniel is occupied with business in Cambridge. We can expect him this evening. He’s been looking forward to your return as well. Though, it may be it’s as much because he’s eager to enroll for the Michaelmas term as from any brotherly affection-he could hardly be spared from the business without you to take his place.”

“Yes, well, as things have come to pass, it’s for the best, for all of us. With the French so thoroughly undone, the army was happy enough to let a good many of us go. I’ll not miss campaigning in all weathers, either. These new generals believe in giving the enemy no rest, but that gave us little rest either.”

“Speaking of fighting, what was the import of that remark about you and Scholar Leamington here?”

“Oh, that. A pair of robbers set upon us a couple of hours ago. He kept one off my back while I dispatched the other.”

Leamington said, “And then you dispatched him as well.”

“I merely made sure of him. I doubt he’d have lived more than a few heartbeats longer. That is, if he’d still had a heart to beat, which I don’t believe he did after you shot him the second time.”

Jeremiah considered, then turned to their guest. “So, you stood by my son at the moment of need. Shall we count you a friend of the family then, and speak as such?”

“I’d be honored. Just Richard, then.”

“I’m also honored, and grateful as well. Jeremiah.” He reached across the table to shake hands.

“Father, Richard and I had leisure for much conversation on the boat. He told me many things I think you’d find of considerable interest. He’s just come from two years of studying mathematics in Grantville.”

“The notorious town that’s confounded all and sundry? Has it upset the world of scholarship as well?”

“The world of scholarship has hardly begun to feel the upset as yet. You might say it’s been tipped up on edge a little, with the great overturning still to come.”

“I’ve heard somewhat from Mistress Chapman’s report, and through acquaintances in trade. I’d have thought you’d still be there taking stock, you scholars being what you are.”

“Indeed, I could happily have stayed years longer. I could have stayed a lifetime. Leaving was hard, and not only because of the glories of the mathematics they brought with them. I made many friends there. But, Cambridge is my own university. It’s past time to come home and teach as much as I can of what I’ve learned, having come to understand the great benefits that learning brought to the England of the other history.”

Nathan nodded. “This is what I wanted you to hear. But perhaps we might do Richard the courtesy of letting him clean and reload his pistol while we talk.”

“Of course. If you like, Richard.”

“I thank you. Best to get it done before returning to the road.” He reached down into his traveling bag for his cleaning kit, and unrolled the cloth wrapping. Laying his pistol and the partly fired cylinder on it, he extracted the full cylinder and laid it aside. Jeremiah eyed the well-made parts thoughtfully as they were laid out before him.

Richard was obviously marshaling his words as he removed the copper caps and prepared the cleaning rod to swab the bore. Jeremiah put down his empty glass and watched him expectantly. Suddenly Richard’s right hand trembled slightly, and he nearly dropped the cleaning rod. Then he seemed to recover. Jeremiah wondered-it seemed odd, in someone who had just fought so well. But he hesitated to inquire into personal matters on such short acquaintance. Nathan’s eyes narrowed momentarily; clearly, he’d noticed too. After perhaps half a minute Richard spoke.

“How to put into a few words what I found in Grantville? I went to study the mathematics they brought to our time, and came to understand the roots of their power and wealth. They teach a most learned profession called mechanical engineering, which is essential to understanding and creating their many marvels. It rests on the science they call physics, which is a form of natural philosophy accumulated by centuries of careful experiment. Both rest on mathematics for their expression and system of reasoning. I came to a new understanding. At Cambridge we’re accustomed to study mathematics to shape the mind. They learn it to shape the world.”

“We have many mechanicians who create most artful devices, though.”

“To be sure, but often with great difficulty and many false starts. The difference is in the depth and completeness of understanding. A mechanic may make what has been made before, or by a series of trials work out how to make a new thing. But the mechanical engineer has no need of the many trials, or not nearly as many. He calculates, and reasons out what to build. Think of the difference between a printer and a philosopher. The printer can make great numbers of copies of a book, but the philosopher is needed for the knowledge to go into the book. In like manner, what the engineer designs, the mechanic makes.”

“What manner of things do they make by such learning, then?”

“Surely you know of the ship Admiral Simpson sent into the mouth of the Thames, that swept aside all opposition as if it were gossamer when it brought away the people from the Tower?”

“Yes, of a certainty. It was said to move as it would, with little regard to wind or tide, and no broadside could be brought to bear against it before it moved aside.”

“Well, it was driven by steam, as you’ve likely heard. I know some of the folk who designed that engine. They had never worked on one like it. Simpson wrote to them saying what his ships required, and within days they were making precise drawings of the necessary parts and sending orders to the foundries and machine shops. I don’t mean to say nothing needed to be corrected, but those engines were completed and sent to the shipyard in mere months. There was never any question that they would work.

“England could have ships like that, and steam pumps for the mines, and even things the Grantvillers lack, such as spinning machines and powered looms to comfortably clothe even the poorest of us. We could teach all of their learning at Cambridge and then carry on beyond it. It only needs enough scholars and enough time to publish what they have in their libraries and private collections.”

“They allow this? They don’t keep the knowledge to themselves?”

“They reason that would place them in greater danger than publishing it freely. If it’s everywhere, it can’t be lost or suppressed.”

“Tell me then, if you would, what such learning in England might mean to the trades in wool and wine, as those are our business. You spoke of mechanical weaving and spinning?”

“Ah. Yes, those greatly changed life in England in that other history…”

It was nearly time for Hall. The light slanting in through the windows was turning golden. With so many undergraduates and fellows returning for the start of the term, the buzz of conversation had risen greatly over the last few days. Richard approached the table where he’d often sat before, and smiled to see John Rant concentrating fiercely on a book tipped up before him, very much as he’d often done when Richard last saw him two years earlier. John turned at the approaching footsteps and came to his feet.

“Richard Leamington! Of all people! You look well. Have you completed your foreign studies so soon, then?”

“No, John, but things have changed. You know it was always my plan to master mathematics, then teach it?”

John nodded.

“Well, there’s far more to master than I ever imagined, but if I’m to teach here at all, I must begin.”

“How so? Places in the university are always in short supply, but surely, with all you must have brought back from that place…”

“Oh, there was no difficulty gaining a lectureship, even without an M.A. It’s my time that may be limited. No, I’m not well at all.”

John looked stricken. “What’s the matter, Richard?”

“Some months ago I began to have moments of dizziness and headaches. At times the sight in my left eye would blur. I went to see one of their doctors.”

“I’ve heard tales of them. Supposedly they do near-miraculous things for all manner of ailments. And so?”

“All they could do for this malady was name it. It’s called multiple sclerosis. Treating it is entirely beyond them. Curing it would have been beyond the most eminent physicians even in their own time, and all they are is a few country practitioners, doing their utmost to pass on what they know while they can.

“It causes a gradual worsening of health, and is invariably fatal in the end. There’s no knowing how fast it may come on. They know of people living twenty years or more with it, but that’s uncommon. So, I decided it was time to bring this new mathematics home, as much of it as I could, and teach for as long as I have.”

“Oh, Richard, I’m so sorry. But, this seems to leave room to hope, at least. Perhaps you might live as long even with it, as you might have otherwise.”

Richard walked around to the other side of the table and settled down. “Perhaps. But let’s speak of something more cheerful. What’s that you were studying as I came in?”

John took his seat again, and picked up the book to show the cover.

“Isn’t that the same calculus book that went around in Latin translation before I left? I’d have thought, with your passion, you’d have gone a good deal further by now.”

“Oh, I have. A transcription of a textbook on complex variables has reached us, in English. Fascinating notions, though the use is still obscure. I’m just reviewing a few points before returning to it. But what do you have in that leather case? It looks big enough for a book, perhaps two.”

“Ah. You must see this. It arrived only today.”

Richard laid the case on the table and opened it. He took out a flat contrivance of wood and metal, and unfolded it. Then he took out one of several thin packages, extracted a modest-sized sheet of stiff glossy paper from it, and slid it into the rear part of the device. He handed it to John. “Hold this up to your eye. Look through the glass lens on the front, and stand so the sunlight falls on the paper at the back. You can slide the sheet holder left and right, and up and down. Turn this little knob here for a clearer view.”

John took the device, and moved it side-to-side while fiddling with the adjustment. He stopped.

“Printing? So small that it needs this glass to read it? Most artful, but why? It must be formidably difficult to do.” He slid the paper sideways, looking for the beginning. He read aloud, “Modern Probability: Theory and Its Applications. By Emanuel Parzen of Stanford University. Stanford University?”

Richard gestured, palms-up. “A parched and empty hillside in our era, so I’ve been told.”

“So it must be.” John slid the holder around some more. “By the symbols, this appears to be some form of mathematics, but not of a kind I’ve seen or heard of.”

“Yes, it is. An advanced topic, used for many important things in science and commerce. I’ve recorded a notice to scholars at the state library in Grantville, that I will translate it into Latin, and our university press will publish it in the original English, and then the translation. As to why, this method of making a copy is a temporary expedient. It’s done with optics and chemistry, I don’t know precisely how. Much less satisfactory than reprinting the book itself at full size, but good enough for the typesetting and translation work, and far faster and cheaper than transcribing by hand. They made this in three days. And with each sheet holding the images of four pages, or four images of anything else for that matter, a whole book adds but little to a traveler’s burden-and they hope to put twelve or sixteen to a sheet soon. The actual printed book is safe in the private collection of the husband of one of my fellow teachers.”

John lowered the viewing device and looked at Richard in surprise. “ Fellow teacher? I thought you went there to study. You taught there?”

“Yes, it was how I supported myself during my studies. The Ring of Fire left a good many of their teachers behind. And now there are many more students than before. As soon as I arrived at the library and inquired in English after books on mathematics, the principal sought me out and asked if I could teach. So for two years I taught geometry and trigonometry in the high school, while helping with translations. Meanwhile I studied complex variables, probability, differential equations, and other manner of things. They greatly value our English university men, there.”

“They must have been sorry to see you leave, then.”

“Mrs. Reardon and her busy crew of volunteers did try to persuade me to stay longer. They have great plans. But John Pell arrived recently, and he has taken my place. He’ll serve them well, better than I could, really. I learned much from him in my undergraduate days.”

“Pell? I thought he’d gone to Horsham to teach school.”

“He did, but it didn’t last. But while he was searching for a new situation, word reached him of what was to be found in Grantville, and it drew him.”

John handed back the viewer. “So, there’s another place of high learning in the world. But, what was that you said about a notice of some kind?”

“Yes, a notice to other scholars that I intend to translate this book. There was the most fearful uproar after three translations of the same book on steelmaking came out within months of each other, all three scholars working unbeknownst to each other. After that, the library agreed to keep records, so that everyone can know which books are already being attended to.”

“And what will you teach now? This probability? Would I understand it?”

“You would, but I won’t teach it until it’s published at least in English so that every student can obtain a copy. I intend to give regular lectures on complex variables at first, since that follows directly after calculus, which is already taught here? Yes? And also an introductory course in physics, which they teach in Grantville at the same time as calculus, so there are many here such as your good self who could follow it. There will be laboratory demonstrations to illustrate the principles and give evidence of their truth.”

“Oh, so? You follow our own Francis Bacon in this, that the nature of the world cannot be known by reasoning alone?”

“To be sure, and Master of Arts Charnock Fielder of Grantville High School as well, who I’ve heard to say in two sentences what the learned Bacon required entire books to convey.”

“And that is?”

“ ‘In science there is no authority. There is only experiment.’ ”

Richard wasn’t accustomed to being awakened by Doctor Comber. But then, the distinguished Thomas Comber-Doctor of Divinity, Master of Trinity College, past Vice Chancellor of the university, and Dean of Carlisle besides-wasn’t known to make a practice of waking mere lecturers, or even to take the trouble of ascending to a third-floor room.

“Good morrow, Leamington. The dean of the chapel has informed me that Master Ramsey just now went to practice at the organ, and encountered a student of yours asleep beside a guttering candle, by which he was fortunately able to see a large cannon ball on a cord swinging from the ceiling. Would you care to explain that? To the dean? And arrange to have it removed before the morning lectures?”

“Uff? Asleep? At once. My apologies, Dr. Comber.” He scrabbled for his clothing. Under his breath he muttered, “I hope he got the data.”

“And, Leamington? Attend me in my rooms after the second lecture. There are matters we must discuss.”

Richard knocked on John Rant’s door. In moments there was a stirring within, and the door opened to reveal a very disheveled and confused-looking B.A.

“Richard? There’s light in the sky! I wasn’t called.”

“Indeed. I’ve just now been told that Tom fell asleep during the experiment instead of calling you at midnight to take your turn recording the data. We are required to remove the apparatus at once. Dress and join me in the chapel, if you will. If we’re quick about it, we may even have time for some breakfast.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll be but a moment.”

Richard left at as rapid a walk as the dignity of a lecturer allowed.

During the first hour Richard attended a lecture. By ironic chance it was on musical scales, and the lecturer was Master Robert Ramsey, the chapel organist. He made no remarks beyond his recent inquiries into the startling notion of an equally tempered scale, in light of the ancient Greek modes, but his displeasure was clear enough by his posture and the dark glances he periodically cast toward Richard. Still, Richard managed to keep his mind on the subject at hand. Mostly.

The second hour went to giving a private lecture on vector calculus to several post-graduate students, who had made considerable inroads into the fragments of new mathematics that had reached the university during Richard’s absence. It was somewhat easier for Richard to keep his mind on that.

And then it was time to call on Dr. Comber in the master’s lodging at the north side of the Great Court. Richard knocked, then entered to see him seated at his writing table, by the big windows.

“Take a seat, Richard. I just want to capture one thought before it escapes…There.” Dr. Comber put down his pen and straightened in his chair. “Richard, you’ve annoyed two fellow members of this college for no good reason. The dean was most upset that you and your students hung that heavy ball in the chapel and set it swinging without saying anything to him first, or indeed to anyone who had reason to go into the chapel and could have walked into its path unaware. He’s responsible for keeping the place in good order and fit for services, lectures, and everything else that takes place there. He needs to know what goes on in his domain. As for Master Ramsey, he had a moment of fright, seeing that thing rush toward his ankles in the gloom.”

“I’m sorry for that, Dr. Comber. Still, no harm was done.”

“No, no harm, except to your own reputation. And that’s concern enough. You’re no longer some raw undergraduate, whose inevitable transgressions are to be corrected with stern admonishments and suitable penalties, and then forgotten. You’re well known throughout the university now, and there are those who look up to you. Your actions have real consequences-some mistakes may not be so easily undone. I had to assure the dean and the organist that you and your students were conducting some serious lesson, and not a midnight jape. I was correct, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, of course. It was a teaching experiment in physics, demonstrating the validity of certain mathematical predictions.”

“Good, as I expected. What, exactly, was this demonstration?”

“It was the Foucault pendulum. It’s one of the two classic demonstrations of the rotation of the Earth.”

Dr. Comber dropped his hand to the writing table in front of him and stared wide-eyed at Richard for a heartbeat or two.

“A demonstration of the rotation of the Earth? A classic demonstration?”

“Yes, first performed in public by the French physicist Leon Foucault in the other history, in 1851.”

Dr. Comber leaned forward with his hands flat on the table and gave a distinct impression of a bulldog. “ Do I understand you correctly? Is this a tangible demonstration that apparently settles the controversy between the Aristotelian and Copernican world models at one stroke? And you did this without telling me, or any other officer or senior fellow of this college? Which will now circulate by rumor, because we don’t tell students not to talk about their studies? And cause all manner of upset to scholars who’ve spent their lives studying this very question?”

Richard froze.

“Exactly. You didn’t think. You considered only the mathematics and natural philosophy, and how to present it to your students. Not altogether a bad thing. But now you need to think about your colleagues as well. You’ve told me and the fellows of your hopes to bring whole new fields of learning here. You wish others to take up these studies, and make the university greater in consequence? For that, you need not merely the acquiescence of your fellows, you need their wholehearted support. You won’t get it by discourtesy.”

Dr. Comber sat back, thinking furiously.

“What must be done now is to present this in a proper and respectful scholarly manner to the whole university, and quickly. But before any announcement, I need to fully understand it myself. I would like you to explain it to me. Completely. Now, I understand your time tonight is to be taken up preparing a lesson?”

“Yes, Dr. Comber.”

“And I’m heavily occupied for the next two days. Can you come here after Hall on Friday?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Good. Come then with your notes and whatever else is needful to make this clear. I think I may ask Thorndike to join us; he’s spent a good deal more time on this new mathematics than I’ve been able to.”

Richard’s right hand trembled slightly. He told himself it wasn’t from nervousness; after all, he was a seasoned teacher long since. He sat up straighter and looked around the chapel. Nearly time. The seats were filling rapidly with fellows and undergraduates from all over the university. There were at least three heads of colleges. Well, the pendulum was rigged and secured at the start of its arc ready to release, and it wasn’t as if he’d never presented this material before.

The bell overhead rang the hour. Dr. Comber rose and walked to the lectern.

“Masters and presidents, fellows, and scholars, there has been considerable talk of late concerning the knowledge conveyed here from Grantville, in particular a demonstration that took place in this chapel a few nights ago. I’ve asked Scholar Richard Leamington to repeat that demonstration today as a university lecture. I believe this will be of great interest to many of you. Scholar Leamington, if you will.”

Richard went to the lectern, where his notes already rested. He was glad to grasp the side with one hand and steady himself; this was no time to look shaky, insidious malady or no. He straightened, faced the audience with level gaze, took a full breath, and began.

“Thank you, Dr. Comber. Thank you all for coming. As you’ve heard, this will be a demonstration of the Earth’s rotation, by means of mathematics and modern physics used together. Since many of you are able to stay only for the hour allotted to the lecture, we’ll start the physical demonstration first and let it run. I will explain the reasoning while you observe what occurs.” Richard turned slightly and gestured toward the pendulum. “You see before you a weight, suspended by a cord from as high up as the hall allows. As you can see, it’s free to swing in any direction. Notice the sewing needle attached to the bottom of the iron ball with sealing wax, the degree circle marked on the large sheet of paper lying directly beneath the point of suspension, and the narrow ring of sand on the paper. Each time the needle crosses the ring, it will sweep aside a few grains of sand to mark the place where it crossed. The whole apparatus together is called the Foucault pendulum.

“As you can see, we have a clock already running. This is a very accurate laboratory instrument, made in Grantville. Scholar Crosfield will start the pendulum for us now.”

Thomas Crosfield was awake enough today, and blessed with steady hands as well. He stepped forward shielding a lighted candle behind his hand, and gingerly knelt by the pendulum, taking care not to breathe upon it.

Richard fastened his eye on the clock as it came up to the minute. He called out, “Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Loose.”

On that word, Tom brought up the candle and burned through the thread holding back the pendulum. The ball swung away in a stately arc toward the sand ring, while Tom stepped back and blew out the candle. There was the faintest of sounds as the needle flicked through the sand. He returned to his seat and took up a lead pencil and paper.

“Scholar Crosfield has written down the time the pendulum started, and the angle where it first crossed the degree circle. He will continue to do this periodically. By this we will be able to measure the rate at which the plane of oscillation rotates.

“As the pendulum moves, it’s acted upon by the forces imparted by the motion and gravity of the Earth. Starting with the Newtonian equations for these forces and the resulting acceleration of the moving ball, we can show by mathematical proof that at the latitude of Cambridge the plane in which the ball swings must rotate by two hundred and eighty-four degrees per day relative to the stars, or two hundred and eighty-five relative to the sun, just under twelve degrees per hour.” He turned to the movable blackboard standing near the lectern, already filled with the first part of the accompanying derivation. “We begin with the equation for the force of gravity…”

Today Richard had no lectures to give or attend. John Rant had arranged to call later on, to ask his advice regarding the best way to present a seminar on proof by infinite series. For now, though, it was a perfect time to immerse himself in correcting the latest sheaf of typeset proofs for the English edition of the probability textbook. It wasn’t a large batch today; there should be plenty of time to make progress on the translation work as well. In truth, he was happy to be able to spend most of the day seated. Well, perhaps he’d feel more like visiting one of the taverns tomorrow, or just walking by the river. He glanced out the window at a few students hurrying past the great fountain in the court below-it was just as well to be inside in any case. He took up his pen and set to working steadily through the stack by the watery light from the late autumn sky.

Shortly before the midday meal Richard finished the proofreading and set it aside. He was the picture of an absentminded professor as he hurried across the court toward the dining hall, in spite of being far below that exalted rank. He didn’t seek company at dinner today, being occupied in considering the practicality of constructing the apparatus for the measurement of the universal gravitation constant-without sending to the piano makers in Grantville for a length of fine-gauge music wire. Could it be done with a common lute string? Perhaps some testing might reveal the answer.

He returned still deep in thought to his room, and settled in to rendering probability theory clearly and concisely in Latin, a satisfying challenge. The tingling in two fingers of his right hand faded from his notice. He wrote in the spare up-time style, with no classical allusions, metaphors, or digressions beyond the bounds of mathematics itself. Richard wrote, crossed out, wrote again, made editing marks, wrote again. After a time the weather became typically English. Rain, sun, overcast, wind, at twenty-minute intervals. The sky abruptly turned fair with an unseasonably warm breeze, and Richard thought to air out his room while he had the chance. He opened the windows and the door to the staircase.

He went back to his translation. Hmm, what would be the best way to express the concept of expectation?

There was a soft caress against his ankle. He looked down at orange fur and blue eyes. Nan was looking up at him. He reached down to stroke her side. She leaped to his lap, and from there to the table. She sniffed at the inkwell and brushed her upraised tail against his nose. Richard lifted her aside, off his rough draft, and began scratching her behind the ears to tempt her to stay where she was. She settled down with one paw draped limply over the edge, purring and swishing her tail from side to side. Richard was a little too distracted at the moment to remember whose cat she was, but it hardly seemed to matter to her anyway. His hand continued moving, back and forth, as his mind returned to pondering the problem. Perhaps… He weighed alternative constructions, as they took shape in his mind. After a time footsteps sounded on the staircase. Richard listened with half an ear for a moment, but he didn’t recognize the step, and it was early for John. He wrote another sentence.

There was a knock on the door frame. Richard looked up. “Oh, Dr. Comber.” He started to rise.

Dr. Comber waved him back down. “Do you have a few moments, Richard? I have some questions.”

“Certainly.” Richard waved his hand toward the second chair.

As Dr. Comber drew it up to the other side of the writing table and settled down, Nan opened her eyes. He reached out his hand and she leaned into it, while he gathered his words. His gaze swept across the stacked page proofs and the scattered manuscript sheets on the table. “How does it go, then?” Nan rose to her feet at the broken silence, jumped off the table, and sauntered off to parts unknown.

“Very well. There should be only one more batch of page proofs after these, before the English edition can go to press and I can think of offering a course of lectures. There are already inquiries for copies. As to the Latin manuscript, it’s nearing the halfway mark. The Latin lexicographers helped me greatly in devising suitable terms for the new principles before I left Grantville, and they’ve added them to their technical dictionary.”

“Excellent. But I was asking after your health, more than the work.”

“Not too bad.” He reached for the cane leaning against the bookcase and held it up. “I have this, but seldom need it. The special candle lamp with the focusing lens and mirror that I brought for the microprint viewer helps me work after dark.”

“You didn’t need that cane at all, earlier. Perhaps we’d better find you quarters downstairs for next term. I’ll say a word to the bursar and see what might be done. More difficulties seeing, too? You have my sympathy. I’m thankful to have spectacles, these days. But you’re able to continue teaching? I know how greatly you wish it.”

“Yes, and it gives me greater satisfaction to aid others in taking up the work. I could never bring such a body of new knowledge to Cambridge by myself. No man could, alone.”

“Indeed. And so we come to my reason for calling on you today.”

John Rant appeared in the doorway. “Oh, Dr. Comber, I didn’t know you were with Richard. Should I come back later?”

“No, stay, you might have some thoughts to illuminate the discussion, with all the time you’ve spent together in study and inquiry.”

Both chairs being occupied, John leaned against the wall beside the door and folded his arms, an expectant expression on his face.

“Richard, I’ve been much occupied with many matters, but you’ve spoken before of what new learning this university might offer to our students. I would like a more thorough understanding of what it consists, and how large a body of knowledge it might be.”

“You’re giving consideration to this, then?”

“It’s far too soon to say that. Before I can consider anything, or usefully speak of such things with the fellows and officers, I must understand the meaning of these subjects you say are studied now in the Germanies, and as well the numbers of those to do the instructing. Particularly the latter. Do you know, this university has been trying for years to get an endowed chair of mathematics?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Well, it has. With no success. But it seems you made a deep impression on your merchant friend Jeremiah Brantley, who is well known in commercial circles and among other notables of the town. He and the mayor unexpectedly called on me yesterday. He’s apparently made inquiries overseas and consulted with others, and is now engaged in raising subscriptions all over the shire to found such a post. From merchants and town officials! With relations between the university and the town always in a delicate state, this is to be marveled at. It’s also to be approached with great caution, so as not to upset matters.”

He brought his hands together and interlaced his fingers.

“So. Pray tell me, what exactly is mechanical engineering, why are the merchants and local notables so convinced of its value to them that they’re willing to contribute to the university on its behalf, and if this institution were to carry on a course of instruction to that end, how would it be done? I wish to be thoroughly prepared to listen and speak of this question, before it arises again.”

“Oh. Well. I would define it as the use of mathematics and scientific knowledge to design mechanical devices. Its uses are beyond counting. As to why the merchants are interested, I think they’re looking first of all to the rapid movement of people and goods. The sooner and surer the arrival, the sooner and surer the profit. That’s what Master Brantley said to me. They see steamships, railroad trains, aircraft on the continent, and they want them here. Then there’s mechanical spinning and weaving-he was most fascinated by that possibility, being a wool merchant. Now as to the curriculum, I have some notes here, which one of the physics teachers in Grantville allowed me to copy down.”

Richard turned in his chair, and pulled a commonplace book from a shelf. He laid it on the table and flipped through the pages, then turned it so his visitor could see.

“Here, a list of courses for the degree in mechanical engineering, at the great California Institute of Technology. Calculus in multiple variables, linear algebra, differential equations, probability, motion and gravity, electricity and magnetism, the theory of relativity, particles and waves, quantum mechanics, theory and experimental practice of chemistry, biology of viruses, statics and dynamics of rigid and deformable bodies, thermodynamics, engineering design methods, fluid mechanics, technical and scientific writing and speaking, mechanics of materials, control theory, and practical mechanical laboratory sessions. Humanities as well, of course.”

Dr. Comber’s face was a study in consternation as he stared down at the list. “If all those completely unknown fields of knowledge are of similar scope and effort to the few I have at least heard of, it seems a most ambitious curriculum for a doctorate.”

Richard hesitated.

“It doesn’t seem so to you?”

“Ah…that’s for the bachelor’s degree. Bachelor of Science in Mechanical Engineering, a four-year curriculum. The advanced degrees dealt with research, original contributions to the field, and sometimes the leadership of projects and enterprises.”

Dr. Comber sat up again and stared at Richard straight-on. “The bachelor’s degree, forsooth! All that is what those mechanicians studied? And what we would have to teach, and find faculty and endowments for, were we to attempt such a thing?”

John broke in. “Richard, you’ve mentioned that place to me before. You did say Caltech was one of the most formidable engineering colleges in the world, didn’t you? A place for untiring near-geniuses to turn themselves into the leading lights of their profession? Out of all that, how much would be essential to do worthwhile work in our world?”

“Now, there’s a thought. Perhaps half could be put to immediate use. Of that, perhaps half is truly essential to do the beginnings of practical engineering work, while continuing formal studies. The Grantvillers call a student at that stage an ‘engineering trainee.’ Perhaps a little less than that. Thermodynamics is the key, for steam engines, and steam engines are practically the gateway to an industrial revolution. That comes about mid-way. So, a quarter perhaps.”

Dr. Comber sat back and folded his hands in his lap. He nodded gravely. “A quarter. So. A faculty of how many to teach such a reduced curriculum? Have you given thought to that question?”

“I’m uncertain. The Grantvillers were wrestling with it when I left, and hadn’t reached firm conclusions. But I think perhaps, if we considered only the minimum at first, and if some courses were given only in alternate years, and if we selected students for their ability to study independently, it might be done with eight or so. Perhaps.”

“Before Pan and Janus, Leamington, do you have the faintest idea of the magnitude of what you propose? It amounts to adding an entire new faculty to those we already have-medicine, law, theology and philosophy. Not only new academic seats, but new rooms-you said laboratories? Acquiring teaching devices such as your pendulum? Novel statutes for the university, I don’t doubt. And more students, likely as not. It’s like to founding a new college. And who would pay for all that? Who could, in these times?”

Richard sat, thinking.

“Put that way, I can’t dispute it. It reminds me of something one of the engineers said to me, in a moment of desperation. ‘If you have a mountain to move, and only a teaspoon to do it with, move the first spoonful. It’s a spoonful you won’t have to move later.’ ”

“I suppose that’s what you’re doing here, teaching what you’ve brought back, and translating this one book of mathematics into proper Latin? Carrying away a spoonful from the mountain you beheld?”

“I think what they brought to our world was a mere wheelbarrow full. A wagon load, at most. The mountain was left behind. But, yes. And were you to bring us that one professorship through your well-regarded diplomacy, I would rejoice for it, and not complain of the fish not caught. It would be another spoonful.”

As they sat contemplating that thought, John took a thick packet from under his arm and laid it before Richard. “I’d thought to give you this earlier, before other matters intervened. There’s a letter for you. It’s from John Pell, in Grantville.”

Dr. Comber looked up. “John Pell! Is it private, or is some of it meant for the university?”

Richard said, “We’ll soon see.” As he opened it, a small, beautifully printed sheet of cream-colored paper fell free from the rest. He picked it up, and smiled. “Well! A birth announcement. Deborah Lucille Reardon was born on November 17 to Landon Reardon and Sarah Beth Cochran Reardon. So Mrs. Reardon has been safely delivered. Good news, indeed, in many ways. The Reardons have been much in my thoughts.”

Dr. Comber was eyeing the corner of a glossy sheet of paper poking out of the stack. “Is that a photograph?”

“It looks to be. A black-and-white one.” Richard pulled it out and laid it on the table. John came closer, to see over their shoulders.

Two figures were seated on a brocaded couch. There was a large picture of a saddle horse in a pasture on the wall behind them. A tall, graceful woman with long dark hair sat on the right, wearing a flowered print dress and a single string of pearls. On the left was a husky man with lighter hair, wearing an up-time business suit. They faced half toward the camera, and half toward an infant sleeping in her lap. They were holding hands.

“It’s a Reardon family portrait. A new one, obviously.”

John mused, “A beautiful woman.”

Richard let slip an involuntary snort of amusement. “Indeed, and a most persistent and determined one, into the bargain.”

Dr. Comber raised an eyebrow. “Oh, how so?”

“You’d need to know the Cochran sisters. They have a long-standing reputation for letting nothing stop them, once they decide a thing must be done. There’s a story that Sarah stayed at the school well past her usual time one day, to deal with a student discipline problem, a boy on the edge of getting himself into serious trouble. By the time she and the guidance counselor were done ramming some sense into his head, the grocery stores had all closed. Nevertheless, she put dinner on the table that night. With a squirrel rifle.”

“Remarkable.”

“Not by their standards. She’s no better or worse a shot than a thousand others. Well, let’s see what Pell has to say.”

He held up the first page where the light from the sky could fall on it. “He sends his best wishes to all of us and hopes that we are well. Manfred von Ochsendorf has joined the high school faculty, and finished his translation of the second volume of the Resnick and Halliday physics series-that’s introductory electrodynamics, the course after the one I’m giving now. The University of Prague was clamoring for it before I left. Oho! He reports that President Piazza has nominated Sarah to the state board of education. That can only mean big things are in the offing over there.”

“How so?”

“For close on a year now, she’s been the de facto leader of a small group arguing that the Grantville schools must better manage the teaching of mathematics and the sciences, to the end that they may concentrate their efforts toward educating a new generation of engineers and scientists with all possible speed. She argues that their survival requires re-creating the essentials of an engineering college of their own era. They’ve been consulting, planning, and persuading among the teachers, the citizens, the public leaders, and anyone else who will listen or speak to them. She once asked me to address the city council regarding the state of mathematics and experimental science here in England.

“The thing is this. Piazza was formerly the principal of Grantville High School. He’s acutely aware of the place education holds in their world. If he’s put forward her name, it means he’s convinced himself of four things. First, that the proposal is sound. Second, that its importance justifies the expense and talent it will demand. Third, that he can rely on her to bring it to fruition if given the authority. Fourth, that Congress will confirm the appointment. For that matter, that Sarah herself will accept the challenge, and the citizens will agree to the public expenditure.”

Dr. Comber leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “You know these people, Richard. Your opinion? Can they carry off such a thing?”

Richard chuckled. “I think every bit of progress will be a struggle, full of unexpected delays and difficulties. To misquote one of their sayings, no plan survives contact with reality. But they’ve already shown a talent for bending to reality-you’d hardly believe some of their educational expedients. With the state government standing behind it, I think they’ll make it work, one way or another.”

Dr. Comber stroked his chin, gazing pensively out at the few scholars taking advantage of the sudden fair weather to read beside the fountain. “A very different set of difficulties from ours, for certain. So they would turn necessity into iron resolve?”

“They have before.”

John looked over, from where he’d resumed his place by the door. “That’s-very interesting. It may present a solution for us as well.”

Dr. Comber cocked his head. “How so? I see no prospect of royal favor for a similar thing here, nor donors in the offing wealthy enough to endow a small faculty. If we can gain a professorship of mathematics, we’ll be doing well.”

“I mean, their college itself may be an answer for us. If all we can teach toward this curriculum is a few courses in mathematics and physics, it doesn’t mean our efforts are wasted for not completing the whole. Students could begin here, and go on to finish their studies there, for as long as it takes us to catch up. And soon there would be Englishmen with degrees in engineering and experimental sciences, who could return here to work and teach.”

“Move the first spoonful, eh?”

Richard tapped his fingers on the table. “I think that might well be an answer to one of their great difficulties as well. They’re practically crippled, when it comes to giving instruction in Latin. It handicaps them, and remedying that will take many years. And where in the world can they find able scholars, who can rapidly absorb abstruse knowledge printed only in English, and who are accomplished in Latin?”

“Ah, of course. Where else but here? If there’s one thing a Cambridge M.A. knows how to do, it’s learn difficult material quickly.”

“Exactly. They’ve already welcomed Pell and me. They’d be ecstatic to receive more.”

“So, you two describe a way forward that might fall within our means. Ingenious.”

“You’re considering it, then?”

“As I said at the beginning, it’s much too soon for that. But I believe what I will do now is open a correspondence of my own with John Pell. I need a feel for what’s happening there. I wonder if there’s anyone there from Oxford? Probably. Perhaps I’ll write to this Mrs. Reardon as well.” He shook his head. “Women in the colleges. New mothers founding them. Well, we must get accustomed to the idea, it seems. It’s a strange world.” He came to his feet. “But we must continue this later, as time for Hall approaches. For now, I’ll leave you to your discussions. I thank you both for your thoughts.”

John moved to close the windows as Dr. Comber left. The brief warm spell was over.

John Rant was feeling like a fish out of water. This was his first time at a meeting of the major fellows of the college. Dr. Comber hadn’t really explained why he wanted him there, but presumably it would become clear in due course. He listened closely and kept silence.

James Duport was holding forth. “Yes, I know he’s a fine scholar, and well regarded. But he hasn’t completed the scholarly work we expect of a candidate for the M.A. and makes no pretense of doing so. How can you possibly speak of giving it to him?

It would devalue the university’s name, besides flouting our statutes.”

Herbert Thorndike’s posture and tone dripped exasperated patience. “Not the ordinary M.A. The honorary one. A case like this is the reason we have it in our statutes.”

“The sheepskin given to the favored by unwritten royal command? I know of no such interest in Leamington’s case.”

“No, the honorary degree conferred by the grace of the master and fellows of Trinity College. To recognize scholarly achievement outside the ordinary course of things. Don’t say it’s unheard of. It’s just seldom heard of. You do understand why he’s chosen not to pursue the M.A., I hope?”

“His ill health? I sympathize, but that doesn’t alter the case.”

“That, and the simple reality that one more scholar intimately familiar with the abstruse minutiae of Aristotle’s cosmos would make very little difference to the world, while the same time spent in teaching advanced calculus and experimental physics will be of enormous value to our future. Logically, Newtonian mechanics fills the same place in the curriculum as astronomy. In fact, Newton’s laws are chiefly the harvest of the last century’s astronomical measurements. I venture to suggest that our curriculum itself may soon come to greatly resemble Leamington’s studies. Or at least it should.”

“Aristotle’s works are the very core of a Cambridge education, Thorndike. They have been since the earliest days.”

“As I recall, you were present at the Foucault pendulum demonstration. You can still say that, after seeing that effect? As if that weren’t enough, the experiment to measure the gravitational constant should have driven the final nail into Aristotle’s coffin. It showed universal gravitation in the most direct and unmistakable manner. It demolished any need to imagine crystalline spheres to carry the planets around.”

“Well, there was no public demonstration of that. Just an exhibit of the apparatus and the reading of a report. And why was the supposed experiment done in the middle of the night? Eh? Tell me that.”

“ Why? Because we were measuring minuscule forces! The ground vibrations from a passing oxcart would be enough to disturb the torsion balance. What, do you think John’s technique was faulty, or that he couldn’t compose an accurate report of what happened during the experiment? If you think that, come into what we laughingly call a laboratory and run the damn experiment yourself! We can put the apparatus into your hands in an hour.”

Dr. Comber raised his hand. “Heated words will do us no good. The question is whether we shall pass this grace.”

Thorndike took a deep breath. “Your pardon. I apologize for the outburst. But I stand by the invitation. As Leamington continually reminds us, science progresses by repeatable experiment. The proper way to challenge a scientific result is in the laboratory. Any conclusion may be challenged in that manner.”

Duport wasn’t done. “Speaking of that, I believe I heard it said that it was you and Rant who did all this, wasn’t it? Leamington had little or no hand in it? So why are we discussing an honorary degree for him?”

“Rant, and the others who were in the class from the beginning. I’ve only audited physics since the pendulum demonstration, and joined the probability lectures. John did most of the design of the apparatus, and supervised its construction. It was he who made the decision to send for piano wire, and Thomas Crosfield who devised the adjustable fluid damper. But, Leamington is a teacher, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Well, yes.”

“So what was he supposed to do, carry on everything himself, or teach others to do it?”

“By that reasoning, to teach. Certainly.”

“And has he?”

Dr. Comber cleared his throat. “Thank you. Let us return to the main business. The donors are growing impatient. They question whether we can make a firm commitment to a regimen of mathematics and science on which an engineering curriculum could be built. There are veiled hints of endowing a chair of physics at Oxford if we don’t satisfy them soon, rather than a chair of mathematics here.”

Thorndike snorted. “I wish no ill to our brothers at Oxford, but you may readily guess my preference between those alternatives.” That brought a few dry chuckles from around the table. “If we confer the honorary degree, we do two things. We do justice for meritorious scholarship, and we take a clear public stand. We commit ourselves to the future instead of the past.”

Thomas Randolph spoke for the first time, chin propped on interlaced fingers, in measured cadence to match. “There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries.”

“A quotation from Shakespeare is something I’d expect from you, though not necessarily that one. But I couldn’t imagine anything more apt. Much hangs on what we do now.”

“I merely amused myself paraphrasing your words.”

Duport had been staring at his hands. Now he looked up again. “You witnessed this gravity measurement, Master Thorndike? You vouch for the report?”

“Of course. I followed the design of the apparatus from the beginning, and checked the math myself. Not that there’s anything complicated about it.”

“Very well. I’ll take your word for it.”

Dr. Comber favored him with a wry smile. “No, I don’t think you should do that. The essence of science is repeatable experiment, as we’ve heard often enough. I would have you reach a conclusion by your own hands and eyes, rather than give grudging agreement to the opinions of others. Please, do the experiment. John, how long would it take to prepare?”

John snapped to full alertness at the question. “I should think three or four hours for Master Duport to read the report and familiarize himself with the plan. The mathematics is within the grasp of any B.A. The apparatus is still in place in the porter’s storeroom, so we only need wait for the town to become quiet before we can start a run. Some time after eleven should be suitable. Say, four hours to take the measurements and reduce the data.”

“So it could be done this very night. Good. We can convene again at noon tomorrow and finish this debate without putting off the donors any longer. James? Will you do it?”

“Since you ask in such a way, how could I refuse?”

“I thank you.” Dr. Comber looked over sharply at John. “You appear to have something else on your mind. Say it.”

“Er, I’m not a major fellow yet.”

Thorndike laughed. “We all know how your disputations went. You will be in three weeks, short of slipping a doxy into our sacred precincts.” There was a flurry of snickers around the table at that absurd thought.

“You won’t like it.”

Dr. Comber still had his eye fastened on him. “It seems to be my duty increasingly often of late to listen to things I don’t like. Speak.”

“Well, then, a number of the undergraduates and B.A. s are starting to ask why they should continue to study Aristotle’s cosmos. They object to having their time wasted.”

Duport erupted. “We all studied it. Why should they be excused?”

Thorndike shot back, “That was before it was discredited.”

The decision hadn’t been unanimous, but in the end the fellows had passed the grace, much to John’s relief. Thankfully, Duport was among those assenting. Now a large part of the university, with families and friends, was gathered in Great St. Mary’s Church for the commencement. Dr. Henry Smyth was officiating, he being vice chancellor this year. John had been placed at the end of the M.A. s, so that he could assist Richard. He leaned over and whispered, “Don’t worry. Thorndike and I are being scrupulously careful with the proofreading. The text will be printed as you wrote it.”

“The index and the table of contents, though? I’ve done no work on them.”

“A couple of sizars are compiling them as we speak. John Stay and Edward Lucy. They’re good lads, and it will benefit their educations more than waiting at table. Besides, Thorndike and I will check every entry. All right, it’s time for us.”

John stood up, then gave Richard his hand. They walked to the front, Richard leaning on his cane with one hand and John’s arm with the other.

Dr. Smyth stepped down from the platform as they came toward him, in consideration of Richard’s infirmity. He announced, “John Rant. Master of Arts.” He presented the diploma to John’s free hand. “Richard Leamington. Honorary Master of Arts, by the grace of the master and fellows of Trinity College.” Richard let go of John’s arm long enough to take the diploma, then passed it to John to carry for him as they returned to their seats, to scattered clapping.

There were two other honorary degrees given, both by royal influence.

Then two men ascended the platform and went to stand beside Dr. Smyth. John had seen the mayor of Cambridge before; the other must be Jeremiah Brantley. He looked toward Richard. Richard nodded.

The mayor had a document in his hand. Holding it out before him, he addressed the assembly in a ringing baritone. “The towns and merchants of Cambridgeshire named here now present the endowment for a chair of mathematics at this university, to be called the Cantabrigian Chair.” It took him a solid two minutes to read all the donors’ names. “The duty of the Cantabrigian Professor shall be to act in all ways to promote the knowledge and use of mathematics for the public good, foremost by teaching. We give this with the condition that the holder shall not be required to take holy orders.” He handed it to the vice chancellor. “Dr. Smyth, will you confer the insignia?”

“Yes. Master Herbert Thorndike. Cantabrigian Professor of Mathematics.” Thorndike stepped forward, and Dr. Smyth draped a colored band of cloth over his shoulders and shook his hand. “The professorship of mathematics shall encompass physics as well, until other arrangements may be possible.”

It looked to be a decent day. There’d been enough of a rain shower overnight to lay the dust, and not enough to turn the roads into a muddy obstacle course. Raindrops still sparkled on the wildflowers by the roadside.

Nathan watched as James Bright brought the wagon around to the warehouse door, then went to stand by the horses, calming them during the loading.

Nathan and Jeremiah bent to lift a keg into place. “Father, it’s well that I heeded Daniel and went to call on Richard yesterday. He needs us now. We must bring him here. I could go with James now and we could carry him back in the wagon. There will be room enough.”

“Why so? I regard him highly, but aren’t they caring for him at the college?”

“Yes, but that care threatens to take a perverse turn. He’s growing feeble, and his speech is slurred at times. One of the medical faculty has been badgering him unmercifully to allow bleeding and purging. You know how arrogant and headstrong some of that fraternity can be. If he can no longer make his wishes understood forcefully…”

“Well, a professor of medicine, though. Don’t they know what’s best?”

“I think we can safely say that nobody in England knows as much about multiple sclerosis as Richard. If he says there’s no treatment, there isn’t. Opiates for times of pain, but that’s about all. Not to mention what the army’s new field medics taught us about first aid. Loss of blood helps nobody, and sterile technique has yet to be taken seriously at Cambridge. Such practices are as likely to carry him off with a raging fever, as bring any other result. And can you imagine anything more miserable than purging a man who must be helped on and off the chamber pot? Not to mention that we owe him once again for Daniel not being caught up in that mess some time back.”

“No argument there. What could have possessed him to associate with such a pack of wastrels?”

“The fallibility of all mortals, I suppose, though anyone with the least experience in business matters should have known better. But it’s well Richard found out before anyone else did, and him not even a member of the same college, and made Daniel’s ears burn. And so Daniel was where he belonged, attending to his studies, when the inevitable happened. For which reason he was neither sent away nor gated. I don’t imagine he enjoyed it much at the time, though.”

Jeremiah chuckled. “I don’t imagine so, either. But what can we do for Richard here?”

“We can take care of him for what little time he has left, and allow him to die in peace, without anyone battering at him with useless unpleasantness. There’s no more that anyone can do.”

“That has merit, as a Christian act. Still, before bringing in a house guest, especially an invalid, your mother must have her say.”

“True enough. I’ll ask her, then.”

“No, I’ll ask her.”

A step sounded by the office door. “Ask me what, Jeremiah?”

Supper was long past, yet in high summer there was still plenty of light coming through the windows of the bindery. Rant and Thorndike were doing what they could to speed things along, putting the last few signatures of the body of the book into proper order, and passing them to Master Higgs and his two journeymen to sew. Daniel Brantley came through the open door.

Rant looked up from his work. “What word, Daniel?”

“The last sheets of the index are on the press now. They tell me three hours until they’re dry enough to carry here. They advise slip sheets, if they’re to be bound tonight.”

“Good. You’d best wait there for them, lest they wander away in that time and forget to let you back in. I would very much regret Richard passing from us without holding the completed work in his hands and seeing the words he has wrought. I didn’t like the account you gave of his breathing this morning. We leave for your house the moment the work is finished; the moon will be up by then. You have something to study meanwhile, don’t you?”

“Yes, Latin grammar seems to be inexhaustible for that purpose.”

John grinned at the memory. “Good enough. Until your return.”

Daniel left again for the print shop.

It was one thing after another. Inexplicably, two entries in the index had their page numbers transposed. Fortunately, Daniel proofread the thing while the ink was still wet, and the pressman made the correction. Still, it wasted time. The pressman ran off the corrected sheets, several sets for good measure. Daniel was off to the bindery, and the pressman closed up. The first attempt to collate the last signature was done too soon, and it smeared. It was good that there were extra sets, but they had to wait longer for one to dry sufficiently. With everyone tired, Thorndike got the signature collated wrong. The journeyman sewed it, but Master Higgs had seen everything that could possibly go wrong in bookbinding at one time or another in his long life. He caught it before it went into the binding. They took it apart and put it right. Finally it was done, but the sun was already up when Daniel and John Rant reached the Brantley house.

As Daniel led John in, the family was at the breakfast table, except for Daniel’s mother, who was coming down the stairs. Father looked up and asked, “How does he fare, Abigail?”

“Poorly. His breathing hesitates, I can hardly hear it. He was able to take some small beer, but none of the porridge. I take it you’ve brought the book, Daniel?”

John laid down his bag by the door. “I have it.” He reached in and produced it.

“Best you take it to him quickly.” She turned and went back up, the others following.

Richard was propped up, several pillows supporting his back. The morning sun through the window fell where his hands rested on the coverlet. He turned his face toward the door and saw the book in John’s hand. “ ’s that…?”

“Yes, your work, finished and in print. Here it is.” He held it out as Richard raised his hand to take it. Richard got it propped up in his lap, then opened it about three quarters of the way in and flipped pages. The sun fell full on the book.

“Ch’ter eight. Ne’er saw’t in print b’fore.” He began reading. After five or ten minutes his hand began to tremble heavily.

Nathan looked over to John and Daniel, and said, “You go down and have something to eat. I’ll stay and hold the book for him.”

As they left the room, a horn sounded from the river. Father glanced out the window, then turned as well. “I must go down and receive a shipment, it seems.”

Once again the sun was above the horizon. The morning light and the stirrings below awoke James Bright in his chair by the bedside. Everyone who could read Latin had assisted Leamington at one time or another the previous day. It mattered not that Bright had none; he’d taken his turn keeping company with the sick man while he slept.

It came to him as his head cleared that he heard nothing but the birds outside and the family below. He looked, and could see no movement, not even an irregular rise and fall in the man’s chest. He hesitated but a moment, then called out, “Master Brantley! I think he’s gone.”

Nathan was the first up the stairs, but everyone else down to Cook and old Edmund was close behind. He’d seen death enough in the wars. He looked at the gray of Richard’s face, and the unmoving partly open eyelids. It was hardly necessary to feel for a pulse in his neck or listen at his chest, but he did anyway. He straightened up and sighed. “You’re right. He’s dead, Jim. An hour, perhaps.”

“What now, then?”

“He really has no family but the college itself. They’ll see to him. You have a delivery in Cambridge today, if I remember correctly?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Daniel said, “We can take him in the wagon, then. I’ll go with you and give the news to the dean of the chapel. He has the arrangements in hand, and awaits only the word and Richard himself.”

Nathan asked, “And the book?”

John answered that. “This first copy will go to the university library. All of us who worked on it have autographed the flyleaf, Richard included. I think it will remain in print for a great long while. And now, after I offer a prayer for Richard’s soul, I must gather my things and be on my way to Lynn.”

“You’ll breakfast with us first, certainly. But won’t you stay for the funeral?”

“No, I’m overdue in Grantville. I’ve put them off as long as I decently could, finishing this work. I must meet the faculty as soon as may be, and set to work preparing my lectures.”

Daniel looked at him. “What are you to teach at the high school, then?”

“Not the high school, the college. You haven’t seen John Pell’s latest letter to Dr. Comber, posted in the hall?”

Daniel shook his head. “No.”

“He tells us that the combined faculties have fulfilled the conditions Congress imposed for the founding of the college. They were required to prepare a complete set of examinations in the subjects required for at least one technical degree. They accomplished this for the Bachelor of Science in physics. One Eve Zibarth, a student of the late Charnock Fielder, has passed. Accordingly, the state vocational school was renamed the Thuringia-Franconia State Technical College with a greatly increased curriculum and added faculty. It conferred its first diploma at the founding ceremony.

“As for me, I’m to teach advanced calculus, in Latin. Possibly in English as well, but that’s still to be decided. And I intend to carry my own studies as far as possible. I expect there will be examinations offered by the time I’m ready to sit for them. I hope to return in a few years with a Bachelor of Science in mathematics.”

Nathan gave him a thin smile. “Mm-hm. Did I see a certain familiar weapon in your bag when you took out Richard’s book?”

“Yes, he gave it to me some months ago. He said he could no longer use it.”

“No doubt. The question is, can you use it? Have you practiced with it? Do you know what to do with it, and how to keep it in good order?”

“I’ve done some shooting with it, and cast more shot. I can hit a target.”

Nathan snorted. “At leisure, on the shooting range, I expect you can. Stay the day with me, and I’ll give you a concentrated session of army training. The roads have been quiet these many months, but I’ll feel happier if you know how to fight with that fancy toy. Call it my last debt to Richard.”

Author’s note: Except for Richard Leamington and Daniel Brantley, the university characters are historical. Their actions are fictional, though extrapolated from available biographical information. The remaining characters are fictional.