While I stood deliberating by a puddle, I caught sight of a familiar silver-bearded figure shuffling past one of the smoldering torches—Penebrygg. Perhaps he would know where the State Rooms were. Pleased to have spotted him, I rushed over to greet him—but as I came closer, my pleasure vanished. The velvet cap he always wore was gone, and his black robes were stiff with mud, while he himself looked as if he’d added a decade to his already considerable age since I’d last seen him.
He started when I addressed him. “Oh, my dear. I didn’t see you.”
With a faltering hand, he touched my iron bracelet. Only then did I notice that his spectacles—so carefully fashioned and almost part of the man, with lenses he had ground himself—were missing.
I reached out to steady him. “Dear Penebrygg, what’s happened to you?”
He blinked as if trying to clear his vision. “The wall by old Bridewell Palace gave way. My house is not far from it, you know.” His voice sounded as battered as the rest of him. “I stayed perhaps a little too long, trying to find a book I wanted. But I’m afraid most of my library is beyond recovery now. And Nat’s books as well, and all his papers besides. He will be so distressed—”
“He will be very relieved that you are safe,” I said firmly. “As am I. Tell me, do you have a place to sleep?”
Again he blinked, owl-like. “I’m not quite certain, my dear. A guard directed me to the Great Hall, but I didn’t like to take a pallet when there were so many in need. Nat has rooms here now, you know, and I thought I might stay with him. I’ve done so before, from time to time, and I have a key—but I’m so blind without my glasses that I can’t find his staircase.”
I remembered how Penebrygg had offered me refuge during my first days in London, when very little had stood between me and a terrible death. Surely I could spare the time to help him find shelter now.
“Come with me,” I said.
Finding Sybil could wait.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
TRESPASSER
I hadn’t realized that Nat had rooms of his own in Whitehall, but Penebrygg remembered enough about where they were located that I could find them easily. Deep inside the palace, they did not have a view of the river—which meant they were still accessible.
As we walked over there, I saw several people shy away from us. Was it me they were avoiding? Were they holding iron crosses?
Ignorance and superstition, I told myself again. Don’t take it to heart. But still they unnerved me.
Once we reached Nat’s rooms, Penebrygg had trouble with the key, so I handed him the lantern and unlocked the door myself. Penebrygg went straight in, but at first I held back, standing self-consciously on the threshold. Given where I stood with Nat, I wasn’t sure he would want me in such a private place. But when Penebrygg looked back at me, his weary face heavily shadowed in the light of the lantern, I cast aside any reservations.
“I’ll get a fire going,” I said.
A half hour later, the coals were burning merrily, and I had Penebrygg tucked up in a chair close by them. I’d made free with Nat’s possessions, grabbing a counterpane from his bed, pears from a basket, and cider and cheese from a well-oiled cupboard. Penebrygg was looking more like himself now.
And I? I was caught between warring emotions. It felt like trespass to be here when Nat hadn’t invited me in—and yet it felt perfectly right too, especially since I was ministering to a man who meant so much to both of us.
Nat’s role as the King’s special envoy meant that he was often on the road, so it made sense that his rooms were neat but plain; they had an air of a place that wasn’t much used. Yet here and there I saw the stamp of his presence: books on astronomy, microscopes, and philosophy; a treatise on the potato; a letter addressed in his incisive hand. And when I’d gathered up the counterpane, I’d caught the scent of him in it, as immediate and fresh as an embrace.
Penebrygg finished his pears and cheese and set the plate on the small table next to him.
“Can I get you anything else?” I asked.
“No, no, my dear.” He rubbed the place on the bridge of his nose where his spectacles usually sat. “I’ve had as much as I care to, thank