“I’ll talk to my family about how to manage some of that. They were already thinking about the problem.” Vega glanced up and saw the clock. “Goodness. We’ve gone well beyond tea. I’m sure you want your evening, and I need to do a few more of my vocal warmups, or tomorrow will not please the listener.”
“Of course.” Farran stood up, then bent to gather up his various papers. “I’ll write in a couple of days, when I have a timeline for the piece and ideas of where to go in Greenwich.”
“Excellent.” Vega waited until he had all his things, walking him not just to her door but downstairs and out to the street. When she closed the door behind him, her landlady appeared from the parlour.
“I hope Farran visiting wasn’t a bother, Mistress.” It never hurt to be polite, and while this set of lodgings was too prim for Vega’s preferences, they were otherwise far better than manyplaces she’d lived. The food was excellent and not stodgy, the other lodgers were interesting. More importantly, the sound charms were good enough that Vega didn’t wake anyone coming home, and they didn’t wake her being cheerful in the morning.
“Consulting for you, then?” Vega nodded once and the older woman coughed. “Well. I will say he was polite. Didn’t track mud in, either.”
He’d spoken not only fondly about the family home, but about the housekeeper, so that didn’t surprise her. Not that she’d say so here. “He seems considerate, indeed, and I’m glad he could come here. A bit more privacy for a consultation of some delicacy. He may be by to meet me in the future, but I’ll let you know if there’s anything that might affect anyone here.”
“Mmm. Yes.” Her landlady looked her up and down. “You are also considerate, I’ll give you that. I’ll have something set out for breakfast for you tomorrow. Have a good night.” That was a firm dismissal, and Vega had her own things to do, so she nodded, murmured the same, and went back to her rooms.
Chapter 18
MARCH 10TH AT GREENWICH
“Here we go.” Farran stepped out of the boat they’d taken down from further upriver. It was apparently the sensible option, rather than weaving through the limited number of roads. Greenwich was very much of the water, and the Thames in particular. He turned to offer his hand to Vega, who was dressed for a sensible walk in the grounds.
It was a Saturday, and Vega was clearly not particularly a morning person. Not that Farran could blame her. She’d mentioned not getting home until nearly two that morning. He’d met her at eleven with a cab to take them to the river, and then the boat. They’d decided that it was better that rather than trying to juggle his own daytime obligations on a weekday. She’d yawned twice on the way out, but she promised she’d perk up. Farran had also made a point of bringing a small picnic in his satchel, or at least strong black tea and some sandwiches in wax paper.
“I thought we’d start here, where the old palace was,” Farran said. It was an entirely ordinary sort of thing to say, given the history, but that was not actually his aim. Anywhere under the former grand palace of Placentia or Pleasurance, whichevername you used for it, had certainly been dug up and turned over dozens of times. But not terribly recently. On the other hand, there was always a chance that some item had come to rest in a vault or cellar or crypt, or whatever underground architectural feature might apply.
Vega nodded, following along with him, walking beside him but not terribly close, as others there to see the park split off into their own particular directions. Farran, however, had prevailed on some acquaintances, and thus they had permission to walk through the grounds of the Royal Naval College that had taken over the space..
The porter at the gate looked at the written invitation, back at both of them, and then shrugged. “The young men have their ways. You won’t be a bother, then?”
“Of course not.” Farran put on his best and most practised expression. “We appreciate the chance. I’m trying to confirm if a particular illustration matches the building sufficiently. We won’t be terribly long. Should we come back out this way, if we want to go into the park, or just walk up?"
The porter considered that judiciously. “You come back and let me know, if you would, sir.”
Farran agreed that was sensible, and then they set off on a walk, glancing around at the buildings. Farran waited until they were around a corner, then paused. “I’ve the talisman, or whatever we call it. It might work better if you carry it? An ungloved hand. Or your hand on it in a pocket.”
Vega nodded once and held out her palm. Farran pulled the piece of his pocket, and the silk bag he’d stored it in, slipping it onto her skin. It didn’t feel like it was doing much to him, but he had actually tested it in the auction house storage vaults on Friday, and he was confident it reacted to both meteoric iron and items made in the right century or so. She slipped it intothe pocket of her skirt, then considered. “May I have your arm, then?”
When he blinked at her, she leaned in and whispered, “It’ll make a better show from the windows, if anyone looks out. A couple having a pleasant time.”
“As you say.” Farran nodded. “My thought is to make a serpentine circuit, loop back through the middle. Then we can let the porter know we’re done and go by the church, then up into the park. The older sites I’m most interested in are up there, but, well. There have been people here for a very long time.”
“Lead on.” Vega said. They made a steady round of it, down along a path beside the Thames, looping back through the main paths between the college buildings, around the other side, and back. The second time through there, Farran made a point of pausing and sketching something, a vista that had buildings at interesting angles.
The porter looked them up and down, as if they had actually done what had been asked, and that might have been a pleasant change in his day. Farran gave him a small tip in thanks. The right amount meant he’d be pleased, not curious. Farran followed up promptly by asking if there was a pub or tea shop nearby they should choose over others. That got them directions— he knew the publican, of course— and then directions to the St Alfege’s Church, not far up the street.
“Who exactly was St Alfege? I’m afraid I’m not very religious.” Vega kept her comment until they were out on the street, a bit shy.
“I’m not either, not like that? But in this case, it’s a historical reason, as much as anything? He was archbishop of Canterbury in 1012, and he was martyred, as the official hagiography says, by the Vikings. There’s an entire story about how he wouldn’t let himself be ransomed and so they eventually killed him. Andthen, there’s a tale about a cut piece of wood, immersed in his— pardon, are you delicate about historical murders?”
Vega blinked, stopped walking, and then stared at him. “I get enough crudity in other places. People lose track of their tongues sometimes. Historical murders? I mean, obviously there was one. Is this the sort that involves objects where they oughtn’t to be?”
“No, actually. There’s a tale about someone putting a cut stick in a pool of his blood, and fresh blossoms and leaves coming from it. Though, as the tale goes, he was stoned to death. You can tell him in iconography by the fact he’s carrying stones in his chasuble, at least in some sculptures.”
“Again, not my forte.” Vega considered. “Like St Sebastian and his arrows?”
Farran beamed. “Just like that. It’s rather useful, actually, if you’re looking at manuscripts. Both for identifying who’s portrayed, but also for dating them. Sometimes the depictions focus on different things at different times. It’s a bit like dating maps.”
“Dating maps?” Vega sounded startled. “And the church?”
“Supposedly where he was killed. Built on the site, rather.” They were almost there. “As to the maps, there are lists of how you can date a map, narrowing down which names are used for what. You start one place, check an earlier spot on the list, until you find a beginning and ending point. Then you work back and forth until you find the spot in the middle.” He shrugged and gestured up at the church just ahead. “Rebuilt in the 18th century, if you want the architectural history, I have notes. Also, where a number of the Tudors were baptised.” He found that less interesting, though it made sense, given the proximity of the palace.
