Daniel had hoped that Isaac would be enthralled. But he was not. And the tone in which he spoke, his rigid posture, his flared nostrils, all seemed calculated to let Daniel know that he did not especially like what he saw. It was perhaps a small act of mercy that Isaac did not ask any questions more grueling than What is it you wish to shew me here? For as Daniel surveyed the Court, he noted that very little progress was being made on the Logic Mill. If he were more responsible-minded, he should have been alarmed by that. Had he styled himself a leader of men, he should have taken measures to bring these aimless ingenieurs back to order. But he did not feel so moved. He had brought these men together here and given them what they most longed for: freedom to make things, and to work on whatever they found most interesting. For several months, the most interesting thing had been the Logic Mill, and all of them had glady worked together on it, without having to be told to. Of late they had become interested in new adventures. For a little while Daniel had been annoyed by their fickleness. Then he had reflected that the world, as of July 1714, was of a sudden crowded with interesting projects for men such as these: enough to keep them all busy for hundreds of years. If they let their attention drift from the Logic Mill, who was Daniel to command them not to be interested in sparks, or steam? And if Isaac was bored by the Engine for Raising Water by Fire, what power or right had Daniel to forbid it? It was nothing more than the Boyle/Hooke Rarefying Engine, built larger, and that was from fifty years ago.

“Nothing,” Daniel finally answered. “It is merely a convenient way to get out of doors without being overrun by cattle.” He led Isaac toward a side-exit of the Court, and Saturn-who’d fallen behind, as he’d gone to roust a pair of young culls who’d been playing at dice on a barrel-head-rushed up to grip its heavy bolt and toss it out of the way. The two dice-players fell in behind Daniel and Isaac, each stepping along smartly with a massive walking-stick in his hand, though neither of them seemed to have any trouble with rheumatism.

Preceded by Saturn and followed by the two bludgeon-men, Daniel and Isaac now embarked on a mockery of a country stroll. They were moving through a ragged net-work of paths and alleys chalking out small plots of dirt on the fringe of the metropolis-some still grazing sheep or growing turnips, others active construction sites. One day these would be streets, but now they were too narrow, soft, and wandersome to support any traffic other than a pair of elderly strollers and their van- and rear-guards. “From here we may ramble north without too much unpleasantness.”

“What is north of here that is worth a walk?” Isaac wanted to know. Daniel ignored the question, and Isaac, after a moment’s hesitation, fell in step alongside.

“The arrangement proposed by Mr. Partry won’t do,” Daniel insisted. “We must have answers tomorrow-even tonight, if the prisoner can be induced to talk.”

“Does this have something to do with whatever it was that happened at St. James’s today?” Isaac asked. “For I have not heard such urgency from you before now.”

“Events have overtaken us; we must catch up,” Daniel said. “Bolingbroke has a plan. I know not what it is. It may be a perfectly stupid plan, or brilliant. Strangely, that does not matter. What matters is that he has a plan, he moves, he acts, and all others are forced to observe him and to respond. He is the center of all attention, which, I begin to suspect, is more important to him than to achieve any particular goal. Who does not have a plan is my lord Oxford, until recently the Lord Treasurer-”

“What do you mean, until recently? Am I to understand that this Realm has a new Lord Treasurer today?”

“I didn’t say that-only that Oxford is gone. He surrendered the White Staff to the Queen today in Council.”

“Of his own volition or-”

“She demanded it of him. Strange to think of anyone so frail demanding anything; but that is what they say.”

“And she still holds it?”

“She has not bestowed it on anyone else just yet, according to my sources.”

“Who are your sources, Daniel? They seem to be better than mine-certainly quicker.”

“That is another conversation. The point is that Oxford-and with him all the moderate Tories-are out. Thus has the Queen let all the world know, today, that she favors Bolingbroke and the Jacobites. She has set in motion events that shall lead to the overturning of the Settlement Act, the rejection of the Hanovers, and a Catholic King.”

“In her dreams,” Isaac corrected him. “In truth, Britain will sooner have a second Civil War than a Popish King.”

“Of course. Now, consider Bolingbroke’s position. He has captured the Queen, and in the same instant, gained unquestioned dominance of the Tories, and hence of Parliament. His next move will be to parley with the Whigs: his only remaining opposition.”

“Why should he bother?” Isaac asked. “I should think he is in a position to dictate terms.”

“Behold Sir John Oldcastle’s,” was Daniel’s answer. For they had come out into an open place where they could look across a hay-mow to an estate, on the other side of the main road, consisting of a few stately old buildings at the southern end, and a small wooded game-park extending to the north for perhaps two hundred yards, where it covered the slopes of a knobby little hill. Daniel drew Isaac’s attention to the hill, which would have gone unnoticed and unnamed in most parts of England. Here on the boggy floodplain of the Fleet it was really something. One could see for hundreds of yards from its top! And indeed, three men were standing atop it right now, enjoying the prospect. “What do you make of them, Isaac? They put me in mind of observers posted on a height-of-land above a battlefield.”

“That is a very romantick notion, I’m sure,” Isaac said, “but in truth they are likely friends or kin of the Oldcastles, enjoying an afternoon ramble through the coppice.”

“What? Through all of those tents, you mean!” Daniel answered, and pointed into the little wood. The growth at this time of year was too dense to allow a clear look, but a careful, keen-eyed observer-Sir Isaac Newton, for instance-could glimpse, through gaps between branches, taut canvas, and the occasional hemmed edge, tent-pole, or staked rope.

“Why, there is a little encampment there,” Isaac said, “probably Vagabonds come to watch the hangings.”

“Do you really think the lord of the manor would permit Vagabonds?”

“What is your explanation, if you do not favor mine?”

“That is a military encampment. But it is not one of the Queen’s battalions. Ergo, a militia.”

“Whig, or Tory?”

“Remember that Sir John Oldcastle was an early Protestant. The Oldcastles of today are not so fiery as he, but they still lean that way.”

“Very well. It is a Whig Association company, then,” Isaac said. “I have heard about them. But I admit that to see them out in force on the edge of London is a different matter.”

“Let us stroll up a bit farther, and see what goes on up yonder, round Merlin’s Cave,” Daniel proposed, pointing north across fields to another up-cropping of buildings and trees, a quarter of a mile away. This was a good bit smaller, newer, and meaner than the Oldcastle estate, being a Spaw lately thrown up round a natural cave at the foot of the rise that led up eventually to Islington.

Presently it was hosting several who had ridden out from town on horseback. Though it was difficult to resolve much at this distance, it was obvious from the way these men handled their mounts that they were young, and skilled horsemen all, inclined to gallant and reckless displays. It was almost as if they were showing off in front of some ladies; but even at a quarter-mile it could be seen that no women were present. They were showing off for one another. As Daniel and Isaac drew nearer, which only took a minute or two, it became clear that all of these men affected the Mohawk. They, or rather their servants, were piling up branches to make a bonfire later.