“Oh, yes, m’lord, I am indeed sure. Though I am but an orphan, I remember my father well. He was a printer and well educated, who taught me — “
Again I was interrupted by the Lord Chief Justice. “Leave off! “ he commanded. “I would not hear your entire family history, for I have no interest in it. I asked you only because I wanted to be certain that it was you who would accompany him to Oxford.”
“It is, m’lord.”
“Very well, I will tell you true, young man, that just now I urged him to bring one of his constables to Oxford for his protection. He refused me, so he did, and said it was quite unnecessary. But still, with what may well be murder to be reckoned as part of this conspiracy, I believe that precautions are necessary. So I charge you, young sir, to look after his safety. If anything should happen to him, I shall hold you responsible.”
With that, he bobbed his head in a most decisive manner, turned abruptly, and banged through the door to Bow Street.
I stood, staring after him in rather a confused state. I felt as if I had come off rather badly in this exchange with Lord Mansfield, yet what might I have said different? How rude he had been to ask if I was the natural son of Sir John! That is the sort of thing one might wonder upon, speculate about, but never talk about. How could he have done so?
Still somewhat dazed by the encounter, I set off down the hall at a slow pace, turning over in my mind what had just transpired.
He had barely recognized me — that much was plain. Yet just think of the many messages from Sir John I had put into his hands and asked for an immediate reply. Only consider that he had seen me just the day before in Sir John’s company. Had I no existence in his eyes? Was I faceless? Voiceless? What sort of judge would that make him?
What was it Lord Mansfield had said? “I would not hear your entire family history, for I have no interest in it.” Indeed had he not! At that moment I made a vow to myself-and ever afterward I remembered where it was that I had made it, as well as the circumstances that had led up to it. I stood at the door to Sir John’s chambers, my hand poised to knock, and swore to myself that in some way I would force the Lord Chief Justice to take an interest in my family history; I would one day prove to him that I was worthy of notice.
And then I knocked upon Sir John’s door.
‘Come ahead, Jeremy. Have you found a place for us on the stagecoach?”
“On the post coach,” said I as I entered. “Alas, it was the best I could do.”
“It will take a while longer, but it will get us there by evening,” said he. “Did you ensure places for us by purchasing tickets?”
“I did, sir.” I then hemmed and hawed a bit, looking for a way to bring up the matter which troubled me, but in the end I settled for the direct manner: “I noted Lord Mansfields departure as I arrived. .?”
“Ah, yes, well, most of what he had to say was plain foolishness. “
“Oh?”
“Yes, well, I’ll tell you about it later, perhaps when we are under way on our journey.”
Yet, as I have said, reader, he remained silent during the length of our journey to Oxford. As the coach slowed, approaching our destination, Sir John shifted in his seat and adjusted his clothes, as if making ready to climb down from the coach. How could he have known that we were so close?
The driver reined up before the Blue Boar Inn, which was located on High Street. The place had been chosen for us by Lord Mansfield, who had, the day before, sent down a request for a single large room for the two of us. The Blue Boar was not near as big as the Bear Tavern, where we had stayed in Bath, but I liked it much better. First of all, the room we were given was larger and better appointed. Secondly, the Blue Boar was in the very center of the small city which I had glimpsed from the hill — and not on the outskirts, as was the Bear. And finally, the dining room at the inn was as cozy and comfortable as our own kitchen back in Bow Street, and the meal we ate there was near as good as those fixed for us by our own dear Annie.
A warm fire awaited us. It was yet early when we came down for dinner, but we were travel-weary from our trip from London and quite ready to cheer ourselves with food and drink. As we settled down at a table near the fireplace, I must have let out some deep sound of satisfaction, a hum of appreciation, or something of the sort.
“What a strange noise,” said Sir John. “It must signify happiness.”
“Yes,” said I, “I suppose it does.”
“And why, especially?”
“Well, I am not quite sure, but here I am in a city famed as a great seat of learning, a place which I have always wished to visit. And here we sit, about to eat our dinner in the most pleasant surroundings. Certainly, I confess, sir, I am happy.”
“Pleasant surroundings, is it?” said Sir John with an amused smile. “Why not describe them to me?”
Why not indeed? “Well, to begin with,” said I, “the room where we sit, which is neither too large nor too small, is rather dark. There burns a candle on each table, and a candelabrum hangs behind the bar, but most of the light in the room comes from the fireplace which is directly behind you. “
“Ah, I was aware of that fire. Not only does it provide light, as you suggest, it warms my rump rather pleasantly, as well. But tell me, Jeremy, is that all you see? “
“Well, no, there are others at the tables, though not all the tables.”
“How many tables in all?”
I counted hurriedly. “Nine in all, counting our own. There are four that are occupied.”
“Well and good, but tell me, what of the walls? Are there no decorations? No pictures? No — “
“Oh, but of course there are, Sir John. Let me see now, where to begin? First of all, the walls are of wood and of brick — that is, three walls of wood and one of brick. There are four pictures scattered about, though not very good ones to my mind.”
“And what do they represent? What sort of pictures are they?”
“Portraits all.”
“And is that all you see? Only four portraits? Nothing else hanging upon the wall?”
“No, sir, I think that be all.”
“Perhaps not,” said Sir John. “Now, I, who have lost my sight, have not lost my reason. And reason dictates that in a place such as this, which is called the Blue Boar Inn, after all, there must somewhere be some representation of a wild boar. Look once again. Do you see no such picture — a hunting scene perhaps? Nothing of the kind? Perhaps if you were to take a look behind the bar
As my eyes swept the room very slowly, I considered what Sir John had said — “reason dictates” — and then did I realize that I was being given a test. That made me search ever more diligently. I asked for a bit more time — and was granted it. And I was then just rising to leave the table for a look behind the bar, when I happened to glance behind Sir John and above the fireplace — and what did I see? What indeed but the mounted head of a most vicious-looking wild boar! His eyes glistened fearfully. His tusks curled most threateningly. I could not imagine a more dreadful creature.
Nor could I suppose how I had missed it while scouring the room so diligently with my eyes. Nevertheless, I knew I must tell Sir John of it — and tell him I did; he replied with no more than a wise expression of superior amusement. Naturally, I was embarrassed — more than embarrassed: I was altogether abashed by my failure. What must he think of me? Since I was quite unable to imagine what I might say to excuse my oversight, I felt relieved at the appearance of a server come to learn what might be our pleasure for dinner. He presented himself with a smile and offered us a choice of every sort of chop a man could wish for; Sir John wished for beef, and I was pleased to ask for the same. When he called for a good bottle of claret, I knew he intended to make a feast of this, our dinner away from Bow Street.