mmmhmmmm.....
He nodded. "Mightn't you be better suited, then, on a tenure track at Trinity College?"
I gaped. Not only did the time that I would enter university seem like a distant and strange thing, but even if it had been just around the corner I was at least aware that Trinity was a hive of Church-of-Englanders, and that I was therefore unlikely to be accepted. "But sir," said I, "I am Calvinist."
"No, you are a child," Newton answered without pause. "You will in time have different thoughts on theology than your father's, and besides which, Trinity hardly beats its students over the head with the King James Version. You are an intelligent person, and so you might do well to consider all options. Particularly when I can be of great assistance to you in securing the life you want." He smiled then, and the expression might have relaxed me a bit had it not seemed so unnatural on his face.
I was vaguely aware that politicking was happening. I had seen the alchemists and scholars about it several times, and I recognized it only by the horrifying sensation that my actions in this moment were of the utmost importance, and that if I said or did something wrong someone would be in quite a lot of trouble. "Thank you," I said uncertainly.
"I could do quite a lot of favors for a clever boy like you," said Newton, presumeably to drive whatever point he'd been trying to make home. I blinked, and practically held my breath until he continued. "I would, of course, have to ask a favor from you as well."
I swallowed and made a sound that possessed no words but might have passed as a request for him to continue.
"Your father is a man of some usefulness to me, as I am sure you are aware." I nodded, though I honestly had no idea what he was talking about. "It benefits our great cause to have men such as he in our employ, but I must take care that his risks do not outweigh his usefulness. Do you understand?"
I shrugged, and approached the question from a sterile and philosophical view. "It is scientific method, sir. I have heard the physicians talk of pitting disease against another that the patient might in time be cured of both."
"An apt comparison. Your father is a good man, ruled by his faith; but I believe he sees himself as answerable to God alone, and this is complicated. But I am overcrowding that clever mind of yours with unimportant details. I want to ask you a question."
"Ask me whatever you please, sir."
"Where is it that he goes at night?"
I looked down, almost ashamed that I could not answer. "I do not know. He does not allow me to accompany him."
"And well he should not. I am sure that he does not wish to endanger your immortal soul. But I need you to find something out for me."
Again, the sick taste of politics filled my mouth. I nodded, more to confirm that I was still listening than out of any kind of understanding.
"There is a room in the cellar where I keep my very most prized possession. It is extremely important to me that no one ever enters this room." He sighed, and attempted to smile apologetically. "I fear that your father is going there without my permission, and I would like you to find out for me."
"He would never tell me if he did, sir. He keeps his own counsel, and it is hardly my place to ask him what business he is about at night."
"This why you should not ask him. I want you to follow him."
"Follow him?" For the first time, my sense of propriety fled, replaced only with cold, animal fear. "I can't do that!"
"Hush, it is not so difficult. You have sneaked about before, don't presume to think I don't know. I want you to follow him every night, and describe to me where he goes first. Once you find his first destination, you will go back to bed. Do you understand?"
I understood, I was just terrified. "What if he sees me?"
"We will come to that if it becomes necessary. Do not be afraid."
I nodded, because I had found myself unable to speak.
"Right then. You may go. Thank you," said Sir Isaac, at once returning his attention to the page he'd been at work on when I'd arrived. Gone was whatever rapport he had constructed between us, and I was left feeling suddenly awkward. I should have thanked him, but I did not. I simply turned and left.
I gaped. Not only did the time that I would enter university seem like a distant and strange thing, but even if it had been just around the corner I was at least aware that Trinity was a hive of Church-of-Englanders, and that I was therefore unlikely to be accepted. "But sir," said I, "I am Calvinist."
"No, you are a child," Newton answered without pause. "You will in time have different thoughts on theology than your father's, and besides which, Trinity hardly beats its students over the head with the King James Version. You are an intelligent person, and so you might do well to consider all options. Particularly when I can be of great assistance to you in securing the life you want." He smiled then, and the expression might have relaxed me a bit had it not seemed so unnatural on his face.
I was vaguely aware that politicking was happening. I had seen the alchemists and scholars about it several times, and I recognized it only by the horrifying sensation that my actions in this moment were of the utmost importance, and that if I said or did something wrong someone would be in quite a lot of trouble. "Thank you," I said uncertainly.
"I could do quite a lot of favors for a clever boy like you," said Newton, presumeably to drive whatever point he'd been trying to make home. I blinked, and practically held my breath until he continued. "I would, of course, have to ask a favor from you as well."
I swallowed and made a sound that possessed no words but might have passed as a request for him to continue.
"Your father is a man of some usefulness to me, as I am sure you are aware." I nodded, though I honestly had no idea what he was talking about. "It benefits our great cause to have men such as he in our employ, but I must take care that his risks do not outweigh his usefulness. Do you understand?"
I shrugged, and approached the question from a sterile and philosophical view. "It is scientific method, sir. I have heard the physicians talk of pitting disease against another that the patient might in time be cured of both."
"An apt comparison. Your father is a good man, ruled by his faith; but I believe he sees himself as answerable to God alone, and this is complicated. But I am overcrowding that clever mind of yours with unimportant details. I want to ask you a question."
"Ask me whatever you please, sir."
"Where is it that he goes at night?"
I looked down, almost ashamed that I could not answer. "I do not know. He does not allow me to accompany him."
"And well he should not. I am sure that he does not wish to endanger your immortal soul. But I need you to find something out for me."
Again, the sick taste of politics filled my mouth. I nodded, more to confirm that I was still listening than out of any kind of understanding.
"There is a room in the cellar where I keep my very most prized possession. It is extremely important to me that no one ever enters this room." He sighed, and attempted to smile apologetically. "I fear that your father is going there without my permission, and I would like you to find out for me."
"He would never tell me if he did, sir. He keeps his own counsel, and it is hardly my place to ask him what business he is about at night."
"This why you should not ask him. I want you to follow him."
"Follow him?" For the first time, my sense of propriety fled, replaced only with cold, animal fear. "I can't do that!"
"Hush, it is not so difficult. You have sneaked about before, don't presume to think I don't know. I want you to follow him every night, and describe to me where he goes first. Once you find his first destination, you will go back to bed. Do you understand?"
I understood, I was just terrified. "What if he sees me?"
"We will come to that if it becomes necessary. Do not be afraid."
I nodded, because I had found myself unable to speak.
"Right then. You may go. Thank you," said Sir Isaac, at once returning his attention to the page he'd been at work on when I'd arrived. Gone was whatever rapport he had constructed between us, and I was left feeling suddenly awkward. I should have thanked him, but I did not. I simply turned and left.