The Shadows of God - J. Gregory Keyes [43]
“There, see? God may well have provided you what you need.”
“This from you, who never once has thought God a reasonable fellow? What, has some Quaker girl worked conversion on you?”
“Hardly. But I figure if God is responsible for all of this, there's no hope for us at all. If he isn't, then he may well be against it, so maybe I ought to curry some favor.”
“The cautious Robin,” Franklin said.
“But what hope have you found, specific? You didn't say.”
“Nor will I just now. An old foe, maybe a friend now.”
“Hmm. Wasn't it you who said, ‘Beware twice-boiled meat, and an old foe reconciled'?”
“That was me, wasn't it? It must be sound advice then. Are you ready for dinner?”
“I could eat a bear.”
Which was fortunate, as bear was the main course. It was tolerably good, well roasted and exceedingly greasy. Robert was as good as his word, vanishing great hunks of it down his throat. Voltaire, Franklin noticed, was somewhat more cautious.
Franklin didn't want to look at Sterne, for when he did, he saw the bloody ghost of his brother James Franklin. For more than twelve years he had lived with that last sight of James, his death-dimmed eyes and confused expression lit by his burning print shop. For twelve years, Franklin had thought James’ murderer dead.
But in Coweta territory, Sterne had claimed the killing as his own. Was it a lie?
It didn't matter—that he would claim it was enough. That he was a warlock was enough. That he had worked against Franklin was enough. He would pay the toll for his evil words and deeds, and Franklin would see to it.
So he forced himself into a seeming of good humor and smiled at Sterne, and took comfort that the dinner seemed to disagree entirely with the periwigged fellow. After the first round of toasts to the king, Franklin couldn't help himself. He raised his cup and said, “To good Mr. Sterne, who was so lately my host in the wild—may I have the chance to host you in as good a fashion— or, I hope before God, better!”
Franklin's friends—the rangers and the Apalachee drank to that with great enthusiasm—the French with some puzzlement. Sterne, of course, did not drink to himself. The smile he managed looked uncomfortable. Franklin took all this as a good sign—a sign that the court had not thrown its weight behind the Englishman.
The king seemed to have recovered a certain amount of good cheer. In fact, he raised his own cup in toast.
“To Sir Isaac Newton,” he exclaimed. “He brought us the benefits of a new science to help us through these dark days. And to his greatest apprentice, whom they call the Wizard of America, Benjamin Franklin. I do hope I can convince Mr. Franklin to demonstrate an experiment or two for us.”
Franklin couldn't have asked for a better opportunity. He began to think Robert might be right about God, after all.
“I would be most delighted to do so, Your Majesty. Indeed, as you have told me you are a scientific man, I greatly desire that we might collaborate on something. Perhaps we can speak of this later?”
He guessed nothing he could have said would have had a more profound effect on the king. His eyes positively gleamed. “That sounds most delightful, Mr. Franklin. Most delightful indeed.”
Sterne couldn't sit still for that, and he didn't. “Your Majesty,” he said, “I must remind you that your cousin James has been kept waiting for too long. You promised an answer when Mr. Franklin arrived; as you see, he is here now. Will you delay longer? Consorting with him in matters scientific can only add to the insult my sovereign already perceives. I—”
The king slammed his cup onto the table, bringing an end to Sterne's speech and to every other sound at the table.
“Mr. Sterne, I do not wish to discuss politics while taking my pleasure. It is disgusting—and with ladies present! Mr. Franklin has the good grace and manners to understand that. Your own behavior baffles me. As for my cousin, he was always an overbearing, self-important little shit, and I will hear no more of his indirect pomposity here. If he truly