Noah was at his desk in his Rotherhithe office, noting the last of the Rome cargo sales in a battered ledger, when his elderly clerk, Jenson, put his head around the door without knocking. Noah had long since given up wondering why he rarely thought to do so. ‘Yes?’
‘A person for you, Zir.’
Noah knew not to expect a name for his visitor, as Jenson never asked. Just another of his many foibles. He already knew who it would be, anyway, and had formed a clear picture of the man he was about to meet. ‘Show him in, Jenson. If you please.’ Noah stood ready.
Strangely, the man who entered seemed less defined than the one he had imagined. Nothing about his appearance seemed entirely possible to pin down. Just when Noah thought his hair was dark, he moved closer and he saw it was light and strai
